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kombuuuu · 1 year ago

Note

Can I request Miles 42 bullies you at school and is always bothering you but he gets mad and tries to fight someone else who is bullying you because he’s the only one who can be mean to you😩😩‼️

Deflecting.

Earth42!Miles x Fem!Reader

“I would get your hands off her if I were you, homeboy.”

This one is kiiiinda violent, not by Miles mostly be warned C:

PART TWO !!

such a cute wife (throw me on an island to live in my delusions)

You were quiet, silent most days. Not stepping out of the very thick circle you’d made for yourself consisting of just you.

And yet, still.

Still, the mere thought of keeping to yourself as a permanent transfer student would make even the most daft of people scoff.

You weren’t anything special, you were void of attention, and happy that way. Acted appropriately and left anger at the door. Had nothing and no one to complain to, so why make problems for yourself?

You’re entire life was just floating along your schooling and waiting patiently for the day you left. Even if you were the rare case of “Got transferred half way through the year because the school saw potential!” girl, you’d just wanted to be left to yourself.

But even the premise of that seemed almost impossible now.

Because ever since you were pushed by some rushing kid straight into Miles Morales, tripping him over with you. Him and his asshole friends had made it their life mission to bother you.

“The cute new girl?”

“Yeah, the one that—,” The first boy glanced at Miles. “,—tripped on.”

“Oooh, shit—, She’s fucked.” The other man whispered back, laughing under his breath. You could feel his taunting stare at the back of your head, and when you checked your peripherals, Miles was sending a sickening glare your way.

You sighed.

—

The ache in your head was probably the only thing keeping you awake.

The day dragging longer than usual had you right about ready to get home and knock yourself out within a minute of being in your bed. Your hand slowly dragged down your face, taking a deep breath and stuffing your jacket somewhere in your locker. The heat of the school mingling with the temperatures the Summer was providing and then adding on the rain from the prior day? You cursed Brooklyn and its humidity. Reaching to close your locker, you finally fit the jacket in the already cramped space. A little piece of the fabric poked out, and you pushed it in while simultaneously trying to keep everything else in too. Pulling a face before you finally managed to get it shut, and slip your finger out before it can get trapped. You turned the key into the dumb metal and scowled at it before pocketing the key and turning to leave.

Being so engrossed in your feud with the locker, you had failed to realise the very man who’d given you this headache, leering over your frame. Turning straight into his chest and reacting in a pained groan, gripping your forehead in displeasure and glaring up at whomever was standing so close to you.

Which happened to be Miles Morales. Staring down at you with cold, dulled eyes.

“What the fuck are you doing, man?” The simmering anger in your voice was made known, and also promptly ignored. He tilted his head down at you, braids shifting with the movement, his expression barely changing. If only he had a conscience. Then maybe you could read his expression, the emotions on his face —, but in this universe? The thought seemed laughable.

He stepped forward, sending you staggering closer against your locker.

“Back off—,” You’re voice shook a little as you swore. Dropping his eyelids into a glare, he spoke, “You keep talkin’ to me like that, and we gon’ have a problem.”

“You keep creeping up on me like a fuckin’—,”

“Like a what?” Miles’s bored, taunting voice grated against your eardrums.

You let out a shaky breath, chest heaving, and clenched your jaw. Shaking out the annoyance in your bones, you kept your calm.

“Don’t get shy on me now.”

A surge of anger rose through you, before you willed it away.

He was antagonising you.

You tried not to instigate him. If you didn’t encourage it, maybe he’d go away.

“Never mind. Whatever, Why—,”

“Miles, my man.” A different man clapped him on the shoulder, giving you the chance to step back and away from him. The other man was tall and lanky, spindly in the way where he looked out of place for a high school. His blue eyes caught sight of you, smirk contorting the bridge of his nose and baring his teeth. “Fuck you doin’ with this thing?”

“What d’you want.” Miles diverted attention from you quick, his companion not getting the hint.

“Fuck, nevermind man,” The man sent a sleezy smile at you, looking you up and down slowly, a short whistle under his breath.

“Shut the fuck up, James.”

You glared are the taller man, something like bile clawing at your throat. The way he was talking about you was sickening, nothing more than a bothersome rodent.

Miles glanced at you, raising a brow, he wanted to see how long it would take before you’d finally fight back. Through the months you’d been at this school, not once had you actually lost your nerve.

On worse days, like this one, you gave him attitude. Snapping at him the moment he showed up, knowing if you didn’t, he’d take the chance too first. He looked forward to those days, where you would engage him. It sent some sick thrill through him. Watching the way your eyes unfocused, urging yourself not to roll them. How your composure surely chipped but never cracked, fingernails digging prints of a fine line when dug into your palms.

He watched your breathing stutter and counted your breaths with you, he’d basically memorised the pattern.

10 beats in, hold for 8, and 12 beats out.

Though, this was only on a good (bad?) day. Other days you just stood and took it. Letting him say whatever he wanted to you, talk shit right to your face. Spread rumours without repercussions and mess with you just because he had the urge.

And just like always. Through the heat of Summer and the full ache in your head, you managed to do nothing.

Just stand and stare as James acted like you were less to a piece of meat.

Miles scowled, dropping his shoulder and causing the man to fall from leaning on him. “Omf— Hey! What the fuck, dude.”

“Let’s go.”

James scoffed, rolling his eyes but following behind nonetheless.

“Miles, what was that shit about?”

“None of your fucking business, homeboy.”

Their voices faded as they walked away, the white noise of chattering people swallowing the scraping of James’s voice.

You wondered what Miles had really wanted this time, as he hadn’t gotten the chance to say anything with James showing up. You hate to thank him, but god. You might’ve lost your mind.

—

Four months in and you were losing your mind. Miles hadn’t stopped, neither had his determination. He seemed so eager to piss you off and do nothing but stare coldly as you composed yourself every time.

Just as that thought brimmed in your head, something kicked out in front of you, sending you flat on your stomach. Hands pressed into the hardwood of the gym below. You groaned, knees being knocked straight to the ground, landing with your arms outstretched in front of you. At least it wasn’t your face.

A voice was heard behind you and you froze, unsure what to do at that moment.

“Get up, [Name].”

James.

“Yeah, I’m—“ You shuffled back onto your feet. Standing up cautiously and checking your uniform was in place.

“Shut the fuck up.” He interrupted you, and you turned around slowly to face him. “Ever since I made it clear how little you were fucking worth, that dipshit Miles has been a fuckin’ dog to me.” He spat at you, the anger rising in his voice, he gripped the polo shirt you wore, dragging your limp upper half closer to his.

You shivered at his breath on your face, wanting to gag.

“Sorry.”

“You’re a fucking freak—.” His group of even more childish people were standing behind him like some sort of team work movement.

“Please let go.”

“I’ll fucking gut you. I needed that motherfucker—,” “Woah.” “,—He’s lucky I don’t beat his ass for ditching me.” Seems like attachment issues. “And you too, cunt. I’ll end your fucking life.”

He pulled you ever closer, using his height to intimidate you, six foot four of an angry man standing over you, no thanks.

A whistle was heard from the main room of the Gym, prompting James to let go of you.

“You’re lucky you’re a looker, call it pretty privilege.”

“..”

“Next time I’ll fucking kill you.”

You dropped from where you had been dragged onto your toes, stumbling a little as James’s group snickered when they walked past, bumping your shoulder and wolf whistling.

—

The lesson ended, and you rushed to get out of there. Making your way to the locker room, and being the first in there, also the first to leave. Changing from your sports uniform and rushing out of the Gym.

You kept looking over your shoulder, Knowing that James wasn’t lying. He probably would kill you, or, objectively worse.

You tripped over your feet before righting yourself again. People around sent curious looks to you which you ignored easily.

Getting to the front of the school, glass double doors shut with a “locked” sign on it, you continued to shoulder forward. Ignoring the shout of the office lady, you pushed against the metal bar and opened the door. You’d already known about the doors being unlocked constantly, having seen many times teachers trying to check no one was watching before slyly slipping out. So when the door opened for you with no trouble, you breathed out quick, and booked it.

You praised yourself for the amount of cardio you could do, the school was three stories for goodness sake, the amount of stairs you needed to climb was insane.

You slid to the side, dodging the occasional pedestrian and making it to the main gate, another shout was heard from the front of the school and you slipped out the gate just as it opened for another teacher, thanking them as you passed.

“Thank you!” You shouted as you ran.

“You’re welcome?— Oh..”

“Kid, Get back here!”

The office lady watched you hit the end of the street and turn, no longer in her sight. She threw her hands in the air and sighed.

“I’m going to get fired.”

“No, Marlene. I’ll cover you.”

“Thanks, John.”

“Why were they running, anyway?”

“Dunno, maybe AP exam.”

—

Miles watched as James was escorted back inside the building. His scowl etched onto his hideous face. Two of their shared buddies trailed behind him, rolling their eyes at the teachers questioning them.

One of the girls in his group was pressing against him, Miles getting more agitated by the minute. His disinterest in her only seemed to fuel her infatuation more, and it was getting annoying.

The guys at his table were all laughing at some—, probably sexist joke one of them made, the ladies giggling along with them, feeding their toxic lovers the attention they so desperately want. It’s not like Miles thought he was above these people. He just was. They were scum, but the only friends he could keep. Hurt people hurt people, and all that sappy shit. So when you hurt so much, only a small portion of people can stand you, and you them.

But when your name was mentioned, he perked up significantly — his ears fine tuning to the conversation. Completely forgetting about the raven-haired girl pressing against him, and focusing on the words spat by James and his two huevos.

“She’s hot though—,”

“Fuckin’ cares ‘f she is? Woulda beat her ass.”

“[Name]?”

“Yeah, [Name]. Miles got all fuckin’ sissy I thought she was hot, and now we don’t talk.”

“So?”

“So—!? Now I lost my chance with Imogen, she’s all fuckin’ over him cause I’m gone.”

Right, Imogen was her name.

“You want to beat her up over you losing a bitch? Just bag her instead?”

James rolled his eyes, debating it. Miles tensed, his relaxed posture straightened quickly, causing him to almost knock Imogen in the face. Too which she squealed at. An awful noise, really.

He quickly stood, chair falling behind him with a loud clang, and strode out of the hall, Glaring at James the entire time. His two friends laughed James’s sudden hesitance to respond, knowing how piss scared he was of Miles.

James stayed silent until the doors to the cafeteria closed, and the whispers started up. Then told his buddies off in a harsh tone.

No one had ever seen Miles do anything too bad. But with the amount of times he’s shown up to school with a busted nose and smug aura, you could tell—, whatever fight he’d had.

He’d won.

—

To say that Miles wanted to have the day away from school, probably wasn’t true. With the stuff he’d heard James and his dogs speil, he’d rather you not be alone.

