#there are people I wrote with that I still love to see on my dash but I've lost track of stuff we wrote and I never get around to actually | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

eunxhan · 3 months ago

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Ꮺ Anon Requested ⨾ Polyamory/harem relationship with head over heels bottom subs,, one is a cute shy guy who loves m reader so fucking much he doesn't mind getting cucked and stuff as long as it pleases reader,,another one is a hot sexy model who's very proud of his body, always taking care of himself so you'll praise him when you fuck him, taking care of his hair well so you can easily pull them,,, kinky sub who's into wild plays, totally devoted to reader and would do literally anything like damn.. Another cold aloof kind of man,, people are intimidated by him and he's all strong and one man army stuff.. Yet when it comes to reader he's just a mess like damn,, all these pretty, smart, strong subbies also has reader's personal brand on his skin,,, they're so head over heels they do anything for reader's acknowledgement,,,

Ꮺ Eun Replies ⨾ Oh my, It is lovely to see my sweets still active. I have been thinking about this entry the moment I came back in this platform. How I've missed all of you.. I did wrote them separately but I decided to write and post another where they all meet in the future. But anyways, what should we name these three?

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Ꮺ Disclaimer — NSFW.

Reader ⨾ MALE. YOU/YOUR.

Words used ⨾ 1578

Links ⨾ My Navigation

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Let's say, you're an average guy with a typical 9 to 5 job. You couldn't care less about what anyone has to say or do to you, yet three men managed to catch your interest. One of them being Shy!sub. It's not like you guys have been together since childhood; you only met during middle school.

Shy!sub is incredibly shy and easily embarrassed. He tends to blush a lot, especially around you. Even the slightest touch or intimate gesture from you can make him flush red.

Shy!sub is used to your rantings while playing with him, and sometimes, you being a little shit happens to take your anger out on him during your calls. He never says or complains about it; he just listens or sometimes even apologizes to you.

Shy!sub enjoys playing video games with you, even if he's not very good at them and you call him out for jt. He just finds it relaxing and a great way to bond with you. He often cheers you on during your gaming sessions.

Not only does he enjoys gaming, Shy!sub has a secret love for romantic movies. He often watches them when you're not around, dreaming of the day you and him will have your own romantic story.

Shy!sub looks at you as if he's admiring a piece of art, even if you're just there yelling and getting mad about something ridiculous. You can tell that he wants something else. But if you call him out on something, Shy!sub hates confrontations and avoids them at all costs. He would rather keep the peace than engage in an argument, even if it means holding back his true feelings.

Shy!sub is the type of person who's too soft for people like you to handle. He does your chores because he knows you're exhausted from your job or school, and even cooks for you.

Shy!sub enjoys cooking for you, as he sees it as a way to show his love and care for you. He often tries out new recipes, hoping to impress you with his culinary skills. If you point something out or compliment his cooking, be ready to see him almost everyday in your kitchen.

He acts more like a boyfriend than a best friend. One call of his name, and he's dashing towards you like a loyal dog ready to do what you ask. With him basically living with you, Shy!sub can sleep easily. He is afraid of the dark and often sleeps with a nightlight on. He sometimes asks you to sleep with him when he's feeling particularly scared.

Shy!sub never admits this but he secretly loves it when you get angry, as it shows your passionate side. He often provokes you, hoping to see your fiery temper.

When both of you started to have some intimate moments, Shy!sub got even more embarrassed but he never stops trying to tease you with his every move. He basically lives with you now from how much time he spends with you. Everything escalated quickly when you got home and saw him wearing something he normally doesn't wear.

Shy!sub looks so damn adorable in his light bubblegum pink lingerie, but you decided to keep it in your pants and let him explain what he was doing. You could tell he was about to burst out crying when you walked in on him.

—

Shy!sub's eyes widened as he realized you had caught him in his new attire. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his heart raced, fearing the worst. The lingerie, a gift from a secret admirer, was supposed to be a surprise for You. But now, with you standing in the doorway, the moment had been ruined.

You, on the other hand, couldn't help but admire the way the lingerie hugged Shy!sub's curves, accentuating his hourglass figure. The sight of Shy!sub in such a delicate and feminine ensemble stirred something deep within you—a desire he had never felt before. But he knew the time was not right to act on it.

"It's... it's for you," Shy!sub managed to stutter, his voice trembling. "I wanted to surprise you. I thought you'd like it."

"Wow, I've never thought I would see this coming from you. Someone who is known to be easily embarrassed over everything." You could see the vulnerability in Shy!sub's eyes as you reply to him. It was a rare sight, and it tugged at your heartstrings. You knew Shy!sub's affections ran deep, and you couldn't bear to see him so distressed. So, with a smile, you stepped forward and gently placed a hand on Shy!sub's cheek.

"You look amazing," You said, his voice soft and reassuring. "And I appreciate the thought. But remember, you don't need to do anything to impress me. I love you just the way you are."

Shy!sub let out a shaky breath, relief washing over him. He leaned into your touch, grateful for your understanding. The moment, though awkward, had brought them closer. From that day on, You began to see Shy!sub in a whole new light. Your words and gentle touch calmed Shy!sub's nerves. The tension in the room shifted, and a new energy filled the space. Shy!sub's heart fluttered as your hand lingered on his cheek, your thumb gently caressing Shy!sub's soft skin.

Emboldened by your acceptance, Shy!sub leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a feather-light kiss. It was a tentative move, a test to gauge your reaction. But you responded with a hunger that surprised them both. Your lips met in a passionate kiss, your tongues dancing and exploring each other's mouths. Shy!sub's hands roamed your body, feeling the contours of your muscles through your shirt. Your hands slid down Shy!sub's back, cupping his rear and pulling him closer.

The lingerie, once a source of embarrassment, now became a symbol of their growing desire. The soft fabric rubbed against your body, igniting a fire within you. Shy!sub could feel your arousal pressing against him, and it sent shivers down his spine. His mind were somewhere else as he softly groans in your ears, his mind tells him to beg you to do something more to him.

You both broke the kiss, panting and flushed. Your eyes were dark with desire, and Shy!sub's lips were swollen from your passionate embrace. The room was filled with a palpable tension, a promise of what was to come.

"Darling," Shy!sub whispered, his voice heavy with need. "I want you. I've always wanted you." he whined at the end. You didn't need to be told twice. You scooped Shy!sub into your arms and carried him to the bedroom, which made him more excited.

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Confident!sub, a charming and flirtatious individual, utilizes his natural charisma and wit to captivate those around him. Easily drawing in his audience, he leaves them craving more of his company. His tactics to garner attention, however, are solely to attract the cameras. When it comes to you, his dearest, he's wholly devoted.

His sarcastic nature and high tolerance levels add an alluring challenge to his persona, making him even more magnetic. For you, though, his sarcasm serves as a playful means of aggravation.

Confident!sub is confident in his physicality, maintaining his desirable physique through rigorous workouts. Brands and designers clamor for him to be the face of their new products, well aware of his pickiness when it comes to endorsements.

In his pursuit of physical perfection, Confident!sub adheres to a strict regimen of body care. His routine, from head to toe, takes a full three hours, with shower time not even included. If you need the bathroom while he's in there, you'll have to resort to forceful measures.

During his photoshoots, Confident!sub teases you with his movements and poses. He'll gaze hungrily at you, performing his job with you as his little assistant, always present in the room. If you're absent, his temper flares. So, sad to say that you're always with him in and out.

A possessive streak emerges in Confident!sub when he spots you admiring other models. With him in the room, half-naked and expecting your adoration, he takes offense at your gaze wandering to less attractive individuals. If you curse at him for his tantrums, his anger intensifies, believing you should have been fixated on him.

Confident!sub is unfiltered in his communication, voicing his thoughts at any given moment. Be it day, night, place, or time, he'll share his uncensored musings. With a bored expression, he'll casually mention desires like you satisfying him behind a door post-shoot or gripping his hair. One time while you were having breakfast, he mumbled something about how he dreamed about you pounding him for a photoshoot.

Despite his outward confidence, Confident!sub harbors insecurities deep down. He worries that one day, his looks might fade, and he'll lose the adoration he currently enjoys. So with you having around him, he dares not to let you go. He hates it when you look at other models that he finds intimidating. Whenever you reassure him about his insecurities, expect not getting out of the bedroom for atleast two days.

Confident!sub hates being touched by strangers. He becomes uncomfortable and edgy when people he doesn't know try to touch him. He's only comfortable with you touching him. You should be lucky that someone like him allows you to touch him, his words not mine.

——

After a long and tiring photoshoot, Confident!sub was ready to unwind. With his manager having rented a hotel room for him, he of course invited you to join him, knowing full well what he had in mind. You, aware of Confident!sub's intentions, eagerly accepted the invitation.

In the privacy of the hotel room, Confident!sub wasted no time in expressing his desires. You pinned him against the wall, his hands roaming your body with a hunger that could not be satiated. With you, equally aroused, gripped Confident!sub's hair, pulling him in for a passionate kiss.

Confident!sub's hands slid down to your body, undoing your pants with a swift motion. He wasted no time in freeing his own arousal, rubbing it against yours before he could let you rub against his entrance. With a swift thrust, you entered him, filling him with your length.

The room was filled with the sounds of him screaming your name and the wet sounds. Confident!sub's moans echoed off the walls, a testament to his pleasure. You, gripping onto Confident!sub's hair, praised him for his skill and good looks, encouraging him to continue his plea.

Confident!sub, driven by your words, moving his hips at the same pace as you with a fervor that was almost animalistic. Your hands gripped on his hips, pulling him closer with each thrust. Him, lost in a sea of pleasure, could only hold on for dear life, his moans mingling in the air.

As you both reached your climax, Confident!sub's moans grew louder, your thrusts becoming more erratic. Him, gripping onto you tightly, felt his own release building. With a final thrust, you both reached, your bodies trembling with the force releasing.

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Intimidating!sub, a formidable figure with a history in the military, bears scars on both his face and body. His imposing physique and commanding posture are enough to convey his cold and strict demeanor, deterring others from approaching him. Even children and pets are frightened by his aura.

Despite his chilling exterior, Intimidating!sub has a soft spot for his beloved. At the mere sound of his name, spoken by you, his defenses crumble. He prefers to reserve his genuine smiles for private moments, sharing them only with you.

In terms of protection, Intimidating!sub is unparalleled. His presence alone is enough to deter potential aggressors, as if he were a guard dog watching over you. His menacing appearance suggests he'd defend you with ferocity, ready to "bite" anyone who dares to bother you.

In private, Intimidating!sub reveals a sensitive side. He cries during movies or deep conversations, seeking your comfort. With his head resting on your chest, he finds solace as he weeps, trying to express his feelings or explain the emotions triggered by a film. He's known to shed tears privately if his actions upset a child or pet.

Intimidating!sub is an intellectual powerhouse, capable of answering nearly any query and solving complex mathematical problems in a matter of seconds. He's like a human calculator, with an uncanny ability to memorize information. This makes outings with him effortless, as you need not consult your phone for calculations or searches.

Eager for your affection, Intimidating!sub leans on your shoulder, a subtle request for attention. He demands your love, regardless of your current engagements. If he's bold enough, he'll wake you to share a tender gaze.

Embarrassed by his nocturnal desires, Intimidating!sub awakens from wet dreams, seeking solace in the bathroom. If he gathers the courage, he'll attempt to rouse you, his eyes pleading softly.

——

After Intimidating!sub woke you from your slumber, you noticed the flush on his face, a testament to his embarrassment. A soft whimper escaped his lips, "Please help me with this..." Your eyes followed his gaze downward, where you found his hardened length, throbbing and grinding against the material of his pants.

The sight was too enticing to ignore, and as he offered you a small, tender peck on the cheek, you decided to give in to his desires. You guided his hand to release his length from its prison, letting it spring free. The tip glistened with pre-cum, a clear indication of his arousal.

Intimidating!sub's eyes locked onto yours, pleading for your touch. You obliged, wrapping your hand around his shaft and beginning to stroke him gently. His breathing hitched, his face contorting in pleasure. You teased him, speeding up and slowing down your strokes, drawing out his pleasure.

As you continued, Intimidating!sub's body grew more tense, his hips bucking involuntarily. You could sense his impending release, and you leaned in, taking his length into your mouth. The sensation of your warm, wet mouth enveloping him sent him over the edge.

Intimidating!sub cried out your name, his body trembling as he came. You swallowed his release, showing no signs of discomfort. When you pulled away, he collapsed onto the bed, his body slick with sweat.

You climbed on top of him, straddling his hips, and lowered yourself onto his still-hard shaft. He gasped, his hands gripping your hips as you began to ride him. The intimacy of this moment, with the dominant figure now reduced to the bottom, was intoxicating.

•◦✦────•◦ᘡᘞ •◦────✦◦•◦•

@𝑬𝑼𝑵𝑿𝑯𝑨𝑵. Do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work/theme without prior permission and/or confirmation.

#Eun.writes #Eun.asks #male reader #yandere male #yandere scenarios #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere x darling #oc x reader #yandere character #original character #yandere x male darling #yandere x male reader #yandere x you #original character x reader

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leighsartworks216 · 1 year ago

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Screaming crying crawling up the walls for your top tier Astarion content

Idk if you’ve seen this, it’s floating around the internet (I think it’s a tweet?) it says something like “I want someone to grab my face and say ON PURPOSE, I WILL CARE FOR YOU ON PURPOSE” and I’d love to see our love-deprived bi-centurion react to something like this.

Like maybe he’s caught feelings for tav and is starting to feel bad for manipulating them and starts self-sabotaging by saying/thinking stuff like ‘you only THINK you love me but it’s not real, I’m sorry I made you feel this way’ and tav getting v v serious and replying “I never loved you by accident”.

Him being confronted by the fact that things never would’ve gotten this far if they didn’t let it, if they didn’t choose him, that they’re still choosing him and that it has nothing to do with the act he put up or the situation he constructed, if they wanted nothing to do w him they could’ve and would’ve dipped.

