#this show should have been like 90% lifts

[heretherebedork]

I wish this show had more lifts because there can never be enough lifts.

[honey-tongued-devil]

Arcane preference reacting to a s/o with a mental health issues (eating)

My disclaimer, as someone with this issue, I’m sorry if this isn’t what you wanted. I’ve actually been thinking about it for a while, but I was a bit cowardly about doing it, so I’m taking the opportunity now. I don’t want to go out of character, so I’m sorry if some characters come across as harsher than others. Unfortunately, I know I should write the name of the illness, but if I post it that way, Tumblr will take it down.

Jayce:

- He’s academically intelligent, but it takes him far too long to notice that something’s wrong. But you can’t blame him, it’s something so far removed from him that he couldn’t have understood it sooner.

- When he does realize, his first reaction is panic.

- Jayce can’t feel like just a blade of grass; he feels emotions deeply, taking on any blame, especially if something happens to the people he loves. His first thought is that he did something to make you feel that way, inadequate.

- But once the panic phase ends, the responsibility phase begins.

- He does the grocery shopping, he cooks, and his workouts become more regular, where he has you climb onto his back while doing push-ups or holds you in his arms during other exercises.

- He doesn’t know why you do it, but the quickest way to show you that your weight isn’t a problem is by showing you how easily he lifts you.

- And maybe, if you feel up to it, he can hold you in his arms with one arm supporting you while he cooks, letting you taste various ingredients.

Viktor:

- Unlike Jayce, it only takes two suspicious behaviors in a row for him to understand what’s happening. It’s something far from his world, sure, but he recognizes it.

- And he confronts you. He doesn’t beat around the bush, doesn’t stammer; he might even sound angry because he doesn’t understand why you’d hurt yourself like this and willingly give up your well-being.

- I won’t lie, I doubt that an open discussion about something this delicate with him wouldn’t lead to at least one hysterical cry.

- But he’s not brutal for the sake of being brutal; his suffering and frustration turn into anger. It takes him a while to calm down, but he won’t accept compromises.

- You’ll have meals together at home, either returning to your rooms together or straight to the house, so no one can see you and you won’t feel bad.

- And he won’t force you, he tries to handle it with as much care as possible, but there’s no day that goes by without him getting up from the table if you haven’t eaten at least two food items per meal.

- He loves you too much to see you hurt yourself in that way, and knowing that he can't do anything about it makes him feel powerless.

Ekko:

- It takes him a week—not to understand, but to process it.

- Having grown up in total poverty, the idea of giving up food “for whim” makes him react in a way that is only human.

- And the whole thing is too distant for him: everyone’s skin is grayish, 90% of the population of the Lanes has missing limbs and monstrous prosthetics, and everyone’s goal is to survive as long as possible. What does it mean that you’re against your own survival??

- As unsupportive as he might be regarding the issue, he becomes incredibly vigilant and concerned.

- He’ll always make sure you’re warm enough, that you’re comfortable, and no matter how frustrated he is, he’ll always try to stay close to you, even just holding you in bed until you fall asleep.

- Every single comment you make about your body, he’ll respond with, “Don’t talk about my partner like that,” 

- no one can speak badly of you, not even you.

Vander:

- The most understanding: he was young once too, and although in his size meant an advantage, he and Silco snuck into various galas when they were younger, and there, even though he never had these problems, he would feel a strange sensation seeing that he was the biggest in the room or that it was hard to find someone to steal clothes from that would fit him.

- He doesn’t lecture you or anything like that, he doesn’t get angry despite how he grew up; he just feels sadness for you that you can’t see how little that complex matters and how beautiful you already are.

- His compromise is vegetables. If you don’t feel like eating every meal every day, it doesn’t matter, but at least four days a week, you have to have three meals.

- And for the rest, he’ll cook, making sure to prepare the best dishes made from vegetables so that you don’t feel guilty and your body doesn’t deteriorate.

- But he doesn’t support your illness, he simply ensures that you get everything you need and never go below the necessary intake without having you feeling guilty about it.

Silco:

- Hoping that the most attentive and watchful man in the lanes wouldn't notice how, suddenly, meals go from moments of lightness to something you try to avoid at all costs is a bit foolish, but he says nothing.

- He waits for as long as necessary, basically to see how long it lasts and how much you're not planning to talk to him.

- When he realizes you won’t, not anytime soon, he waits for you to be alone in his office, where you’ll find a slice of cake on his desk. Sure, it’s a low blow, but it’s also the fastest way to get you to confront the issue without too many escape routes.

- He’s a big fan of the saying “dirty laundry is washed in the family,” so if you act strange about meals in front of others, he won’t allow questions or jokes, but in private, he won’t accept “no” for an answer.

- He has enough problems already without you crying from hunger pains or having psychotic episodes due to sugar deficiency, so as long as you're under his watch, under Zaun's eye, he won't let you live with unhealthy standards.

- During meals, he becomes the strictest. He doesn’t say anything, but one look is enough to make you think twice about contradicting him. In the evening, though, when your mental health is most fragile, he becomes gentler, comforting you as much as you need.

Jinx:

- You find fertile ground, but like any good bearer of the same issue: she feels she can do it, but you cannot.

- Being with her or in her space becomes like a live-action version of Thumbelina: she’ll leave sweets, chocolates, things she knows you like to encourage you to eat so you can’t hurt yourself.

- She usually forgets to eat herself when she’s caught up in her studies and work, but if she has someone to care for, it doesn’t matter how, she’ll make sure to remember. Even if it means setting a few colorful bombs with timers.

- She feeds you. In the most visible, worst way. It’s easy that if you turn your head, you’ll find a cookie shoved in your mouth unceremoniously.

- And every single tight-fitting outfit disappears from her lair. Magically, whatever clothes you pick up from her pile fit loosely, but if you ask her about it, she’ll claim she doesn’t know what are you talking about.

Vi:

- Want to see Vi in a panic, becoming super protective and possessive in a way? Just wait for one episode, and you’ll see everything you haven’t seen.

- She’ll check on you at least three times a day, and in the evening, when you have pain or a crisis, she’ll run back and forth from the room, thinking about everything she can do to help you feel better without making you feel guilty.

- During meals, she’ll hold you in her arms and insist that you eat, but not aggressively—in a way that’s almost frightened: she’s always been used to fighting big, real monsters, but even when it came to her sister, she could never defeat the invisible ones, and the fear of failing or hurting someone she loved again terrifies her in an agonizing way.

- Like Jayce, she’ll also try a more physical way of reassuring you, like body worshipping when you’re alone or working out with you to show you that your weight doesn’t matter.

Caitlyn:

- She doesn’t know how to react; she realizes it quite quickly but fears that by acknowledging it, she might only make you feel worse.

- One day, she gathers the courage to ask if everything is okay and tells you that she’s noticed those behaviors. When you open up to her, telling her about the issues, she doesn’t respond right away and simply hugs you.

- She becomes more caring, making sure that you don’t have to attend banquets or dinners where you wouldn’t feel comfortable, bringing you food in your room to eat together, and sometimes even leaving the room so as not to put pressure on you.

- When you mention a craving, she immediately springs into action to get it for you, even if you complain that you weren’t serious. Once she understands how your condition works, she orders everything in three portions, so she can eat with you and then be the first to say that she wants more, asking if you want to share the third portion.

- If you have fat accumulated in any area, she’ll knead it with her hands while kissing you, to let you know that she loves every inch of you.

Mel:

- She notices you're having a crisis before you even realize it yourself.

- She’s a ruler, but what she learned from a young age is that a leader must appear reliable and look good, so even if unconsciously, she too sometimes experiences small crises when she feels like she isn’t looking perfect.

- No conversations, no lectures, just an increase in cuddles, moments of intimacy, and later, she brings home sweets.

- “They were a gift to me today at the council,” she lies, but sometimes she says she got them for both of you. She doesn’t want to make you feel like you’re in the wrong. She knows that when you’re ready and if you want to, you’ll bring up the issue with her, but for now, the best thing she can do is help you get through the episode with euphoria, love, and treats that encourage you to listen to your hunger rather than the illness.

Sevika:

- Like everyone in Zaun, the idea that someone would voluntarily give up food is simply incomprehensible to her.

- But she won’t comment on your problems. She doesn’t intend to invalidate them, but she also won’t encourage it.

- “Are you sure? That’s a bit too little,” will be her comment when you eat something ridiculously small, before making you a proper portion of food herself. If you try to argue, she’ll respond with a smug smile, saying that if you eat that little, you’ll end up breaking when you’re in bed together.

- As much as possible, she’ll try to get the best, freshest, and most natural food, to reassure you that you don’t need to worry, but she’ll never insist that you eat if you say you don’t feel up to it. She’ll gesture for you to come sit on her lap and keep you there, occasionally offering you things she knows you like, telling you that she’s really craving them, and if you want them too, she’ll go get them.

- If a crisis is particularly bad, she’ll try to finish her work as quickly as possible to be able to stay with you for the rest of the day and not leave you alone.

[k9wa]

⟁ SENSITIVE ft. BOOTHILL.

⠀ — “you get all excited for me to fix you up and call you a good boy.”

⠀ OR

⠀ — a sensitive spot during a repair leaves him melting into your callused little hands.

⚠︎ mechanic!reader, so much flirting im kind of sick, he whimpers i have an agenda, this is like 90% dialogue sorry, he wants u sooo bad. wc 1k, from this req.

“y’know darlin,” boothill managed to breathe out through a taut jaw and clenched teeth. “you bein’ this close ain’t exactly helpin’ me focus none.”

your fingers were slow, careful, precise as they pushed a few tiny wires apart, giving view deeper inside the little panel on boothill’s throat.

the position you two stood in was one all too familiar, boothill perched on your workbench with you between his thighs— the only new variables being your face way closer than he’s used to and your fingers proding around in his surprisingly sensitive wires.

it was an…odd sensation, to say the least. a small unpleasant stinging that simultaneously stimulated a rather pleasant shiver up his back with every small poke.

“time and place, cowboy.”

you responded quietly, tone a little flat with your tease from concentration.

“can’t help lettin’ my mind— wander, can i now?” his breath hitched a bit as you nicked a particularly touchy wire.

“if you let me finish this,” you lifted your head enough to meet his eyes, free hand gently smoothing out the crease in his brow. “i’ll let you show me just how wild your imagination can get.”

boothill bit back a scruff chuckle at that. 

“that enough incentive for you to sit still?”

“well, i reckon that’s plent— mmgh!”

a pair of mechanical hands tightly grab onto your hips as his shoulders tense, a knee-jerk result of your tweezers finding the out of place wire you’d been looking around for.

your hands paused, opting to ignore the way he audibly whimpered for raising your gaze a second time to check on him.

“you hangin’ in there?”

boothill’s fingers flexed as they held onto you, relaxing from squeezing your pants to a more gentle cradle of your hips.

“you know,” he swallowed thickly— as if his throat could even dry out, likely just a natural reflex— “you got a way of makin’ fixin’ me up feel real special.”

the slight waver to his voice isn’t lost on your ears— it was quite loud in them, actually.

“i’m hangin’ in fine, don’t worry your pretty head none.”

carefully retracting your tweezers, you stood up straight enough to lightly push his hat up, giving view to his face and cupping your hand over a blue-hued cheek.

“wanna take a break?” 

he nearly had to clutch his chest with the gentle concern that laced your tone.

boothill knew he was flushed, was purposefully avoiding looking you in the eye because a few pokes to some sensitive spots had him sliding his hands to your waist like a lifeline— not that what he could distantly feel of your skin against the synthesised nerves of his palms weren’t doing much to cool him off anyway. but he did…relax, somewhat. 

he always enjoyed when you’d touch his face, getting to feel all the unique little details of you; the gentle drum of your pulse and the little calluses from your tools. it somehow always manages to make the tension in his body ebb away, draining with an exhale that lightly fans against your wrist.

he shook his head with a quiet clear of his throat— another unnecessary function that served more as a tick than anything.

“nah, nah i’m alright.” he assured. it didn’t make him any less embarrassed to be having such a reaction. 

big bad criminal until you get a little too fudgin’ touchy, apparently.

“let’s just get this finished up, yeah? maybe we can move onto somethin’ more pleasant.”

your thumb gave two gentle taps to his cheekbone before it pulled away, reaching for your tweezers for the nth time.

“that’s my boy.”

oh how boothill’s chest bloomed at the simple praise, the endearing ‘my’ that slipped in with it licking up his ribs and curling to rest along where a drumming heart should have been.

“jus’ be gentle with me, will ya sugar plum?”

“you know i've always got ya.”

each plug or untangle of a little yellow or red cable had his systems humming, fingers occasionally curling into your hips every time a little surge left him biting his cheek a little harder.

“we’re almost done,” your voice is icing on an already cavity-inducing cake, though he’ll gladly take a toothache if it’s for you. “just a little longer.”

boothill was going fist to fist and losing with the urge to completely melt under your deft fingers.

“…keep talkin’ to me,” he requested with a murmurmurmur, cautious not to move too much. “helps me stay on t—” he had to bite back another whimper, cheek going between his teeth and eyes going to the ceiling. “—task.”

boothill didn’t miss the little tug of your lips.

“you know, you do this thing when you get shy.” you mused quietly, breath meeting the shell of his ear. “you bite your cheek ‘n look away. it’s cute.”

boothill couldn’t help but let out a breathy chuckle at your deduction. he tried to regain some of his composure, though the colour in his cheeks continued to betray him.

“i don’t know ‘bout shy,” he rumbled, keeping his voice steady as he could. “but i’ll take cute if it means i get to hear you keep sweet talkin’ me. keep this up and i might start enjoyin’ these repairs a lil too much.”

his voice was a little strained, though still held his usual humour.

“like you don’t love em already.” you teased back, gently closing the panel on his neck as it re-sealed with a small hiss. “you get all excited for me to fix you up, call you a good boy and send you on your merry way.”

“i’m still waitin’ on that last bit, y’know?”

you shook your head, popping his hat off his head and placing it on your own.

“good boy,” you pinched his cheek endearingly. “you’re all done. do you want a lolipop too?”

“think i deserve somethin’ a lil sweeter than a lolipop, don’t you sugar?” boothill’s face unknowingly deepens at the sight of you in his hat, brave words betrayed by a nervous tap in his finger and more blue to the apples of his cheeks.