He was—, worried.

But when his Uncle Aaron called him in for something urgent right at 4 AM, telling his Ma it was a work emergency, he couldn’t refuse his Uncle. He fit his mask onto him, faceplates slotting closed. Claws being turned and clicked into place, he flexed his hands, dragging the window of his room open in the early morning, and left with his Momma sound asleep.

—

The peace and quiet of the day had been rather disturbing. Not having Miles or any of his groupies bother you—. Was off, not unwelcome, but odd.

So when the bell rang for your fourth class, everyone heading from their lunch break back to their assigned classes, it was only by nature you’d be pulled into deserted corner of the school by some unknown figure. A hand placed over your mouth and the other gripping your wrist, pulling you back.

You struggled against the mystery person, a sickeningly familiar voice croaking in your ear.

“Be—,” You kicked your head back, knocking his jaw. “,—Fuckin’ bitch, be quiet.”

Your foot slipped under you, bringing him more leverage to haul you further from the light of the main hall.

You screamed through his hand, tears building behind your eyes when you heard a door unlock.

“Get in.”

“Fuckin—, Open it wider, dipshit.”

“Fuck off.”

James ripped his hand off your mouth before you could realise, pushing the middle of your back so you were forced into a dark, cold classroom.

You fell to your knees, a sense of déjà vu kicking in as you braced yourself with your hands.

Your chest heaved, James slamming the door shut.

“Keith, close those blinds.”

“Fuck are you gon’ do?”

“Beat the fuck outta her.”

—

Miles stuffed his claws somewhere in his locker, uncaring for secrecy. No one was there now, everyone having gone to class. He’d arrived fairly late, not an unusual occurrence considering his occupation, though. So the office ladies didn’t mind.

He slammed his locker shut, an image of you doing the same with a pout on your lips coming to mind. He had class with you now, sat right next to you, actually.

So he made his way towards the back block of the school, where you’d be.

—

A hit straight to your cheek sent you flying to the floor again, Mathew letting go of where he was holding you up.

“Dude your grip is shit.”

“Nod off.”

Keith muttered something about “Fucking brit..” from his seat on the prior teachers desk.

You groaned internally, eyes lolling to the closed curtains, the broken glass of the window letting in a sweet breeze. The only reprise from this entire ordeal was a broken window.

There’s some poetry in that, or something.

Blood dripped from your nose and lip. A cut on your cheek now present too. James, the creep, had rings on his thin fingers that, when used, hurt to no end.

You were picked back up by under your arms, closing your eyes in pain and hissing. You opened your eyes in time to see the small glint of metal in James’ pocket, and the wince on Keith’s face before another fist connected to your temple.

—

You weren’t there.

You had shown up to school, evident by your paper on the lecturers desk, but hadn’t shown up for the period.

And by the empty seats of James, Keith and Mathew. He could only guess what was happening right now.

Miles slammed the door to the class shut, ignoring the panicked yells of his teacher and started towards the darker parts of the school. Where no one used, a chemistry accident setting the safety board director deep in debt and a block of the school unusable.

He flung open his locker when close enough, snatching the prototype version of his claws from the locker. Small, sharp finger coverings that were something close to the claws he had for his Prowler suit. The knuckles were brassed and the wrist latch clasped easily to his skin. He slammed it shut again, not bothering with the lock, and honed in his hearing.

The walls were thin enough.

—

“Don’t you think this is a little too far?”

“Shut the fuck up, Keith.”

“Fuck you gonna do if she snitches—?”

He gripped James’s wrist, holding the knife away from both you and himself.

“—You gon’ ruin your life for this shit, man?”

“She’s been playing my fuckin’ nerves—, yeah.”

Keith gave him a bewildered look while Mathew stared on in disinterest, still holding you at a position you couldn’t right yourself.

The blood had stained your shirt now, bruising littering your face and body.

James had taken to ditching the knife.

“Fuckin—, Whatever man.”

It clattered to the ground with a large clang, the tiled floors of the science room made the echo ring in your head like the growing migraine.

“Drop ‘er.”

Keith glanced down at you, then backed off. An odd look on his face while he kicked the knife away from James, unintentionally pushing it closer to you.

He walked back to his seat.

Mathew let go, watching as you dropped to the ground and started coughing.

Choking on your own blood before you spat it out.

“You know how long i’ve been wantin’ to fucking do this?”

He raised his leg, tilting your chin up with his boot, how demeaning.

He swung back and kicked your ribs, sending you into another coughing fit while you fought the urge to throw up, tears streaming the blood dripping down your chin.

“Your family ruined my fucking life.” Another kick to your stomach, you gagged.

“Taking my dad, then my fucking girl too?”

What is this guy on about.

“Your fucking daddy couldn’t just mind his own business. Had to get involved, then you.”

A harder kick to your stomach, you clenched your abs and covered your head.

A sudden shock ran over you, a familiarity that always sat with James clicking in your mind.

James Ohnn, son of Jonathon Ohnn, a man who had a hand in the collapse of a still-in-construction Kaleidoscope that was said to bring revolutionary science to the new world. It’s framing shattered while the workers on it all went with it.

His father was the lead scientist of that Kaleidoscope, and by turn in of your dad, was promptly arrested.

“I didn’t do shit—,”

“Shut your fucking mouth.”

He kicked your ribs again, and you swore you could feel them crack.

“I’ll kill you, you fucking ruined me.”

He swiped the knife again, Keith shouting something you couldn’t hear amongst the ringing in your ears.

You shut your eyes, crowding your head with your arms.

A slam broke through the muffles of your mind. Panicked voices and accusations being thrown around before a thick accent curled around your head.

Miles Morales.

“I’d get your hands off her if I were you, Homeboy.”

Miles approached slowly, checking your face while keeping his eyes on the three men.

“Fuck off, Miles.”

“No.” His head cocked to the side, eyes slanting while he assessed the situation.

“What, you gonna fight us?”

James’s voice was shaking. He’d never seen Miles looks o absolutely pissed before.

“Don’t think I can, asshole?”

“It’s three against one.”

“Realmente piensas—, sabes que, no importa.”

Miles lunged at him, Keith and Mathew shouting in tandem while you struggled to keep your eyes open. The pain working its way past your adrenaline and into your bones.

He grabbed James by the wrist, twisting it back and listening to the sickening crunch of his Lunate bone in curious satisfaction. James screamed, trying to tear his hand away from Miles. Even with his right hand pulling too, he wouldn’t budge. The metal clicked together every time James shifted, and Miles gave an extra squeeze before letting go. The force James was pulling sending him flying back, he stumbled and tripped over your feet, falling back and smashing his head on the tiles.

The other two boys scrambled for the door, running out the hallway and whining like dogs.

James groaned, rolling onto his stomach, Miles deadpanned down at him. You watched through blurry vision as Miles picked his up, sat him against the teachers desk, almost slumped against it. Grabbed his hair by his crown, slowly bringing his head forward, bending him at the waist. Before slamming his head back against the wood with a dull thud. He repeated this sick, prolonged process until James had fallen unconscious. Standing over him, then going to grab the knife laid a bit from you. You looked at him from your position, not unthankful, but still—, he was evidently a contributor.

“Don’t move.”

“Wha— Why? I have to get home.”

Miles scoffed, crouching down next to you, knife in hand. His limp wrists resting on his bent knees.

“You gonna’ go home with a cracked rib and busted face? Nah, Chiquita. Vente conmigo, yo te arreglo.”

He stuffed the pocket knife down the side of his Nikes and took off his claws, putting them in the pocket of his jacket.

He hooked his arm under your knees and upper back, cradling you bridal style before standing to his full height.

You panicked a little— “Wha—, No. Miles, put me down.”

“No.”

“Hh— Whatdyu’ mean ‘No’!?”

You hooked your hands over his shoulders and gripped him as he made his way through the back exit of the school.

“I said, I’m taking you home.”

—

You groaned in pain, shirt lifted to just under your bra line as Miles assessed the damage.

He had been joking when he said cracked rib, but there was an underlying sense of real possibility. According to him though, nothing had been enough to seriously injure you. Except the disgusting looking bruises littering yourself.

You tried to focus away from the pain. Or Miles in general, he was very distracting, the lingering attraction you had when you met thought to be squished, was bubbling up again.

He had an ice pack pressed to your skin, and if you were a tad less conscious, maybe you would’ve made a joke of how cold his hands already were. The sweltering heat doing nothing to soothe the bruising.

“Keep this here.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Watch the attitude.”

You huffed a breath, laugh being painful.

“Yeah, whatever.”

You shifted yourself to alleviate some pain, and took his place holding the pack on your stomach.

He grabbed an anti-septic from the small kit he had for first aid. When he’d pulled it out earlier, you’d questioned it.

“You get injured women on your room often, Miles?”

“Nah, Just you. Usually they can take care of ‘emselves.”

You’d giggled at that, not entirely offended but more so amused he’d decided not to take offence at your jab.

His hands reaching for your face brought you back to the present. Flinching back in surprise, you watched him watch for a moment. “Chill, ma. Just gon’ put this on your cuts. Needa’ touch your face for that.”

You cringed, the twisting of your lip having you suck in a harsh breath. “Yeah—, yeah, okay. Thanks.”

“Mhmm.”

The callouses in his hands were made known the moment he touched you, spreading the cream along the cut on your brow, cheekbone and lip.

His hands were a nice contrast compared to the heat of your cheeks, and the gentleness at which he was using.

When Miles touched your face, leaning his body closer to yours, he wanted to savour the feeling. The softness of your flesh against his own, how he could trace the contour of your cheek without it being awkward. His thumb rubbed a small amount of cream onto your lip and he couldn’t look away. The sight of your blood stained skin under his blemished hands had him stuck in the moment. Unable to answer her last question.

“Miles?”

The way her lips formed around his name sent a burning heat throughout his body.

“Yeah—.”

“Is my lip okay? ‘M I gonna need stitches?”

You poured up at him and he shook his head. “No.”

“Mmh— Okay.”

You looked to the side, addressing his room and Miles watched the way your eyelashes brushed along your cheeks when you blinked.

“Okay, just this left. Gonna be a little cold.”

“Thank you.”

“No stress, Chiquita.”

He grabbed some petroleum jelly, spreading it along the cuts on your face and moisturising the wound.

He then placed adhesive bandages along the places necessary, and placed everything back into his first aid.

“Miles.”

“Yeah, Mami?”

You paused at the name, he’d been using those a lot lately.

“How’d you know to find me?”

He looked down, shuffling up next to you against the headboard. You gazed out the window, ignoring the tension that was eating at the both of you. He did too.

“Gut feeling.”

—

DAMN BABY THIS ONE GOT WILD

tags :3 @gemma42 , @denuparxoume

my gorgeous translator @kissmxcheek !!

#earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales #miles morales x reader #across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #miles morales #spiderverse x reader #miles x reader #miles morales x you #Miles 42 #earth42!miles x reader #earth 42 #earth42!miles

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sweet1delusi0ns · 6 months ago

Text

Nicknames you call naruto boys ──☆*:・ﾟ

Characters: Naruto🦊,sasuke🗡️,kiba🐺, shikamaru🀄️,shino🪲,neji🎋,Lee🥋, choji🍥,gaara⏳, kankuro🪆

Bold is them~

Fem!reader

Naruto🦊-*

You mostly call him darling or handsome, but sometimes you call him foxy just to tease LOL. At first he was flustered by darling n stuff but soon got use to it, but he never expected the name “foxy” to appear farther along into your relationship

“Y/nnnn! How does my hair look?? I’m trying something new do you like?” “I think you look great foxy!” He stopped for a solid 10 seconds before responding “ah…. Heh… are you making fun of mee?” “No I’m callin you foxy cuz your a fox!” “Literally?” “No I’m calling you hot, foxy means attractive silly” Again he paused trying to understand what is happening. “SHE THINKS IM HOT!” He hopes he said that in his head

Sasuke🗡️-*

You call him literally any meaningful name he will either be like “whatever” or about to cry, just depends what you call him. You can call him babe/sweetie/honey or whatever and he wouldn’t react but he will break if you call him “baby boy” he has issues but you can fill that void for him.

“Sasuke, let’s go to bed” “I mustn’t y/n. I’m far too busy, I will be in bed in three hours. Promise” you grab his hand stopping him from walking out the door “baby boy please. I worry about you… let’s go to bed” you can feel his hand twitch in yours, he turns to meet your eyes. His face visibly softens almost to a sad expression. “Yes, darling. Ok…”

Kiba🐺-*

Love, baby, good boy and puppy. Puppy for obvious reasons, I’ve said it before when he gets tired he wants your attention 100%. he wants to cuddle and talk literally anything as long as he has your attention, and the cherry on top is when you call him puppy. Throughout the day you call him nicknames like “Kiba baby, can you hand me my bag” or “love your going to be latee!” but puppy is only for special moments

He was irritated over god knows what and all he wanted was to cuddle so that’s what he gets! “I’d be irritated too Kiba now come hereee” “thank god! I just need some private time with you..” instantly climbed into your lap to sprawl out “of course! We can cuddle all you need puppy” you can see the dumb smirk growing in his face as he giggles like an idiot while growing red

Shikamaru🀄️-*

You guys share the same nicknames with each other so you call him things like dear and sweetie. He’s very chill with nicknames but he does find them adorable especially when they come from you.

“Shika?….Shikamaru??? sweetie?… DEAR!!!?” “WHAAAAAAATTTT” “DONT SASS ME IM TRYING TO GET YOUR ATTENTION!” “SORRY….what?” “I love you~” “god your such a pain… love you too”

Shino🪲-*

Bug boy LOL. Yes bug boy but also sweetheart mostly! He barely reacts to things you do but every now and then you can catch a little smile on his cute face~

“Sweetheart~” “yes love bug?” “Have I ever told you how cute you are?” “Ah…uhm..no you haven’t, thank you” you giggle “I can see the smile!” he quickly tucks into his shirt once he realized he has been caught

Neji🎋-*

Let’s be honest. He’s pretty. So the name must acknowledge his prettiness pretty boy! He always thought the name was silly “why not handsome boy?” “Because your pretty? I mean you are handsome but pretty boy is cuter!”

“Where you headin pretty boy?” “Out for a walk, care to join?…again with the silly name y/n?” “Sure I’ll join, and yes again with the silly name I’ll never stop until you love it!” He stopped responding just to talk to himself “little do you know I do…” he whispered

Lee🥋-*

He’s chooses the nicknames honestly. He’s just a ball of excitement when it come to your relationship. He’s on top of communication so nicknames were talked about at the beginning.

“Oooo can my nickname be honey bun!!! OH or maybe perfect, loving, amazing, handsome boyfriend!” “Well that’s to long for a pet name uhm.. how about just handsome, honey and love?” “AH PERFECT!” He reacts clapping his hands together

Choji🍥-*

You are very very special to him so you are the only one he lets call him big boy, because he knows that you NEVER mean it in a insulting way. In fact you mostly use it as a flirt~ along with sweetie or buds!

“God I could just eat you up big boy~” or “sweetie pie your lookin handsome today!” He is very anxious and insecure sometimes so you gotta make him feel like the hottest man in your eyes~ some times he just lays on your chest listening to all your praises and compliments

Gaara⏳-*

He doesn’t care what you call him he just appreciates you no matter what. But you decided rose would be perfect~ not just because his hair is red but you also find him as beautiful and perfect as a budding rose

“Rose can you hand me my water” “am…I rose?” You giggle “yes Gaara!” “Oh. Thank you y/n!” He flashes a smile “Aw I love you Gaara~” “I love you too..”

Kankuro🪆-*

He doesn’t care what you call him but he does find it a little hot if you call him a “bad boy” but that rarely ever happens, mostly it’s just darling, sexy or handsome (he likes compliments ok)

You can observe him applying his makeup so you can chime in “your a handsome one arent ya?” “I know right~” “ok bad boy, calm down with your cockiness-” “Mmmm call me that again~” “ok I’m leaving moment ruined.” He’s so annoying and cocky but we love him

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tubbytarchia · 11 months ago

Note

Thoughts on the dynamic between TIES Tango and BB Jimmy? Or even the silly rivalry they have in SL? There’s just so much adorable fluffy potential there and I’m just 💭

- 🧚🏼‍♀️

YOU'RE RIGHT THERE IS AND I LOVE THEM. SL ranchers are SO cute and precious its off the charts. Limited Life however...

Ok drawing that hurt a bit so I'm immediately following up with this

Limited Life is so carefree in general it's SO fun and probably the least angst material out of any of the Life series to me (of course there is still plenty, can't underestimate the traffic fandom's ability to find angst in everything) including Tango and Jimmy. They're so fun and you're right that it's a lot of fluff potential, mostly because Jimmy being a "bad boy" is so funny. BUT THE, MAN. TH The fact that this is the one after DL, after Jimmy so desperately wanted to apologize to Tango for how they went out and who knows if he got to do that or not. I love the idea of them reuniting in some temporary afterlife game or dark void following their deaths, but also what if they didn't get to talk... maybe it was only Tango's distant messages "you're still here? It's over. Go home. Go" that reached him and then he just didn't dare to talk about it other than the one time he instinctually called him "rancher" again. I can't help but be filled with angst when I think about LimL ranchers but I trust that where there is angst, hurt/comfort is sure to follow.... If not then I just die I guess

The bad boy sunglasses are very convenient to hide the look with which he gazes upon Tango from a distance... But then oop Tango hops through the nether portal on top of bad boy mansion and Jimmy decides to go for it, to try and harken back to how they used to be to gauge how Tango will react when he goes "The boogie's being chosen, you're here with us now, we have to look into each other's eyes!" (paraphrasing) and then he's like "oh Impulse is here too" lmao and then that's just kinda it. And then TIES blows up bread bridge and auughhghhh you know??? I'm so bad at expressing how I feel, sorry this is a ramble. But I love them so very dearly and I could absolutely imagine inconspicuous moments between them. Like whenever I think of potential LimL rancher fluff my mind goes to this one fanfic about Jimmy being sleep deprived and he just kinda ends up at TIES and Tango puts him to sleep. Stuff like that

And idk what more to say about Secret Life. Their little rivalry is so funny and literally idk if it's the fanart that has absolutely fucked with my head but every time I think about them I imagine them awkwardly flirting on complete accident and just being kind of weird but. very lovable. They had only two notable interactions and those two interactions left me permanently deranged

ANYWAY THANKS FOR THE ASK ANON

#team ranchers #rancher duo #tango tek #tangotek #jimmy solidarity #trafficshipping #trafficblr #I do not want to spend more time looking at the anatomy in that first drawing Im only gonna keep making it worse augg #but if it can nourish you rancherers then Im very happy #god I need to do other things but ranchers on the brain #always #tubby art

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charmedreincarnation · 1 year ago

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My sucess story

Trigger Warning: Abusive, homophobia, mentions of suicide

Hey there, Maya! I just had to take a moment and express my appreciation for all the fantastic posts you put out. I can now confirm, without a shadow of a doubt, that shifting is real, manifesting is real, and so is the void. Our desires and ambitions aren't in vain.

I've been part of the shifting community since 2020 when it exploded on TikTok. It might not matter much, but as a gay man, I rarely saw other guys in the community (though Reddit and Amino have a more diverse crowd). I've always felt more comfortable in women-centric spaces because they tend to be less judgmental.

I never saw success stories from guys, especially the kind I wanted to see - like waking up in a new world, not just manifesting money or a girlfriend (or boyfriend in my case >.<). I've always been spiritual and interested in witchcraft, voodoo, deities, and now manifesting and shifting. But it felt like nothing would let me shift.

Growing up with homophobic and physically abusive parents, struggling with poverty, depression, homelessness, anxiety, suicidal thoughts, and more, I began to feel like you could only manifest and shift if your life was okay. I didn't have the luxury of time or safety to practice methods, constantly dealing with noise, verbal abuse, or physical violence.

Then, I read this post

https://www.reddit.com/r/shiftingrealities/comments/14v4lw3/how_to_shift_the_next_time_you_go_to_sleep/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=ioscss&utm_content=2&utm_term=1

It led me to your Tumblr because OP used some of your old posts and talked about the concept of the void. All searched lead to tumblr. A couple of months ago (2.5 ish) after one of the worst days of my life, I went to bed sobbing, trying to block out the noise around me, praying and crying for anything - death, shifting, a new identity...

Everything around me started to fade - it was as if I was being engulfed by a white, serene blanket of nothingness. It was completely silent, and I couldn't see or feel anything. The only thing that seemed to persist was my awareness.

Now, I've read about the void before, but mostly in the context of it being a black, empty space. So, I'm not entirely sure if what I experienced was indeed the void or something altogether different. The concept still baffles me a bit, but I'm learning and growing through these experiences.

Regardless of where I was, my heart was set on reaching my dr.I kept praying and hoping, to wake up in my DR.

I woke up in my Twitch streamer DR! I found myself in a completely unfamiliar yet perfect place. My room was equipped with a high-end PC, top-notch gaming gear, and quaint decor items. Milo, my dog, was there too. I was sharing a mansion in LA with my boyfriend and four other streamers. The house was beyond my imagination, and streaming here was a dream come true. As night fell, my friends and I explored the vibrant LA nightlife, creating lasting memories.