Idk I’m just spitting ideas, have fun babe ✌🏻

- 🦇

I wrote this at 2am but I did proofread it (it's almost 4 now 💀)

Also the original tweet is by Jenny Slate (@/jennyslate) and says, "I just want someone to grab my little face and scream 'ON PURPOSE, ON PURPOSE I AM GOING TO CARE ABOUT YOU'"

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: self-doubt, references to manipulation, self-deprecation, references to dissociation, dissociation mention, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 1,392

Main Masterlist

Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

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It began one night, almost a week ago. Astarion had gotten into the routine of joining you in your bedroll after feeding, cuddling close and relaxing to the steady sound of your heartbeat. That night, a week ago, he didn’t. He delicately bit into your skin and pulled away before you were even slightly dizzy, murmured something about how you’d need your strength for a fight tomorrow, and slipped off to hunt for animals. Truly, you didn’t think anything of it, then. And maybe you got so lost, so caught up in your daily stress, that was why you didn’t register it for so long. Comments under his breath about manipulation immediately covered up with Gale requesting a magical artifact or Shadowheart and Lae’zel fighting.

So, a week went by. And the realization finally hit. Guilt ate away at your stomach, but wallowing wasn’t going to help. When night started to creep in, your companions slipping into their tents, you slipped into Astarion’s. Sitting in a pile of pillows, he looked up at you with a smirk and a ‘Hello, darling’, but it didn’t reach his eyes. They were dark. Distant.

“I’m sorry I haven’t given you the attention you need,” you start. A baffled look flickers across his face, but it is not given the time to settle.

There is a twitch at the corner of his mouth, like it’s a strain for him to keep smirking. “It’s perfectly alright, darling. You’ve been busy running around camp, helping people - I understand.”

With any other person, this would have seemed a perfectly reasonable response. An apology accepted, a mutual understanding - the relationship goes on. Except, this was Astarion.

You sit down nearby, close enough to reach out and touch. Any closer and you worried you’d overcrowd him. You always tried to let him come to you first, though he usually struggled to initiate anything.

“You’ve been distant, too,” you point out. He begins to form the words to apologize, but you shake your head to stop him before they can build a sentence. “I’m not upset, I don’t need an apology. I just wanted to know why.”

To be honest, he didn’t expect you to notice. He assumed, quite stupidly, all things considered, that you would be too preoccupied to notice him slowly slipping away. Late night cuddles dashed for hunting, hand holding forgotten as he trails along at the back of the group, kisses never lingering and the ones that did lacking any emotion behind them.

“Is something wrong?” you prompt gently. “If it’s too much, we can work out what would be better for you.”

Guilt stabs at his own non-beating heart like a wooden stake. He’s drifting and you still throw him a rope, still ask for him to grab on and pull himself away from his past, from dissociating with the slightest hint of affection.

He smiles wryly. “I can’t hide anything from you, can I?” he teases, but it comes out a little too strained to be a joke. His fingers fiddle with the corner of the page of his book. He finds watching the paper fold and bend is much more interesting than looking into your eyes.

He sighs. “I’m sorry, my dear,” he says, but the endearment feels like fire on his tongue, “but it’s not real. This isn’t real.” Your brow furrows as you stare at him. He can’t bear to see the realization cross your face. “Two hundred years of manipulating - of course I would trick you, too. It’s instinct, darling, I don’t blame you.” Red eyes finally meet yours. You look confused, of course, but there’s an air of determination, like you’re ready to fight whatever plagues him. “But this… love… it’s not real. And for what it’s worth, I am sorry I made you feel this way.”

He expects anger. He expects tears, even. Crying and shouting and ‘How could you?!’s and ‘I can’t believe you’ve manipulated me all this time!’ But it never comes. You frown, sure, but it’s leagues away from being angry.

“You think… you manipulated me into feeling this way?”

It shouldn’t hurt as much as it does. Admitting it feels bitter. He blames it on his growing fondness for you, but he knows it cannot possibly be returned in any genuine way. Not with his underhanded tactics surfacing at every passing glance, soft brush, and gentle smile. “Come now, darling,” he smirks again, building a wall to separate himself from the shitshow that must be just ‘round the corner, “who could really love me?”

That only succeeds in making you frown further. “Astarion, I’m not with you because you’ve tricked me.” The baffled look from earlier surfaces again, but it lingers, mixed with doubt. “I understand that you started this to manipulate me into protecting you, but I’m not here because you successfully influenced my emotions - To be perfectly honest, I could tell from the start.”

He laughs dryly, suddenly, like it startles him. “And here I was thinking I’d learned some subtlety.”

You don’t laugh with him. You don’t even smile. “I chose you, Astarion. I still choose to be with you. Because I want to.”

Any lingering mask of confidence fell from his face. The creases around his mouth became more prominent as he frowned. His eyes darted around, glancing around your face for any tells of deception, any hint that you’re making this up to make him feel better. “How can you be sure? How do you know you’re choosing me and not just buying into another act?”

“Astarion.” You get on your knees and hold his face in your hands. He stares up at you with big, round eyes. “If I wanted to, I could break up with you. I am not staying because I feel stuck, or because I feel obligated to. I love you. On purpose. On purpose, I am staying with you. On purpose, I choose you.”

He opens his mouth, but no words form. His mind is reeling, chasing to catch up and process everything, all the while jumping and flipping, trying to find excuses or reasons why you shouldn’t care for him. He swallows the lump building in his throat. He speaks in a whisper, too stunned to speak louder. “Are you sure?”

Your whole face softens. Determination turns to fond affection, frown lifting into a soft grin. “Yes. I’m sure.” You press a kiss to his forehead, and he closes his eyes to savor it. It’s been a week without allowing himself your love - he deserves to enjoy it once again, even if he feels guilty for it. He wishes his thoughts would just shut up and let him have this. “If you still need space or time, I’ll be here. I’m not leaving. Just,” you pull his face back, “please talk to me about this next time. I know things have been hectic, but I’m never too busy for you.”

He sighs, slow and soft. Relieved. “Of course, my love.” He adores the way you smile brightly at the endearment. He turns sheepish. “Ah, could I, possibly, join you tonight? It does, admittedly, get rather lonely passing the time alone.”

You kiss his cheek. “Of course you can. C’mon, I’ll even play with your hair if you’d like.”

He chuckles, genuine this time. “I very much would.” His book is set aside, the page he left off on lost as he takes your hand and follows you from his tent. He can’t help himself from squeezing your hand in his, like he can’t quite grasp the fact you are physically holding onto him. Even when you lay down first and he settles in next to you, arms wrapped around your middle and his head on your chest, it still feels hard to believe. But the way you wrap your arms around him and gently detangle his curls and scratch lightly at his scalp cannot possibly be from his imagination. Nor the way you press kisses on his forehead and temple and hair with sweet praises and words of affection. His mind is not kind enough to imagine such tenderness.

Laying there in your arms, listening to the steady beat of your heart and even breaths that fill your lungs as you slip into sleep, is the closest he has ever been to true contentment.

---

Tag List:

@hypopxia @flsalazar @beverlybeav @angelofthorr @emiemiemiii @marina-and-the-memes @lynnloveslokiredacted @aurasyn @furblrwurblr @cappsikle @mjmygd @thegirlsadventuresinwonderland @kindadolly @bloopthebat @pandimoostuff @chesb0red @black-star1472 @sessils @olitheghostboy-blog @puppyg1rl666 @maruichio @cyber-dump-171 @katharynmarie @twinkliker3000 @cherifrog @catching-fire-in-the-wind @phantoms-fandom-blog

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thatswhatsushesaid · 2 months ago

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this person has me blocked, which is something i used to genuinely lament because occasionally i'd see bits of their very thoughtful commentary floating across my dash, and i'd find myself sighing sadly over what other gems of wisdom i was missing out on by not having access to their blog. i'd even lament about it via dms to some of my pals who did still have access to this person's blog. what interesting discussions must have been happening beyond that "???" "this is no one" "uh, who??" opaque door that tumblr always presented to me whenever i clicked on this person's username? would i ever know?

a friend this morning: want to see a bad take to get mad at

me: obviously yes

anyway as it turns out, it looks like i'm missing out on exactly nothing, actually, so that's a huge relief

more seriously, recalling the insightful commentary that i have seen this person reblog in the past when it has come across my dash, i am frankly in awe of this one, because it is so profoundly disconnected from reality and how people experience stories. like i'm not even sure where to start with peeling back all of the wrongness layers at work here because i haven't taken my adhd meds yet this morning, but the primordial stupidity at this take's core (coming from someone who is clearly smart, ftr, i am targeting the stupidity of the concept, not the person) has made me genuinely angry. it's not even just about applying this framework to mdzs, though of course it is principally about that because this book DOES actually place class front and centre at multiple points in the narrative. it's the idea that we just shouldn't be having conversations about classism, or sexism, or [x]-ism, in the romance genre, because don't we realize the point is the romance, actually?? these other things clearly don't matter and aren't worth talking about??? and this mindset is so utterly foreign to me because at no point have i ever felt compelled to stop myself from thinking thoughts about a book because "oh, but this is genre fiction, i need to turn my brain off to read and enjoy this, i forgot." or "this thought is not appropriate because genre fiction, i'd better stop thinking it before i ruin the story."

like. i am deeply, deeply sorry for this person, actually, that they are not picking up on precisely what mxtx is putting down in the text, especially considering mxtx has explicitly explored themes of class in at least two of her novels (i'll get back to you on including svsss once i've read it). but also, a critique of class in the jianghu, or how mxtx has written her female characters, is entirely as valid use of fandom time and energy as writing one more definitely original and not remotely repetitive thinkpiece on the power of wangx!an's morally good love to overcome all obstacles (not saying OP wrote any of these, just that there ARE a bunch of them out there).

like. why do you want to simplify the experience of reading and thinking and talking about these books? why do you want to push for more boring analysis of stories? why are you using your platform to encourage this? i'm so mad about it actually. people listen to you, and this is what you're encouraging them to do: think less.

#salty peak sect 🧂#i'm so so so mad actually. just. so mad #this post will not be rebloggable and if you can suss out who the op is i am asking you very nicely not to have a go at them #leave them alone. come bitch about this with me in the notes here or via dms #also just. the audacity of claiming that jin guangyao 'doesn't count' even tho his whole story arc is about class barriers #and how class causes him to be treated differently than everyone else around him no matter where he is #or what amount of power he acquires #i'm gobsmacked by the willful ignorance

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marcos-scorpion · 2 years ago

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Heyy a Charles Leclercx fem!reader request where he comes home exhausted and the reader is making him a romantic dinner he comes in while she is cooking listening to some old music and he sways her around the kitchen and then they just slowly dance around the kitchen all evening food long forgotten deeply in love with eachother thank you and love your work

il predestinato - Charles Leclerc x Reader

hihi !! so i was aiming for this to be totally fluffy, but there’s a lil angst, mostly around how this season is going for Charles and Ferrari. I really like this tbh, and although i wrote it pretty quickly, i think it’s cute! tysm for the request my lovely,, hope you like it!! requests are still open

warnings- lil sad cos of Ferrari and how they treat Charles,, mostly fluffy

w/c- 1489

——

Charles Leclerc was struggling this season. You couldn’t deny it, no matter how much you wished it wasn’t true.

Ferrari disasterclass after Ferrari disasterclass were starting to weigh heavily on his mind. No matter how many positive interviews after less positive results he gave, how many toothy grins he shot your way after another day in the factory or on the sim, you could see how all of this was beginning to weigh on your boy.

You knew he deserved more, every F1 fan knew he deserved more. You’d seen messages between him and Pierre, him and Max, hell even a few with Sebastian that showed that they knew he deserved more. You’d watched quietly as his brothers rallied around him, despite Arthur taking off in F2 and Lorenzo always having to dash off for meetings, his career being more demanding than people realised. You’d watched as Charles’ dreams crumbled under the pressure of the team, under the tyres of his once-beloved red car.

He was meant to be ‘il predestinato’. The Predestined. One of the greats waiting to happen. He was meant to be fighting for that title, wheel to wheel with the Red Bull, the Mercedes, and, surprisingly, the Aston Martin. He was a front of the grid, top step of the podium driver, stuck with the team who had promised him the world, and left him to piece together the shards of the glory they had promised.

You felt powerless in this all. A girl with a degree earned in student loans and scholarships, and no career to back it up, in a fast-paced world of the rich and important. Finding a place in Charles’ life had been difficult as it was, but you would do it all again to support him. Put your dreams of a Masters degree, and a doctorate, on hold. Sell your meagre little studio flat for the life so many dream of in Monaco. Leave family and friends behind for a world that would never quite be yours, no matter how many brands suddenly wanted to dress you for paddock appearances, no matter how much diamond jewellery Charles draped around your throat. What could a normal girl do to support someone like Charles, in a situation as delicate and important as this.

Whatever you could. Anything you could. You celebrated his wins, commiserated and comforted after losses. Spent weekend after weekend in crowded garages, night after night holding him as his shoulders shook under the weight of everyone’s expectations, as tears ran in rivulets down his cheeks.

Today was going to be a hard day for Charles. You had seen it in his eyes when he had left your shared apartment that morning. Another meeting with the Ferrari high-ups, another meeting where they blamed everything but themselves for the poor results ahead of the Azerbaijan Grand Prix this coming weekend. As soon as the lock clicked into place behind him, you decided you needed to do something today that could hopefully lift his mood.

After spending most of the morning cleaning your home, washing his training gear and polishing the monitors on his sim, dusting trophies in the cabinets lining his office walls, a trip to the market began. The ingredients for Charles’ favourite food in your basket, you decided to stop and get a few more treats for him that would certainly anger his trainer. A bottle of his favourite expensive wine, pastries from the little stall he took you to the day you met, the chocolate his mum bought him after good results in kart races as a child.

Hours later, after what felt like much longer leant over the stovetop in your kitchen, the rich smell of the sauce you were stirring filled the room, the soft sounds of Elvis crooning though the speaker settled safely on the windowsill. Charles wasn’t meant to be home until seven thirty, and it was currently just past five. Enough time to finish the sauce, lay out the good plates and light a few candles. Maybe change into something other than the pyjamas you had put on when you got back from the market. ‘Pyjamas’ being a pair of Charles’ boxers fresh out of the dryer and your faded university jumper.