“we’ll save it for when you’ve got a real booboo,” you took his hat off, using the brim to lightly tilt his chin up and give him a tender kiss on the cheek. for such a heavy hunk of metal, he nearly began to float.

“but there’s something to hold your sweet tooth for now.”

…

“boothill?”

“y..yeah, sweet pea?”

“you’re overheating.”

⠀ MASTERLIST / GOT A REQUEST ?

[hischokehold]

does konig fuck bunny in those skirts???

Love your writing 💮😖🎀

like a 90s movie.

König's favorite pastime is to bend bunny over his desk and pound her pussy raw. It's therapeutic to him, having a soft fluffy thing on one's lap should be on the list or essentials for every colonel— soldier, if they can afford one. Hybrid wives are a luxury, after all.

Lately, you've developed a bit of a habit. Running along his office in the afternoon with hastily made sandwiches and orange juice in your tiny hands, acting like a proper woman all while pampering him with kisses and lathering your scent on his neck.

You've become territorial, leaving violet and blue hickeys in your wake. Bunny bites, as he liked to call it. Your little fangs were sweet, though useless, barely doing the damage you thought you were inflicting. Instead, he wore them as a badge of honor. A symbol of his woman's love.

"Naughty thing." He tuts, cupping your ass through your adorable pastel blue miniskirt that you begged him to buy last week, along with a myriad of things. You were teasing him, he was sure. You knew how much he loved how your legs looked in those slutty skirts, a stark contrast to your innocent eyes.

He suspects those movies you've been watching on the TV have influenced your recent behavior. You had a thing for those old school 90s DVD's that he kept on his shelves.

Carefully, you weasel your way out of his arms, beaming as he takes a bite of the sandwich. It made your heart feel prideful. You weren't so useless now, you could help him, help your savior!

Gently, he pats your twitching ears, paperwork all forgotten. "You made this all for me, hase?" To which you answer with a satisfied hum as his rough hands travel to the small of your back.

"Oh," you squeal, instinctively raising your perky ass into the air, little knees bending in pleasure, bunny tail twitching directly on his face. You lift your head from the desk, soft hair a little disheveled, cheeks flushed from his intimate touch. "D-Do you like it?"

König found it funny how you were trying to maintain your composure, as if you weren't flashing him, chubby bunny cunt soaking those flimsy panties. "Hm? I'm not sure as to what you're implying, bunny." He slyly licks his lips, teasingly swiping his index finger against your clit, making you jolt. "The sandwich? Or the delectable view?"

In typical bunny fashion, your brain completely blanks in the face of pleasure, pretty eyes almost going cross-eyed. It takes a little while before your cheeks heat up with embarrassment, processing the situation. You came here to help your owner, to show him that you were a big girl, but now you were just moaning like a common whore from a single touch.

"Sandwich, daddy. Sandwich." You manage to blurt out.

"Oh that," he responds rather nonchalantly. "We can get to that later. I see something far more enticing in front of me right now." He easily yanks your panties to the side, raw, dripping pussy in full view, earning a deep guttural growl from the man.

It's not long before he's slurping on your poor cunt like a madman, long tongue darting in and out of your fuckhole. "Scheiße, moaning like a bitch in heat." A heavy slap lands on your ass cheeks when you begin to fight back, kicking his torso, overwhelmed from his assault. "You forgetting who's in charge here, huh? You should be thankful," Slap! Slap!

"I bought this pussy, little girl. I own it." A harsh slap to your pussy makes you jolt in fear, tears streaming down your eyes. "If not for me, you would've been underground in the auction, whored out and kept a breeding mare for every man out there." You brace yourself for the next smack, only for König to place a gentle kiss on your forehead, as if sensing your fear.

His fat cock flung out of his trousers, the sheer weight causing it to hang down. You stuck your tongue out greedily, manly musky scent slowly filling your lungs, making you revert to your primal instincts. Gotta breed!

"Please," you hiccup, pleading for a sliver of his attention. "Please, daddy!"

His darkened baby blues engulf your very being as he turns his gaze towards you, inching his middle and index finger down your throat, using your spit as lube. "What, pet?"

"Please," you sob. "Please kiss me while you put it in!" The naiveness and the desperation in your voice makes the man laugh at your face, condescendingly patting your wet cheeks.

His rough hands cup the sides of your cheeks, forcing your mouth open. "Open up." He takes a good look at that slutty face before letting his saliva drip in your mouth. There's this fucked out look in your face as he forcibly shuts your mouth. "Swallow." He licks a messy, messy stripe from your cheeks to your pliant lips, coercing you to take his tongue.

You barely have any time to react as his bulbous cock prods your tight hole open, the stretch so painful yet so, so, so delicious. What was originally supposed to be a short office visit quickly turned into a pound fest; your pretty face locked between your daddy's biceps, bunny ears pulled back as his right hand played with your tongue, broad hips pounding against your ass while he brutalizes your raw pussy.

"Why're you crying, baby, huh?" He mocks your weepy face, and you swore you could feel his laugh vibrating in your tummy. "I know you like this." Slap! "Don't you love being used by daddy, huh?"

"I like it! I like it!" A tiny girl like you couldn't even dream of escaping, with a man like your owner holding her down. All you could do was lay there and take it. You were a big girl, after all, right?

"Then you better suck up those tears and smile, Hase. After all, you're the one who decided to wear such a slutty skirt. If you didn't wanna be treated like a slut, then you shouldn't have dressed like one. Mark these words in that tiny head, bun. Daddy knows best."

authors note:

A quick little story for you sweethearts 💓hope you enjoyed because I had a hellish time writing this😭 my first draft got completely scrapped by Tumblr. Thank you for the sweet messages and to my anons who told me to prioritize my health, I greatly appreciate it 🌷 this request has been rotting away in my inbox for about two months now. So excited to finally be getting back at it again.

[barcaatthemoon]

sunny || alexia putellas x reader ||

alexia thinks it's going to be a bad game until she spots you.

alexia's fists were balled up at her sides as she stood in the tunnel. she was desperately trying not to become overwhelmed with frustration. she had spoken with jona at great length about this being her first full 90 back. she felt good all week at practice, but during the warm ups, things took a bad turn.

nothing connected for alexia. her passes felt sloppy, and all the confirmation she needed was the look on her training partner's face. every move that alexia made felt awkward and uncomfortable. a part of her questioned whether she should start at all, but she had to. even if your work meeting ran over, you'd want to tune into the game and see her play. alexia wanted to do this for you.

the two of you had gotten together just after the world cup. you had seen alexia play before, but not really as her girlfriend. alexia wanted the chance to impress you, even if she thought that you couldn't actually come to today's game. she knew that you'd be watching her no matter what, so she absolutely had to play well for you.

"hey ale, isn't that your girl?" sandra teased as she pointed towards the stands. alexia's eyes followed the direction of sandra's finger until she saw you sitting next to her mother. alba sat on your other side, looking bored as the two of you chatted.

"that's her." alexia smiled as she watched the interaction. alba nudged you, interrupting your conversation to point out that alexia was staring. you looked over at her and waved excitedly, just like you always did. alexia waved back at you, hopeful that the heat she felt coming up to her cheeks wasn't visible.

it was silly, but alexia swore that she felt immediately better after you had smiled at her. she had been fully prepared to go into the game feeling awkward and a little uncomfortable, but now she didn't have to. alexia's movements were much more fluid, allowing for her to get a brace within the first half of the game.

barcelona was always a dominant team, and you had always seen alexia as their best player. today, she was proving everybody who had doubted her because of the injury wrong. you were standing and screaming in the stands cheering her on. by the end of the 90 minute game, you were absolutely exhausted as if you had played alongside your girlfriend.

"i think it is safe to say that la reina is back," patri teased as she slung her arm around alexia's shoulders. she glanced over at the stands where you were following alexia's mother as you and alba spoke to each other. alexia tried to shove patri away, but claudia and jana were right there to replace her.

"hmm, i seem to remember somebody very grumpy about today's game earlier." jana tapped her chin as she pretended to think about something. "i wonder what could have changed?"

"guys," alexia warned. her warning fell on deaf ears, but alexia couldn't bring herself to be genuinely mad with them. they were like her children, and you never did let alexia get too hard on them.

"i thought i saw a certain artist in the stands chatting with the better putellas," claudia teased. alexia did swat at the girl for the joke about alba being better. claudia winced and made a show of rubbing her arm, knowing that you were looking at her.

"stop being such a baby, it didn't hurt that badly," alexia grumbled. still, claudia held the pout until the group reached the barrier. alexia realized a second too late when she saw you dart towards claudia instead of her what had happened.

"ale, you can't just hit her. babe, i know you think you're being playful, but you are a lot stronger than you know," you scolded her lightly. alexia rolled her eyes as she shoved claudia away before she could get a hug from you. alexia put herself directly into your arms, squeezing you tight and lifting you into the air as she hugged you. "good game today, i've missed seeing you on the field."

"my little good luck charm," alexia mumbled. behind her, you caught claudia and patri mocking the two of you.

"behave, children," you warned. this time, they both jumped apart and stood still. alexia didn't understand how you could do that, but she was glad that you were around to do so. "go shower and get changed, i was thinking that we could go out to eat?"

"that sounds perfect," alexia hummed. you gave her a moment with her family as you gathered up your things. you waited inside for alexia, not wanting to risk getting a sunburn or heat sickness any more than you already had.

"does it hurt?" mapi asked as she slung her arm around alexia's shoulder. for a moment, alexia was genuinely touched that her friend was concerned about the wellbeing of her knee, but that only lasted a couple of seconds. "is the whip that (y/n) uses gentle?"

"shut up," alexia grumbled.

"no, come on. i saw you staring at her all game. i'm surprised you managed to get a touch on the ball with such a big distraction. you stare at her like an idiot stares at the sun." as if alexia needed an example, mapi turned and stared up at the lights with her mouth wide open.

"i was not staring like that, nor was i saring at all. if anything, i took brief pauses to admire (y/n) after i scored or got an assist. if she's willing to take time out of her busy schedue to support me, the least i can do is score for her," alexia reasoned. mapi thought it was all bullshit; sweet, sappy, romantic bullshit.

"whatever, just make sure she keeps coming if you're gonna play like that when she's here."

"trust me, i will," alexia promised. she wanted you at every single one of her games, club and international. if she made it to another world cup, she wanted you to be waiting for a kiss after they won it.

[st-eve-barnes]

You know that I'm no good (chapter 1)

(modern Aegon x Reader, modern Sihtric x Reader)

Summary: You want Sihtric. Aegon wants Skade. There's only one small problem: Sihtric and Skade are dating each other.

Warning for the entire series: 18+ for explicit language and smut. Angst/comfort/fluff. Fake dating and so much mutual pining. Mentions of depression/drinking/self harm.

This is an Aegon x Reader fic with a bit of Sihtric x Reader on the side. I've wanted to write a modern AU that combines The Last Kingdom and House of the dragon for a while now so here it is!

Word count: +1900

***

All my fics are also on AO3

***

It started on a random Friday night in your favorite club in Winchester. The music playing in the background was upbeat and happy, some 90’s song that usually always lifted your mood, but tonight even that wasn’t working. You were in a bad head space and nothing seemed to be able to pull you out of it, not even the Vengaboys blasting through the speakers.

You let yourself slump down into one of the booths next to Helaena. She recognized that look on your face immediately, having been your closest friend for over 5 years, and without asking she handed you her drink. You eagerly grabbed the glass from her hands and gulped down the entire thing, not even caring what was in there, as long as it was alcohol. 

Maybe getting drunk would put you in a better mood, or at least make you forget about the reason you weren’t.

And that reason was pretty damn stupid. A guy. You hated being that girl who let her entire evening be ruined by some guy.

Except that he wasn’t just some guy of course. 

Sihtric was the most beautiful man you’d ever laid eyes on. Tall and lean, muscular but with a softness to him as well. His dark hair was long and curly and braided at the top. He looked like a hot Viking straight out of that Netflix show, way too attractive for this damned modern world. And his eyes, one brown, one blue, as unique as the rest of him. 

Even though you had never exchanged words with him you knew he was special, and good. A good, gorgeous man you would never, ever have and that idea depressed the fuck out of you.

You put your empty glass down on the table in front of you and let out an overly dramatic sigh.

“Okay, you are single handedly sucking all the positive energy out of the room, what’s going on?” Helaena asked.

“Sihtric,” you sighed.

“Babe, still?”

You nodded your head while Helaena shook hers. Being your best friend she of course knew all about your secret crush that had been going on for far too long. She would never say it out loud because she was too nice but you knew she wanted to tell you to get over it already.

”He just…he doesn’t even notice me, Hel. No matter what I do, or don’t do. He just doesn’t see me, what do I have to do, huh? Dance around naked on the bar?”

Helaena turned to you and let her eyes meet yours, her expression calm as always as she put her hand on your shoulder,”Okay, first of all, don’t do that.”

You couldn’t help but smile at her.

“You should never have to try so hard to get a man to notice you,” she continued,”I swear to you, they are not worth it. Jace, back me up here.”

Jace, sitting on the couch opposite yours with his group or friends, looked up from behind his drink and confirmed,”We’re not worth it.”

You gave them both a smile now.

Helaena looked at you again,”Why don’t you just go find some nice random hot guy to spend the night with and forget about Sihtric for a while?”

You sighed,”I don’t wanna fuck some random hottie.”

“I didn’t say fuck,” Helaena pointed out.

“Okay, I don’t want to hang out and/or fuck some random hottie. I want him. Besides, it’s not like random hotties are knocking down my door.”

“They should, because you are gorgeous,” Helaena stated while she placed her hand on your arm and squeezed it softly. You gave her a thankful smile, you knew her words were meant well but she was your best friend, she was supposed to say things like that, it didn’t mean they were actually true. Of course they weren’t.

“Clearly Sihtric doesn’t think so,” you sighed deflated.

“Then he is blind, Jace, please help me out here.”

“I wish you guys would leave me out of your boy drama, but fine, want me to give you some real helpful advice? The quickest way to get a man to notice you is to start dating someone else. Guys are stupid and we always want what we can’t have.”