After a week, i can’t lie I almost forgot I had shifted here. Then, I set an intention to shift back into this reality but where I had moved out, lived with my best friend and their supportive parents, mastered shifting and manifesting, had my desired looks, and money came easily to me. And it worked!

Since then, I've been living my best boujee gay life, and I shift all the time. I even created a waiting room where I'm immortal and use it whenever I need a break. I wish I could offer better advice, but like everyone says, there isn't a key to shifting. It's different for everyone. But you can and will shift. You can manifest your dream life. You can and deserve to be happy

Oh my god, I'm so happy for you, love 💕💕. I also completely related to what you felt. I know it can seem like your circumstances are holding you back, but believe me when I say this - that couldn't be further from the truth.

It's that same resilience, and your ability to persist despite the odds, that paved the way to your dream life. There’s nothing, I mean nothing that can stop you. Not wavering, crying, or doubt. Nothing. If you want it, it’s yours.

#law of assumption #manifesation #manifesting #void state #reality shifting #shiftblr #void success

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h4venpha · 1 year ago

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𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐯𝐚𝐬𝐡 𝐡𝐜𝐬 𓂃 ⟡

uncanny vash x reader

cw: body horror (not rlly but just in case)

a/n: i’ve seen multiple drawings/hcs on uncanny vash so this is me mushing them all together sorry (this is slightly creature vash as well!)

- i feel like most uncanny vash hcs are more like.. creature vash hcs

- uncanny vash: okay he’s fucking creepy guys. his pupils like voids surrounded by a shining blue iris, they’re kind of always unfocused even as you talk to him. he chitters, chirps, clicks, its scary sometimes when you wake up and hear him in the middle of the night.

- uncanny vash hums too, but its always to himself. like an almost silent humming, just a soft sweet tune rumbling from his chest as he stares at nothing in particular.

- he doesn’t talk much, truthfully. relies on vague gestures or small chirps. usually when he talks its with you, but still it mostly consists of short sentences and phrases.

- a lil self indulged but he can unhinge his jaw, drop it and there’s rows of jagged teeth. and it makes you a little scared to be honest, like shit what he could bite my face off while kissing me if he wanted to.

- but of course he doesnt. he locks his jaw back and gives you a sweet, innocent smile, just showing his front row of teeth. and the duality is so unsettling you think about his rows and rows of sharp teeth while you kiss him

- first time sleeping next to him and you genuinely thought you were going to die. like you’re falling asleep, just barely conscious, and this deep rumbling sound starts. your eyes flashing open and your heart is beating out of your fucking chest, eyes darting around for the source.

- and it’s your fucking monster, creature, boyfriend—THING sleeping. vash’s long ass arms and legs wrapped around your body while he purrs and clicks right in your ear.

- for the first couple of days, honestly, you can’t sleep. cause its so fucking loud and right next to you. it takes a while, but you end up getting used to it to the point where you can’t sleep without his silly noises. and he’s just happy to be there, he has no clue he purrs in his sleep.

- i feel like maybe he forgets how fragile humans are and he sometimes handles you too roughly. like he’s playing with your fingers and he tries to move them in a way that is impossible for a human, and you have to tell him that you don’t like that and its bad. so he learns to handle you more gently.

- uncanny vash doesn’t… really understand love. at least not in the same way humans do, like he just does not get what kissing does or hand holding, he likes to express his love in very different forms.

- he likes keeping you close to him at all times. now im kinda projecting my “normal” vash hcs but hear me out. you’re like the shiny rock he found and he just keeps you in his pocket because mm so shiny, so pretty.

- he is very much possessive of his shiny rock indeed. keeping his abnormally large hand on your back or your neck (you had to introduce hand holding to him.)

- love bites are his thing! maybe not necessarily leaving marks, but the feeling of your flesh in between his very much dangerous teeth gives him butterflies!! please let him nibble on you

#h4venpha #vash the stampede #trigun stampede #trigun #trigun maximum #trigun 1998 #trigun 2023 #vash fluff #vash headcanons #trigun vash #vash x you #vash x y/n #vash x reader #uncanny vash #trigun uncanny vash #vash scenario #vash imagines #vash imagine #creature vash

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rayshippouuchiha · 8 months ago

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Dearest Fox Void, I am glad you have returned.

I need to tell you about my transfem!Ed Elric idea.

Mostly, it's that Ed has never thought about her gender, but as soon as anyone brings up she may be a girl her response is to think about it for a bit, then go "Oh! No wait that makes sense." And proceed to go all in about it.

Specifically, I'm thinking about Ed being on the run with Greed and the others and needing a disguise. What better disguise when the country is on the lookout for a short loud blond boy alchemist than a fairly normal height blond girl? Ed transmutes his coat into a dress, keeps his hair down, adds a bit more heel to his boots and speaks quietly or not at all and Boom! that's just a shy girl.

After a little bit of doing this, with Ed seemingly not having any issues with the act, Greed tries to poke at Ed a little bit.

Greed: So, you seem to be playing a girl so well, what if you actually are one? (Expecting Ed to blow up about being a man and not into girly things, etc.)

Ed: [shrugs] It's not like it's a big deal, cross-dressing is fun, everyone enjoys it a little bit.

The Chimeras: ... no, no they don't.

Ed: ... What?

Darius: Honestly, kid, i'm not sure how you do it all the time. I think if I tried it I would feel uncomfortable even if I *could* pull it off.

Heinkel: Yeah, and you seem to... enjoy being seen as a girl more than as a boy.

Ed: ...

Greed is now expecting panic and loud, fervent denials, but Ed remains quiet. It's, like, half an hour before he comes back and is like, "no, yeah, turns out I'm actually a girl. Huh."

Greed: What??? Just like that??? No angst or anything???

Ed: [shrugs] it's not like it's anything bad. I just never thought about it.

Heinkel: [deciding that he's gonna roll with it to screw with Greed] so, are you gonna change your name? Edward is pretty masculine.

Ed: [oblivious to Heinkel's game and Greedlings internal screaming] Well, I want to keep being Ed, but I never really liked Edward much anyway. Maybe Eden?

Darius: [picked up on Heinkel's wavelength] sounds good to me.

So, yeah, now Ed is going by Eden and she/her pronouns. Every time Ed meets up with someone who really knows her (Al. Winry, Pinako, Izumi and Sig) and tells them, the general reaction is "no, yeah, that tracks" and Greedling is so *so* frustrated at the nonchalance. (Hohenheim is surprised, but his general demeanor makes him incapable of expressing it to the degree Greed wants.)

After the final battle, Ling leaves Ed with a cute outfit (think that one emo anime-girl pic that was everywhere. Or any hot-topic teenage girl. The red plaid miniskirt with the chains is required) and Ed loves it, and hates that she loves it, and is mildly weirded out by the fact that it is tailored to her. But, the important thing is that she wears it to Team Mustangs room to quit the military, which is how she comes out to all of them.

See I read this and all I can think is "where's the fic, anon?" because yes please and thank you????

#RayRambles #FMA #FMAB

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humanityinahandbag · 2 years ago

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Steddie Modern AU: TikTok

Steve would absolutely be that guy who would not understand TikTok. He and Eddie are older by the time it comes out, and most of the content there is of young kids going completely buck wild. Steve of course disapproves, hands on his hips, huffing about no supervision these days even though he was absolutely a terror in high school.

Eddie, rock star that he is, gets it to an extent. "They're expressing themselves!" he'd say.

Steve would only shake his phone around and point aggressively to a video playing on loop of a young man dancing along to some new trendy song, trying his hardest to seem cool and popular. "This isn't expression," he'd say, mother hen voice at top volume. "This is them trying to peacock to the world!"

"You did that once, too, Stevie."

"Yeah, and I was a little shit!"

And so Steve, in an effort to curb the young teenage population and keep them from making his mistakes (mostly due to parental neglect and hopeless, crushing self deprivation), would start his own TikTok channel.

"Hey there," he says into the camera, because for all the pride around his good looks, he has zero clue how to record a video of himself. "My names Steve, and I've been noticing a bunch of you on here who are out of control! Listen to me, alright? You need to dial it back. All that shit in high school is completely null and void when you're an adult. Trust me. From a former popular asshole, there's better shit you could be doing. Now let me show you how to scramble an egg."

His videos mostly consist of simple lessons. Giving out little pieces of advice. Teaching them basic life skills he had to learn on his own. How to cook. How to clean. How to iron a polo shirt. How to style your hair. How to do laundry. How to do basic first aid.

He often becomes transparent, telling them about his own childhood.

Sometimes he brings Eddie into his videos.

"This is my husband's favorite," he says, by way of explanation as he shows TikTok how to make pasta sauce from scratch. "He used to eat spaghetti out of a can. A fucking can!"

Despite his posturing on stage, Eddie becomes shy whenever a camera is in his face, and ducks his head away, smiling quietly towards the camera. "It's not that bad," he says.

"Not that- The sodium in that could kill an elephant!" Steve laughs.

"Yeah, well... I don't want you doing too much for me."

"I like doing things for you."

Eddie flushes and ducks his head, hiding his face away behind a curtain of curls.

Steve leans over a kisses his temple, pushing him gently out of frame where he'll be more comfortable, before turning back to the camera. "Anyway, this recipe is great if you're on your own for long periods of time. Especially because you can freeze some for later. Now the trick here is garlic. Let me show you how to peel it without making a huge mess!"

It's a month later where Dustin shows up at their door and shoves his phone into Steve's face. "Why the fuck," he'd snap, "are you trending?"

It turns out, the tiny community that Steve had been lecturing to wasn't as small as he originally thought.

There are so many kids out there desperate for parental affection, and they look to Steve, feeding off his pride, his kindness, his stories, his advice. Not only that but the fact that they get to see a former bully, a former popular kid, a man who grew up from neglect, become someone happy and married?

That's just... so wonderful.

"I've been on TikTok from the beginning and I only have, like, two thousand followers."

"So what? I don't have that many."

"You've got three million, Steve," said Dustin. Steve was not expecting that, squinting at the phone screen in his face. "Three fucking million! People are stitching your videos saying you guys are their new dads," Dustin squawked. "How did you not know you were this popular!?"

"I didn't know how to check my follower count!" Steve said, sincerely. It wasn't like he actually checked the thing! He just enjoyed making videos.

"You're so old."

"Hey," said Eddie from the kitchen, "don't talk about your mother that way."

"Yeah!" agreed Steve. "Don't talk to me that way! Now get into my next video so I can introduce you to your three million siblings."

And that is why I firmly believe that, if given the chance, Steve (and subsequently, Eddie) would absolutely become the internet's favorite parental figure(s).

#steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson

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arcielee · 2 years ago

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She Walks in Starlight

Summary: A goddess comes to ask for help to save her friends. Paring: Aemond!Hades x OFC!Persephone Word Count: 4358 Warnings: Mention of character(s) death. It’s HotD and Greek mythology, so there will be incest. Author's Note: So, the whole Aemond as Hades trope has been done before BUT NOT BY ME so lets go. My inspiration came from this Aemond drawing: artist. It’s so nifty. Also, huge shout out to @aspen-carter for her ceaseless patience and helping me edit this. I am so grateful to have her as a friend because her writing is just top tier and her insight is so wonderful. ♥ Also! Gō vys is Valyrian for Under world. Enjoy! Tags (Tumblr kindred spirits): @sirenofavalon @annikin-im-panicin @aaaaaamond (slash means I am unable to tag you) Series: Act I - Act II - Act III

ACT I

“Little goddess, you are far away from where you belong.”

This was the truth spoken, for she never before dared venture away from her mother’s watchful gaze, never pressing beyond the boundary she swore she implemented for safety. Today it was fate that propelled her soft steps to follow the trodden pathway that wove from her realm into his.

His tone was low and voiced with authority, but she did not feel threatened despite the grim scenery she now found herself in. The Underworld seemed just a shadowed, desolate reflection of the mortal realm above; it was not shroud in darkness, mostly void of pigmentation save the veily blue hue that enveloped all around. She watched the souls make their way towards the ferryman, unaware their fluid steps were not solid against the grey sand that spread the shore of the river Styx.

“Aïdōneús,” she used the ancient moniker, for who else would be present other than the lordship to the realm of death? She spoke his name as she heard from the hushed whispers of the mortals, who were afraid to misstate and bring unwanted attention from the king of the dead. For her, it was an ancient tongue known to the gods and it spilled like a sweet nectar from her wet lips. She pressed on the ball of her foot to turn and face him.

Throughout the ages, many adjectives have been used to describe him and beautiful was the first to her mind.

The contours of his face were sharp as the marble stones that the mortals would carve the gods’ likeness into and it gave a severity to his expression. She saw the left side of his face, marred from his heroism from the tales of the Titanomachy, with a gash that began above his brow and cut through, curling into his cheek. His bravery had been rewarded with his kingship of the Gō vys and a brilliant sapphire stone that was set into his scarred socket.

Cold and stern, was often used, a firm accountability held for the laws held. Monstrous. Menacing. She assumed these descriptors were spoken by cowards, for all she could see was an esthetical deity.

He towered over her, his arms were tucked behind his back and it emphasized his broad shoulders. Silver scars littered over, brilliant streaks in contrast to the plum chiton draped over his lithe figure with golden thread knotted around his slender waist. The dark tones he wore gave a luminous intensity to his alabaster skin, like a godly beacon in the realm of grey.

He kept his distance, but she saw his head tilt from the gleam of the red ruby set in his crown and the soft glimmer of his silver tresses that spilled forward with his subtle movement.

“I have come to ask you something,” she continued, her voice unsteady, but her eyes boldly returned his steady gaze.

There was a haunting beauty to the mismatched coloring of his stare, his lavender eye and the glint of his sapphire eye, that caused her heart to reverberate within her chest.

“You traveled all this way to ask me a question?” His baritone continued and there was a flicker of amusement, the slight curl to his lips with his mellifluous words. “Please ask so I may best assist the goddess of spring.”

She felt the flush of pleasure. He knows who you are, the thought flutters throughout her head and she cannot stop her smile. “I wanted to ask if it was at all possible for a soul to be returned to the mortal realm?”

A low hum rumbled in the back of his throat and he took a deliberate step to close the space between them; the flicker of amusement is gone, his expression now as cool as the marble it was carved from. “This cannot be done, little goddess,” his silver words carefully chosen for his silver tongue. “It is the fate of every mortal to die and once that threshold is crossed, they cannot return to that life.”

Her renewed grief comes with its sickening hold, clenching her heart and the threat of tears pricked her eyes. She swallowed thickly, only then breaking her bold stare and instead she looked over the spirits that continued forward, awaiting their turn to cross.

It should have been me.

“Who did you lose?”

His soft tone pulled her attention back and she can see his brow is furrowed. “My friends,” she refused to cry in front of the king, no matter the kindly concern etched onto his features in the moment. “They were taken suddenly and do not have the gold to pay the passage.”

He hummed a second time, still low but thoughtful. “They are not yet lost, little goddess,” and the familiar curl of his bow lips gives her the flutter of hope. “Come back tomorrow and we can see what may be done, but,” his gaze rolled over her, locking onto her face once again. “I would advise not to return empty handed when you come to beg a favor from the king of the Underworld.”

+ + + + + + +

He dared teased the goddess of spring and then he relished in her response to the reminder of such a timeless courtesy. The rose coloring flushed her ivory tones, her embarrassment clashed with the thrum of her vitality beneath and it brought out the sun speckles across her nose and cheeks.

How divine the thought of his lips to kiss each one.

She left chagrined and he was certain he would not see her again, save the movements when he would slip to the surface for a reprieve from the dead, a shadow in watch of the gods who resided in the mortal realm. He had not expected her to return the following day and with a basket she showed was filled with delicacies of cheeses, olives, figs, and more.

He saw her coming, her steps almost familiar with the pathway that led to his realm. “You returned, little goddess,” it was a statement more so than a question.

“I have, Aïdōneús.”

Aïdōneús. A name long forgotten, spurned from the fear it held amongst mortals, but she was dauntless with her pronunciation, just as she was bold with her stare. It was the sweetest sound, both familiar and unfamiliar, a sound that he would spend his immortality to follow its every behest.

Even though her tone was cool, he noted her white knuckled hold on the wicker basket. “I have returned and I have brought you an offering,” she continued, shifting her weight to rest it on her hip. “You also may call me by name or you may call me Kore, if you desire.”

Desire. There is an unbridled fervor in his gaze as it rolled over her curves, so sinfully wrapped in the peplos linen but his posture remained reserved, his arms crossed behind and one foot stanced.

“As you wish, Kore.”

He did not say another word and his hand reached for hers; he was pleased that she took it without hesitation and his skin prickled from the warmth of her palm. He whisked her forward and he felt her grip tighten, looking back to see her eyes wide from the abrupt movement. He pulled her closer to his chest, his other arm wrapping around her waist with a firm hold.

He brought her to a pomegranate tree that is curled on a ledge overlooking the knolls of silver grass, decorated with aimless spirits.

There was almost an ache when he released his hold and he kept his arms open, watching to make sure her steps are balanced on the solid earth. “I apologize,” his voice was almost sheepish with his realization. “I am so used to getting around and I forget…”

He is grateful that she does not press him to finish his thought. Instead, he fell back and watched as she spread the cloth, the white billow of fabric that settled on the ground, and placed the basket in the center. She offered to pour him a glass of wine and only then does he take a seat, breaking the bread, while he shared that their view is the asphodel meadows where good souls reside, a neutral ground for peaceful spirits.

He wanted to bring her here and show her. “This is where your friends will eventually be,” he finished, lifting his goblet to his lips.

Her eyes watched the bob of his neck as he drank the wine and she admitted, “This seems so dreadfully dull for the good souls.”

“They no longer have the tedious shackles forced on them from the mortal realm,” his lips curled upwards with his further explanation. “They feel nothing and this allows them contentment to wander these fields.”

Her nose scrunched. “I understand this,” she breaks a piece of the bread, allowing the wine to dye it red. “That, however, does not change my initial opinion.”

This is a moment that broke through the kingly demeanor that he carried with his every step, his every movement within the cosmos. She watched, wide eyed and rosy, as his laughter lines his cheeks with dimples, the king of the Gō vys has dimples! She savored the genuineness of this moment and she cannot help but giggle as well. “It is beautiful, though,” she continued with a shy smile. “I see why you chose this spot.”

His demeanor darkened and he smirked. “Kore, this pales in comparison to your springly creations. I only brought you to show you the bit of vegetation that can survive within my realm.”

She tilted her head upwards, looking at the deep burgundy of the ripe pomegranates that hung low on the branches. “Are they edible?”

He leaned onto his side, propped up onto one elbow and his fingers traced the decoration of the gilded goblet. “It is, but without the same savory flavors as,” and he gestured towards the basket that slowly empties with their picnic. “There is a cost of their consumption,” he cannot help the edge of bitterness to his voice.

Her eyes widen, not with fright but curiosity, to the animosity of his words. “What is the cost?”

“Anything eaten or drank chains you to the realm,” he answered, solemn, and was surprised by the glint in her eyes.

It draws his gaze to her and, again, he can see the thrum of her ichor beneath her ivory skin, her eyes focused on him and framed with dark lashes, her stare as dauntless as earlier.

“It is the cost to rule a kingdom,” she offered, blinking and it is seemingly gone, her expression now doleful as it looks over the silver hills that spread infinitely before them. “It is better than to be destined to be the forgotten goddess, tied to her mother’s shadow and just a decoration who nurtures flowers.”

He was watchful in this somber moment; there was a silence that was not uncomfortable, but he felt the returned fervor from before to ask more, to understand more. There was a tingle in his fingertips to reach for her hand, to knit his fingers so perfectly with her own, just so she may remember she was not alone.

Instead, he waited.

She pulled herself to stand and reached her hand towards him, the radiance of her smile returning, a divine glow amongst the eerie meadow. “Come and show me more of your kingdom.”

And he obliged her.

+ + + + + + +

Time, she learned, was different in the Underworld.

She allowed herself to tour the Gō vys, tucked so close to his side and allowing him to show his kingdom, from the Asphodel to the Erebus, to watch the passage of Acheron and learn the ferryman was men, twins who let a foolish misunderstanding result in the simultaneous slay and he offered them an alternative to serve him. She met Vhagar, the rumored three headed beast who in truth wished for belly rubs and she happily inclined.

There was a panicked realization when she resurfaced and saw the moon bore overhead. Her steps were quick homewards, muttering prayers to Gaia, to Rhaenys, to whomever was listening and she begged her mother would be unaware of the time lost.

“You smell of death.”

Rhaenyra was the golden goddess of harvest and fertility, her mother the very embodiment of the sacred laws of the cosmos. Her eyes narrowed on her arrival, but she managed only a hint of anger to touch her overwhelming interrogative tone. “Where have you been, Kore?”

She hummed a lie, something enough to dissuade further suspicion her mother may hold, just a silly little goddess who had gotten lost within the cosmos. She continued to add another promise she would never dare return.

This was another lie.

“Aïdōneús,” she greeted him the next day and was pleased with his expression, which was almost incredulous at her return.

“Kore,” he responded with the same warmth, the curl of his lip when he reached for her hand. She allowed him to take it without thought, a blush crept over as he brought her knuckles to his lips, the tickle of his breath to her skin. “Please, I meant to say this yesterday,” he did not release his hold, his dichromatic gaze watchful. “You may call me just Aemond, if you wish.”