Tapping on your phone to increase the volume, you began to gently sway your hips to the intro to Suspicious Minds. So wrapped up in the music, you didn’t hear the front door click, or the bag hit the floor in the entryway. The footsteps making their way into the kitchen didn’t register, not until you felt an arm snake around your waist, palm pressed into the skin of your stomach and the waistline of the stolen underwear.

You didn’t even flinch at the sensation on your skin, it was so familiar and comforting. Leaning back into his touch, you smiled lazily as your eyes met.

“Hello, mon coeur.” He murmured, pressing his lips against your hair.

Twisting in his arms, you let him fully wrap you in his embrace, feeling the tension melt away from the muscles in his back. It had been as bad a day as you’d expected, you could see the slight glisten in his eyes, the furrow in his brow.

“Oh my darling,” you began “I take it the meeting didn’t go well?” You already knew the answer, but the tightening of his arms around your waist as he buried his face against your hair told you enough.

You could feel his lips move against your scalp after a few moments, the words he wanted to say struggling to come out. He sighed, stepping back slightly, shifting his arms to press his hands onto your hips. “They’re blaming me. Saying I’m not working hard enough, not trying hard enough to adapt to the car. I’m going against all their plans, against how they’ve set everything out for me. As if it isn’t their bad strategy that’s fucking me over every race.”

You suddenly felt insecure that your days-worth of work wasn’t going to help, or would even worsen his mood, that it was going against the plan designed by his team and his PT that was so clearly set out to help him be his best.

“I-I wasn’t sure how you would be feeling, so I’ve tried to cook your favourite. But if you don’t want it, the pre-planned meal ingredients from your trainer are in the fridge. I can make that, o-or I got some pastries from that stall, the one from our first date? And some chocolate, the one your mum used to get.” You smoothed a thumb over the crease between his brows, “We can do whatever you want.”

His hands dropped from your sides, and his chin drooped towards his chest, and you began to panic more. “O-or I can call Pierre, or your brothers, and you can have a boys night, I’ll get out of your way. Whatever you need me to do.”

His head is still down, and you’re so worried that you’ve made everything worse. But you weren’t expecting the look that you were met with when he raised his head. His eyes were shining more now, the glistening from earlier now lining his lashes with unshed tears. You weren’t expecting the sheer love that was emanating from his expression, his entire being.

The smile he gave you could move planets, reignite the stars. Any insecurity and anxiety settled in your chest disappeared, replaced with a deep-rooted warmth.

“Oh, my darling girl,” he sighed, “What good did I do in a past life to deserve you?”

His arms snaked around your waist again, pulling you tight against him. He began softly swaying to the music still playing.

“Sometimes, I think the universe made you for me. No one has ever done something so simple, yet so perfect. I think we were designed for each other mon coeur. Destiny did something right for once.” His voice was barely above a whisper.

“You know, I used to think the nickname il predestinato was a curse. A label placed on me for such an unattainable dream. A ridiculous notion, and unexpected pressure. But I believe that I was your predestined. And you’re mine. And as long as I have you, all of those dreams are within reach again.”

The food was long forgotten, simmering away to itself, and the candles on the table would remain unlit, for tonight at least. Right now, nothing would feel better than dancing with the love of your life to the songs your parents loved too.

And as the opening notes to Can’t Help Falling in Love With You began, and Charles reached around you to turn off the stove, twirling you to the song as he softly sang the words, you couldn’t help but agree with his sentiment.

This love was written in the stars. Predestined. And maybe, that was all you two would ever need.

#Charles Leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #Formula one x reader #charles Leclerc imagine #Charles Leclerc x you #f1 imagine #Fuck Ferrari this season #il predestinato deserves better #Mothie writes #Requests are open #Tysm for the request #F1 x reader fluff #Charles Leclerc x reader fluff

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ioniansunsets · 1 year ago

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Hi! Recently found you, and i LOVE your writing and ideas! Their very tasty, like high-quality chocolate &/or caramel!

I offer (potentially angsty) scenario(you don't have to do) with heartsteel kayn & Idol or k/da!Reader?

What if a stage malfunction happened during readers' (or kayns) show?? (Or a sabotage from a fan? Perhaps?)

(Bonus: & What if... reader or kayn got hurt?) Thank you if you choose to do this ask🩷 (Sorry ahhh-- this is my first time sending an ask)

✖ Heartsteel!Kayn x KDA!Reader Where Reader Gets Injured✖

✖ Word Count: 1.4k

✖ Tags: Established R/S, Mild Injury, Ends with Comfort, IDK if I'd even tag this as Angsty (maybe a tinge)

✖ A/N: I think its cute how Ahri, Akali, Evelyn and Kai’sa all technically can dash towards you with their actual in game skills LMFAO so cute...these girls would do anything to protect you. I think it’s very cute when a lover goes batshit insane with worry for you. Have mercy too, I’ve never been hospitalized, only visited people LMAO

Also thank you for asking this! I am so happy that you love my thoughts and words ><

✖ Wrote This Listening To: Drugs and Candy

----

There were always toxic fans. You knew that, and Kayn of course knew his fanbase were sometimes as batshit insane as him. But the past few weeks were great! Social media was abuzz with positive comments about you two, fans congratulated you at fanmeets praising how cute you looked with Kayn.

Everything pointed towards how the fanbase took the official announcement of you two dating well but of course, you know delusional, parasocial fans existed too.

What you don’t know, was how they got past security.

You don’t know how they sneaked past all the checks and stage tests.

Maybe it was on you, maybe you were training too hard and were too tired to notice.

Maybe the high of performing live on stage and all the bits and bops of things to do left it so you didn’t notice the creak of the bright lights above you. The lights in the same pink purple hues of Kayn’s hair. The last thing you remember was the crackle of lights, the screams of your fans, and all your band mates in a blur dashing towards you.

It was arguably just as bad for Kayn.

Sure he wasn’t there, he wasn’t injured, he wasn’t the target of the attack nor was he the one in the hospital but there was nothing worse than hearing that you were still out cold, uncertain of how hurt you actually were.

There was nothing worse really, seeing the clips circulating online of what happened being reposted by all sorts of accounts. The blood that flowed from you onto the stage, oh god he didn’t even know humans could bleed this much.

There was nothing worse than knowing that he was stuck on tour and couldn’t be by your side.

There was nothing worse than not being able to call you and check on you because according to Akali you were STILL in the ER right now, you’re still unconscious and the doctors have no updates. How! It has been at least 4 hours since your opening act. Since the incident.

There was nothing worse, than fighting with his bandmates and managers, begging to go back to be by your side, and only after Alune stood up for him saying how “ The Heartbeats would understand why Kayn was missing. Let him go or he would just sneak off at night and do it anyway.” That management allowed them to postpone their weekend show so he could book a midnight flight to you.

There was nothing worse, than sitting alone in the private airport lounge, checking socials for updates and finding out HIS fan was the one that was caught on CCTV being the perpetrator, the one that did this to you, the love of his life. They even wore a jacket with Rhaast’s icon sewn onto the back, almost mocking him. Sure you were the one physically hurt, but the way his emotions were all over the place, the way his heart refused to calm down, the way he haven’t felt so much like throwing up since he left his old band. He hated this.

Hands tightening around his already cracked phone, the only reason he hasn’t angrily thrown it against the wall was because Akali messaged him telling Kayn how you were stable now, you lived fine, you were still sleeping but you were out of surgery at least. He swallows hard, quickly picking up his small luggage as he runs over to the gate to board his plane. Kayn breathes heavy, only thoughts about being by your side when you wake up keep him walking and keep the absolute rage and chaos Rhaast has at bay. The flight couldn’t be any longer to him.

He ran, the second the Taxi dropped him off at the hospital he phased through walls and booked it straight up to your room, leaving Akali to sigh as she signs him in. The way his hands shook as he slowly opened the door to your ward. Feeling like it was somehow rude to phase through this one way although one, you were still unconscious and two he already violated the privacy of half the hospital.

“ My little demon…This is all my fault.”

Kayn slowly walked to your side after he steps in, watching and noting how you had your eye patched up, how bandages trailed down your body, how pale your skin was. He was going to throw up again, seeing you this way. Ahri who was in the room watching over you let him know you could still see of course, and nothing plastic surgery can’t fix about the scars. You would be fine after a week or two of rest. The shards of glass from the strobe lights missed all the important bits, only scratching up your brow, cheek and collar. Ahri offers Kayn a small sad smile before leaving to give him time with you. The other girls in K/DA has some cuts and bruises saving your from the falling light but otherwise were fine.

It was another hour of your steady breathing and the beeping of machines around him. To Kayn, it felt like hours. Inconsolable hours where his thoughts went wild. Rhaast kept at bay from trashing the place solely from how weak and shaky your breathing was. So when the beeping finally started to pick up Kayn was standing up, hand holding yours, calling out to you frantic and concerned as you slowly blinked and opened your eyes.

“ Oh my god you’re finally awake baby.”

You watched your boyfriend cry, silent tears falling as he spoke over and over about how he should have curated his audience more, warned them to not pull shit like this to you. Anger about how could his “obsessive fans” not know that hurting you would hurt him just as much. Frustration about not being in the audience this time to save you. Sorrow about seeing how much pain you were in right now because of him. Anger once again from Rhaast this time about how incompetent your security was for letting a mistake like this go unnoticed and finally…overwhelming relief that you were ultimately ok. It was new, seeing him so scared, so worried, no doubt all of these emotions were because of just how much Kayn loved you but still, you felt bad making him worry so much. Finally he updates you, telling you about what happened, how you would be ok, he would make sure of it.

“ I…I’m sorry you had to go through this because of me. If you want to leave me because of my fans I will totally understand.”

You watched his voice crack as his hand grasps yours tighter. Your lover’s brows furrowed as he thinks hard. Biting his lip so hard you could almost see it bleed.

“ No Kayn! I would never! It’s not your fault. None of it was your fault, my own crazy fans could have done this to me too y’know. Plus if I breakup with you, they totally won.”

You reply, throat a little dry from not speaking so long but you had to tell him. No way you’re letting some insane fan ruin your performance, your day and your relationship. You watch him finally smile a little as you speak, the corners of his lips barely curving, tears stopping at your frantic attempts to make sure he knows just how much you love him back. No way in hell or heaven would you give up what you have with him because of some lunatic. Especially after seeing just how much he loved you, flying here for you? Putting his work behind for You? How could you let this man go.

“ Hey, at least we can get matching eyepatches now?”

At your comment, he lets out an exasperated laugh.

" I’m sorry, I should be the one making you feel better not the other way around. Here.”

You watch as Kayn slips a finger under his eyepatch, pulling it off carefully before bending down to give your bandaged side a small kiss. Hands uncharacteristically gentle as they worked their way around your hair and all the gauze to put his eyepatch on you. Giving you another quick kiss on your lips before pulling away.

" Looking good darling."

" Only because you style me so well!"

Yeah, it will be ok, the two of you were motivated, hardworking idols, a setback like this meant nothing. As he smiles again at you, the signature cheeky, prideful smile you’ve come to love from him. Your heart flutters. Yeah, something like this won’t stop you from loving him.

#I THINK THIS WENT OK #I love kayn........i dreamt of heartsteel kayn last night so here we go more kayn x reader #SORRY THIS TOOK LIKE A MONTH Oh my god im so sorry #I HOPE ITS WORTH THE WAIT........#Kayn League of Legends #Heartsteel!Kayn x Reader #Shieda Kayn #Kayn League #Heartsteel Kayn #Anon Answer #Heartsteel!Kayn #Kayn x Reader #Kayn LoL #KaynLeague #K/DA Reader #SCENARIO

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missgryffin · 10 months ago

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lying in wait

Randomly listened to some Hamilton over the weekend, ended up with "Wait For It" stuck in my head, and wrote this in a couple hours today. I think it's angst, but with a nice dash of crack? Idk 😅 But I hope it makes you smile! 🫶 below + AO3

November 3, 1981

The cottage is silent, save for the ticking of the old grandfather clock in the hall, and it’s already pitch dark, with only the faint glow of street lamps and budding moonlight shining in through rain-slicked windows.

Lily draws up her knees to her chest where she sits on the sofa, peering mindlessly into blurry windowpane. She doesn’t remember the last time she walked aimlessly down a road, or went into a shop. Sometimes, on stormy autumn nights like this, she wonders if she ever will again.

Footsteps tumble down the stairs, then come to an abrupt halt.

“Lil?” She can see his shadowed outline, one hand in his hair. “You just…sitting in the dark?”

She shrugs, though he probably can’t see, and asks, “Harry went down alright, then?”

James chuckles to himself as he crosses the room, picking his way around the furniture until he drops onto the sofa next to her. “After reading every book twice and playing the Snitch game for thirty minutes…yes.” He leans closer, grinning. “Our son is asleep.”

She rests a hand on his scruffy cheek. “It’s only supposed to be ten minutes of the Snitch game,” she teases him.

“I know,” James sighs. “But he asked for ten more.”

Lily snorts. “What, and then ten more after that?”

He throws his hands weakly in his lap. “Wha—am I supposed to say no to the kid? He looks just like me!”

She falls into him, a laughing heap, and for a moment, they simply giggle deliriously together. It’s nice. It’s normal. Or at least a sliver of it.

James cuddles her into him, and Lily breaths him in. They’ve lost so many over the few years since Hogwarts, but they still have each other. She clings on to that, to him.

“I love you,” she says into his chest.

He kisses the top of her head. “I love you, too.”

A stretching silence; a heavy sigh. “It’s his birthday.”

“I know,” James murmurs. “I can’t stop thinking about him.”

Lily peels herself off his chest and swings a leg over his lap, sitting with her arms looped around his neck. How many conversations have they had over the years while sitting just like this? How many more will they get?

“He said he’d be in touch by today.” Her mind won’t stop racing. “What if this was a bad id—”

“It wasn’t,” James cuts her off. “Besides.” A heavy sigh. “It was…our only idea.”

“Do you think…” She pauses, plays with his hair. “Do you think we…did the right thing?”

He sits up straighter, pulling her closer against him. “You’re the only two people in my life I know I can trust completely,” he says. “So yeah, I think we did.”