“Oh, yes, he is right,” Helaena nodded, suddenly very enthusiastic about that idea,”Seeing you with someone else might just spark his interest. You should find a guy to make him jealous.”

“Sure, okay, I’ll just pick one out of the long line of suitors that are just waiting for me to beckon them,” you joked.

She narrowed her eyes at you,”One of our friends can do it, you don’t actually have to date him, just act as if you are.”

“And who do you suggest I ask then?”

“I don’t know, let’s see, who’s a friend and looks pretty?” she looked around the room and your group, looking for possible candidates,”Hmm, maybe Aemond…”

“Aemond?! Seriously? I know he’s your brother but no way, Hel, he’s never spoken a word to me, he’s pretty but he scares me.”

“He’s harmless, and very single,” she pointed out.

“Nu-uh,” you insisted.

“I’ll do it,” Aegon’s voice made you both look up.

He was standing next to the booth, leaning against the wall with a drink in his hand and an amused smirk on his face, having followed your entire conversation.

“Nobody asked you,” Helaena shut him down instantly, turning her back to him and fully planning on ignoring his offer.

You however hadn’t turned away so quickly. 

Aegon was wearing his usual ripped jeans and a shirt from a band you had never heard of, his hair was just long enough to fit into the tiny ponytail he was sporting tonight. He looked a little bit like a rockstar. Or maybe more like a wannabe rockstar.

You didn’t know Aegon very well but he was not as scary to you as his brother Aemond and despite his reputation of being a womanizer he’d always treated you with kindness and respect. Probably because he knew Helaena would kill him if he didn’t.

To be fair you had never paid much attention to him before, he wasn’t your type at all physically and you both hung out in different friend groups. Helaena never talked much about her brother either, all you knew is that he was a bit of a slut and he liked to go out and drink a lot.

But Aegon was popular, like Sihtric, and got invited to all the parties so hanging out with Aegon would no doubt give you more access to Sihtric as well. You hated to admit it but maybe it wasn’t the worst idea in the world. 

Helaena once again read your expression like an open book and she grabbed your shoulder and shook her head before talking to you as if you were a bad dog misbehaving,”No, Y/N, no!”

Aegon took advantage of your obvious interest and moved to sit next to Helaena.

 “Why not?” he asked his sister.

“Because you’re the biggest slut in the entire city and I don’t trust you not to fuck her over.”

“Come on, I wouldn’t do that, she’s your friend.”

“That hasn’t stopped you before! Why do you want to do this so bad, huh? What’s in it for you?”

“I’m helping out your friend.”

“You’re not the helping type, Aegon, be honest with me or there’s no way I’m letting you near her.”

You stayed quiet, not wanting to get involved with Aegon and Helaena’s bickering and then suddenly it didn’t matter anymore, their words faded into the background when you noticed what was happening on the dance floor right in front of you.

Sihtric. Your Sihtric was dancing like he didn’t have a single care in the world while yours was crumbling underneath your feet. His arms rested firmly around the blonde girl as they danced together, his eyes taking her in as if she was the only other person in the entire room, or the entire universe for that matter. 

You would give anything to have him look at you like that just once. Seeing them together felt like someone just punched you in the gut.

When Helaena noticed your sudden silence she followed your gaze to the dance floor,”Oh shit.”

You forced yourself to look away and she placed her hand on your arm again trying to comfort you,”Hey, you okay, babe?”

You nodded but she knew you were faking it.

As you looked away you noticed Aegon’s eyes were glued to the same spot on the dance floor as well, but he wasn’t looking at Sihtric. He was staring at the girl, looking about as sad as you felt.

“Who is she?” you asked, making both him and Helaena look up at you.

Aegon sighed. ”She’s the reason I want to help you,” he confessed.

You and Helaena both waited for him to elaborate.

“Her name is Skade,” he explained,”We dated a few times and it was going really well and then she just ghosted me.”

“Nothing you haven’t done to a bunch of girls before,” Helaena pointed out.

“Yes, I know, okay but I really liked this one and now she started dating Sihtric a few nights ago and I just can’t fucking stand seeing them together."

"So…,” he turned his attention to you now, a look of both interest and mischief sparkling in his blue eyes,”It seems we have a common goal here, Y/N. What do you say? Wanna help me break them up?”

You couldn’t help but smile but you were also quick to shake your head, suddenly not so sure this was a good plan after all. 

It was hard enough to get Sihtric to notice you when he was single but now he was dating? A girl who looked like that? There was no way you could compete with her, you didn’t stand a single chance, not even with Aegon’s help.

“I don’t know,” you breathed, defeated,”I mean, thank you for the offer but…I think I just want to go home now.”

“I’ll go with you,” Helaena suggested but you quickly stopped her.

“No, please, I’d feel really bad if both our nights got ruined. Stay and enjoy the rest of the party, please.”

“You sure, babe?”

You nodded and gave her and Aegon one last look before you left.

“I’ll go after her,” Aegon suggested.

“Don’t you dare move from that couch,” Helaena warned him,”I mean it, Aegon.”

“What?” he feigned innocence.

“Find someone else for your stupid little plan, she’s my friend and I don’t want you to mess her up.”

“I’m not going to mess her up,” he laughed in defense.

“You always mess them up,” Helaena sighed.

“Such little faith, sis.”

“In you? Always.”

He shook his head at her comment but Helaena’s serious gaze made him stop.

“Please?” she added,”Literally anyone but her. I’ve seen this film before, Aegon, I know how this ends and I don’t want my friend to be the lead in your drama.”

Aegon sighed,”You’re so sure how this is going to go, huh? What? You can predict the future now?”

“I don’t need to, not with you. You never stray from the pattern.”

Aegon avoided her eyes and nodded his head with a bitter smile,”You think you know me so well, huh?”

“I do know you so well, Aegon. Please, don’t pursue this,” she was begging him with her eyes but Aegon didn’t budge.

“Sorry, can’t make any promises I don’t intend to keep, sis.”

And with that he stood from his seat and turned his back on her, disappearing into the crowd on the dance floor.

Helaena sighed quietly to herself,"Yeah, that's what I feared."

[birindale]

Hi I just wanted to double check something I am pretty sure I read on this blog. Is the origin of C'yra of D'riluth iii from the original cannon or was it a later addition? Also what does "of D'riluth iii" actually mean? I remember there being some vagueness to what it means

Okay there's a long version and a short version of this story.

Short version: It was a later addition. In 2008 Mattel launched a toy line called Masters of the Universe Classics, which could only be ordered through their website and was aimed at the collector market. One of the things they did was include "character bios" in a sort of homage to the G.I. Joe toys of the 80s, which featured 'personnel files' that gave specializations and a brief character history, including their real names (e.g. Duke was actually named Conrad S. Hauser).

Catra's figure was released in 2011 for about $65 USD. Her bio (which I've lifted from a Poe Ghostal review) is as follows:

We (I, and my friends whom I've pestered for opinions) are pretty sure D'Riluth III is the name of her planet, even though another planet in the same solar system (from the New Adventures of He-Man in the 90s) has the Arabic numeral 7, so including Roman numerals is a strange choice.

Long version: There was a fellow working for Mattel at the time named Scott "Toyguru" Neitlich, and he was (and remains to this day) exceptionally bad at things like 'writing' and 'creativity'. He was never very interested in She-Ra, though he loves to tell the story of stealing his sister's doll one year, so to him Catra is simply an agent of the Horde... which, in order to adhere to the 2002-2003 tv show, was now 5,000 years old. This bio directly contradicts the Filmation canon of Catra's mask having belonged to the Magicat queen, for instance, and introduces a number of confusing details.

One of the least popular was Adora being Hordak's "step-daughter" instead of his "adopted daughter", which was already kind of a gray area since he didn't exactly raise her. Scott digging in his heels on the matter was actually how I learned he'd written the thing in the first place:

Now you may be wondering, jeez, it's pretty confusing and the writing isn't great but aren't you being kind of harsh? Surely the push-back from the He-Fans was bad enough. Well give me a minute, dang. This is the long version!

I reached out to him about a year and half ago to ask 1. How it's pronounced, 2. If he could confirm that D'Riluth III is the planet, and 3. If he remembered how he came up with it. He told me the following:

Some backstory here--Scott runs a bit of a one-man content farm, in an effort to avoid paying hosting fees for advertisements or actually engaging in SEO. He is a marketing consultant.

He used to upload a 5-10 minute video every day, but shortly after I contacted him that dropped to only five a week, and his weekly "Director's Commentary" videos about MOTUC figures that he worked on (largely just explaining who the character even is in an unedited stream of consciousness, as his videos became slideshows of google images) moved to bi-weekly.

I was like, okay, he left Mattel in 2014 right? So surely once he's through that year he'll get to this new series.

Nope! He's doing 2015 too! So I reached out again in January, just to like. See if he was still intending to cover the 'real names', which imo should have been part of his commentary to begin with, but...

He had forgotten <3 I explained no, I was asking about these specific questions that I had outlined in my first email (I had replied to his last message in the chain for simplicity's sake), and he just said he'd be doing it soon. So I was like oh, cool, do you know if you'll be doing one a week still? since that would put a Catra video about 4 years out as he does them in release order, and he then promised he'd get to it soon and didn't answer the question.

Annoying, certainly, but whatever. Unless one of us dies horribly I can wait it out, right?

WRONG.

Scott, being an idiot, has not credited a single one of the images he lifted from google over his four years of mostly-daily slideshows. And recently, somebody fucking noticed!

So this guy--Ethan Wilson, a very talented toy photographer and reviewer--was informed that Scott (in his capacity as Spector Creative, the name of his YouTube channel/consulting business) had been using his pictures in videos. Actually, let me use Ethan's own words here:

I decided to dig a little deeper into Spector’s channel, and found 81 instances of my photos being used in 68 of the channels videos.  None of these featured credit to me for use of the photos, and 48 of the 81 instances removed or obstructed my watermarks.

-About This Spector Creative Thing

I very strongly encourage you to read through this linked post, as it gets worse! Somehow!!

Scott, not noticing these as they came in over the course of 10 days, logged in to discover his channel had been taken down. He emailed Ethan in something of a panic to ask that Ethan reverse the claims as a 'professional favor', as Scott got all his clients through his channel's "advertising".

Now you're never gonna believe this... but when he and Ethan came to an understanding, suddenly Scott didn't give a shit.

He released a libelous video claiming Ethan had no rights to the images (he does) and that Scott could use them all he wanted because of Fair Use (he can't) and emailed Ethan the following.

First of all: this is bullshit. Copyright is automatic in the US, trademark wouldn't apply regardless, and as Scott should fucking know by now Ethan doesn't have a 'channel', he has a blog.

Second, he shot himself in the foot with the Fair Use defense by outright stating that his channel is his exclusive advertisement for his business and that he depends on his content to make a living. He said in his first video that it was "educational" 🙄

So Ethan realized Scott was a Fucking Liar and decided he should just copyright claim the rest of Scott's shit, in order to protect his images and rights thereto. YouTube can't take the channel down again unless Ethan is willing to pursue legal action--which he isn't, because he has a full time job and two kids and even though he'd probably win, it's a lot of time and energy.

I and a few others were trying to convince him that it would be worth it anyway, and looking into identifying and contacting the other artists Scott's stolen from over the years, when... Scott released a book. His first-ever graphic novel [looks into the camera like i'm on the office]

drawn entirely by AI.

So we have a frankenstein's monster of copyright infringement masquerading as illustrations (with all the uncanny valley that implies), Scott's technically and practically terrible writing, and the plot is Greek mythology. There are four and a half typos just in the free sample, and that's not including the words in images like his map or logo. He claims the title is a registered trademark but it certainly isn't registered in his state, or federally, and it's already in use by several other brands, so I wouldn't believe him even if he hadn't demonstrated a lack of understanding of copyright & trademark as recently as last week.

So I'm kinda fucking done waiting for answers! I can't trust a thing out of this guy's mouth! And he's pretty stupid, so do I even care what he thinks? I have decided that no. No I do not. I'll check back in 2028 and if he's survived + actually followed through then maybe I'll give his video a watch but until then it is simply pissing me off to remember this guy exists.

Sorry this turned into a rant I'm just really starting to loathe the guy. It's been an infuriating week or two. But uh... No, it's only canon to this one action figure line that ran for a little over a decade. We're certainly not beholden to it, it's more of a fun little in-joke for the fandom these days. You see someone use C'yra and you're like haha I know her! It's fun :3 Regardless of Scott's bullshit I enjoy seeing it around, and it's not like he owns or benefits from it in any way when maybe 1% of the people using it know where it comes from (and the people who know it was him specifically may be limited to the followers that have watched me complain about it).

Thank you for asking, I really do love asks even if the answer isn't what I want it to be lol. I'm happy to verify or explain anything I can!

[richardlawson]

The End

After a few years away from that particular couch, I started seeing a new therapist at the end of last year. It had been long enough, I sagely determined, after I was felled by a series of really nasty panic attacks—one happened while I was doing a Q&A on stage with some filmmakers. They didn't notice, nor did the audience, nor (most importantly) the publicists. But it was happening. Me contemplating running off stage, into the Soho afternoon. It was a terrible feeling, and eventually feeling terrible starts to be a drag, so I found, after a fair amount of searching, someone new.

He is in his late 50s and has a kind, open comportment. He's much more giving and lean-in-and-nod than my last therapist, a sort of prim and watchful gay guy who retired to Florida. I like this new gay guy, I think. Or, I am warming to him. At first, I thought his platitudes and constant quoting of various people were corny. But I have resisted such sentiment for so long, and lack of sentiment hasn't cured me, so maybe I should try the earnest stuff. He has me meditating for one minute a day. The panic attacks went away.

For a little while, anyway. They've been creeping back, when I least expect them, and when I most do. I am afraid of what I am afraid of, I hate what I hate, I feel increasingly indifferent to what I love. Winter hardens care. Do I like movies anymore? Do I like a play, seen on some chilly Saturday afternoon? Maybe it's just seasonal. Or it's media malaise in a time of such austerity. They're trying to lay off the best people while the worst people watch, safe as houses. They're trying to take the whole thing apart and replace it with nothing. I have worked in my business for 16 years, well over a third of my life, and for the first time it now feels truly dire and terminal and like I need to start making other plans for what to do with the rest of my time here in the waking, working world.