“Aemond,” and she said his name with the same sweetness and reverence, enjoying her familiarity with the king and how the rose color dusts his cheeks when she repeats it. “I admit, I have come to ask another favor.”

“More souls you wish to return to the mortal realm?”

He regretted his words the moment they left his lips, when he saw the pain that danced across her eyes. His apology was caught in his throat, the explanation for his tasteless jest, but she already shook her head and that pain was gone.

“I wish to show you a place that is dear to me,” but her tone is careful. “Are you able to come with me to the mortal realm?”

I would go anywhere you asked of me, he does not say and instead he nodded, the shimmer of his silver hair. “I can leave, though not for long periods of time,” he shifted his gaze. “It is a tether to the Underworld. There is a pull, almost an ache, that grows the longer I am away.”

A smile returned to her lips, pink and inviting. “I will not keep you too long from the duties of your kingdom,” she promised and offered her hand to him.

Traveling within the Gō vys requires a celerity to his movements; there is a rush of wind with his quick motion from one place to the next, whereas she seems to frolick, pulling to keep him at her pace as they flit from the shadows and move towards a small isle. At first glance, it only holds the wreckage of the temple to appease the averter of evil, its ruin ironically from a temper tantrum of the gods.

“But why here?” Aemond was curious as he looked over the cracked stylobate and the broken pillars split, with stone embedded into the soft earth around them.

“There is beauty in the broken,” she smiled and pulled him to follow. “After Daemon and his temper tantrum, the mortals abandoned it, but I wished for it to blossom with new life.”

He watched her climb over a fallen pillar and she peered up to him, beckoning him to follow. He dropped softly at her side, while the soft echo of her words, there is beauty in the broken, remained in his ear. Aemond saw her focus was ahead and he followed her gaze.

His eye followed the curl of a turquoise moss that curled and decorated the stones, blooming with pastels. It continued to the reflection of the morning dew glittering off the almost iridescent petals, gleaming brilliant in the rising run; it showed the sea scheme of colors that stretched around them.

She was the goddess of spring, of vitality personified, and he is the darkness. But in this serene moment, there was an emotion, an almost tangible passion that entangled with the ichor of his veins when she reached for his hand again.

There was a spark as their palms fit together, as his slender fingers curled around her hand. “It is beautiful,” he said and his tongue wet his lips.

She peered at him, the flutter of her own heart when she saw how his features softened in the intimacy of the moment, a satisfaction to be privy to the reserved pleasure that played on his face. There was the intrusive thought that begged her to touch his jaw, to press up to her tiptoes and dare to taste his mouth, and she wished to bring back a piece to his kingdom, just so she could relive the hint of his smile on his lips.

“It is,” she agreed, tucking the thought away.

+ + + + + + +

That night, she tucked herself into the athenaeum to pour over the scrolls her mother stored away, with Rhaenyra both pleased and proud of her rekindled passion for her role within the cosmos.

Kore did not correct her. She needed her focus to return to what initially brought her to the Underworld, the fate she shelved and the growing burden with that neglect. She told herself that Aemond would be more amenable with an offering more tailored for the god of death, but in truth, she also wished to understand the growing thrum beneath her breastbone whenever she was within his proximity.

There was a simple spell that would serve both.

Though he would never admit to waiting for her, she was still pleased to see him on the edge of the plane, close enough for the sunlight to touch and give an ethereal glow to his chiseled features. There was a gentle breeze through his silver, silk tresses and she stopped her steps so she could admire him, the glimmer.

He tilted his head. “Kore, what is it?”

“Aemond,” she breathed. “You really are beautiful.”

His jaw steeled with the compliment and she was quick to grab his hand, leading him below like a silver beacon into the blue hue of the Gō vys. Once they were in the shadowed realm, she turned to press against his chest, her softness melting against him and with her whisper, “Aemond, take me back to the meadows.”

He, of course, obliged her.

There was a comfort with how his arms, so strong and lined with silver scars, wrapped around her waist with a hold she knew could be trusted. The jarring movement still caused her stomach to lurch, but it was quickly replaced with the exhilarating rush and her laughter spilled from her lips. Only when she felt the tickle of the silver grass beneath her soles did he finally release his hold of her and they were back beneath the pomegranate tree.

She curled with grace onto its roots and beckoned him to follow. He paused for a moment to appreciate how her robes nestled against her curves before he sits, close enough, with one leg up to rest his forearm on and the other arm pressing himself upright, his palm resting on the earth. His expression begs curiosity, but he is quiet.

Kore and her sweet smile elicited his hummed response and he watched as she began to rub her palms together. A soft glow emitted between and her focus returned to Aemond, a golden goddess with the light, before she pressed her hands to the ground. Her eyes closed for a moment, her thoughts poured into the practice incantation with the wordless flutter of her lips.

She opened her eyes and smiled again, his gaze shyly dropped to watch her hands lift and reveal the bolt of green that begins to stem upwards. He watched as its leaves unfurled and the red bulbs bunched together began to blossom.

His expression is one of awe, his jaw slack from seeing the life sprout from the grey earth and flourish with color before him. Aemond looked pained when she reached to pluck one, cupping it in her palms with a whisper, the same golden glow, before she presented him the enchanted flower, the petals unbruised and a vibrant red.

“This will match the ruby in your crown,” she explained, shifting her weight to look at him.

His expression was stoic, just a red reflection in his sapphire eye. “What are they called?” He asked when she opened his palm, his fingers spread as if his touch would shatter it.

“These are called snapdragons,” she shared, her pride aglow with her creation, her validation. “They are able to handle the cooler weather, but their lifespans are not very long, which is why,” and her fingertips tickled his palm as she picked it up, careful to pin it to his chiton, “I made this one for you. This one will never wilt.”

His gaze fell to it, his slender fingers pressed into the fabric around where she snugly fastened it, still cautious to touch. “Is this magic?”

He did not see the touch of pink to her cheeks, how she hemmed for her words to reply to him.

She sought out this spell in the archives of her mother’s anethum, that would allow a flower to eternally hold its blossomed vibrance with a condition in place, an emotion from the spellcaster, something that hinted its existence from the day they spent together at the temple.

An emotion she felt irresolute to share now.

She had thought it to be carnal at first. Desire, the unbridled passion that hummed within her when she first laid eyes on the god of death and his aery beauty. It was a fervor that burned within her as she drank his deliberate movements, the glimmer of his silver hair, the perpetual smirk that played on his pink, bow lips.

This will fade, she told herself. She returned, undeterred and with purpose to save her companions, the fate that brought her to the Gō vys to begin. With her offering rested on her hip, she allowed herself to be swept away in his arms, flitting further into his kingdom. It was his touch that sparked something more, the sweet candor of their conversation, how she swore his steady gaze able to see her bones beneath.

She felt confirmation at the temple ruins, from the moment she watched the colors of her masterpiece absorb into the exquisiteness he carried with him. She saw something, she felt something.

There is beauty in the broken.

He was a timeless deity that had seen the fall of Titans and she was only the little goddess of spring.

In part, she was proud of her power that grew, the vibrant glow of the snapdragon, but she also knew it stemmed from an emotion from her that he would never reciprocate.

So all she said was, “Yes. Magic.”

Her cheeks grew warmer still with his steady gaze, her silent prayers that he would not press for the truth of it because she knows she would never be able to lie to him. Aemond seemed to accept the words and then said, “I accept your offering, Kore. Tell me your favor and I swear I will do the best that I am able.”

So she spoke of the fate that brought her to the Underworld. “I wish to pay the passage for two souls.”

Her question did not anger him, but there is a sadness that crept to his features. “Kore, I would not be able to allow this,” he sighed, unable to look her in the eyes. “If I am to make an exception for you, I would have to offer the same courtesy to the rest and…” there is a pregnant pause, a moment that allowed her to choke on the emotion that threatened to break through and she saw the glimmer of silver when he tilted his head to watch her.

“Persephone,” he said with his low baritone. “Why do you ask for this? What brought you to my realm?”

She wore her shame like the chiton draped over her curves. Her tongue wet her lips as her mind tried for the words to express the suffocating guilt that built with her every visit. Begin at the beginning. On that day, there had been an enchanted flower that she and her companions, Baela and Rhaena, came upon.

“A flower,” Aemond hummed, his expression unreadable.

His comment left her feeling childish, ashamed to admit what followed. The flower seemed otherworldly, its petals glittered in the sunlight and beckoned to her, but she balked and stayed within the parameters Rhaenyra had placed. Baela and Rhaena teased at her sudden shyness, pushing beyond and dared to pluck it.

In return, the earth rumbled to split open and swallowed them both.

“I know that it was planted for me,” she finished, her fingers fidget with the rope tied around her waist. “What other purpose would an enchanted flower serve than to lure the goddess of spring?” Her cheeks were tearstained. “It should have been me.”

Aemond hummed again, the severity returned to his gaze and he looked away. She allowed herself a breath, the slow intake and exhale through parted lips, to relax her posture and rest her hands into her lap. He reached for her hand and she allowed him to take it.

It was with his touch that she could admit she loved him. There was a tenderness to his large hands, how his slender fingers were gentle to hold her own and the soothing gesture of his thumb making circular patterns on her palm.

“Kore,” he began and she looked up at him. “I will look further into this. I meant what I said that I am unable to return souls to the mortal realm, it is beyond my power, but I will find…” he hummed again. “Will you please come back tomorrow night?”

I will always find my way to you, but instead she only smiled, nodding her head.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x oc #greek mythology hotd au #hotd au #aemond!hades #oc!persephone #slow burn #hotd fanfic #aemond fanfiction #aemond fanfic #thanks for reading #♥

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mins-fins · 12 days ago

Text

hey jane — [ na jaemin — 엔시티. ]

where you just so happen to flirt with.. death? how does that work? | now playing ❥

you're staring down your lifeless body which currently makes home on the kitchen floor.

how the fuck did that happen?

three hours ago, you just so happened to accomplish three things; getting an invite to your crushes party, making out with said crush whilst inebriated, and garnering said crush's number. if you remember exactly, you had a date with jeno the next day, you returned home with an irregular feat of happiness carrying your expression.

so why exactly are you now observing your corpse on your very own kitchen floor?

cereal.

you got home at about two in the morning, fucking starving and nothing but cereal atop the fridge. a wobbly chair and legs giving out later, your head just happened to make contact with your kitchen island, dealing a painful final blow.

at least it was quick.

"right before my date?" you whine into the air, hands coming to feel your now frozen face as you sigh. there's nobody around to hear your excessive complaints, did you really have to perish before successfully getting into lee jeno's pants.

from behind you, a chorus of clapping sounds.

"pure entertainment, dying because you wanted cereal at two am" when you turn around, your facial muscles scrunch at the sight of a random man standing in your apartment. his hair is purely white, a contrast to his all black attire. your eyes narrow, half convinced this whole thing is a methodically crafted dream. his lips take an upturn, and you candidly realize that your death is amusing to him. that bastard. "couldn't miss such a thing, has to swing by to watch in dear time".