There’s no use rehashing it again; they’ve done that enough. Yes, he now has a target on his back, but it’s not like he wasn’t already a target before. No, it couldn’t have been anyone else—not Albus, who knows more than he’s saying; not Remus, whom Albus and Sirius both suspect; and not Peter, who’s been looking exhausted and strung-out from the night-shift reconnaissance he’s been assigned. Yes, he had to leave. And no, it wasn’t cowardly to do so.

Granted, that last bit had taken a not insignificant amount of convincing (damned Gryffindor), but he eventually came around to their idea. Staying around in England with Voldemort sure to be onto him was certain death. But why not take advantage of being top of Voldemort’s mind? Why make it easy, when instead he could make it hard? Give the Order a leg up? Let them use him (or rather, the idea of him) as bait to lure and manipulate all the Death Eaters looking for him, and maybe even root out the spy in the process? And really, if anyone was going to lead Voldemort on a wild goose chase, setting traps and lying in wait, who better than Sirius Black?

Still, she worries. She can’t help it. And she knows James worries too, even if he does do a better job of hiding it.

There’s only one thing left to do, really; only one way to pass the time sufficiently distracted from racing thoughts. James must read her mind, because he’s all eager hands and excited tongue when she kisses him. Maybe it’s unhealthy, how much they’ve used sex to cope the past year. But when his mouth feels like this and hair’s in her hands…she’s not sure she cares.

“Prongs!”

They jump, springing apart like they’re fifth years caught after curfew. James swears under his breath as they fumble to right the clothes they’d started shoving aside before he reaches for the small mirror sitting on the coffee table.

“Padfoot!”

Lily frantically feels around the sofa for her wand.

“Why’s it so dar—oh, don’t tell me you were just—”

“We were waiting for you,” James covers.

“Mate. That’s worse. Just say you were shagging.”

“Well, we weren’t yet.”

“Hi, Sirius.” She brandishes her now-glowing wand, recovered from the seam between the cushions.

“Lily! Looking rumpled as ever!”

She yanks her cardigan back up her shoulder as she scolds, “Shut it.”

“I miss you, too.”

They can only see Sirius’s chin in frame, and it seems like he’s moving around.

“Happy birthday, man,” James says.

“Thanks.”

“Where are you?”

“Hang on—I have to show you—ready?”

“Yeah?”

His face comes into view and Lily instantly gasps.

Sirius grins. “Like it?”

His once shoulder-length hair’s been chopped off stylishly short in a fresh cut that makes him look like old Hollywood charm in that loose button-down he has on.

“Damn, Pads!”

“I…barely recognize you,” Lily stammers.

“Well.” He adjusts the mirror closer to his face. “That’s sorta the point.”

A heavy pit settles in her stomach.

“How you been?” James asks. “Travel go okay?”

“Yeah, fine.” Sirius shrugs. “I’ve been doing things the Muggle way—that Muggle Studies N.E.W.T.’s finally paying off, who woulda thought.”

“Where are you now?”

The mirror turns around, panning over an ocean-side city lit up with lights through a set of patio doors. “Cannes,” he says, and Lily hears the grin in his voice. The mirror turns back to his face. “I have access to money here, dad’s side of the family, in the French bank. And I figure…” He flops back atop a hotel bed, one hand beneath his head. “If Voldemort wants to come get me, he’ll just have to bring his snakey arse down to the beach, won’t he?”

They all bust up into snorting, wheezing laughter. It’s not normal; none of it’s normal. But laughing with her husband and their best friend like this is the closest to normal she’s felt in a long time, and she thinks, if this is how life has to be for awhile, she can live with it.

#missgryffin writes #jily #jple #james x lily #jily fanfiction #alternate ending #not really sure what this is it just happened #everyone lives au #justice for sirius black #getting the adventure story he deserves

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orange-demons-deactivated2024 · 5 months ago

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2 year 'Hiatus'

(long post/rambling)

Hello everyone! The day's finally come for me to start my 2-year hiatus.

I'll be starting school tomorrow, July 1st, from 8am - 5pm Mon-Fri. (Full time). So there won't be many opportunities for me to keep constantly posting here all the time.

I want to personally thank you all for welcoming me into the Street Fighter fandom and for taking the time out of your day to interact with my blog.

I never thought I would become a fanfic writer again after so many years of not writing and to meet so many of you throughout my stay here.

With my first fic, Mount, I was nervous about people not caring about it and for it to be lost in the Street Fighter algorithm because I joined the fandom so late. (March 2024). And originally, I planned to make that my only fanfic and call it a day. But after I got my first comment I was over the moon.

Then slowly I had people liking and following this side blog where I dumped all my random reblogs on. And that's when I realized, there were people still out there loving these characters as much as I did despite the slow traction on the street fighter dash.

So that's when I decided to make this random side blog into a SF6 fanfic blog.

I started to write strictly Bosch x Reader's in the beginning because he was the reason why I joined this space in the first place. Then I wrote for Luke, then Poison, then Ed, then Jamie, then at last Chun-Li. I learned to love characters that I first didn't give a second thought about and I learned more info. about some SF characters I wasn't aware of before.

Then my blog went from 0 followers to 38! Holy smokes, 38 people really cared enough to follow and read my ramblings? That's crazy. I never even expected to have 1 follower much less 38.

My favorite part about writing for this fandom was interacting with everyone in the comment section/reblogs. I enjoy talking to you all and writing silly blurbs whenever we get too into the hcs. Really, it makes my day better when I see people commenting and giving love to my works.

And to be 100% honest with you all, I was originally going to start including a lot more X Fem!Reader Inserts because I am a Cis Woman who never wrote for any other genders but Fem! ones. But seeing how little fanfics there were, I thought it would be unfair for me to exclude the other side of the SF6 fandom that wouldn't be able to enjoy any reader inserts because of their gender.

So I'm glad I didn't go that route because I got to find ways to be more inclusive in my writings without mentioning the reader's Skin/Gender/Appearance in any of them and to keep them gender-neutral.

And as a reminder, this blog is the first time for me to write this way, so if you guys think that some of my works sound Fem! based please tell me so I could fix it. Because the last thing I want is for people to tell me I'm more biased for my female audience.

I don't know If you guys knew this, but it kinda broke my heart when I found out I was accepted to this school. Granted, I've been trying to get in for 4 years.

But I honestly didn't think I would've gotten in this year because I thought I bombed my 5-panel interview with the school and they only accepted the top 25 people in my area.

I even started to make plans to work a full-time job somewhere else, take Muay Thai classes, write more fics, and give up on my dreams of ever becoming an X-ray tech. But then I got a phone call on my birthday saying I made it in!

I was overwhelmed with happiness for all my efforts getting into this school after so long. I felt like I was running behind all my peers who already graduated and got their careers started compared to me. But now I get to finally start mine and do what I've always wanted to do and to help people.

Then, I was hit with a wave of sadness because I barely dipped my toes into the Street Fighter fandom and now I'm already leaving. All my ideas for future fics, including the ones rotting in my drafts, may never see the light of day. I was really sad for everything to come to an abrupt end for something that barely even started.

What's going to happen to this blog?

To be frank with you all, I still REALLY want to post SF fics but I know that it probably won't be possible with my schedule for the next 2 years.

I do get a 1-2 week break every 3 months for my school so y'all might see something pop up in the SF6 feed every once in a while. I’ll mostly be writing on my terms and I won’t be answering anyone’s asks. But it's not guaranteed you will.

Plus, I bought the game, so it's not like I'm just gonna drop SF6 out of my life completely. I'll post things here and there that are not fics and maybe tiny drabbles in my free time but it's still up in the air if I will. You'll see me being active on here but not in the same way that you usually do.

Now that I'm transitioning to going to school full-time, I'm nervous about what's to come out of everything, since I've been looking forward to this day since I graduated high school.

I also want to thank you all for sending your requests in. They helped me learn where my writing was strongest and where I needed to improve.

I tried to get through all of your asks as best as I could but I believe there are 2 left in my inbox as of now. I’m sorry I wasn’t the best at being consistent and I hope to get those out as soon as I can.

Thank you all again, for making my time here memorable and I hope to keep posting more SF6 content in the future.

And please continue to support other fanfic writers in the Street Fighter fandom like:

@ruthlesscore

@chqolan

@randobisexual

@luvlyycy

@cosmichorrorsarestillnicerthanme

@scarletcoral13

@rosewood-writes-and-reviews

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certifiedlovergirlsstuff · 2 years ago

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somewhere in the haze got a sense ive been betrayed

pairing: ethan landry x reader

WC: 1.3K

warnings: blood mentions, stabbing, this is a scream fic its a little violent and graphic. SPOILERS LIKE ACTUAL CHARACTER SPOILERS DONT READ UNTIL YOUVE SEEN THE MOVIE

summary: people aren’t who they always say

A/N: i freaking loved scream6!!!!! literally wrote this the day after i watched the movie. gonna try and pop out a mix of angst and fluff for ethan cause i love my nerdy boyfriend. lowercase on purpose, sorry if that bothers you. if the chase scene sucks... mind your business, just skim the words.

masterlist

“hello?”

“hello… y/n. i’ve missed the sound of your voice.”

it was like you heard the stereotypical horror movie music play in your mind. your blood went cold and your body seized up from the bucket of ice water that just splashed over your whole body at the voice of the horrific ghost face. the way he spoke your name made you feel even sicker.

“what is it now? gonna sweet talk me for a second before you start saying vile words and then pop out from a corner ready to stab me?” you took slow steps through the living room, trying to scope out where the killer could be lurking.

he just laughed, “well you do know how this works. after all, you already went through round one in woodsboro, somehow surviving multiple stab wounds to your stomach. impressive.”

the deep drawl of his voice only caused nausea to roll over you in waves. with quiet steps as you listened to the narcissist as they just talked and talked, you hurried to the kitchen and grabbed the biggest knife from the wooded block.

“honestly why don’t we just do this dance, huh? i was in the middle of a very good book and i would like to get to the part where the love interest resolved their differences and had hot sex. plus i’ve done this before and i’ve been working out.” you just started to blurt things out, your anxiety kicking into high gear.

ghost face didn’t say anything back and it only caused your fear to grow. so you just hung up and speed-dialed sam knowing she always answers her calls.

“come on, sam. please please plea-“

“y/n? what’s-“

“he’s in the apartment. please get here fast… i love you guys.” you hung up placing your phone in your back pocket. you hoped to make it alive again, but as mindy said, you're all expendable in sequels.

the noise of something crashing to the ground made you flinch high in the air, a small gasp slipping from your lips. the grip on the knife readjusted to get a firmer hold as you peeked around a corner, seeing nothing suspicious. so you started to make your way towards the front door, hoping you could escape the killer before he gets you.

as just as you passed quinn’s room you stepped on a creaky spot. you froze for a second before running to the door, fumbling with the five locks. and just as you were on the last two, sweat causing the metal to be slippery, your roommate's door burst open and ghost face, dressed in his black cloak and the dirty mask came dashing at you with the classic knife held high.

you screamed and ducked away needing to circle back to the door. you were able to get a quick swipe to their bicep before running to sam’s room and closing the door closed. you took a breath until loud banging slammed against the wooden frame, almost bending the door in half from its weight.

with ghost face distracted on the door, you ran through the shared bathroom, shutting and locking each door as you entered quinn’s room. you pushed her dresser against the bathroom for extra hold. when it was in place you ran, knife still in hand, and went back to get the last locks on the door free and ready for your escape.

just as you pulled the door open, ready to dash down the steps, you were pulled back with arms around your waist and pulled into a solid chest. you screamed and kicked, the knife falling to the floor. ghost face threw you to the ground, back hitting the living room chairs. you turned to your stomach to try and go for a push-up into a run, hands tight on your ankles pulled you back. your hands scrambled for purchase on something solid.

then suddenly the most blinding white hot pain shot through your right thigh pulling a high-strung scream from your vocals. then he gave the knife a twist making the pain shoot to your spine, you felt frozen. he pulled the dripping knife out and his hands grabbed your waist, pulling you further down before flipping you over and straddling your waist making you immobile.

you tried to push his arms away, but his strength was must higher than yours as he plunged the knife into your stomach then pulled out then back in. in and out, in and out. multiple more times that you knew you wouldn’t survive this one.

you tried using your last bit of strength to push his looming face away. with a solid hold, you ripped the stupid mask off the killer's face and the sight before you taking the last bit of air from your lungs.

“e-ethan?” you rasped out, blood dripping from your mouth.

your loving, sweet, handsome boyfriend of five months now stared down at you with a sickening twisted grin on his lips, teeth poking out like fangs. his thick head of luscious curls that you would run your fingers through when making out or just laying with each other were matted down with sweat, and the urge to touch them came back on instinct.

limply you lifted your left arm from the floor and cupped his cheek, you saw the look in his hungry eyes switch for a second before snapping back into place. “e-ethan… wh-why? i- i thought you lo-loved me.” with a gentle swipe of your thumb over his skin, his eyes involuntarily slipped closed at the comforting gesture.

“i do love you, sweetheart. but i have to do this.” a gloved hand held the one on his face, you were scared and confused by everything.

“i- i don’t-“ “i need to complete my brother's movie.”

you decided if you could keep ethan talking maybe the others will show up soon and save you, “br- brother? you- you said you were an- an only child.”

“sorry sweetheart, but i lied. had to get close to you and your friends somehow, and having a fake identity helps.” he whispered, “landry isn’t even my real last name.”

your anger was spilling over the brim. ethan used you to get closer to your friends, you were just a pawn in this stupid fantasy of his. and it hurt because you thought he was the one, the goodness that you needed in your life.

with both hands you held his cheeks then slid them slowly up into his sweaty curls, nails dragging over his scalp pulling a groan from his throat and usually, you loved the noise but now all you saw was red. so with a good fist full, you pulled his hair hard and then slammed your head together.

it caused ethan to fall back, dropping his knife. with the last of your strength, you tried to slide away from him, tried to grab your phone and call sam or chad, anyone at this point. but your luck had run out and ethan gained back his upper hand.

he grabbed a chunk of your hair, head pulled back with your eyes pointed at the ceiling. ethan leaned over your left shoulder and whispered in your ear, “i did love you. but family is family, gotta stick by them. so, any last words, y/n?”

with tears streaming down your face, and blood closing off your throat, you sniffle out your last words, “i loved you too,” you said with every bit of honesty, “but you're gonna get killed like the pussy you truly are.” you seethed with a blinding anger.

and the last thing you heard was the roar of ethan’s cry as you felt the cold metal slice your throat open and your head slumping hard on the wood flooring. you died at the hands of the first boy you truly loved in this twisted world.

love does kill you in the end.