Something I talk about a lot with my therapist is inertia—I use the word constantly. Why can't I just, why can't I just, why can't I just. I know something's in me, latent under my lazy skin, but it never makes its way to the surface. At least not yet.

Which causes panic, this stasis. I am scared of the drugs that might help, and am resistant to other concrete life changes that might make this better. (I like a glass of wine too much; I'm a fan of my vape.) I have tried avoiding things, I have tried not avoiding things.

I guess it's not circumstance, really. I have panic attacks when I'm home at night, Andrew asleep in the other room, me watching some murder show or YouTube video (same thing) and suddenly a feeling hits me, the conviction that a blood clot or some other lurking thing is making its way up my body and that this is my sorry, lonely little nighttime end. Here it is, the moment when I'm carried off, when I disappear, when I slip away into nothing.

My parents just finished a cruise, a lifelong wish fulfilled, in South America, hooking around Cape Horn and then exploring the fjords and inlets of Chile. All the reports were good. They had the best time. I had worried about my mom itching for her work email, about my dad being newly 90 years old and maybe feeling exhausted by all the activity. But it seems they managed well. They saw Patagonian cities, they saw mountains rising out of the sea, they saw the shy, retreating edges of glaciers, so quiet and demure in their dying. My mom sent us pictures and I thought most about the glaciers, those last cracking murmurs of a time before. When I was in Alaska for a wedding, years ago now, we went to a park of some kind and the visitor's center that was once built over a glacier then stood cantilevered over dry land. The ice had crept much farther up the mountain, winking goodbye.

How awful. And yet, in the depths of my hypocrisy, I relish an unseasonably warm day. Whatever lifts me out of winter, I guess. Whatever can drag me out of the feeling that everything is indeed going to ruin—a career, a life, a liver, a future. My best friend moved out of my neighborhood recently, which is sad. But it also affords us the opportunity to explore new territory, to find backyard bars with good deals where we can huddle in forgiving late-winter winds and make uneasy escape plans, where we consider what parachutes could ever be made of.

It's not always enough, of course. I too often have nights, far too late, when I go pacing around the living room, circling the coffee table in a weird sort of marching step in my underwear, shaking my hands to get the dread to go away. My new therapist has urged me to find what centers me. To think of all that is known and steady.

I try to gather myself and remember the people I have, arrayed across the planet. Andrew, in restless sleep down the hall. My sister in her Los Angeles canyon, surrounded by trees. I walk the room, knees high and somehow defiant, chest straining with worry. And I see my parents, on a boat at the tip of the world, dreaming of lost things.

[aeyunaa]

BITE ME

My little vampire preview?

Pairing: vamp!sunghoon! x fem!reader

Smut

Word count: 6k

I haven’t proof read 💀 so the grammar might not be the best 

Dubcon kinda, Somnophilia, dry humping, blood, biting, cream pie, marking, bulge kink, breeding kink if you squint!

———————————————

You had recently bought a “vampire” on the internet, why? You have no fucking idea…the advertisement had popped up and you clicked on it. And got carried off eventually, you had gotten your pay check today anyway so why not? It’s supposed to be coming in till next week… you sat down on your living room couch grabbing the tv remote beside you. You turn the tv and it starts playing some 90s show you roll your eyes. Suddenly your door bells rings. Who could it be its 2:00 in the morning? You quickly grab the bat you had beside your nightstand and slowly approach the front door you take a deep breath before swinging the door open no one was there..just a box on your front porch…you cautiously pick it up and set it on the floor then closing the door and locking it. You set the bat down and move it to the living room. You cut the tape on the large box with a pocket knife. You slowly open the folds of the box and look inside there was a smaller box. You picked it up and sat back on your couch and unlocked it slowly lifting up the top. Something flew out eventually crashing into the wall and hitting the floor it startled you a bit but that wasn’t the issue. “Um. hello?” You carefully walk over to where that thing had fell but instead of some hideous creature there was a man he had dark red hair and beautiful golden eyes he looked confused. you looked at him, he looked at you Y’all sat there for about a minute without saying anything it was awkward… “um…” he mumbled softly you jumped up “Omg you do speak” he flinched slightly.

“too loud?” He nodded slightly. You sat down infront of him as he began to speak again.

“I’m a prince..” he spoke so quietly god he was adorable. “…so I’ll be borrowing your home.”

You had gotten carried away. “Um.” You froze “huh!?” He nodded

1 year later

Y/n pov

“Sunggie!” I heard his footsteps coming down the hallway “yes?” He spoke as he turned the corner. “Why were you so quiet earlier? Did something happen?” The boy suddenly shook his head no. I cocked an eyebrow in suspicion I saw his cheeks light up a reddish pink color he only starts blushing when he’s hiding something. “Sunghoon? Don’t lie to me.”

He looks down at the floor “I had an incident…” I tilt my head and stood up walking over to him I lift his chin he’s eyes are watery…

“Oh goodness did you light the wrong candle again I already told you you’re allergic here come on let’s get you a wet towel..” I grab his arm leading him into the kitchen I grab a clean towel out the pantry and wet it laying it over his closed eyes “there just let it sit there a while…” I sigh “you’ve supposedly been alive for thousands of years but you still make mistakes like these”. I could hear him apologizing softly gosh he was so cute. After a while we proceeded with our daily night routine we bathed and basic hygiene sunghoon usually slept with me his excuse was. “so he can protect me!” That was the funniest thing he’s said this year. I lay down in the bed the silk sheets against my bear legs felt so nice. Sunghoon walk in the room a white towel on his head I signaled him to sit down so I could help him finish drying off. He walked over, and sat down infront of me I take the white towel massaging it in to his hair after about two minutes I throw the wet towel into the corner of the room. Sunghoon stood up and layer on the other side of the bed, something was up he’s never acted like this before and I decided I should just leave it. I was woken up by something rubbing against my thigh and soft moans. I slowly turn over Sunghoon’s eye are lighter than I’ve ever seen them “a-are you ok Sunggie? What’s wrong are you sick?” He whines in response. “You have to use your words love. I run a hand up and down his back to calm him.

“I-I bit you” he spoke in a quiet voice. “You what?-“ A sudden pain kicked in my neck and I felt like fainting. “I-Im sorry Y/n I really couldn’t-“ I smile “it’s okay you didn’t mean to sunggie”

That was the first sign

The night after

I woke up during the middle of night again I felt both Sunghoon’s arms wrapped around my waist i could feel his bare cock against my ass “sunggie? What are you doing?” He stops grinding against my ass and I could heard his whines he was in pain. “Y-y/n please help me~ it hurts~” I slowly sat up and forced my eyes open I heard Sunghoon rustling the blanket behind me I lock eyes with him he looks exhausted but sex drunk at the same time “you want my help sunggie?” He nodded softly he lies down but he cock was standing straight up “fuck..” I slide my panties down throwing them somewhere in the room I position myself over his thick veiny cock. Goodness his face did not match his dick size any one would be shocked to see how massive he is. He was looking up at me I hesitate a bit before slowly sinking onto his dick a moan was ripped from his throat I hadn’t even fully fit him in me. He starts thrusting upwards causing me to lose balance and slide down on his cock completely I feel my back arch and my body jolt “s-sunggie…” I lean onto his chest for support as he picks up an even faster pace, placing both hands on my hips to hold me in place “So wet for me,” he breathes fangs showing in his parted mouth. Sunghoon flips me over to where I’m lying on my back his hands pin me down, he continues his thrust at his previous pace his eyes glowing full of lust and hunger.

“Fuck I want to ruin you, ruin you so bad”.

sunghoon quickens his thrusts. “You’re going to make me cum…”

i feel my orgasm rip out from within me, sunghoon lets out an animalistic groan and sinks his teeth into my neck. I feel his fangs pierce my skin, the blood rushing into his mouth, I cry out in both pain and pleasure. Sunghoon doesn’t stop fucking me, and after a minute he removes himself from my bleeding neck. He began slowing down just a little which made things a little better for me but I still had that heavy feeling in the bottom of my stomach. My moans grew quieter as his thick cock slid in and out of me slowly. “Mine. Mine. All m….mine. Take it take it all.” Sunghoon cooed. My brain was foggy, I could barely even form a sentence. All I could form were incoherent mumbles.

His thrusts became quicker, my pussy clenched around his cock, making it harder for him to rut into me as fast as he was before. His moans grew louder and his thrusts became deeper “mmh~ I’ll fill you so well~” he said with one final thrust before spilling into me. Seed filling me up completely. Sunghoon fell ontop of me and kissed my neck “i love you Y/n”.

I was warn out but managed to respond with a “I know….I love you as well…a lot”I can see him smile I didn’t have to look at him to know. “Goodnight Sunggie.”

“Goodnight Y/n”

Leave requests or I won’t start writing this series! 🥱

[where-dreamers-go]

"Things Happen" Dick Grayson x Reader

(A/N: Happy birthday to me. 90s Robin all happy!

Reader is a fan of Robin and has been having bad luck all day. What else could happen on their birthday?!

Also: Happy birthday @ivorydragoness44

Warnings: A little angst. Use of (Y/N). I did not take this seriously; I snickered writing the ending.

Word Count: 1,086 words)

~~~

Gotham City stood proudly with skyscrapers, large statues, and bright lights.

Yeah, you would rather be inside at this time of night.

But you were determined. On a mission to finish the day on a high note. At least a little more positive anyway. It was your birthday after all.

Just get home. That’s all, you thought as you walked along the sidewalk. Gripping a bag tight to your chest, you hoped the tiny cake would make it.

The hours that had long since passed suggested otherwise.

I can do this.

It was only walking. Nothing like what had happened earlier in the day.

Your birthday had started with you running your knuckles into the wall after leaving the bathroom, you had run your big toe into the coffee table, you had saved a cup from plummeting to the floor and hit the same knuckles as that morning, a folder full of papers met the floor later on as each slid in opposite directions, and then it was your cake.

That was almost your breaking point, but as least you had shrugged the other minor inconveniences off.

Things happen, you thought, trying to remain positive.

Not too long ago, maybe an hour, you had finished decorating your birthday cake. It was your favorite flavor and deliciously homemade. Beautiful in your eyes. Until the moment it somersaulted onto the kitchen floor. All of it. It was enough to make you sit by it and mourn its loss.

Whether it was gravity, physics, or something else—it was having a grand time with your birthday.

Should had wished for a calm day, you thought. No party. No surprises. Just a calm day. Got two out of three.

At least you were the only witness. Then again, that did mean you were alone.

But it’s all good. I have cake.

VROOOOM

SPLASH

A car sped down the road.

You blinked as water soaked in and dripped off of you. You only stood there. Done. Completely finished.

You inhaled.

“AAHHHGGH!"

You huffed and walked on.

Stupid car. I can’t even go an hour without something—stupid—happening? Come on!

Shoes stomping, you continued onward.

Stupid. Stupid. Flippin’ WET! This cake better be dr—

thump

“Hey.”

“AYY!" You jumped to the edge of the side walk.

“Whoa.” A masked man rose his hands up. “I’m sorry. I heard you yelling and thought you might be in trouble.”

“Ohmygod.”

Standing before you wasn’t any masked man. He was Robin. A hero of Gotham City.

“Are you in trouble?” Robin asked with a growing smirk. Eyes scanned you up and down.

“Bad day.” You managed to answer. Your frustrations hidden by a layer of surprise and excitement.

“Sorry about that.”

“Me too.”

Wiping water droplets off of the small bag, you shrugged.

“So, um—thank you….for checking on me.” You smiled. “I really appreciate.” Then you added, “Especially today.”

“No problem.” Robin took a step closer, eyeing the bag in your grasp. “What’s special about today?”

Taking your gaze away from the tight-suit-wearing hero, you focused on the semi-dry paper bag. Lifting it up briefly, you showed him the small bakery logo on it.

“It’s my birthday,” you muttered unenthusiastically.

The news registered in his eyes quickly. If it was pity he had for you, he hid it well. He kept a smile on his lips.

“Happy birthday…”

“(Y/N).”

“Happy birthday (Y/N),” Robin said. “May I walk you home?”

Your eyes widened. “Oh. It’s okay. Really. I’m fine—“

Reaching for your arm, Robin quickly pulled you away from the end of the sidewalk as another car sped by.

SPLASH

Well then.

“Thank you.”

From the close proximity, his grin appeared bright. Playful even. He released your arm.

“Okay, uh. It’s not far to my place.” You relented. “At this rate I’ll drop this cake too.”

“Too?”

“It’s been a day.”

With his gloved hand, he gestured for you to lead the way.

Please let him be good luck. He’s Robin. And he’s walking. Me. Home.

Leading the way forward, you kept your thoughts on Robin instead of which way your luck could turn.

He kept the conversation light, but you did eventually tell him about the woes of your day. The man was itching to know. He was shocked all that happened to one person in one day.

You on the other hand were still trying to wrap your brain around the fact that you were walking with Robin. Goodness, you were definitely a fan. A grateful one. One who thought he was so cool and unexpectedly more handsome in person.

The walk to your apartment was uneventful in terms of anything negative happening. All in all, it was good. Safe.

And the cake is fine, you thought happily as you made it to your front door.

“This is it.” You announced. “Thank you again.”

“No problem.” Robin smiled then asked, “Do you have your keys?”

“Yeah, I…have them,” you answered while fishing them out of your pocket. “See? Everything’s still fine.”

Unlocking the door successfully, you opened it.

“Ta da.” You kept it open with the toe of your shoe.

The corner of his lips upturned.

“Now all you need is a gift.”

“What?” You questioned, shocked. “Robin, you already walked me home. And you didn’t have to.”

That’s a gift of its own.

“It’s your birthday.” Robin stepped forward, eyelids becoming heavy-lidded. “I’d like to give you something.”

You swallowed.

“If it’s alright?”

“Um. Sure.” You tilted your head, curious. “Yeah.”

“How about a kiss for your birthday?”

“I…yeah.” You were a bit at a loss for words.

Robin stepped even closer.

Was your mind short-circuiting? Did you hear him correctly?

In a swift motion of his arm, Robin pulled you in by the waist and laid a passionate kiss on your lips.

For those few wonderful, fleeting moments, you were in the arms of a charming hero. The world was quiet. Your birthday was saved. You were even living the dream of almost every person in his fan club.

Parting away slowly felt like waking from a long, vivid dream.

“Happy birthday.” He whispered knowingly. Smirking, he pulled lightly on the bracelet on your wrist.

OH.

Without another word uttered nor kiss shared, Robin left with a wink and his cape billowing behind him.

Wow. And he apparently noticed the handmade Robin bead bracelet my friend sent me.

You walked into your apartment and shut the door.

“Robin kissed me!"

(If you love my writings and want to support me, I have a Ko-Fi where you can buy me a coffee. I would be eternally grateful.