"haha, yes my death was so funny".

he offers a curt snort. "of course".

your nose aptly crinkles, and you suck your teeth. "and who the hell are you?"

"death".

your brows furrow. "death?" you're aware this shouldn't be your most concerning thought, but you can expressly gauge at how attractive he is, eyeing him up and down in a typical non-death fashion, as if he's simply going out to a local convenience store, as if he is human. "aren't you supposed to wear a black cloak and shit?"

he shrugs. "i can wear whatever i want".

"shouldn't you be all bones too?"

in a terrifying manner, a smile splits on his pristine features, eyelids retaining a void of darkness. "i'll have you know that there is a lot of meat on my bones".

you narrow your eyes, irked by the statement. "so how do i know that you're actually death then?"

the man presents an eerie grin, standing to his feet and taking several steps closer. you hesitate as you take a step back, feeling an encapsulating depression which appears to physically affecting your state. his eyes are bottomless pits which hold.. nothing.

you stop, keeping distance as you make contact with your own corpse on the floor. "okay.. do you have another name besides.. death?"

he again smiles, somewhat pure, mostly strange. "you can call me jaemin" he pinches your cheek, arms folding over his chest.

"alright".

it appears your now instated terror excites him, his eyes gleaming as if he's looking down upon you, lording his superiority over you with such a fit of normalcy. "do you know what i'm here for, sweetheart?"

a chill unexpectedly runs down your spine at the spontaneous uttering of the pet name, you don't expect a sudden change of atmosphere, strange sensations sticking against your skin. "uh— i mean.. you're gonna suck out my soul i think".

he again smiles, snickering at himself. "well aren't you clever?"

you clear your throat, paying a glance to your body on the floor, you're such a fucking idiot. "so.. are you going to?"

it finally seems that you've disturbed his usual tranquil nature, as he blinks in a clear fit of disturbance. "what? you're not gonna beg for your soul back or something?"

you allow for your tense shoulders to drop, then they rise again as you opt to shrug. "i mean— death is death right? aren't you gonna give me a whole speech about how i can't change fate?"

jaemin tilts his head, observing you for a moment before he once more allows for amusement to chief his expression. "well i'm offering, you could.." as he contemplates on his next few words, his fingers make home on the seams of your hair strands. "do something for me, and you'll be able to go on a date with that cute boy tomorrow".

you flinch at his cold breath tickling your ear, his smile remaining permanent. your mind wanders, stuck on jeno and that fucking date you were so excited for before you decided to be an idiot that got themselves killed. "what? like a bargain?"

he giggles. "something like that.."

you've heard of several bargains in your lifetime, there does not appear to be anything of a loophole in this one. "so what is this.. something?"

"ohh, so you really want that date huh?"

you click your tongue, catching sight of his abnormally shaped teeth, molars sharpened as if he'll take a bite into you at any moment. "are you hitting on me?"

he licks his own teeth. "ohh, i must've been too obvious".

"that's unruly, i'm an almost taken man".

"almost is selling it, poor jeno's going to be in for a surprise when he comes around with those flowers".

your face drops, a certain thought continuously circling through your mind. "couldn't i have died after the date?" you complain.

"should've just slept with him at the party, but.."

you whip your head towards him. "but what?"

jaemin sighs, tongue prodding at the side of his cheek. "you could give me a kiss".

you laugh, but you realize, smile wiped away from his face altogether. "you're serious?"

he hums. "better than the other thing i had planned".

your cheeks go a bright red at that implication. "is there a catch?"

"well of course not".

you can't believe anything which comes out of his mouth. "really? all you want me to do for you to put my soul back in my body is a kiss?"

he raises an eyebrow. "is that so shocking?"

"not even humans are that generous".

jaemin hums, hopping on top your kitchen island as he swings his legs back and forth. "i can sit here while you make your pretty mind, we have all night baby".

baby registers a questionable stir, but you attempt to present obstinacy either way. you have time, you should.. think.

but really, what kind of choice do you have?

#na jaemin #nct #nct dream #nct dream imagines #nct dream drabbles #nct dream scenarios #nct dream x reader #jaemin imagines #jaemin drabbles #jaemin scenarios #jaemin x reader #𑁍 ࣪˖ 𓂃 isa's works!

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sourw0lfs · 10 months ago

Text

dance with the devil - part nine

Words: 571 | Rating: E (mostly parts 1 & 2, but also future parts) | CW: no warnings this time! except Steve's continued bad time

part one || part two || part three || part four || part five || part six || part seven || part eight || part nine || part ten || part eleven || part twelve

Turning twenty-one is supposed to be big and fun and momentous. Or at least that’s what everyone’s always told Steve, but he thinks it’s off to a rather crummy start actually. Surely that means it can only go up from here, right?

Except that part where it absolutely doesn’t do that. If anything, Steve finds his luck getting worse and worse. From missing his bus to losing his wallet to dropping his phone, it feels like one little thing after another little thing, and quite frankly he’s sick of it. If he didn’t know better, he’d blame Eddie.

But the thing is, Steve’s always kind of had awful luck, so if it’s anyone’s fault, it’s his own. It doesn’t make him feel better about Eddie just always being there, though.

“Are you absolutely sure you can’t just fuck off for like an hour?” Steve asks exasperatedly and for what feels like the hundredth time.

“Trust me,” Eddie deadpans in return, looking just as annoyed as Steve feels which only serves to make him bristle more, “if I could leave for any length of time, I would. But I get dragged back here any time I try.”

If Steve were less annoyed, he might feel sorry for Eddie. Something about a lack of freewill makes him sad, angry, upset? He’s not sure. But Eddie’s annoying, so Steve can’t bring himself to feel bad for anyone but himself. He’s never done well with being annoyed.

“What if you talk to whoever the hell is in charge of you or whatever?” Steve suggests, not for the first time in the week they’ve known each other. “Surely they can give you some kind of away time.”

Sighing like the weight of the world is bearing down on his shoulders, Eddie shakes his head. “I can’t get to her if I can’t leave. And I can’t take you with me, so we’re just gonna have to figure out how to get along.”

It’s the same response Steve always gets, but that doesn’t make it any less grating. Steve wants to be alone. Preferably for a long time while he processes the disaster that was the morning after his birthday. Shoving it down, pretending nothing happened because he doesn’t want Eddie (or anyone else) to see how much it’s upset him, can’t work forever.

This time, though, a thought strikes Steve and he frowns in thought. “What if you tried your weird magic shit?” he asks. “You cleaned up a murder scene with it. Surely you can use it to allow me to be alone for a while?”

Mentioning the murder scene to someone other than himself leaves Steve grimacing, but it’s the reality of things. It also brings him that much closer to a breakdown, but he keeps it held back. He always does when the memory tickles at the edges of his brain, which is alarmingly often the longer he dwells on it.

Eddie frowns in thought, expression matching Steve’s as he considers the suggestion. “I don’t think it would hurt to try,” he allows after a few moments. “Not optimistic, but we don’t seem to need many angelic miracles right now so…”

Which Steve disagrees with, but he doesn’t say anything in response. Instead he just watches Eddie, watches as the blinding light fills the room just like it had all the times before, and when it clears Eddie is gone.

Steve is alone.

As always, tags below the cut. Let me know if you want added!

@chaosgremlinmunson @soaringornithopter @hbyrde36 @shares-a-vest @dreamwatch @quevadilla @tboyeddiee @penny00dreadfull @momotonescreamingg @stevesbipanicic @dawners @steddiejudas @just-my-latest-hyperfixation @estrellami-1 @vthx @lolawonsstuff @gleek4twd @littlebluejane @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lawrencebshaggoth @sadisticaltarts @queenie-ofthe-void @r0binscript @anaibis @hairdressersdoitwithstyle @goodolefashionedloverboi @spookednsaucy @anne-bennett-cosplayer @flustratedcas

#fox writes things #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie brainrot

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painterofhorizons · 6 months ago

Text

at some point post-Akuze in the rehab facility, Shepard meets a young James Vega

„Do you want to know how I really wrenched my knee?”, James asked.

They’d been sitting on the waist-high wall outside the back door in lack of more comfortable alternatives for the past fifteen or so minutes, mostly because they were both somewhat out of breath.

Reda threw him a sarcastic side-eye. “You mean like the fourth different version of some made up fake ass story?”

They’d been here before – not here as on this particular wall, but in the this time it’s the truth, promise. This is how the knee ended up wrecks. And she didn’t even care about what had happened.

James shrugged, carefully swinging his hanging legs back and forth. It wasn’t too painful since the surgery, it just felt really strange. He wondered if he’d get used to the feeling before it was fully healed.

“I moved my chair closer to the desk.”

Reda frowned. “What?”

“I sat down, put my feet behind the chair legs, and tried to slide forward closer to the desk. Zapp!” His hand mimicked an explosion. “Ligament torn.”

Reda made a face. “What?”

“Yeah, no kidding. Bad luck, I guess. I mean, I didn’t know you could crush your ACL like that, you know, with a chair and nothing else. So yeah, a chair got me here. Heroic, isn’t it?”

This version of how he ended up in rehab not even a year after he’d enlisted was less dramatic then the ones he used to tell, but by his dear abuela’s life, he swore this was the truth. A sad, ridiculous truth, but truth after all. A chair got him here. Off duty.

Reda’s face didn’t change, the stern expression ingrained. “That’s stupid.”

James gave her a thoughtful nod. “Yup. Very much so.”

He earned another annoyed side-eye. “Why do you tell me that.”

James shrugged. “Guess I got tired of making up heroic shit. I don’t know.”

Reda’s hands rested to both sides of her on the wall, stabilizing her posture. It wasn’t a particularly great day, and having beefcake tell her stupid stories didn’t make it any better. It just added more headache to all of the rest of her body aching anyways.

“It’s a stupid story.”

“Still true.”

“But it’s stupid.”

It was as if her head couldn’t wrap around what he’d just told her. Hurting himself like that was incredibly stupid, and implausible, and didn’t add up. That wasn’t how injuries happened. That wasn’t how people got hurt. It wasn’t like any of them-

“It’s a stupid story”, she repeated, refusing to accept what had happened.

Any of it.

Not the stupid chair story.

Not the stupid motherfucking big angry worms on Akuze.

It was a bad story, a stupid story, one that shouldn’t happen just like that.

“Come on.” James jumped down the wall, careful to land on his uninjured leg rather than on the one he crushed with a chair and grabbed his crutches. “Lets go grab a snack. I’m running low on sugar, or energy, or carbs. Low on something, you know? And running low on stuff won’t help those nice new ligaments heal for sure.”