...

#ethan landry imagine #ethan landry #ethan landry fic #ethan landry angst #ethan landry x reader #scream 6 #scream 6 imagine #scream 6 x reader #scream vi #ethan landry oneshot #ethan landry blurb #jack champion #jack champion scream 6

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magellanicclouds · 7 months ago

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Halo - An Essay: regarding waste management systems and devices for MJOLNIR armoured Spartans It has been a hectic sort of few weeks. Between work and getting sick again (for the fourth time already this year thanks to my crewmates who can't remember it's their duty to stay home when they're ill) I've been on the outs. I haven't had the energy for much, but I'm usually a pretty active person, so this has kind of made me loopy? Which feels like as good a time as any to talk at length about the concept of catheterizing Spartans for waste management in MJOLNIR.

Let me explain.

This Silly Post crossed my dash recently and I fully understand it is meant as lighthearted fun - we have fun here. But it also dragged out some strong thoughts I've had haunting in the back of my mind about this for years because I'm super normal about Halo, and have time on my hands and the right amount of sleep deprivation and medication on board. So I wrote 3500 words about it. And about Karen Traviss, who is pretty knotted up in this conversation, since she's the one who decided to start it back in 2011.

To preface, I'm not an expert, but I have worked in emergency medicine for 25 years, and been a fan of Halo for almost as long. I've had more of a lukewarm relationship with it the last decade or so if I'm being honest, but it will always have a home in my heart; I just think letting it under my skin like that in the first place may have made me feral and prone to biting. Thankfully, I can always happily rotate Fred in my mind until the heat-death of the universe, so that's nice. Anyway, full disclosure: the essay below contains discussion about medical devices, physical trauma, and I am sharing quite a lot of personal negativity about the Kilo-5 trilogy and Karen Traviss. That said, if you'd like to sit in on the length of what I'm about to yell into the sky about all this, you can find it under the cut. I love you.

Welcome to my dissertation.

Section 1 - The Relevant Background:

Equipping Spartans with urinary catheters weeded itself into the Halo universe in the 2011 book Halo: Glasslands, during a conversation between Spartan II Naomi-010 and ODST Mal Geffen. Glasslands was the first in Karen Traviss's Kilo-5 trilogy, and she is both the originator of this, and the only official Halo author or source to have used catheters specifically since. Some context: I don't personally like these books, or their author, or even her reasoning for why she chose to add this. My personal preference doesn't make something 'bad', and I'm not out to hurt any feelings. Kilo-5 isn't a total wash for me, there are some characters and ideas that I'd of otherwise loved to have seen explored through the lens of a different author, but these books felt smothered under Traviss's habit of always injecting her very loud personal voice into the narrative fabric. I think this is something that's fine to do in an original series, but doesn't really belong in an established third party IP. She bangs on about so much of her own narrow worldview and self-assured prejudices across the trilogy that still discussing them today creates division in the fandom, and sadly did a lot of lasting damage to a couple characters. But for the topic here, the dialogue that started all this cath chat came from Naomi-010, having idle conversation with Mal who asks her about bathroom breaks. “I’m catheterized. Another reason why that machine has to be so precisely calibrated. This suit plugs into me in a lot of places.” 'The Machine' she's referring to is a Brokkr assembly, which was introduced to the lore as a large mechanical armature used to get Spartans in and out of MJOLNIR. You can see them in action in cinematics from Halo 4 (+Spartan Ops) and 5.

One single mention, and it was big news. Traviss was naturally interviewed about it because of course she was - people can't help themselves but forget an entire novel and tunnel vision on 'but how pee pee?', and her answer has always irritated me. It's not in what she says, so much as what 'what she says' means in her voice. Traviss didn't answer it directly, but instead talked about how she likes to get into character's heads by addressing the mundane necessity of things that often go overlooked to expand a sense of familiarity with the character and their world. Sounds super reasonable, I know, but don't give her too much credit - that's not a quote. It's just me paraphrasing and honestly I was pretty generous in my wording. Probably because I agree! What bugs me about it, is if you've ever read literally any interview with her, or her personal musings about her writing process, you know there's a bit of an 'honesty' issue there. She's somebody who feels perfectly comfortable ignoring established character voices, traits, or histories to satisfy whatever roles she's reinvented for them, and too many others wind up as mouthpieces. How much are you really challenging yourself in finding characters' voices when most of them are just yours? And the part about familiarity with their world? I giggled a little. She doesn't care about their world, or their aesthetics, or their technology, or their medicine. Because she didn't care about Halo while writing these, and she's not vague about admitting that. It's a matter of pride for her to purposefully refuse to research those things, in the same way she disregarded Star Wars and Gears of War - she doesn't consider the effort to be a valuable part of her process. So instead she'll skim the foundation, gather some recognizable names, pick her targets, and trusts that her personal experiences combined with an outsider perspective will generate better content to seamlessly overwrite what existed. Cool, Karen. Annoying, but why bring all that up? We're here to talk about catheters, right? Well, the fandom for the most part begin and end their assessment of the dialogue at urinary catheters, but the whole quote implies so much more than that - "This suit plugs into me in a lot of places." We're not just dealing with a cath, but apparently with multiple additional external-to-invasive connections. Reader, this dialogue is a plinth to Traviss's bizarre refusal to research not only the franchises she's contracted to write in, but also just into the basic function and hazards of existing concepts that she wants to introduce, and all because she's convinced herself she's done learning about the world. Choosing to ignore the creative freedom of limitless potential in a future of technology that would be basically magic to us today, and instead degrade 529 years of advancement is certainly a take, but it's even more ridiculous to do it with a subject (The Spartan Programme) that is considered to be the peak of advancement in that future's setting. That's clownery, just like her alleged commitment to adjusting her perspective to suit a universe's world.

I want to close out this section with a question: Why is it that writers in the Halo space - both fan and official - cling so tightly to current-day modern concepts as if they'd still be perfectly relevant in 500+ years? Music, for example, apparently suffered a multi-century stagnation in lots of published and fanmade Halo media. Though my partner made a strong counterpoint about this to be fair: we still listen to music composed by Mozart. So there's an argument to be made there. Medicine though. There is way less latitude to embrace the classics there. It's been shown across several games, novels, and films to be sufficiently advanced well beyond anything we're currently capable of or even understand, so why undermine that and choose to drag it centuries backward? For clarity, I am not talking about what might be standard in the public or private sectors, nor the enduring things that'd be used by the public and military alike, like sterile dressings, syringes, supplemental oxygen equipment. Those are the Basics and they will be relevant to us indefinitely. But I'm talking about the UNSC. I'm talking about ONI R&D. I'm talking about Section Three. Retrograding tech and failing to address a necessity that applies to every living person in the Super Soldier Wizardry department makes my mouth flatten into a tight little line.

Section Two - Caths, and why this whole thing got written:

Indwelling urinary catheters, both urethral and suprapubic. There's a laundry list of problems here, but I've distilled it down to the three biggest when suggesting they'd have any safe practical application in Spartans: Care. Activity. Damage. There is unreasonable expectations of care and maintenance for caths with regards to people who can be on operations isolated for months at a time with no support of any kind and are often limited to carrying only what can be kept on their person. The level of extreme physical activity Spartans engage in on any perfectly normal day whether deployed or not is unfit for the stability and safety of a cath. And damage; obvious enough, but with this one I'll be taking a huge emphasis on concussive forces - explosions. Something Spartans are subjected to a lot. I'll be using the height of modern-day catheter quality as a baseline for this, since that's what Traviss felt was sufficient. Regarding Urethral vs Suprapubic, Traviss doesn't specify by name, but Naomi's comment in full reads to me that she's only catheterized temporarily while armoured, hence the assembly needing to be so finely calibrated. Foley caths are temporary urethral caths that would only supplement the urinary process while a person was armoured. Suprapubic caths however are surgically placed devices. They do need routine tube replacement to keep them clean, but unlike the Foley that just serves as an aide measure for an otherwise fully functioning bladder, suprapubic caths are usually placed in people with congenital bladder disfunction, or who've suffered injury or disease that left the bladder in poor health or failure. This type of access will always require a tube in place and this would be the exclusive method of urination - in or out of armour. My Big Three Concerns fit both types similarly, though there is some additional risks associated with urethral caths that I'll cover.

Care: Caring for an invasive cath is a not insignificant effort. They're prone to blockage, kinking, and bacterial growth. They're so frequently responsible for UTIs and kidney stones that these complications are just considered the Standard Fair for having a cath. Their need to be frequently replaced because of their penchant for bacterial growth is the kicker here - whole floral colonies sprout up in caths and can eek their way out into the body through compromised tissue and wreck havoc. They have no self-cleaning mechanism, and steadily deteriorate. Changing and replacing an indwelling cath is a procedure that requires additional supplies that'd have to be carried, and needs to be done in a practiced and clean setting; preferably medical. Granted, there are people who manage the removal and insertion of their own caths at home, but they still need to ensure a clean and safe environment while they do this. A Spartan could never be guaranteed that, nor would it even be wise to consider the vulnerability of removing so much armour to handle it. Modern day caths are recommended to be replaced every 30 days or so, with some models able to be in place for a few months at a time, but that's with constant daily care and cleaning; something that'd be unreasonable for a Spartan to maintain while entrenched who knows where for who knows how long, and without access to replacement medical supplies. Those endurance times between replacements are geared for the average public person who leads an average public life and care for their cath as directed and don't get into fist fights with Sangheili. Needless to say, the endurance time for the same device in a Spartan who leads a wildly different lifestyle probably cuts those times down to a third.

Activity: Modern day caths are designed to offer people the most utility and versatility possible. Both models are available for people who are bed-bound or have extremely limited mobility, as well as for those who are mobile, independent, and live out average lives. With regards to the latter, suprapubics are somewhat more common, if for no other reason than to reduce the Foley's higher risks of induction injury, but modern urethral caths also allow for regular movement and activity with a more reduced chance of becoming dislodged or damaged than they would have had a couple decades ago. But when I say regular activity, I mean going on a walk. Shopping for groceries. Doing basic house chores. Even light exercise and sexual activity can be managed with physician advisement and the appropriate precautions taken. Anytime a Spartan was fielded they'd have to be all the more overly-cautious about Movements Outside of Their Control during confrontations, maneuvers, ambush, environmental or vehicular incidents. Even when things go well there'd be too much risk involved. That said, traumatic decatheterizations happen more frequently than anyone would like, and I'm talking about regular old Joe Everybody. I respond to no less than a dozen of these incidents a year. Both types of catheter are held in place by a bulb balloon that's inflated from a port with around 10-30ccs of saline after the tube enters the bladder (30ccs would be more appropriate for better security of the line). Before removing a cath, the saline is removed to deflate the balloon and the tube is guided out - with a Foley cath, that means being guided out of the urethra. When a Foley cath is traumatically removed, the saline filled balloon - which is like five times wider in diameter than the average 6mm urethra - does a pretty devastating amount of damage on it's way out, penis or vagina; though a penile urethra has significantly more length to damage, and the penile meatus very typically is torn. These incidents run high risk of bladder hematoma as well, which requires urgent surgical intervention. The very worst traumatic decatheterizations I've responded to were all penile and had trauma to external tissue. Ever microwaved a hotdog a little too long?

Damage: How often are Spartans subjected to explosive and other concussive forces? Silly question - answer: a lot and often and unavoidable. And we know they still feel the powerful feedback. Despite shields and dampeners and a self-moderating gel layer, strong inertial forces are still felt through the suits. Across multiple novels we're given details about near misses and blasts, accelerated or uncontrolled falls, rattling their teeth, hampering their vision, hearing, or balance; they've been rendered unconscious and suffered internal injuries. The fact that most of these events don't flat out kill them is a credit to their armour and augmentations. For reference - when a person experiences explosive or concussive force from a distance enough to avoid separation of limbs, bisection, etc, the totality of their injuries can't and won't be seen externally. How they present on the outside is just the tippy tip of the iceburg - it's what's happened to them internally that you need to be concerned about. Cracked or fractured bones, torn musculature, arterial shearing, hollow organ rupture, cardiac and brain tissue bleed, to name some common ones, and this kind of trauma extends to all implanted devices as well. For example, rods and nails and other structural aids or replacements are much more resilient than your organic tissues, and can dislodge when tissues tear or rupture, damaging anything in their way like shrapnel. The fragile little balloon of a catheter will shatter when subjected to even relatively minor explosive force, so to even consider for a moment that this would be a viable piece of equipment for people intended to routinely be involved in explosive environments is beyond willful negligence. That there wouldn't be a better solution to the question of waste management - a necessity for literally all human people who make up the entirety of the Spartan branch, with the infinite funding of ONI R&D seems so stupid to me that I… well, that I wrote this. Because, friends - participating in active warfare is not cath-safe. The kinds of physical demands and forces on Spartan bodies are not cath-safe. The risks will never outweigh the benefits to this. Even while sealed in powered armour and a skinsuit tech layer, the very thought of Section Three engineers or Halsey or anyone involved in the development of MJOLNIR dismissing the glaring obvious failure of Spartans having any kind of externalized invasive devices is so unreasonably negligent that it could only be the brainchild of an author who's convinced that these characters are all actually just psuedo-intelligent government boogiemen who aren't as capable as they claim to be. But No. They are that capable, and they are that intelligent and the fact that they have a bottomless budget and deeply flexible ethics is literally what makes them so dangerous.