~~~

PART TWO

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coffee

Best wishes and happy reading.)

~~~~~

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[clgdj]

BITE ME

My little vampire preview?

Pairing: vamp!sunghoon! x fem!reader

Smut

Word count: 6k

Dubcon kinda, dry humping, blood, biting, cream pie, marking, bulge kink,

You had recently bought a “vampire” on the internet, why? You have no fucking idea…the advertisement had popped up and you clicked on it. And got carried off eventually, you had gotten your pay check today anyway so why not? It’s supposed to be coming in till next week… you sat down on your living room couch grabbing the tv remote beside you. You turn the tv and it starts playing some 90s show you roll your eyes. Suddenly your door bells rings. Who could it be its 2:00 in the morning? You quickly grab the bat you had beside your nightstand and slowly approach the front door you take a deep breath before swinging the door open no one was there..just a box on your front porch…you cautiously pick it up and set it on the floor then closing the door and locking it. You set the bat down and move it to the living room. You cut the tape on the large box with a pocket knife. You slowly open the folds of the box and look inside there was a smaller box. You picked it up and sat back on your couch and unlocked it slowly lifting up the top. Something flew out eventually crashing into the wall and hitting the floor it startled you a bit but that wasn’t the issue. “Um. hello?” You carefully walk over to where that thing had fell but instead of some hideous creature there was a man he had dark red hair and beautiful golden eyes he looked confused. you looked at him, he looked at you Y’all sat there for about a minute without saying anything it was awkward… “um…” he mumbled softly I jumped up “Omg you do speak” he flinched slightly.

“too loud?” He nodded slightly. Yoi sat down infront of him as he began to speak again

“I’m a prince..” he spoke so quietly god he was adorable. “…so I’ll be borrowing your home.”

You froze “huh!?” He nodded

1 year later

Y/n pov

“Sunggie!” I heard his footsteps coming down the hallway “yes?” He spoke as he turned the corner. “Why were you so quiet earlier? Did something happen?” The boy suddenly shook his head no. I cocked an eyebrow in suspicion I saw his cheeks light up a reddish pink color he only starts blushing when he’s hiding something. “Sunghoon? Don’t lie to me.”

He looks down at the floor “I had an incident…” I tilt my head and stood up walking over to him I lift his chin he’s eyes are watery…

“Oh goodness did you light the wrong candle again I already told you you’re allergic here come on let’s get you a wet towel..” I grab his arm leading him into the kitchen I grab a clean towel out the pantry and wet it laying it over his closed eyes “there just let it sit there a while…” I sigh “you’ve supposedly been alive for thousands of years but you still make mistakes like these”. I could hear him apologizing softly gosh he was so cute. After a while we proceeded with our daily night routine we bathed and basic hygiene sunghoon usually slept with me his excuse was. “so he can protect me!” That was the funniest thing he’s said this year. I lay down in the bed the silk sheets against my bear legs felt so nice. Sunghoon walk in the room a white towel on his head I signaled him to sit down so I could help him finish drying off. He walked over, and sat down infront of me I take the white towel massaging it in to his hair after about two minutes I throw the wet towel into the corner of the room. Sunghoon stood up and layer on the other side of the bed, something was up he’s never acted like this before and I decided I should just leave it. I was woken up by something rubbing against my thigh and soft moans. I slowly turn over Sunghoon’s eye are lighter than I’ve ever seen them “a-are you ok Sunggie? What’s wrong are you sick?” He whines in response. “You have to use your words love. I run a hand up and down his back to calm him.

“I-I bit you” he spoke in a quiet voice. “You what?-“ A sudden pain kicked in my neck and I felt like fainting. “I-Im sorry Y/n I really couldn’t-“ I smile “it’s okay you didn’t mean to sunggie”

That was the first sign

The night after

I woke up during the middle of night again I felt both Sunghoon’s arms wrapped around my waist i could feel his bare cock against my ass “sunggie? What are you doing?” He stops grinding against my ass and I could heard his whines he was in pain. “Y-y/n please help me~ it hurts~” I slowly sat up and forced my eyes open I heard Sunghoon rustling the blanket behind me I lock eyes with him he looks exhausted but sex drunk at the same time “you want my help sunggie?” He nodded softly he lies down but he cock was standing straight up “fuck..” I slide my panties down throwing them somewhere in the room I position myself over his thick veiny cock. Goodness his face did not match his dick size any one would be shocked to see how massive he is. He was looking up at me I hesitate a bit before slowly sinking onto his dick a moan was ripped from his throat I hadn’t even fully fit him in me. He starts thrusting upwards causing me to lose balance and slide down on his cock completely I feel my back arch and my body jolt “s-sunggie…” I lean onto his chest for support as he picks up an even faster pace, placing both hands on my hips to hold me in place “So wet for me,” he breathes fangs showing in his parted mouth. Sunghoon flips me over to where I’m lying on my back his hands pin me down, he continues his thrust at his previous pace his eyes glowing full of lust and hunger.

“Fuck I want to ruin you, ruin you so bad”.

sunghoon quickens his thrusts. “You’re going to make me cum…”

i feel my orgasm rip out from within me, sunghoon lets out an animalistic groan and sinks his teeth into my neck. I feel his fangs pierce my skin, the blood rushing into his mouth, I cry out in both pain and pleasure. Sunghoon doesn’t stop fucking me, and after a minute he removes himself from my bleeding neck. He began slowing down just a little which made things a little better for you but you still had that heavy feeling in the bottom of your stomach. My moans grew quieter as his thick cock slid in and out of you slowly like that. “Mine. Mine. All m….mine. Take it take it all.” Sunghoon cooed. Your brain was foggy, you could barely even form a sentence. All you could form were incoherent mumbles.

His thrusts became quicker, your pussy clenched around his cock, making it harder for him to rut into you as fast as he was before. His moans grew louder and his thrusts became deeper “mmh~ I’ll fill you so well~” he said with one final thrust before spilling into you. Seed filling you up completely. Sunghoon fell ontop of you and kissed your neck “i love you Y/n”.

You were warn out but managed to respond with a “I know….I love you as well…a lot” you can see him smile you didn’t have to look at him to know. “Goodnight Sunggie.”

“Goodnight Y/n”

Please like this took so long to make!

[melishade]

Attack on Prime Alternate Scene Part 5

Part 4

I FUCKING DID IT EVERYONE! I've finally completed the rough draft for Guren No Yumiya with 56,423 words! I finally written the end game! All I need to do is make edits to Last Ditch Effort and then Guren No Yumiya and I can publish them both! Not at the same time, this is a lot to digest! But I finally made it and completed the climax! FINALLY!

Alright, so which scene am I gonna talk about today?

Actually I can just talk about my multiple edits for both chapter 90 and chapter 91. For now, I'm just going to focus on chapter 90. Next Part will be chapter 91.

So when I had initially started writing up draft for introducing Primus, the Fourth Notebook idea hadn't existed yet. The original idea was that Kenny found the drawing of Optimus' holoform in Grisha's notebook and brought it over to Megatron in a fit of rage:

Erwin and Nile jolted when Kenny kicked open the door to Erwin’s home. Nile backed away when Erwin took a step forward.

“Kenny, what-,”

“Out the fucking way,” Kenny growled ominously. He walked over to Megatron and punched him in the face, startling both Erwin and Nile.

“You fucking liar!” Kenny shouted.

Megatron glared at Kenny before choking him with one arm and lifting him in the air. “You better have a good reason for your insolence.”

“My insolence?!” Kenny strained.

“Megatron, put him down!” Erwin ordered as he tried to pull the arm down.

“Explain this bullshit!” Kenny demanded as he showed Megatron the paper.

Megatron stared in shock as he snatched the paper and dropped Kenny on the ground. Nile went to his side while Erwin turned his attention to Megatron.

“What the hell-,”

Erwin was startled when he saw the paper. It was a drawing. A drawing of…

Optimus Prime in his human form.

“What the hell?” Erwin breathed.

“Where did you get this?” Megatron demanded.

“From those fucking notebooks!” Kenny shouted, “You sons of bitches sayin’ that you haven’t been here! That bastard keeps saying he’s seen his face! I thought you bastards were in a war!”

“We were in a war!” Megatron shouted, “Optimus was stranded on Earth and I was halfway across the universe looking for dark energon!”

“Then why the hell is that bastard seeing your ex?!” Kenny shouted.

Erwin took the paper from Megatron and read the information on the back. “I keep on seeing him. I don’t know if I should share or withhold this information, so I will keep it hidden for the time being. I try to touch him, to speak to him, but he seems to be out of my sights. An after image in the back of my mind. I feel like I have seen him, but I do not know his name. All I know, is that he is referred to…as god.”

“’God’?” Kenny hissed, “Is that bastard fucking insane?”

“He’s seeing Optimus in his memories!” Erwin shot back, “How is that even possible?!”

“Timey-whiney mumbo jumbo!” Kenny answered, “We already said memories can be sent back!”

“Optimus has only been here for four years!” Erwin reasoned, “Grisha has never seen him!”

“But Eren has!” Kenny reminded, “This is bullshit!”

“This isn’t Optimus,” Megatron proclaimed, gaining everyone’s attention.

“You’re joking, right?” Kenny demanded.

“No,” Megatron answered, “This is someone wearing the holoform’s skin, most likely to blend in with the humans.”

“What are you suggesting?” Erwin asked.

“Someone else is interfering,” Megatron answered as he handed the paper back to Kenny, “Someone that has more power than us.”

“Do you know who?” Nile asked.

Megatron grimaced in response. “No idea, and I’m not sure if it’s wise to find out. Leave this alone for the time being.”

“That’s it?” Kenny demanded, “We’re just supposed to leave this shit alone?”

“Shouldn’t this be something we should be worried about?” Nile asked in confusion.

“This is clearly supernatural,” Megatron explained as he rubbed his temple, “And I’ve had my fair share of getting involved with that.

The idea of the humans and Megatron figuring out that there was something supernatural involved didn't sit right with me. Because what was I even supposed to do with it. Where would I even take it? Where would it go? I felt like this wouldn't have worked long term so I figured a fourth notebook with Megatron concluding later on that the Attack Titan can see into the future would be the better option. It allows the characters to be aware of the situation while also keeping the twist that Primus is involved just a little bit longer.

Now when Primus was initially introduced into the Paths, I had him acting just a little bit different....:

“Next memory,” Eren told his brother as he opened the door. He stopped when he saw a man at the door, wearing a large, black trench coat that looked exactly like…

“Optimus?” Eren whispered.

Zeke stared in shock and merely took a step back as Optimus walked past Eren. The two noticed that Grisha didn’t see him as Optimus began rummaging through the cabinets. The two grew confused when Optimus hit his head on top of one of the cabinets.

Optimus rubbed his head as he sat on the ground. “I don’t know why I still have to have pain receptors. Time doesn’t even work here.”

Eren grew stiff. That wasn’t Optimus. That sounded nothing like Optimus! Who the hell was he?!

“Who are you?!” Zeke demanded at the man.

The man looked at Zeke and Eren in surprise and stood up. “You can see me?”

“Yes! Who are you?!” Zeke demanded.

The man smiled and grabbed Zeke’s shoulders. “Great! You can help me!”

“Help you?” Eren asked.

“Yes!” he answered, “I am currently looking for someone. Time doesn’t work here, that much I know. And I am currently limited to this form. It’s been a long time since I’ve had digits.”

The man looked down at his fingers and wiggled them. “What an odd sight, don’t you think?”

“I guess,” Eren shrugged, “But…I don’t know what you’re looking for. Could you describe it?”

“That’s the thing…I’m not sure,” the man admitted, “I have been dormant for eons. I wake up hearing a cry from across the universe, and I can’t go because this was the closest I could to achieving a physical form. I had to send Optimus here to get close.”

“What?” Eren said.

“But I see that the two of you are busy,” the man said, “And I have an eternity to wait,”

The man walked back over to the door, still unnoticed by Grisha. He gestured to the door and smiled.

“I’d like to come with the both of you,” he requested, “Going through this place by myself is difficult. One minute I find myself in a calm setting, the next I find myself in a war zone. I would like some clarification or order to the chaos.”

Zeke looked at the man with warning, causing the man’s smile to disappear.

“I swear to…myself?, I will not get involved with…this,” the man gestured to the scene before him.

Zeke grimaced in response. “Fine.”

Eren eyed the man as he happily followed Zeke into the next memory.

There's obviously no weight to this scene, not compared to the final draft. It feels extremely rushed. But the idea was the same. Primus comes in, Eren and Zeke are surprised, and Primus asks to come with them. Now when writing Primus initially, I was characterizing him as someone who had control of the situation, and you'll see glimpses of that in later drafts. It's almost like he was completely fine with his situation and he knew what was going on. I didn't want to make it too easy for Primus for obvious reasons, but I knew I had to rewrite Primus where he's in a situation that's out of his control. There's also other things that I decided to change, like Primus dropping Cybertronian terminology and Primus swearing to himself instead of the One: the being he originally came from. I wanted there to be more of a build up to Primus' identity and I feel like have Primus swear to himself would have been a dead giveaway.

Now this is one of the scenes that I've changed. It's about Primus learning of Eren's interactions with Mikasa and his kill count and also Primus confronting Zeke for a brief moment.

Eren could only watch as the man tried to interact with his younger self, kneeling down and waving to the nine year old.

“This is strange,” he remarked before looking at Eren, “Is it strange for you to see a younger version of yourself walking around? Or is this only limited to humans?”

“Will you stop?” Zeke demanded.

“So this is normal?” the man asked for clarification.

“No!” Zeke exclaimed, “Can you stop?! I am trying to prove a point to my brother!”

The man raised an eyebrow at the both of them. “You two don’t look alike.”

Zeke growled in irritation. Eren was merely trying to put some pieces together. What did this man mean when he said he sent Optimus here? He clearly wasn’t human. He used a different terminology for body parts and other phrases. Optimus had to tell him something about this, right?

“What point are you trying to prove to him?” the man asked as he pointed at Eren.

“I’m trying to save the world,” Zeke answered, “And our father brainwashed him into believing that the world shouldn’t be save. That our father forced his ideology on him and forced him to use the power of the titans. I’m trying to save Eren, too.”

The man stood up and walked around the people before facing Zeke. “How do you intend to save the world?”

Eren felt the air suddenly get colder and terrifying. Zeke seemed to notice this change, but didn’t associate it with the man.

“I have to free the Eldians,” Zeke declared, “And I will use the power of the titans to free them and end their suffering.”