He held a hand towards Reda, offering help getting down the wall.

“It’s still a stupid story”, Reda muttered, more directed at the void than at him. All of it was such a clusterfuck of a bloody goddamn stupid story.

“That’s life, right? Full of stupid shit no one would make up otherwise. Let’s go grab some sugar.” Her head felt numb by how unbelievable all of this was. Then she took the hand he offered.

#mass effect #akuze #reda shepard #james vega #painterofhorizons writes #(unfortunately yes that is a real way to tear an ACL I've been witness of it)#WIP from the post-Akuze fic anybody? :D

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roguelov · 1 year ago

Note

What if Reader had a kid that Dream never knew about? 🌹

Oh the drama! The angst! The potential!!!

You smiled softly as you tucked your sleeping toddler into bed. Your fingers gently brushed back the strands of their hair before kissing their forehead.

“Goodnight,” you murmured.

You slowly pulled away, almost unable to leave. With a sigh, you spun around only to have a visitor in your child’s doorway.

Dream.

His eyes were practically locked onto your kid, he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

“Dream, what - I - I told you to tell me when you were stopping by,” you whispered harshly.

You quickly shooed him out of the room, and closed the door behind you. He let you. He let you ushered him out because he had no will to fight back. Once in the hallway, his eyes finally met yours.

“You have a child,” he muttered. It was almost phrased as a question but it came out more as a stunned observation.

You crossed your arms, looking away from him. “I do.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I … I just thought it was best for now.”

“Why?” He asked, stepping forward.

Your fingers dug into your bicep. So many, many reasons, you thought.

“Answer me,” he demanded, yet he nearly felt his voice crack. Why keep such a secret? Why hide this child? Were you not good friends? Had he misjudged this relationship?

Your eyes flickered up, connecting with his. Your lips thinned as you debated back and forth in your mind until you finally confessed. “For your sake, Dream.”

He blinked, “My sake?”

“You spoke of the loss of Orpheus and I assumed you were not in a … healthy? Proper? Just not in the right head space. I didn’t want to possibly flaunt what you don’t have.”

His expression dropped, nearly crescent fallen. “My dear, I assure you -“

“But, also for my sake,” you mumbled.

His eyebrows shot up.

You sighed, running your hands over your face. “I also wasn’t ready. I …,” you groaned, “I didn’t want you to meet them and for anyone to get their hopes up.”

Dream said nothing, he let you ramble on knowing more was to be said.

“They would adore you, I know they would. They would ask to see you, they would beg me. They would want you part of their life, and a permanent one.”

They would want to fill the obvious void in our home, you bitterly thought.

“It’s a big step,” you admitted.

“For whom?”

“What?”

“For whom is the big step truly for?” He whispered.

Of course, of course he saw through you.

You glanced away. “… both … but mostly me.”

Dream cupped your face, making you look at him.

Tears glistened in your eyes. “Dream, I - I want you to be here. I want you to meet them, but I don’t think I’m ready.”

His thumb brushed away an escaped tear. “Then I will stay away until you want me here. But, I hope I can still see you in the Dreaming.”

You closed your eyes, leaning into his touch. “You will, I promise.”

#the sandman #morpheus #dream of the endless #morpheus x reader #dream of the endless x reader #🌹 anon #ask

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captain-writes · 2 years ago

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Listeners Obey

So, the new MC skins of the Empires members in dresses made me think of Ella Enchanted where she’s got an obedience curse. And then my brain reminded me that another word for “obey” is “listen”.

“Oh come on, Jimmy. Just let them have their fun,” Joel laughed as Jimmy’s dissatisfied expression became apparent after yet another joke at his expense.

Jimmy’s expression shuttered, “Shut up.”

“What?”

“Shut up, Smallishbeans,” Jimmy’s voice was scathing as he invoked Joel’s player tag instead of his name. The emotionally distant title cut through the room like a death knell.

“Come on, Jimmy,” Joel’s tone turned pleading at the sharp dismissal, trying to salvage something that he hadn’t realized was just one step away from shattering.

“No. I am tired. Tired of Listening to you. It gets so hard to Listen sometimes. Because do you know what a Listener is expected to do? Do you?” Anger flushed through the avian’s voice as he questioned Joel.

Confusion was apparent in Joel’s gaze, “Jimmy, what? What do you mean? Listener?”

“Oh void,” Fwhip interrupted from off to the side, horror in his voice as the admin made a realization. “If you’re a Listener, they’re expected to obey.”

“Well someone read their history books, didn’t they? That’s right. So if you don’t want me to fucking obey, then don’t tell me to do things like that. Don’t tell me that their fun is more important than my feelings.”

Shelby’s brows furrowed as she thought back to her books on magic, becoming concerned at the implications, “So it’s like some kind of obedience curse?”

“May as well be one, not like I was given a choice. Or have one now,” Jimmy agreed reluctantly.

“Void, Jim. Alright, no telling you to do things,” Joel looked gutted when Jimmy turned to face him as the man spoke again. It was clear that his brother-in-law was thinking of quite a few instances of when Jimmy had been told what to do in the past.

“Proud of you, love,” Scott smiled as he took Jimmy’s hand, smiling at his husband. “Questions are helpful, right?”

Jimmy nodded before addressing the others, “Right. If you ask me to do something, I can say no easier. Basically, don’t order me to do something. That’s when it’s hard.”

Joey thought for a moment before asking to confirm, “You were dealing with this last season, weren’t you?”

“I always deal with this,” Jimmy admitted softly.

Sausage blinked, “So all those times where we baited you, told you to fight back? You basically didn’t have a choice?”

Scott squeezed Jimmy’s hand, “He’s still got a choice, mostly. It’s just hard to actually disobey. It’s an instinct to just do what he’s told, even if he doesn’t want to. Sometimes, when there’s too many orders, he can’t disobey them all.”

“Right, we’re going to figure this out. You don’t have to deal with this alone. Come to my--Would you like to come to the Goblands to figure out a plan?” Fwhip rephrased, realizing his phrasing wouldn’t help.

Jimmy’s wings shifted, showcasing his surprise, a moment before his expression softened slightly, “Yeah, I’d like that.”

#Empiressmp #empires jimmy #Sheriff Jimmy #jimmy solidarity #listener jimmy #jimmy solidaritygaming #Canary Jimmy #empires smp #empires smp season 2 #empires smp s2 #esmp jimmy #esmp s2 #esmp scott #esmp joel #esmp fwhip

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xerith-42 · 11 months ago

Text

I decided to watch Void Paradox

I'm about five minutes into the first episode and I'm still not entirely sure if this is a good idea or not, but Laurance has already spoken like three lines of dialogue and I felt my heart wrench at just one of them, so clearly I'm in too deep now.

This post serves as my live tweeting/mental break down that I am currently having as we speak. It is very incomprehensible because it is literally just my thoughts as they happen, and given how much I have to say, I'll probably make proper posts out of a lot of these points once I finish the series.

This mess is just giving you a taste of the madness I truly posses.

I am only three minutes in before I have to pause and feel the urge to scream about how bad the dialogue in Aphmau series can be. Like this series is fairly okay, especially based on the standard set by her other shows but man... something is just not working here. The whole thing feels very clunky and while I can get the gist of what Jess is going for, the execution of said gist is leaving a lot to be desired.

[Laurance shows up]

nevermind Laurance is on screen and fully voice acted everything is better

Literally nobody talk to me I need to scream about Laurance Zvahl because he is EVERYTHING in this series. The way he very softly says Aph's name when he sees her, the immediate instinct to hug her because he's so relieved to see her, the fact that you can hear the smile in his voice the minute he registers that she's there and alive!! AUGH I LOVE HIM SO MUCH!!

And I literally screamed when he revealed that he was transported to this AU right at the end of season 1. Oh my Irene, I screamed. I collapsed. I was truly defeated by a single line of dialogue. I don't know where this series is going to go but I am here for it. And the fact that he knows Garroth did it and hid it from her???

I can't overstate how genuinely healing it is to hear Laurance fully voice acted. I know Sebastian Todd is retired from voice acting, but when he retired, he took down all his posts, including what I considered to be a comfort video. That video of him reading iconic Laurance lines from before he was in mcd/lines he just didn't act? That video was my everything when I was trying to hold onto this version of the character I knew I loved who was different to what Jess made him. When that video got taken down it was a major cowabummer bc there's so little properly voice acted Laurance content that isn't mcd Season 3 or My Street stuff (and I can't stand My Street like 80% of the time)

Hearing his voice, hearing him get to be properly expressive, it's just doing things to me man. I missed this character a lot. I've mostly been enjoying him through fan content or my own work. It's nice to say I enjoy a piece of canon content involving him, at least so far.

Still not sure how I feel about literally anything else. The whole relationship between Aph and Tommy feels very... weird. She describes herself as "basically his mother" after she's left with him, and treats him like it in the opening scene. But then when he's mocking her for being attracted to Laurance (so relatable), it seems really weird for a [checks wiki] 14 year old kid to be calling out his mom for finding someone hot. Feels a lot more like sibling dialogue to me? Which I guess they could be seen as siblings, but the series explicitly stated that she views it like motherhood??? But I don't think Jess is even thinking that deeply about it, I just over analyze her work for fun at this point.

Okay what the actual fuck is going on with the inside of this house???

Why is the color scheme purple and yellow? And not in any kind of flattering way which is possible with opposite colors, it just has both of them. The wallpaper changes when you get into the living room except not entirely on the windows, and in an earlier scene it looked like it wasn't even put onto all of the walls. And the wood that she used as supports just does not compliment either of these colors as they are. Just make it all purple, you know you want to Jess.

Also is the texture on the table and the glass the same??? I don't know a damn thing about modding or making texture/data packs for minecraft but that just seems. odd.

Laurance: mentions the nether Me: [screams just a little]

Tommy: shows up and gives a random ass lore dump Aph: Kay thanks go back to your room

"I don't know what I can do to help."

"Just be there for me. I just need someone to ground me right now."

I literally want to shake Laurance around like a rag doll and give him a stupid kiss on his stupid fucking face UGH why can't I be normal about this block man and his stupid feelings?!?! The way his voice breaks as despair sets in?? The fact that he's no doubt pieced together that Garroth probably stole the amulet and plans to use it to hurt Aph and he can't do anything about it?? I'm literally losing it.

How did I not watch this series before.

Literally about to cry over him just calling Aph "M'lady" out of pure instinct. He didn't consciously do that. He just misses her that much.

oh no spooky evil alternate Laurance or whatever--

MAN I'm so happy I decided to watch this series. This was probably a mistake though :)

#this sure is a post #it is what it is #text post #aphmau #void paradox #laurance zvahl #mental breakdance #this is a very chaotic post #I would not advise trying to read this #aphblr #aphverse #minecraft diaries laurance

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