So if we have to address this, how do we do it? Apparently there was always an official answer for this. Former Franchise Development Director, creator of the Master Chief**, and extremely racist asshole Frank O'Connor weighed in on this in the same interview, where he almost immediate rejected and denied Traviss's catheterization claim and says that 'this sort of stuff' was the kind of thing he and the other creative heads at Bungie/343i talked and planned about all the time. So how does this work then, because we're invested now. According to 'ol Frankie's elegant input: they just pee freely into the suit. That's it. For clarity, he's talking about the skinsuit and not the MJOLNIR interior proper. He goes on to say that connectivity between body and MJOLNIR at all levels is fully noninvasive, but precise, and that it doesn't matter what kind of body output a Spartan introduces into the suit interior, because a hygienic valve system (??) will scrub it continually and collect all matter for recycling and reintroduction via capillary action powered by movement. It's not clear in what layers or intermediaries these mechanisms occupy, he doesn't break it down more than that. But that's the answer, and it did exist back when Traviss was penning Kilo-5.

Is this answer better than haphazardly plugging extension cords from actual organ systems into MJOLNIR interior? Yes. Like, leagues better by comparison, but also I still think it sucks. To me anyway. It's flat out gross as hell, which definitely fits the personal brand of a man who proudly overfed his cat and called himself "Stinkles", but also it just doesn't strike me as the kind of design strategy ONI would pursue for any of their assets. Beside it just being 100% torn from Dune's stillsuits, it's also missing that special brand of proprietary Section Three je ne sais quoi. There's layers upon layers of too-specialized equipment installed into these people for everything else, why skip this? A body function that should have been Point 3 on a 50 point list of 'stuff to manage'. Also though? It's a lot of freedom. This is just another easy opportunity to add yet another layer of dependence. Spartans are expensive equipment. It doesn't do to give them any fewer reasons to think they can ever walk away.

So anyway, I figured I'd take a crack at it. I came up with this while editing the last two paragraphs: [Waste management] - a fully internalized collection and processing device - lets say a cybernetic implantation - that entirely replaces the bladder. It has bio-organic lumens that interconnect it to the GI and Hepatic organs. The implant assists in accelerating the processing of gathering and refining waste materials with the help of nanobots that identify and redirect waste along the lumens of each system, plus they keep the implant clean and free of bad flora. All twice-processed waste gets refined a lot quicker and any water by-product of the process is refined and redistributed back to the organs along the lumens. None of the refined water is removed from the body for drinking, because that's an unnecessary step; it's already inside. (Drinking water would be the responsibility of a suit system more likely - like, sweat leeching in the skinsuit; refine, filtrate, purify, collect into a reservoir, and jettison the excess sodium. ) There is no 'extraction of other viable nutrient' from the remainder, it's been twice identified as waste. It gets catabolized and consumed by the nanobots as a fuel source, and no externalized waste is created at all while the Spartan is geared up. The implant doesn't always run like this - it only engages this way when the Spartan is wearing MJOLNIR, and when they're not, it just works like an out-of-the-box bladder. The intermittence of usage lets the organic organs truck along as usual, preventing risk of atrophy, and the Spartan can just use a bathroom like everyone else. I'm not a bioengineer, but I do like sci fi and I think all that sounds like something that'd be possible in this sandbox. And that's the real fun of it, isn't it? There's no way anyone today can anticipate what sort of gadgetry might be available 500+ years from now, especially in a fictional universe that includes military tech hybridized with reverse engineered alien tech.

I think it's fascinating when writers and artists shake loose and really grab the reins, and I love seeing the fruit of that labour in this particular tumblr community so often. We're not a huge Halo circle, but we're a passionate one, and if this essay leaves you with nothing else, I hope it will at least remind you to Go For It when you're writing your next fic or drawing your next piece, or composing, or sewing, or printing, or anything!

In Conclusion: Rest easy, friends.

Despite Traviss's word and even books that went to print, the official canon is that Spartans are not catheterized. If that's a bummer for anyone, canon can't stop you from writing whatever you want, but I do hope maybe you'll remember my reasoning for why it might not be the best idea? At least not for armoured Spartans. A Spartan, but they're laid up in hospital? Any non-Spartan personnel? Maybe you're writing in the public sector, a colony world or vessel? Sure - I'll bet caths are still plenty widely used. Why not? They're a blissfully simple and useful effective piece of equipment. It's just all about adjusting and adapting for practicality. Medical science, like any technology, adapts and evolves infinitely as we learn and discover new things. Treatments or drug algorithms I'd of used just last year have already undergone changes, and protocols are amended constantly. It's why a person 'practices' medicine; why a scientist is always a student. If questions like this or similar really need answering in your next work, remember: Give yourself the credit you deserve, and embrace the spirit of invention. Let my Cyber Bladder, by Sparklets be the candle in the window for you!

You may all retrieve your keys from the bowl and unsilence your phones. Stay safe and please text me when you get home. Thank you. ' u ' **Addendum: Former Bungie Creative Art Director Marcus Lehto is in fact the person who is most associated with the creation of the Master Chief.**

#halo #long form #my writing

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ravixen · 2 months ago

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Hey!! You wrote a seventeen with meeting your friends could you do a performance team ver of it? 👉🏼👈🏼

svt + meeting your friends (pt 2)

➔ reaction || requested || performance unit

➔ warnings: none || 0.6k words ➔ notes: fluff ; hiya, happy monday! I did indeed write a post about seventeen meeting your friends, and I'd be happy to write a part two of it. if you liked this, please reblog!

JUNHUI: oh, he's so nervous leading up to it. you keep trying to reassure him that he's fine, that he will be fine; he's literally so funny and personable, and your friends are going to love him. "but what if they don't?" is his immediate counter, and you try not to roll your eyes. "then they don't, and it's not important because I'm the one dating you, not them. but again, it's impossible for people not to like you." somewhere between that statement and the kisses that you pepper across his face, he does feel calmer...only for the fear to return as soon as he steps on your friend's welcome mat. before he can gather his nerves, the door opens, and your friend ushers the two of you in with a grin. "hey! sorry for the rush, but my cat decided to be an escape artist this week. successfully foiled her plans twice, but who knows when she'll—" right on cue, a furry blur tries to dash past your legs, but jun's faster; he snatches the cat up into his arms, placating her yowling with head scratches that quiet her instantly. your friend whistles lowly. "you just became my new favorite person." see? you were right—instant charm.

SOONYOUNG: it comes as a surprise to some people that he's actually on the shy side, especially when it comes to meeting new people, but you know this about him. that's why you propose that he joins your friends for game night; it'll be a big enough group that he won't feel pressured to chat, but still small enough to get a taste of your social circle. and you're right. when he sees the amount of people, the tension in his shoulders ease, melting away completely when you give his hand a squeeze. you slot yourself right between your closest friends, who scoot over to make room for your boyfriend and greet him with a wave. another strategic choice because these two are witty and funny and tasked with making sure that soonyoung feels comfortable, which shouldn't be too hard because he smiles and that's a good sign. of course, the one single thing you didn't take into account...how competitive soonyoung can be with games. he's not an asshole about it at all—he's just loud, and you're pretty sure that he turns into a different person as soon as mafia is mentioned. your friends think he's hilarious, though, clutching their sides as soon as he accuses you again of being a traitor.

MINGHAO: you were worried about his reaction for some reason, but you don't know why because his eyes brighten immediately. "I'd love to be your plus one," he says, already getting up to search his closet for the perfect thing to wear to your friend's western-style tea party. never mind that the event isn't for a month; he's ready to show up and show off for you. literally so extra and insists on matching your outfits in subtle ways and preparing in advance. when he shows up on the day of, your friends have to pause because who invited an actual prince to their pretend party? he is an absolute gentleman through and through, and it's evident in how he carefully helps serve the tea and refreshments. his calming voice and soft chuckles punctuate conversations, and you don't know how he manages to be even dreamier than he already was. before the end of the event, your friends are leaning over the table and inviting him to the after party, which you hadn't heard about—because apparently they just thought of it in that moment. it'll be a private karaoke room and bar with flashing lights and blasting speakers because there's no way that he could be perfect there, too. naturally, he proves them wrong.

CHAN: posted in part 1!

#seventeen scenarios #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #junhui scenarios #jun scenarios #soonyoung scenarios #hoshi scenarios #minghao scenarios #the8 scenarios #g: svt #t: reaction #m: junhui #m: soonyoung #m: minghao #s: request #anonymous #ravixen

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bts5sosempire · 2 years ago

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the tyrant (v)

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: sukuna ryomen x reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 4,150

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: old time period, mention of arranged marriage, polygamous marriages, slow-burn yandere, power imbalances, peer pressure, gaslighting, mention of manipulation, dark content, slight-NSFW (tw: non-con), MDI, Dickuna, please read at your own discretion

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: "you were the apple of Sukuna's eyes, the one who brought him solace and everything. The only thing you were incapable of was giving him a child, an heir he wished to spoil like he did to you."

𝐚/𝐧: holy crap, I've been bugging and got writer's block from this for the longest time. But it is done at last; been trying to angle where I should go from here. Since I barely wrote any nsfw or anything remotely related to that, I hope this doesn't get flagged cuz I would deadass scream. Btw, thank you to those that waited for so long when I went into my MIA mode 🥲❤️. Likes, comments, and reblogs are helpful too, and have a nice day lovelies! 🥳 (pls lemme know in the "comment" section below for tagging.)

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

After the incident, you told Sukuna that he wouldn't stifle you. As for Suguru's situation, you couldn't make an explicit assumption; for all you know, it was a warning to you both. Suguru is your faraway dream, and you were his too. Another part you know is that killing Suguru would be like child's play, but it wouldn't look good on Sukuna unless he starts undermining Suguru with hidden intentions. You don't wish for Suguru to be harmed in any way; even the thought of it sends your heart lurching in heartache.

You shift under your seat as the cold air bites your face. It was early in the morning when Sukuna had taken you out for a morning hunt. Everything was set up the previous day before. Sukuna had even invited a handful of Lords to hunt with him, to form connections. He also thought it would be good for you as you have locked yourself away in your room for days after the banquet; he thinks it's childish whenever you would do that to avoid his confronting nature. You could care less about what he feels at this point.

Fiddling with your bangle inside the muff, you twist and turn the familiar jeweled gift. Then there's your Aunt; the pressure from her was also getting to you. Selfish is the best word to describe her; a bitter feeling of resentment starts to form within your chest as you have come to accept the view you have of her. Your Aunt Setsuko and Sukuna aren't that much of a discrepancy; both set out to use people as they see fit in their agenda.

Your attention was brought back when the sound of horses' hooves and men urging their steed to go faster descended from the hills. A jackal was running rapidly, with hounds chasing after their tail. An arrow whizz past and almost hits the animal as it sidesteps to the side to avoid it. Sukuna was leading, riding the red steed that dashes across the dewy and chilly plain. Sukuna raises the bow with steady arms and hands, his uncanny eyes trained on the animal before releasing the string. The arrow hits the jackal as it staggers forward, rolling a few times against the ground as the hounds pounce to keep it dead and still.

Everyone congratulates Sukuna for being keen eyes as they all slow their horses down to an ambling pace. Servants quickly swept the hounds aside and picked up the now-dead animal, and hurried off to deal with it. Sukuna basked in the attention he was given, accepting them before brushing off the other minor and major lords. He pulls the rein of the horse in your tent's direction.

Rising from your seat, two maids appeared to assist you by holding your forearms as you carefully stepped off the heated coal pots placed underneath your feet to keep them warm. Seiin, the firey steed notice you and picks up its speed to hurry on over. The horse was a gift for your congratulatory wedding from your clan. Seiin was only one of the few red steeds born and raised on your farm; considering it's a scarce breed, Seiin was above average from a normal war horse. They were a total upgrade. It could outpace any horse for hours, and its stamina was limitless since it brought Sukuna's never-ending winning of conquering lands and people alike. You almost forgot that each clan member ran a different course for bribery. Your father used to run a ranch for breeding war horses (now it falls to you). Once your wedding with Sukuna happened, your Aunt deliberately solidified the pact and decided to trade the horses for power without consulting with you first.

When Seiin was near enough, Sukuna hopped off the horse. Seiin snorted as it impatiently wanted you to pet its snout and brush its dark red hair. You pull out a hand from the muff and caress a pointer to the length of Seiin's nose; they nuzzle their face closer. The equine sure is spoiled. You don't remember them being this double in size and height.

"Took a long time to get this steed to obey me," Sukuna starts, and you only pay attention to him for a fraction with your eyes before flicking them away to the horse again. The story of how Sukuna gets Seiin was funny; it almost made you think that the War Demon couldn't tame a beast. Seiin was probably secretly a mule in disguise; they hated any rider or person who attempted to claim them; they're more familiar with you out of everyone. When Seiin was presented to Sukuna, it was on sight for the horse to run him over and stomp its hooves on the ground to scare off Sukuna. It was futile since Sukuna was a person who loved challenges, and Seiin happened to present them to him.

All it took was a lot of being tied to the pole, brushed, fed, and given lots of freedom to stretch its legs daily, which spoiled the horse. Then it got its owner's temper, too; Seiin was Sukuna's pride.

"You have been in your room for a few weeks; what's so crucial that you have forbidden me? Is Suguru that important?" You slightly glare, "Also, that brat took longer to leave than usual." You could tell that Sukuna was trying to get a rise out of you, a bait for you to take. If you have taken it, it will bring endless hours to get him off your back. He moves fast with assumptions, and it's scarily accurate, too, with how he gathered information.

Turning away from Sukuna, you pat Seiin a few times, then return to your tent.

The reason why you have spent more time in your room is for a reason; you can't rely on anyone anymore. Not your Aunt Setsuko, who seems ready to abandon you if your final strike occurs, and you have to admit, the advantage of having Sukuna's affection starts to wear you thin. The harem is relentless in trying to remove you, and if that happens, then you're easily disposable. But they couldn't do that. It was known multiple times if you were gone, then the deal with both families would fall through, and trade would also cease to exist.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Yumi asks warily as you settle on wearing a man's clothes. You use the excuse of doing your charity work to go out for something you've been planning to do.

"If I don't do it now, when will I ever will? I didn't use all that time in my room reading and teaching me about politics and finances." Telling Yumi she couldn't argue back, not when concern always seems to paint her face these days. "Stall as long as you can," you order, adjusting the male hakama; you try to give off the air and posture of a man. "I'll try to be back before sundown."