The man didn’t respond to Zeke, causing the man to grow tense. But they both grew confused as the man placed a hand on Zeke’s shoulder.

“That is very admirable of you,” the man smiled.

Eren noticed that the man’s smile was forced. He wore Optimus’ face, so he knew the subtle changes in his expression and how that related to what he was feeling. Something told him this man knew more than he let on.

“While I am looking for the being I came here for, I can help your brother see the error in your creator’s ways,” the man offered.

“You won’t find anything,” Eren declared, “My father never forced a thing on me.”

The memory shifted into the aftermath of Eren and Mikasa’s first kill. The man looked down in surprise, then horror as he realized that the two children were responsible for the deaths of the three men.

“You did this...,” The man began, “As a sparkling?”

“Those three men killed Mikasa’s parents,” Eren explained, “They were going to force Mikasa into sexual slavery at the age of nine. They tried to take away the freedom of someone else, so I took away theirs.”

Eren noticed guilt appearing on the man’s face before he turned away from him.

“I understand why you did what you did,” the man began as he saw Grisha yelling at Eren outside of the cabin, “But…it is unfortunate that you had to sacrifice your innocence at that age.”

“At least you had a choice in the matter,” Zeke retorted, “I never did.”

“Dad didn’t force me to do anything,” Eren declared as he gestured to the house. “This was all my choice.”

“Grisha raised you freely,” Zeke accepted, “But that does not make him a good man. It makes him a hypocrite.”

Zeke walked away from Eren down the steps, but stopped when he saw the man watching Eren wrap his scarf around Mikasa with a warm smile.

“I don’t agree with the method,” the man began, “But I am happy that you saved her life.”

Eren wanted to throw up as the man looked at him with that same smile.

“Thank you,” the man said before noticing the guilt on Eren’s face, “Are you okay?”

“I…,” Eren began, “You look like someone I know.”

“Oh, I didn’t know,” the man insisted, “I had to get a human form to blend in with humans, but I wasn’t aware this was of someone you knew.”

“You’re acting as if you aren’t human,” Zeke remarked as he crossed his arms.

“Well, I’m not,” the man shrugged before turning back to Eren, “If you want I can find another form.”

“It’s fine,” Eren said, “I can deal with it.”

“Are you sure?” the man asked, earning a nod from Eren.

“But…who are you?” Eren asked.

“Even if I told you my name, you wouldn’t know who I am,” the man proclaimed, “Sorry.”

“I need you to stop interfering with us,” Zeke ordered the man, “I need to make my point to him.”

“But I still need help,” the man reasoned.

“This is more important than you finding some random person,” Zeke declared, “I need to save multiple people. That’s more important than saving one person.”

“For someone who wishes to save the world, you’re not very compassionate,” the man proclaimed.

Zeke blinked at the man’s word before he stormed off. The man gestured to Eren and the titan shifter followed him into the next memory.

“The person I am,” the man began, “Is he someone close to you?”

Eren thought it over before looking down despondently. “He…he’s like a father to me. And after I lost my dad, that was something I needed. But…I’m pretty sure I hurt him.”

“Hurt him?” the man questioned.

“I lied to him, hurt his feelings, did something that made him disappointed in me,” Eren listed, “I don’t think he’s going to forgive me.”

The man seemed to be deep in thought before looking back at Eren. “Perhaps there is time to apologize to him. Even if he doesn’t forgive you, it wouldn’t hurt to try, especially if he means so much to you.”

“I appreciate the thought, but I’m not going to get that chance,” Eren proclaimed.

The man raised an eyebrow at that. “What do you mean?”

Eren shook his head. “You wouldn’t understand.”

The man shrugged. “If you’re willing to talk about it, I’d be happy to listen.”

“Um…yeah,” Eren trailed off, “How…did you even get here?”

The man raised an eyebrow as Zeke began listening in on the conversation.

“Like in this dimension?” the man asked, earning a nod from Eren, “Well as I said before, I had to send Optimus to get close. Vector was the one who had to open a portal at the exact moment in space and time in order to get into this dimension. He said it had to be an exact moment.”

So the main bulk of the dynamics hasn't really changed much, just the dialogue. Primus is trying to interact with the world of the humans. Zeke is obviously annoyed and Eren is more willing to hear Primus out due to him wearing Optimus' face. At this point, Primus hadn't revealed his name to Eren yet, but the younger of the two was still trying to put the pieces together in regards to who Primus was.

In terms of Primus asking Zeke for his intentions and motivations, a few things. I was originally thinking of making Primus aware of Zeke's plan, and wanting to give Zeke a proper chance to explain himself and why he wants to do his plan, but Zeke doesn't give the full details of his plans, knowing from experience that people tend to oppose it. But Primus is fully aware. He's not happy with Zeke's explanation, so much so that his anger and disappointment is affecting the environment around him. But Primus keeps it together for the sake of keeping up appearances.

Same thing with Eren. Primus has some knowledge of Eren's intentions and capabilities but is still playing dumb to get a much more honest reaction out of him. He's aware of Eren's relationship with Optimus and just wants to see the impact. I ultimately decided against Primus being knowledgeable about the AOT world because it ultimately does him a disservice when it comes to giving Eren a choice. Having Primus figure out everything as he goes along just seemed like the better option.

A few other scenes before I go into the final moment in chapter 90:

Primus seeing baby Eren and gushing about him:

Eren looked out of the corner of his eye to see the shadow staring at the child version of himself. There was awe and curiosity in those eyes as the child was playing with his family. Zeke noticed the expression on the shadow’s face and was also confused.

“What’s wrong?” Zeke demanded.

“I want to say something, but I said that I wouldn’t interfere with your dispute.” The shadow explained.

“...go ahead,” Zeke sighed.

The shadow slid over to the family and gestured to the smaller version of Eren. “It’s so cute!”

“Huh?!” Eren exclaimed while Zeke covered his mouth to hide his smirk.

“You were so small, and chubby!”  the shadow exclaimed as he pointed to the smaller version of himself, “Now you're so tall, and thin! And your hair is longer!...it doesn’t suit you.”

Eren blushed in embarrassment while Zeke stifled his laughter.

“Still, I’m curious as to how you’re able to turn from that into this,” the shadow said as he pointed from his younger self to the older child, “Especially in such a short amount of time.”

Zeke stopped laughing while Eren was startled.

“Fifteen years is not a short amount of time,” Eren told him.

“It isn’t?” The shadow questioned, “Hm. Maybe I’ve been in here for too long and my perception of time has been warped.”

“How long have you been in here?” Zeke asked.

The shadow thought it over before counting his fingers. He paused and thought about it again before he continued counting.

“...a long time,” the shadow responded, “There was no linear construct of time when I came to this dimension. I just know that I’ve been here for ages.”

The shadow noticed their staring and rubbed the back of his head. “I’m sorry that’s not a really solid answer.”

“This place does not follow the same construct of time as the real world,” Zeke said, “I can imagine why you would not be able to keep track.”

“I’m just glad that I have some company,” the shadow proclaimed, “Thank you for letting me accompany you.”

Showing Primus' adoration for new life while also revealing information about him to the brothers and the audience.

This scene also got cut as well, it was basically Primus talking to Friede before Grisha transformed:

 “I cannot change what will happen today,” the man told her, “This is already set in stone.”

Frieda hung her head. “My family will die, won’t they?”

“Yes,”

“I…will die,”

The man hesitated. “Yes. I am sorry I cannot save you. The guilt you must have been feeling for so long has tormented you for years. Tormented your family, and tormented your ancestors.”

“…it has,” Frieda whispered.

“You did what you could to end the suffering brought on by your ancestors,” the man proclaimed, “With what options you had, you did not do so bad. But the Eldians now do not deserve that suffering. It will continue to lead in a never ending cycle of violence. I will end the power of the titans; you have my word, but I cannot find out how. Do you happen to know that answer?”

Eren snapped out of his thoughts and yelled at his father. “Kill them right now!”

“No, father! Don’t!” Zeke pleaded.

“What guarantee can you give me that the power of the titans will end?” Frieda asked, “What guarantee can you give me that the Eldians will be safe?”

“My word,” the man answered, “It is not much, I know, but it is all that I can give you.”

Frieda looked up at the man, looked him straight in the eye to determine if he was lying. All she saw was pure honesty…and kindness. Frieda touched the man’s head with her own as Grisha muttered the courage and raised his scalpel.

“For Aunt Faye!” Eren shouted.

“She wouldn’t want this!” Zeke proclaimed.

“You started this story didn’t you?!” Eren challenged.

“That is all I can give you,” Frieda sighed solemnly as she let him go, “I have nothing else.”

The man opened his eyes and smiled at Frieda before placing his hand on her head. Frieda gasped as she saw…Historia, in a beautiful dress, looking happy as she kissed another woman by the ocean. Frieda began crying with tears a joy as the man removed his hand from her head.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“May your next life be one of peace and happiness,” the man prayed.

It was the original route of Primus being aware of everything, but I ultimately didn't go through with it because the way I wrote it out, it was implying that Primus was just going to let Frieda die at Grisha's hand. I just thought it would be better for Eren to cause trouble and have Primus' emotions ultimately influence Grisha's decision. I was also having this be a callback to Primus praying for Kruger's soul in the next life.

And finally this scene:

Eren tried to reach Ymir, to stop her from reaching the glowing tree. He was almost able to touch her, but something stopped Eren dead in his tracks. He tried to move, but he couldn’t. Ymir was almost going to reach the tree, but the man from earlier walked out of the tree. He kneeled down in front of Ymir and wrapped his arms around her, giving her a tight hug. Ymir did not move or struggle from the man, and merely stood in place.

Eren was shocked at the sight, forgetting about his current predicament. He stopped her. The guy stopped her. Who was he? Eren saw the man speaking, but couldn’t understand a word coming from his mouth. He then connected his forehead with Ymir’s in a gesture of comfort. He kissed her on her forehead and wrapped his arms around her once more.

“I found you,” he spoke.

Eren was shocked as he felt the force let him go. Zeke saw what was going on and ran towards the man.

“You can’t do this!” Zeke shouted, “Ymir, I order you!”

Ymir cried out in pain as she clutched her head. The man immediately covered her ears before glaring at Zeke. He raised his hand, and Zeke was forced to stop in his tracks. Eren looked back at the man and froze when he saw his eyes glowing an electric blue.

“Rest, little one,” he told Ymir, “I will be right back.”

He placed Ymir on the sand and laid her down. The man removed his coat and placed it over Ymir like a blanket. She curled into the warmth and fell asleep.

Eren took small steps back as he saw something glowing at the center of the man’s chest. He had blue, glowing veins throughout his arms, and his eyes…weren’t human. They resembled that of a Cybertronian.

“You said you wouldn’t interfere!” Zeke shouted.

“Zeke, shut up!” Eren warned.

“You’re right,” the man began ominously, “But I’ve seen enough to finally step in, Zeke Jaeger.”

Zeke felt himself being lifted high into the air before being slammed into the sand.

“Wait, stop!” Eren pleaded. He yelped when a forced pulled him towards the man. The man grabbed Eren’s shirt and gave an ominous look.

“Eren Jaeger,” the man bellowed, “Son of Grisha and Carla Jaeger, current holder of the Attack Titan, the foolish child who wishes to destroy the world. I’ve seen that look with Megatronus. That looks still lingers within Megatron’s eyes. And now…”

Eren looked down at the hand holding him, seeing blue lightening brim to life around it.

“I see it with you!”the man bellowed in a completely different voice, or voices. It sounded like multiple voices overlapping with one another. It was powerful, and it was haunting, and Eren was scared out of his mind. Eren began to tremble as Zeke forced himself up.

“Who are you?!” Zeke shouted, “Who the hell do you think you are?!”

“I told you, you wouldn’t know who I am,” the man declared.

“Y-you’re…,” Eren began, “You’re the creator of Cybertron, the sworn enemy to Unicron, and the creator of the original Primes. You…are Primus: Optimus’ god.”

Zeke looked at Primus in horror while Primus was surprised.

“Optimus taught you well,” Primus remarked, “But this does not change your current situation.”

Eren began gasping for air as Primus let go of his shirt. He kicked and struggled as an invisible force wrapped around his neck and began choking him.

“I have made my decision: I will kill the both of you, and I will put an end to the titans forever,” Primus declared.

Super rushed. No major impact. This was the first rough draft that I had when writing the ending moment of chapter 90. Primus is still interacting in human form and while I did have Eren be the one to put the pieces together on Optimus' identity, I figured it would be better if he had Primus' name to go off of in order to put those pieces together.

The second revision of the scene is this:

Eren ripped his hands out of his chains, tearing off his thumbs in the process. He ran towards Ymir, hoping to somehow stop her. As he reached out towards Ymir, almost being able to grab her, a blue chain wrapped tightly around his wrist and yanked him to the ground. Eren was in shock, and quickly tried to pull off the chain, but that only made it tighter. Eren cried out in pain, but still tried to reach for Ymir. Eren began choking as a blue chain wrapped around his neck, and pulled him back. Eren still tried to reach out and grab Ymir, but he couldn’t move. He...was going to fail. Zeke was going to win. It was over.

Eren was then shocked as someone stepped out of the glowing tree. It was Primus. He came back. But how? How did he go through the tree? He didn’t understand! What shook him to his core even more was that Ymir stopped in her tracks directly in front of him. She began trembling before she dropped to her knees in submission. Primus didn’t seem to notice that as he glared at Eren with such ferocity. That same gaze was directed at Zeke behind him. His gaze then shifted towards Ymir, and his expression softened. Primus could still see Ymir trembling before an expression of recognition came across his face.

“It...it’s you,” Primus spoke, “Your...the Founder Ymir.”

Primus laughed in disbelief, running a hand through his hair. “Kruger, you were right. She was just a normal girl.”

Primus covered his mouth while tears brimmed around his eyes. He kneeled down and extended his arms towards Ymir and touched her cheeks.

“I have been looking for you for so long,” Primus smiled as he rubbed her cheeks with his thumbs, “You’re beautiful.”

Primus gently placed his forehead against her own in an act of comfort. He gently moved his head from side to side before kissing Ymir on her forehead. He then pulled Ymir into a tight hug and rocked her back and forth. He gently kissed her head before petting her hair.

“After two thousand years, I finally found you,” Primus declared.

Eren could see that Ymir stopped shaking. But she was still frozen. She didn’t know how to react to his act of kindness. She then slowly fell deeper into Primus’ touch. It almost looked like she would hug him back, but-

“Ymir, what are you doing?!” Zeke shouted as he ran towards the two, “I order you! Take the Eldian’s ability to reproduce! Do it now!”

Primus covered Ymir’s ears with one arm before extending his hand towards Zeke. Primus twisted his wrist and a stream of energy flew past Eren, nearly missing his face. It pierced Zeke through his chest, locking the Titan shifter in place. Zeke choked on his spit as Primus�� eyes began to...glow. Eren noticed that same venom in his eyes, but his expression immediately turned soft as he turned his attention back to Ymir.

“You must be very tired, Little One,” Primus began, Eren noting that his voice began to… change? “Rest, and I will return for you.”

Primus laid Ymir down in the sand, making sure to be as gentle as possible. He removed his jacket and placed it over Ymir like a blanket. Primus gave a small reassuring smile to her as he brushed her hair out her eyes. Ymir fell deep into the warmth of jacket and the being’s gentle touch and fell asleep. 

Eren watched Primus close his eyes in confliction before opening them once more. The outline of his iris and pupils were gone, and they shined a bright blue. Primus stood up and extended his fingers before pulling them to himself. Zeke was dragged forward towards him before Primus held out his hand, causing Zeke to stop right next to Eren. Primus grew angry as he took slow, calculated steps to Zeke. Eren grew fearful as blue energy poured out of his chest like air. It flowed around his arms and blue grew throughout his veins. Every step he took left small shockwaves of energy beneath him. Outlines of armor appeared around his arms and legs, and thorns seemed to appear surrounding his shoulders and back in a circle. He was looking less and less human by the second.

“Zeke Jaeger,”  Primus began, multiple voices now overlapping within the being.

Zeke was completely shocked while Eren stared in disbelief. He really did know his name, but refused to say anything until now?

“Son of Grisha Jaeger and Dina Fritz,” Primus continued, “Son to Tom Xaiver. Current holder of the Beast Titan. I once felt pity for you and your situation. You were nothing more than a child who could not fight his heritage, his situation, his creators.”

Primus clenched his fists, causing Zeke to cry out in pain. A small piece of an insect was removed from his chest, floating towards Primus and landing in his open palm.

“But, that feeling of pity is no more.” Primus declared, “You have infringed your own twisted will onto your own people without asking what they want. You force others to do your bidding while ripping away their own humanity. And now, you wish to take away the right to create new life. You are undeserving, and you are a coward who hides behind a noble cause. You do not deserve this power.”

Primus crushed the sphere in his hand, causing Zeke to scream and collapse. The stream between them was cut and faded into dust. Zeke forced himself to sit up, still seeing Ymir laying in the sand. He tried to call out to her, but his voice...was mute. He couldn’t speak, no matter how hard he tried. No matter what, he couldn’t address Ymir.

Zeke turned and looked up to Primus in pure fear. “What did you do to me?”

“You may still have the powers of the Beast Titan, but you no longer have any connection to your royal blood,” Primus declared, “You will never speak to the child ever again.”

Eren grew stiff, staring at Primus with terror as the beings walked over to him and looked him dead in the eyes while he was in his chains.

“Eren Jaeger: son of Grisha Jaeger and Carla Jaeger,” Primus began, “Inheritor of the Attack Titan and the Founding Titan. I am a being that is responsible for creating life, unlike my brother, Unicron. I hold compassion for every being regardless if they are my own creation or not, and I would only raise my blade to those who would threaten that life. I would never take the life of those of the weak or the innocent.”

Primus bent down and stared at Eren with verocious hatred. “However, you are an exception.”

Eren screamed as Primus caused the chains to burn his wrist and neck. Primus flicked his hand and another chain wrapped around Eren’s other wrist. All three chains pulled Eren back and left his chest wide open. Eren tried to focus as Primus raised his hand. The energy surrounding it grew brighter and brighter as he plunged it towards Eren’s chest. Zeke quickly jumped and grabbed Primus’s arm, stopping him mere inches from his chest. Primus turned his gaze to Zeke, and he nearly wanted to drop right there.

“Zeke Jaeger, your punishment was light,” Primus told him, now a woman’s voice coming out of him, “I would suggest that you refrain from this conflict before I take the amount of lives you took into consideration for your punishment.”

“Y-you can’t,” Zeke pleaded, terrified out of his mind, “I need Eren. I have to save Eldia-,”

“By initiating the plan to prevent Eldia from creating new life,” Primus cut off, a deep male voice emanating from him, “Who gave you the right to make that choice for your people?”

Eren was both terrified and confused out of his mind. Where did all this power come from? Why was he using it now? Wait!...he said his brother was…Unicron? The god of destruction from Optimus’ world? Why the hell would Primus call him...brother?

Eren felt his stomach drop and an abyss of despair came into his mind. This...couldn’t be real. This wasn’t real. This wasn’t real! He was going to die! All this time, they were with a higher being! They were with a god!

“Who…?” Zeke let go of Primus and stumbled back into the sand, “Who the hell are you?”

Zeke desperately crawled backward. “I’m of royal blood, but not once have you heeded my orders. You...just came out of the Paths, and...you took my power? Who are you?! How do you know me?! How do you know my story?!”

“Even if I told you,” Primus began, the multiple voices overlapping once more, “You wouldn’t know. It wouldn’t make much of a difference.”

“Y-you…,” Eren choked on his spit as he struggled to breathe, “You said that...Unicron was your brother. That name…Optimus s-aid is the god of chaos and destruction. His blood is currently in Megatron right now-!”

Eren bent over and choked on his spit. He took deep breaths before looking up at Primus. “So the only one who would be able to counteract destruction would be a god of creation.”

“God?” Zeke stared up at Primus in horror.

“You...created Cybertron. You...are Unicron’s sworn enemy. You...created the Primes, including Optimus. You...are Primus: the god of creation, and the god of Cybertron.”

Zeke’s whole body was shaking as he stared at Primus. That had to be wrong. Those titans can’t have gods, could they? And if so, what was one doing here? This had to be a joke; Eren had to be toying with him. He-

“Optimus taught you well,” Primus spoke, “I should have expected that from his own student.”

Zeke shook his head in disbelief. Oh no! All this time, all the times this man was playing coy with them, pretending to be weak and defenseless! He was lying?! He was a god this whole time?!

“Y-you can’t be a god-,” Zeke stuttered, truly scared, “You’re just-...what?”

“One tends to be more honest when they don’t recognize a god in the room,” Primus declared, “But what’s done is done. Now, I will take the Little One with me. I will kill you, Eren Jaeger, and I will end the power of the Titans forever.”

There's more weight, more force, Primus is showing off his power instead of still being in human form. However, with Eren, instead of Primus having controlled anger with Eren, I wanted him to feel rage and fury for Eren. That got me reworking a few other things, like making Primus lack knowledge about the AOT world and about Optimus actually being on that world until Eren blabs about it in a rage.

There were a few other scenes that got reworked, but not too much in order to make a significant difference to put here, like Eren and Primus' conversation atop of Grisha's house, which was initially atop of the wall before Primus revealed his name. Zeke actually getting physical with Primus after the deity says Grisha is a good man. The festival scene and Grisha and Carla's conversation didn't have a previous rough draft, but it was something that I have thought about.

Anyway, that's all I have. Enjoy! I'll talk about chapter 91 alternate scenes another day!

[malbecmusings]

Even before al the bodies have been recovered, the blame game is in full swing over Perini Navi's 55m Bayesian that went down in a storm off Porticello, Sicily. I read this morning the chief of the group that owns Perini Navi came out swinging, putting the blame squarely on the crew.

There's a good technical analysis from designer Chris Feers below the cut.

TL;Don't want to read: Monohulls of all stripes are designed to survive a knockdown; Perini's engineering is some of he best in the world. Bayesian had a retractable keel which could shorten her 32' draft to 12'. With the keel extended, meaning she had full use her counterweight, she would have been able to right herself in a full knockdown. Even if her mast were below the waterline, even if she lost her mast, maybe more so if she lost her mast, assuming she was watertight, her design would allow her to self recover. With the keel retracted tho, her righting moment would be dramatically less. If she wasn't watertight, a knockdown would be unrecoverable and she would, as she did, quickly end up on the bottom of the ocean.

I have so many questions. We won't know the full story for a bit but seven people losing their lives should have been an avoidable outcome.

This is a one in a million tragedy but we should examine the facts and learn from them. Bayesian boasts the second highest mast in the world at 75 metres on a length of 56m. She has a lifting keel to enable her to get into shallow areas. Fully down it gives a draft of 9.83m and raised a draft of 4m. A sailing yacht has a keel to counter the heeling moment generated by the power of her sail plan. I’m sorry to say that size matters to a superyacht owner and naval architects are seduced into providing solutions. As yacht size increases the resistance of the hull reduces in proportion, so less sail area is required to adequately power longer yachts. But these floating fashion items are driven by appearance and bragging rights - and you lose prestige if someone has a bigger mast than you. Always the status pecking order questions are – how big – how fast – what cost – and is it black? If you designed Bayesian with a reasonable sail area and a ‘normal’ mast she would not look impressiive – which is what superyachts have to be.

The stability of a yacht has to be sufficient to counter the power of the rig but, as mast heights increase, the keels can often become so deep that the places of interest are restricted hence the lifting keel solution. Stability comes from two factors – the hull form and the ballast keel which acts like a pendulum. As the yacht heels the volume of the immersed hull section produce a buoyancy force which resists heeling. Initially the keel gives little force but as the angle of heel increases ‘physics’ makes the keel contribution significant (leverage). The greater the keel length, the greater the effect. The combination of the hull buoyancy on the heeled side and the keel on the ‘windward’ side produces the force necessary to keep the yacht from capsize. If the keel of Bayesian was retracted it would lose a significant six meters of moment arm or leverage from its probable 200 tons of keel bulb. When we design yachts we calculate the stability, or righting lever, as a function of heeled ‘bouyancy’ force and the ballast moment arm combined. (the GZ) This can be plotted on a graph to show the stability at any heel angle and identifies the angle at which stability becomes negative causing the yacht to capsize.

Normally an ocean yacht will experience a negative point at about 120 degrees of heel. With a lifting keel this point is greatly reduced maybe to less than 90 degrees. If Bayesian was at anchor with the keel raised and no sail up the crew would have every confidence that she could remain safe in most normal wind conditions. Every captain at this level has passed an exam on stability and would be aware of his vessels stability graph.

Many years ago I sat at Cremorne and watched a spiralling williwaw race across Sydney harbour and pass through Mosman. This twister was only about 30 metres wide but it destroyed houses and overturned cars in its path. A few feet away nothing was harmed.

The power of a twister is intense and powerful with the wind is coming from every direction. This was what hit Bayesian. The problem of large rigs is windage, even with no sails. But this yacht had three furling sails forward and a big boom with the weight of a furled mainsail inside all above the centre of gravity. Also there were a few communication domes on the spreaders.

We use a wind pressure coefficient to measure the force of the wind on the rig and sails. Even without sails the WPC for Bayesian must have been pretty large when hit by a wind force of varying direction with a local velocity way above the norm. Once she was knocked down beyond her stability limit with the keel up she stood no chance and, laying flat to the water, her deck openings would have allowed a flood of water aboard and she would founder. This would happen in a couple of minutes.

The observation of a lightning strike can be discounted because these vessels are grounded and any damage from a strike would have caused a slow sinking at worst – not a capsize and founder.

The individuals within a professional crew with sailing experience may have sensed the wind and motion of the vessel and quickly reacted to instinctively save themselves in the seconds they had. My guess is that some were already on deck alarmed by the general conditions.The guests would have found themselves totally disoriented in flooding cabins, in darkness with the walls, doors and passageways at ninety degrees to the norm. They had practically no chance because it would be completely beyond their experience. The crew would have been unable to be of any help due to the speed of the unexpected event.

I have been a professional yacht designer and builder for fifty years specialising in lifting keel yachts. My son, a professional navigator, was Third Officer on a ketch superyacht with masts 100m tall; a yacht so big, at 88metres, that it was almost beyond human handling even with the machinery on board. But of course it is the biggest and most expensive’ etc etc. What we have here is a one off accident which is a wake up call to an industry where common sense has departed as yachts get more silly in size and design.

In summary Bayesian was caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. A freak accident which the designers and crew would have little chance to predict.

If the keel had been down she would have probably survived the knock down. But without sails up the crew would have experience of her basic stability for normal conditions which would have felt adequate. Any enquiry must examine the design factors such as the stability vanishing point in the condition she was at the time of the accident; keel up, tank loadings and rig factors for windage (WPC) and centre of gravity etc. And a calculation of the wind force required to heel the boat to 90 degrees in the condition at the time of the accident.

All forms of transport have had these unpredictable one off events leading to changes of regulations and professional practice. Titanic, Boeing, 1955 Le Mans, the 1952 Farnborough crash, the 1979 Fastnet – all have made a difference and these events all came unpredicted and out of the blue often at a time of complacency.

Chris Freer – yacht designer – August 2024

[spade-riddles]

champagneproblesm asked:

Kinda tells a story when you pick the outro or last verse from each song backwards :

The only thing that's left is the manuscript. One last souvenir from my trip to your shores. Now and then i re read the manuscript. But the story isn't mine anymore

But now we'll curtail your curiosity in sweetness

She's been many places with men of many faces. First, they're off to the races. She's laughing drawin' aces. But, none of it is changin'. That the chariot is waitin'. Hearts are hers for the breakin. There's an escape in escaping OR she fell through the Ice then came black Alive.

But the woman who sits by the window has turned out the light

When the truth Comes out it's quiet. It's so quiet .