Sliding the door open, Yuichi was outside; arms crossed as he awaited you.

You nudge with your head for him to follow you. When you both were outside the small rented compound you use for charity work, Yuichi cast you aside glance, "You told me to scout the area and ask for any willing participants if they're going to give up their property to you, and I found a few."

"You work fast," you inquire with a small smile, and Yuichi huffs his chest, proud of his work. "No spear today?" Yuichi never goes anywhere without his weapon, and today is a rare day.

"No need to for today, and I wanted to ask why you need an inn out of all places." The young man scratches his head behind you, "I mean, with your wealth and power, you could easily build or buy a better one."

You chuckle a bit, "My father used to tell me something interesting when I was a child, and today, I decided to put it to the test," looking at Yuichi, who peers down at you with curious eyes. "Are you familiar with how business people work?" Yuichi turned away, even more confused, as he wasn't well-versed or educated in an area that wasn't his expertise. "You know how when a robber or criminal is going to rob you, they always announce it and hold a weapon against you?" The man nodded, "But when it comes to business people, they'll steal it right before you without saying many things, even if you do or don't realize."

Yuichi: "So you're saying you're going to steal?"

You: "Do you consider being persuasive with words stealing?"

Yuichi: "I mean, it is under the pretense, so kind of, I guess?"

You laugh, "I'm going to make them give it to me; if not, I can always gamble it."

Yuichi did a double take, "You're scary when you want to be." The man didn't expect this from you, but he felt you change a little. Yuichi often spends time with you helping those who are in need, and seeing you taking charge of something for real is uncalled.

The both of you walk a bit further until you've reached a run-down inn. Seeing the worn-out sign of the inn's name hanging up at the entrance tells you how long it was in business. Stepping inside the inn, you could see the wooden beams and pillars were also worn out. There were chips here and there, and even the tables and chairs were old.

"Hello? Anyone?" Yuichi calls out into the empty room before someone emerges from the back. You assume it was the owner. They're in their mid-fifties when you could spot specks of grey in their dark hair and fine lines marring their tan face. The owner's eyes speak of years of hardship in this world. "You remember when I said I would bring a friend, right?"

"Go away; the place is not for sale." The owner motioned his arms to shoo you and Yuichi away.

"Business is not good, I'm assuming?" You question the owner while your eyes still trace around and find no soul or customer in the room.

"It is doing good, just that you're in the way." The owner bites back. He grabs a nearby broom and kicks your foot out of the way with it, and sweeps the front and entrance.

Yuichi leans over to you and whispers in your ear while his eyes linger on the old man, "How about we just go look at the other ones?"

Clicking your tongue, you brush him off, "Sir," you turn around to meet the older man with a smile and try to present an air of friendliness. "How about a game?" You're just going straight for the jugular at this point; no need to play coy, yet, with a stubborn man.

"Game? I don't have time for that," refusing you, you held your smile.

"Well, if you win, I won't bother you again, and it would be a shame if this place were to shut down. I could tell a lot of history and time were poured into this place. Not many know how to run an inn, let alone for more than several generations." Your words seem to catch their ears as you swipe a finger across a table, seeing grey coating your fingertip. "Also heard that if you fail to pay this month's rent, you'll be evicted." Innocently smiling, you could see the older man fuming, "Competition is sure rough around these parts, isn't it?"

Old man: "Who are you?"

You: "A buyer. A renter, of course."

"You know a lot more than you let on," The man-trained eyes pierced your own; he couldn't read your orbs. "Then I'll entertain you as long as you're out of my hair."

Conversing with the man, you and he repeatedly placed the black-and-white pieces of smooth small stones on the board until it was nearly filled. Yuichi, who was watching from the side with his eyes zoning onto the Go board, then it flicked back and forth in between you and the older man.

"Ah! I give up! Name your price," the owner fickled out and grabbed a nearby heated pot, and poured himself a drink. He was trying to calm that irregular heart of his that could lead to a potential heart attack.

You trace the board and see how the majority of your white pieces were constantly surrounding and consuming his black pieces. The man was already defeated ten different times, but you just prolonged it. You must thank Sukuna for teaching you (not like you're ever going to) if he wasn't pestering you when he had nothing else to do. The game Go was introduced to Sukuna by the Chinese who came to do trading, and Sukuna, who has a penchant for mind-stimulating things, didn't hesitate to take it. The man didn't regret it; if not, he put all his war tactics and strategies onto that board when playing against the Chinese traders and conquering them as if it was a real battle.

"I won't directly buy the place; if renting would suffice you. You would still be the owner, but co-owner, at least." The man was about to speak up, but you raised a hand, saying you're not done. "I'm looking into putting interest and investing," standing up from your seat, you examine many things in the room. "But to do that, we need to start working from the bottom and up. We are not going to get rid of everything, but we could still keep the rustic feeling this place have. This place needs major improvement."

After going over things with them, you could tell that they were much more relaxed, not by a lot, although.

"I won't always be able to come and check up on this place; I'll be sending-" patting Yuichi's chest with a few hits; he didn't expect that, "-this guy in my stead along with a letter of instructions of how to keep this place afloat. I'll also desire a report from you too, sir."

"Taiju. Taiju Mori." Finally introduced himself, and you nodded in acknowledgment.

"As your employer, Seijuro Hajime, it's nice meeting you," telling him your alias, you headed off with Yuichi.

Once you're at a distance, Yuichi stops in front of you. "Now I'm your messenger?" He asks in disbelief when pointing at himself, as he can't believe all the roles you're giving him. "You know I am-"

Cutting Yuichi off, you told him, "You're being paid for your hard work with free lodging at the inn, also with the all-you-can-eat-and-drink too."

Yuichi: "Sold."

You laugh, and that shuts him up quickly. Before you can enjoy your outing more, the shadow becomes longer and darker, with the night coming faster along the chilly winds. The burnt orange sky is cast above the horizon with the setting sun. Patrol guards were roaming out in the streets now to switch their routines. "We have to hurry back." Around this time is when Sukuna usually sends guards from the castle to escort you back home too.

Sukuna has just come back from one of his concubine's rooms. For they have just successfully given birth to his child, he was there to name them. Roaming the hall, he noticed that your quarter was quiet when he came across, "Has Lady (Name) not home yet?" The surrounding servants and guards shook their heads rapidly, indicating a 'no' as they were afraid to look him in the eyes.

It wasn't until you came into view the retainers finally let out a sigh of relief. "My Lady!" They shout in unison, one after another. You try not to let your discomfort and hostility show when you spot Sukuna, and the man notices how your eyes seem to harden. He smiles at that.

"You came back later than usual (Name)," Sukuna then waved a hand, "you all are dismissed; I wish to be alone with my wife." All the servants nodded once and single-file out of your quarter to idle on another job or chore, waiting for them. Yumi was the last one to leave. "I've missed you ever since you left me this morning at the hunting ground," he proclaimed, taking long strides to reach you, and you steel yourself when Sukuna suddenly wrapped his arms around you. "Be a dear and entertain me tonight, would you?"

Ripping yourself from his hold, your eyes quiver with rage. "I'm not your womb breeder nor your cunt warmer," sneering at him, Sukuna let out a breathy laugh.

"I thought you had lost your fire for a moment," he moves a hand to caress your face you slap it away harshly.

You: "Don't touch me."

Sukuna's displeasure was partially showing, and before you could react any further, he held both sides of your face, "I've been very patient with you." Rapid as lightning, he brought his lips onto yours, and your eyes widened in surprise. You are tugging and trying to pull yourself away from him, but he grips your face even tighter than before. The taste of lingering sweet and bitter alcohol from Sukuna's tongue attaches to your tongue too. Both yours and his feet were awkwardly dancing around to find proper footing as you swerved and hit a wall. Sukuna takes the leisure of your gasping moment, the need for air to implore more of your cavern as he trails one hand down your face, then it once again snakes around your waist.

Pulling you close as possible, he grips the obi sash. "I'm not going to take a no from you," he spoke in between the kisses, and he hoisted you by the waist and quickly took you to your room with you protesting and screaming obscenities at him.

Your people rounded the corner, popping their heads to see just in time for the outer layer of Sukuna's hakama floating through the air before it was cut off by your door slamming shut and echoing in the hallways. They had never seen Sukuna act like this before; for all they knew, it was always being sweet towards you, but seeing how rambunctious their master was made everyone's mouths open in disbelief.

Meanwhile...

Around the same time, it was time for the evening lunch for everyone. With your and Sukuna's empty seat, Eisha asks a nearby manservant, "Where is the Lord and Lady (Name)?"

The manservant was hesitant to say anything as they opened their mouth a few times before uttering a sentence. "T-The Lord and Lady (Name) won't be dining tonight." Eisha raised her brow, and the man inch closer until he was whispering to her what was going on, and Eisha balled her fists. Fits of jealousy and anger slowly drown her. Masking her face with a look of understanding, she dismisses him, and they quickly wait on the sideline.

"Everyone, it seems like we will be dining without Lord Sukuna and Lady (Name)." A murmur of slight groans and agitation filled the air. Eisha picked up her pair of chopsticks, and the rest followed suit.

Back to you...after a few hours

Sukuna pinned you beneath him; his callous hand had both your wrists bound above your head while one tightly gripped your sweltering hip. Your face was flushed, and your chest was heaving out of breath, but you were stubborn in not making any noises. Sukuna, although successfully tearing one or two or more out of you. You were quick to shut up by biting your lips until you felt they were bleeding.

Sweat trickled down his body and dropped onto yours as he felt another one coming close, and so did yours; Sukuna lost track of time when the sun disappeared, and the full moon rose high in the night sky.

Rutting into you like you both were the only ones in the world, Sukuna tried to prolong the upcoming orgasm as long as possible, but it was inevitable. The fire in your belly was about to erupt again, and you knew. Trying to squirm away, Sukuna grunts out for you to stay still as he tries to chase after his high and make yours come along with his when he starts to pace himself faster.

You hate it when he keeps brushing your sensitive spot, abusing it to no end, and your sanity waning each time. So you turn your head to the side to hide. He already attained it with his fingers to prepare you, and now he is plowing you like an open field in different ways.

Sukuna suddenly stutters his hip forward to meet yours, and you yelp when your thighs tense up and enclose his well-defined waistline. He lets out a throaty and breathy groan when finally filling you up again with your walls gripping his shaft.

Letting go of your wrists, Sukuna stilled for a moment before getting off you and seeing how soiled the futon was from the love-making. You had your eyes close; brows pinched together. Whether it was from trying to regain yourself or you being angry for letting this happen, Sukuna saw how your emotions were all over the place—the aftermath of all.

He combed a hand through his slick, drenched hair; the scent of two body that was once conjoined still permeates through the atmosphere. "Grab me and Lady (Name) some refreshments," Sukuna demands, many feet shifting outside the screen door; after a rendezvous, he feels an appetite for his pipe too.

"Get out," you speak up, voice rather tired.

"Not until you're properly taken care of," Sukuna threw your nagujaban on top of you before grabbing and wearing his own.

"My Lord," a muffled voice was heard outside, and Sukuna went to slide the door a fraction. He grabs the refreshments and uses his frame to block out any onlookers before closing the door with a snap shut.

You viciously avoided Sukuna to prevent yourself from doing something stupid like wringing his neck or poisoning his food. To keep yourself busy, you had often gone out more and kept tabs on the inn as it made progress on attracting more customers and former locals.

You were thinking about improving the inn more until an ingratiating voice appeared behind you.

"Ah, I thought it was Concubine Sei, but it's only you, Lady (Name)," you turn around to meet the lavender eyes of Concubine Sena, who is holding a newborn in her arms with a sardonic grin. She hushes the squirming child and pats its bottom. "Don't know why Lord Sukuna kept you around when you can't produce him an heir. I'm starting to think that you're a barren woman."

You only chide with a side smirk. Out of all the concubines who would talk back to you is Concubine Sena. "I'm glad you finally developed awareness or critical thinking; tell me something I don't know." That wipe off the smirk from his face quickly. "I was almost worried for a second if you're going to be like me, childless too, but fate had decided to bestow you a second child."

Sena: "What are you inquiring about? Are you cursing my child? Lord Sukuna would hear from me about you cursing my son!"

Sniggering at her with a laugh, you brought up a hand to hide the laughter before continuing, "I wasn't going to stoop this low, but I'll say it since I'm feeling petty and far from my acting like a (Surname) clanswoman," taking a step closer to her until she feels threatened, Sena held her son tightly and close to her chest. "Hope that your child here lives passed three moons, unlike your first one, don't want history to repeat itself since your Hanamiya women are reputable for bad luck."

"How dare you!" Sena seeth out, "Servants! Held down this woman and slapped her foul mouth!" A few made advances, but you cut it short.

"Touch me and see what happens when Lord Sukuna finds out." They all stumble in their steps and refuse to take another out of fear, "I may not share the same affections he has for me, but I am very much favor unlike you." Then your face changes instantly, cold and calculating. "How long have you been wanting him but still haven't got it? We both arrived and married Sukuna at the same time at the tender age of eighteen, and his eyes are always on me." Feigning a sad expression, you place a hand on your chest, depicting a wound over your heart. "How sad you'll always come second to me."

Sometimes you don't like using Sukuna's name aimlessly like this, but it's worth it to make them or anyone like Sena back off.

After all, you have elsewhere to be and time better spent on.

••••

Taglist: @sukunasobject @lilliansstuff @lucyrocks86 @ladywolf44005 @watyousayin @sandronebabyy @pinkrose1422 @skepticalleo @please-help-therapy-needed @whatsonthemirror @krispsprite @loser-alert @saturnknows @samidrc @littlemochi @akigoat @mxghostbee @rose4958 @shadowywizardarcade @huicitawrites @baji-keisukes-wife @choso-wifey @jovialeggsbailiffsoul @sanderaen @peonnnny @tiredlattes @waytomanyhusbands @whatamidoing89 @utena-akashiya @outrofenty @welcometodemonschoolfan @im-a-killer-queen

#fan fiction #jujutsu kaisen #masterlist #jjk sukuna #jjk x reader #anime #sukuna ryomen #jjk fanfic #sukuna x reader #jjk #yandere imagines #yandere fanfiction #yandere fic #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere sukuna ryomen #yandere sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #yandere sukuna

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radioisntdead · 8 months ago

Note

(To maybe save our hearts from the angst, how about a cuter idea? could be any gender really and be seen as platonic or not just very vague fluffy fun)

A reader who is similar age to Susan and is the opposite type of old person, a gentle Grandparent who has old person candies at all times. Most importantly however is the only one who can calm Susan's feral chihuahua energy, only when they need to of course.

They play cribbage on weekends, and definitely both chat about the youngins- maybe playfully feud on which is better Knit or Crochet

Good evening my dear! This is a little shorter then I wanted but I did write it in a hair salon, where at the time of posting I'm still in.

Bitter and sweet

Warnings!!!

Cannibalism, Reader is GN but gives off old lady grandma vibes, this is written in little drabbles mainly because I wrote them in an hair salon

Susan had a neighbor, she lived to the left of her house, while Susan's house was more stale and strict appearing her neighbor's was more soft colors, with gnomes outside and a lovely garden filled with all types of hell's flora,

You'd think the two would be at odds but they got along well, going out for tea each day, on weekends they'd go to bingo or play a game of cribbage, although they did get into tiffs about what was better between crochet and knitting, like how crochet is easier for some to pick up with the sole hook, or how knitting uses less yarn then crochet, They were dear friends, and this is some tidbits with them.

You and Susan had opposing aesthetics but that didn't stop the two of you from matching outfits in some way or another, she wore her usual pinkish dress? You were two feet away from her in more brighter attire.

"Kids these days are getting more and more foolish each day, fucking crying in the middle of the streets!"

Susan said, sat on a bench looking across the street at some poor cannibal gal sobbing as her dearest assumingly ended things

When you didn't respond she looked over at you only to see that you were gone,

"Where the hell- [Name]!"

You had dashed over to the gal, swatting at her former lover with your handfan, scolding him for breaking things off in the middle of the streets inside of somewhere private or inside a restaurant as the girl sobbed into your arms,

"Shh, it's alright you deserve better, someone with manners!"

You said patting her back, glaring at the unmannered former lover while Susan groaned from her seat, you just had to butt into other people's business didn't you!

Like she didn't do the same at times.

......

"You uncultured, red-40 looking, bad dental hygiene, modern technology radio man!"

Susan raised her cane to the Radio Deer man, you had just entered Rosie's Emporium for a snack,

"Susan! No! That is terribly rude!"

You shouted dashing over quickly before Susan could do anything, pushing down her cane, while apologizing,

"My apologies! I'll escort her out, here buy yourself something tasty"

You said taking the radio demons hand and placing some money and a few pieces of candy into it before linking an arm with Susan and taking her outside while scolding her as she grumbled, leaving the Radio demon lowkey stunned and missing his mother.

You were how he imagined she would've been if she lived to be elderly.

.....

"For fuck's sake! Why are you in my house?"

Susan shouted as she walked into her kitchen only to see you adorned in an old lady apron chopping away at some vegetables while some type of meat simmered on the stove,

"Making us lunch obviously! I have news about that lovely gal we met on the street a few months ago! She's going steady with my nephew, the one with the good job not the one that's married, and I must tell you what her scandalous ex lover had to say-"

You rambled on, mixing up slang from different decades Susan could care less about the gal who was sobbing on the streets but you seemed to hellbent on telling her about the 'tea' as you called it.

.....

"Susie, let's listen to what the princess has to say before booing her off the stage, this is why she called you an old bitch''

You said linking an arm with Susan before shouting over at Charlie as Rosie pulled her aside,

"My apologies!"

You chased down Charlie at a later date to give her some candies for her troubles with Susan,

You paid visits to the hotel after that, bringing treats for the residents.

....

"Knitting is superior, it uses less yarn then your hook, knitting takes far more skill and that little crochet thing seems easier.''

Susan said knitting a scarf as you sat across from her, crocheting a net.

"Susie, you are my dearest friend and I love you, But I can and will surplex you into a wall if you say that again."

Hearing that while you wore the sweetest smile would strike fear into the average sinner.

......

"Are we thinking barbecue? Grilled? Perhaps baked? Oo I recently picked up some new seasonings we could try!"

You shouted over to Susan as you threw a net at an exorcist pulling them down and stabbing them with an angelic weapon before discarding them to the side to harvest their wings later,

"I don't give a donkeys ass as long as they taste good!"

.....

"Susie?"

"Hm?"

"I'm dying again."

"Don't be dramatic!''

She smacked you gently on the head with her cane as you broke out in laughter, angel wing in your hand and gold around your mouth.

Good evening folks! I am actively dangling Susan around like a keychain, I should invest in a Susan keychain, are Susan keychains a thing???

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #susan & reader #hazbin hotel susan #hazbin susan #hazbin hotel

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entirelysein-e · 1 month ago

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Life update: feeling a little better. Break is working wonders. It's kinda relieving to not worry about online life for once but I kinda do miss being here?

I think I'll try to ease back into yapping on dash in November. No pressure on myself anymore over posting x times a week, no pressure on notes and fics "flopping". We start anew and healthier 🫶

Smol info/vent under the cut lol.

The fact that I deactivated back in may weighs heavy on my mind still bc I did like the amount of interactions / asks and stuff that came with the bigger following. But I need to stop comparing myself to me from a year ago. I need to stop putting pressure on myself to write so people aren't upset with me.

The constant asks about not posting x times a week shows I don't care about people really did something in hindsight. I know I don't write for myself - I quite frankly don't like myself enough to be this kind to myself - but my fics are written for my friends. The people I've talked to about those ideas. I want to make them happy, not 62392729 others. So if my fic only has 200 interactions (from which 95% are likes) is okay. It doesn't mean it's bad. It doesn't mean I've failed as a writer and blog. I'm happy that the people I wrote it for like the fic and I'm grateful for others liking it too.

Tumblr is in shambles compared to when I started out 3 years ago. Likes are the new reblogs apparently and no matter how much we complain and beg, the people don't care. So yes. Yes I don't care anymore either.

You don't care enough to let me & others know that you've liked a fic and don't wanna share it? I'm not obligated to share my writing with you either. You can't expect me to push out 5 fics a week when you give me nothing in return. No money, no kind words, not even sharing it.

Call me entitled, call me ungrateful but perhaps you start with yourself first and come to realize that this behavior is driving writers off this app. We won't ever stop writing - but we will stop sharing it for others to see. So think about your own behavior first before coming at me. Leave the death and r*** threats up your ass and touch some grass 🥰

If you made it here, thank you for your time I hope the day treats you kindly and that the sunshine finds its way to warm you in ways a loving embrace would 🫶

#-ˋˏ ༻sunlit serenade #yapping about life #got a lil unhinged towards the end oopsie #I mean I'm still here for my Kinktober but I haven't looked at dash in a week?#I promise I'll read all fics when I'm back but right now i wanna be selfish #being selfish = taking care of my (mental)health #smooching everyone 🫶

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thefreakandthehair · 1 year ago

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@eddiemonth prompt, oct 22nd: First concert | Triumph of King Freak - Rob Zombie | Eager a/n: a missing scene from an older fic, counting stars (when I look in your eyes)! post-canon fix, eddie pov, established steddie, fluff with a dash of angst, mention of eddie's late mother read on ao3 + ao3 masterpost | tumblr masterlist

December, 1988

“Why does your acoustic have that written on it? ‘This Machine Slays Dragons’?” Steve asks as he watches Eddie strum without looking at his hands. It’s a bit mesmerizing, the way his fingers glide along the strings of their own accord.

The song stops and Eddie slaps the body of the guitar in his lap.

“This old girl is an homage to one Woody ‘This Machine Kills Fascists’ Guthrie. Ever heard of him?”

“He did ‘This Land Is Your Land,’ right?”

Eddie claps his hands together and points two finger guns his way. “Ding ding ding, we have a winner. Yeah, he wrote that and a shit ton of other political critique folk music.”

“I didn’t know you liked that sort of thing. Sounds pretty far removed from Metallica, y’know?”

“Only in delivery. You’d be surprised how much overlap there is in meaning. But yeah, my uh—” Eddie stops and pulls the guitar closer to his torso and swallows the dust in his mouth that’s gathered from years of not talking about his mother. “My mom was a big fan of it. She loved Guthrie, Baez, Dylan, Grateful Dead, Cohen. You name it, she loved it.”

Steve’s heart tries to claw its way out of his body to run towards Eddie sitting on the floor with his back against the wall, timid smile, and fidgeting hands.

“That’s really cool, man. She sounds awesome. How come you don’t talk about her more?”

“It just—I don’t know. It still hurts, I guess. Which is stupid, I was eight when she died so it should get easier, right?” Eddie laughs humorlessly and stares at his strings like they hold answers to questions he didn’t know he had. He wants to crawl on top of Steve, desperate for warmth and comfort now, and looking at him makes the urge damn near impossible to beat back. So he doesn’t look up.

Steve adjusts his position on the bed, subconsciously making room. “Hell no, that’s not how grief works, Ed. Wish it was that easy but I’ve seen a lot of death personally and with work, and it changes people. You can tell me to fuck off if I’m like, overstepping here but you were a kid. You’re allowed to be sad about her death, and you’re allowed to talk about it.”

Eddie pauses for a long moment, considering the validation and how much he trusts Steve. He trusts him with his life, his soul, his heart, his everything. Maybe everything could include his past, too. His voice is wistful when he starts.

“She used to sing Dylan’s ‘Forever Young’ around the house.”

December, 1974

Eddie sits cross-legged on the floor, threadbare couch behind him as he flips through a comic book gifted to him by his Uncle Wayne. The page crinkle with each turn and he traces the illustrations of each villain and superhero, the words a bit lost on him but the pictures jumping off of the page. Varying shades of saturated reds and blues disappear and reappear beneath his pointer finger and grins. He hasn’t read the story yet– he prefers to make up his own first– but he can see that the good guy is about to win.

Happy endings are just so rare in real life.

His mom is in the kitchen, singing softly and stirring something on the stove in a corroded aluminum pot. Eddie picks up the delicate scents of tomatoes and peppers, maybe some kind of meat. She’s been in a bright mood today, singing as she cooks, singing as she did her best to clean up the beer cans and bottles that litter the living room. Eddie even heard her singing in the shower that morning.

It’s not lost on him that his dad’s been gone for a few days. Hell, that’s the only reason he’s able to sit in the living room: there’s room for him.

His dad is always too loud, drowning out the soft soprano of his mother’s voice. Everything she sings sounds like a lullaby, so it’s fitting that Eddie closes his eyes to listen.

Eddie loves when his mom sings, especially the song she’s singing now.

May you always be courageous

Stand upright and be strong

May you stay forever young

She never tells him, but he feels like she sings it just for him.

November 1990

Steve hasn’t been this nervous to give Eddie a Christmas gift since that first Christmas of theirs two years ago. Funny enough, the gift then had been related to his late mother, too. Maybe he has a pattern. The envelope shakes in his hands as he sits next to Eddie on the couch– their couch, actually. At least as of a few months ago when they’d put down their down payment on the small, one-bedroom apartment in the heart of Indianapolis.

Eddie glances over and sees Steve’s right hand nearly crumpling whatever his gift is, his fingertips white and his smile tight. Whatever it is must be time sensitive, since he’s insisted on giving it to Eddie so early.

“What is it, Steve? You look like you’re gonna shit yourself.”

Steve laughs, nervous and breathy. “I actually might, and we just bought this couch, so. Just– here. Open it.”

He pries the envelope from Steve’s hand and tears it open, Steve having to caution him against ripping it in half and voiding the fucking the gift. Three rectangles fall out onto his lap, full of typewriter style font.

“Oh shit, concert tickets!” Eddie smiles and knocks his knee against Steve’s. “Why were you so nervous? This is awesome!”

Steve nods at the tickets. “Did you see who it is?”

Eddie’d been too excited about finally getting to a proper concert, one that he doesn’t have to set up and break down with Gareth, Jeff, and Frank. When he looks down and actually reads the headliner, his heart stops.

University of Dayton Arena Presents: BOB DYLAN TUESDAY, NOV 13 1990 7:30 PM

“Steve… is this…?” He can’t find the words, buried and lodged behind the lump forming in his throat.

Steve watches him carefully as he traces the letters with one finger, a habit he’s picked up on over the years, and gently rests a hand on his thigh and gives it a squeeze. “You okay?”

Eddie nods. “Yeah, yeah, I’m definitely okay.”

Okay is an understatement. He’s bewildered, he’s humbled, he’s ecstatic. When Eddie tears himself away from the small rectangles that sit on his lap like the gold bars they are, he looks at Steve with wonderment. First, the music box. Now, this. How is he ever going to keep up?

“I know it’s your first concert but I saw that he was coming around and I just figured it’d be cool, y’know? I don’t know who he’s touring with or anything–”

He does this, Steve knows. He knows that he rambles when he’s nervous or when he’s put himself out there and for some reason, giving Eddie these tickets feels incredibly vulnerable. Even years later, even after Eddie’s constant reassurance that he could never, Steve would hate for Eddie to think that he’s encroaching on special memories.

Before he can finish his stream of thought, Eddie kisses him. Just leans over, tickets still in his lap, and claps both hands on either side of his cheeks as Eddie plants one on him. Then again. And again. And again.

Eddie peppers every inch of Steve’s face with kisses, interjecting in between each one.

“You’re–” Kiss to the nose.

“So fucking–” Kiss to the cheek.

“Perfect–” Kiss to the forehead.

When he finishes, Eddie rests his forehead against Steve’s and wraps his arms around Steve’s neck, feeling them shake beneath him as Steve laughs. “Always so dramatic.”

“And you love it. But, wait,” Eddie pulls back and picks the tickets back up. “Why are there three?”

“Do you honestly think Wayne would ever speak to me again if I got tickets for Bob Dylan and didn’t include him? C’mon, man. Christmas would be so fucking awkward.”

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