(I'm so afraid I sealed my fate no sign of soulmates. I'm just a paperweight in shades of greige) Spending my last coin so someone will tell it'll be ok

What if your eyes looked up and met mine one more time.

I pushed each boulder up that hill.

This place made me feel worthless

Your words were just still ringing in my head.

I'm hearing voices like a mad man

Leaving me bereft and reeling, my beloved ghost and me sitting in a tree D-Y-I-N-G

Can we watch our phantoms like watching wild horses, cooler in theory but not if you force it to be, it just didn't happen.

The devil that you know looks now more like an angel. I'm the life you chose and all this terrible danger OR she IS here to destroy you

Pick your poison, babe I'm poison either way

Now I want to sell my house and set fire to all my clothes and hire a priest to come and exorcise my demons. Even if I die screaming and I hope you hear it.

Only when your girlish glow flickers just so do they let you know i's hell on earth to be heavenly. Them's the breaksThey don't come gently

They said there was no chance, trying to be the greatest in the league.

You hung me on your wall, stabbed me with your push pins. In public, showed me off then sank in stoned oblivion cause once your queen had come you treat her like an also-ran. You didn't measure up in any measure of a man

Cause i'm miserable. And no one even knows. Try and Come for my job

Your arsons match your somber eyes. And i'll still see it till the day i die. (You're the loss of my life.)

Your good lord didn't need to lift a finger.

I am what i am cause you trained me. So who's afraid of little old me?

Am i allowed to cry ?

Go on fuck me up

I did my Time.

All the wine moms are still holding out but it's over.

You'll find someone.

Waving at the ship, fuck it if i can't have him

Left all these broken parts, told me i'm better of but i'm not

Who else decodes you ? or / i chose this cyclone with you

it won't start up 'til I touch, touch, touch you

it won't start up 'til I touch, touch, touch you (fortnight)

Then midnights

I can't find a pulse my Heart won't start anymore

have they come to take me away?

You should find another guiding light

Give me back my girlhood, it was mine first

It's been two thousand one hundred and 90 days of our love blackout. The system's breaking down.

I'd pay if you'd just know me. Seemed like the right thing at the time.

Levitate above all the messes made sit quiet by my side in the shade. And not the kind that's thrown, I mean The kind under where a tree has grown

it's all over, it's not meant to be. So I'll say words I don't believe

There's no morning glory, it was war, it wasn't fair. And we will never go back.

Had to do it this way 'Cause we were born to be the pawn In every lover's game

You say "what a mind" this happens all the Time

It's coming back around.

Break up, break free, break through, break down. You would break your back to make me break a smile

I think it's time to teach some lessons i made you my world. have you heard? I can reclaim the land.

I'm on my vigilante shit again.

But you were on somethin', It was one drink after another, Fuckin' politics and gender roles, And you're not sure and I don't know. Got swept away in the gray. I just may like to have a conversation

So I peered through a window, A deep portal, time travel, All the love we unravel. And the life I gave away

I'll run away

to hide that would be so dishonest. And it's fine to fake it 'til you make it. 'Til you do, 'til it's true

Pierced through the Heart but Never killed.

I feel you no matter what. The rubies that i gave up.

I find it dizzing they're bringing m'y History. But you weren't Even listening.

[undeadorion]

Fall to be Free

Chapter 1 — The Door

Fandoms: Ghost (the band), original characters

Word count: 5,010

Warnings: cults, satanism, brief descriptions of abuse

So I wrote the most self indulgent thing. I AU’ed Ghost into my own world with my OCs. Because I had to.

The world is the setting of a comic I’ve been working on (I’ve had the characters for like 20 years). The basic concept is that it’s the late 90s in a slightly sci-fi-ish version of our world. And people with special abilities are common place. So the Papas (who are each their own person, not played by Tobias in this world but still a band) have some very special powers.

Dane drags Crawford to a small Ghost show at a record shop, and Crawford gets the Cirice treatment. Totally on accident and by chance.

Crawford followed Dane towards whatever the other had in mind. Dane hadn’t exactly explained what they were doing. A lot of rambling, a mention of making a “few stops” before hitting their usual bar. The fact that they were out at 3 in the afternoon left Crawford suspicious that these few stops would not be quick. He was more irritated that Dane thought he had to be sly to get Crawford to go anywhere with him than being simply outright. “Hey, let’s hit the record store for a while” is so much easier to say than the ten minute lead up he got instead. 

Because the record store was exactly where Dane led him. Crawford didn’t even realize that’s where they were until Dane was opening the door. He should have recognized it, he was here nearly every week, but the street was usually rather quiet. It was a hole-in-the wall sort of place, the door tucked away in an alcove so shadowed it looked like the service entrance for the restaurant around the corner on the more main road. Except today the street was teaming with people. A large bus dominated the parking spaces across the street, the sort of private affair with fancy cloth seats. Every other parking spot was filled as well, with people hangout out between and around the cars, on the sidewalks, even in the street. 

There were quite a few among the loiterers in black and white face paint. Metal heads, he thought, just as the pounding bass from inside the store hit his ears. The dread hit him that Dane was trying to drag him into some sort of concert. But Dane wasn’t into metal of any kind, not even in the slightest. Was the show just a coincidence?

“You can wait out here if you want,” Dane was saying, the door only open a crack. “There’s a shit ton of people in there, and I know how you feel about that sort of thing.” As he spoke, he pulled the door open a bit more. 

Crawford cocked his head to the side as he could hear the music better. It had a clarity he wasn’t expecting. The singer was neither screaming nor growling, and their voice easily lifted above the instruments. He couldn’t pick out the actual lyrics with all the noise on the street, but he could hear enough that it made him curious why this music had attracted the crowd gathered outside. 

Inside wasn’t any better. People crushed in shoulder to shoulder, making the already poorly ventilated store hot and damp. There was just enough space at the back to squeeze between the writhing crowd and the rack of CDs and records. People trod on his boots and knocked into him, but he just shoved them back into the crowd and they didn’t seem to notice. 

When Dane finally stopped at section of cassettes (it’s all his car could play), Crawford was able to catch his breath. It was an awkward corner where people hadn’t quite squeezed into. At the other side of the store, he could see the band that was the cause for such chaos. It couldn’t even really be called a band, really. It was just three people. The singer flanked by two men in masks, one with a guitar and the other a bass. The singer was almost entirely monochromatic in stark blacks and whites, except for the small portions of visible skin. Black hair, black jacket, white shirt, and his face painted vaguely to resemble a skull with bold geometric shapes. He spoke to the audience with a thick accent, something about it being his first time, only to clarify he meant in this city. This transitioned into the next song somehow, a very different style than the last. He was still wrapping his head around the tonal shift, when the singer pulled out something from his pocket, the yellow object standing out starkly against his white gloved hand. 

The sound of a kazoo floated out over the music, leaving Crawford completely and utterly baffled. Even more confusing was the reaction of the crowd. They screamed and howled as if it was the best thing they’d ever seen. Even though Crawford could only see them from behind, there were marks of it being a more hardcore crowd. A lot of black clothes and metal spikes, and patches as crudely sewn as his own. One guy bellowed “HAIL SATAN!” from somewhere in the crowd. All in response to a man playing a kazoo in the middle of a song that used the word “zombie” a lot. 

He turned to Dane to ask how much longer he would be, only to find the other not even looking at the tapes. Sure, he hand his hands on them, but he was half turned so he could look over his shoulder at the man on stage. Whatever harsh words were on Crawford’s tongue died immediately. He’d never seen his friend make such an expression. It almost like Dane were in pain, a deep and unspeakable pain, but softer. Even in the poor lighting of the alcove, his eyes glistened as if threatening to shed tears. With a heavy sigh, he rolled his eyes. 

Dane wasn’t exactly a brave person. He often needed a chaperone to do anything even remotely social. The idea of squeezing into a small record shop full of devil worshiping metal fans wasn’t something he could do alone. And Dane knew Crawford wouldn’t willingly walk into such a situation either. But it was obvious this was some band that Dane liked enough to even take a risk on it. 

“You’re a fucking asshole, you know that?” Crawford growled, before grabbing Dane by the shoulder and shoving him toward the crowd. He let out a yelp of protest before he disappeared into the crush of bodies. He’d be fine. Probably.

But before Crawford could step back to the safety of the alcove, someone bumped into him from behind. Half a step forward was all it took before he was also absorbed into the crowd. The zombie kazoo song had ended and everyone was jostling for the singers attention, shouting responses to questions Crawford couldn’t hear. It seemed that his every attempt to push back toward safety cause the crowd to surge and push him deeper. In desperation, his fingers clawed toward painted faces and studded leather. But no one seemed aware of him, enraptured in whatever was being said. 

No, the music had started up again. Softly at first. A few bass notes dropped and a stillness rippled through the crowd. Just for a moment, everyone hushed in anticipation. As the instruments started in earnest, the stillness broke and everyone crushed even closer. 

Suddenly, open space. 

Crawford froze, hands gripping some sort of rail. He was at an edge of the crowd. But he was still trapped. Before he could even begin to think of which way was out, he realized it wasn’t just any rail. All he registered in the song was the word “rumble” before his eyes focused on the shiny black shoes mere inches from his hands. Black shoes, white spats, black pants. Slowly, he lifted his gaze from the shoes, expecting to see the singer looking out over the whole crowd. But instead, he found himself staring directly into that painted face. No, not just his face. He wasn’t addressing the front row. He was staring directly into the man’s mis-matched eyes. 

“I can see the scars inside you.”

It was just a line from the song, but somehow it felt as if the man were speaking to him and only him. His gaze unwavering. A gloved hand gesturing as if to say “this is about you, only you. No one else.”

Crawford felt something in his chest. His heart pounding like a caged bird desperate to escape. No longer aware of the sweaty bodies crushing against him. Barely aware of the music. It was just him and the man who was so recently wielding a kazoo. 

Even as he saw nothing but that starkly painted face, he had the oddest sensation he was standing in a hallway. A hallway lined with doors of different styles. Some had windows, some even stood open. He had the sense they could all be opened with just a touch. Except one. The one directly in front of him. He knew, the way one knows things in dreams, that it had always just been an empty wall. That this wasn’t a place where a door was, despite being the only stretch of blank wall in the entire corridor. But now…now there were cracks in the paint. He reached out a hand, his fingers brushing the cracked and peeling paint. Pieces fell away, larger than such a gentle touch should have caused. They cracks grew, spreading the cascade of old, dry paint and rust. There stood a door. A massive, metal door held shut with a rusted iron lock. Scratched into the metal was a large symbol, off center and crooked. Newer than the door itself, but the lines still starting to rust. Two intersecting lines, with an incomplete circle around the point where they crossed. Above it, something else was scratched into the metal. Words of some sort? He ran his fingers over them, but before he could begin to make them out an elbow jabbed him in the ribs.

The dream? Illusion? Hallucination? burst like a bubble. In that split second of awareness, he could have sworn there was a blue glow in the man’s white eye. Maybe it was just the lights glinting. He was also aware that he hadn’t just reached out in the dream. The singer had dropped to one knee and was gripping Crawford’s hand firmly. But that vanished as quickly as the strange dream, as a young woman had been the one to bruise his ribs in an attempt to offer her own hand to the singer. 

As Crawford stumbled back, dazed, he swore he saw fury in the man’s face, his dark upper lip curling into a snarl as the young woman waggled her long painted nails at him, begging for him to hold her hand, too. It was a fleeting moment as she was quickly ignored, the singer smoothly moving back to his feet to continue the song as if nothing had happened. It was the same song, still. Surely he had stared at that illusory door for longer than it would take to finish  a song, but he had the sense it hadn’t even been the length of an entire verse.

He could feel the memory of the door fading, like trying to hold water in his hands, the way dreams fade so very fast. No, this was different. Usually he could hold on to a piece or two, but it was as if the memory were being sucked away down a drain as he desperately tried to hold on to some piece of it. He let the crowd push and pull him, drifting like a rudderless boat on the water, as he tried to remember what he’d seen. A door where there wasn’t a door? That didn’t make sense. A message? Scratches? A symbol of some sort? He felt as if it were staring him in the face but he couldn’t place it. Like a shape taunting him from the corner of his vision that wasn’t there when he turned. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Dane’s voice cut through the noise as his fingers dug into Crawford’s arm. 

“What?” was all Crawford could manage. 

Dane managed to pull them both the rest of the way through the crowd and into the safety of the alcove once more. 

“How the hell did you get all the way up there?!” Dane managed to sound giddy and devastated at the same time. “And to be chosen like that…” He let out a whimpering sigh that was probably meant to be exaggerated or sarcastic, but even Crawford could see the envy in it. 

“What’s the big deal? I tripped. He probably thought I was reaching for him or something.”

“No!” Dane scolded. “It’s a whole thing. He only does it to one person per show! Not only cause what the song is about but it’s what happened in the music video. Papa picks one person to sing to like they’ve been chosen as someone special. Half the people in that crowd would trade vital organs to have been in your place.”

“So it’s just an act? It’s not like some mind control shit?” He still couldn’t shake that vague memory of doors. 

“It’s ALL an act,” Dane said with a scoff, as if it should be obvious. “Papa Emeritus III, the anti-pope of a satanic cult using music to overthrow governments and take over the world.” He let out a chuckle as if it were ridiculous to even consider something like that were real. “It’s all a schtick, but it’s pretty fucking hot.”

“If you’re into that sort of thing.” He glanced back to the stage and could have sworn the singer was watching him over the heads of everyone else. No, it couldn’t be.

“Hell yeah,” Dane said, wistfully as he watched the singer. “I’d let that man break me in half and I’d thank him for it.” He started detailing things he’d do for the singer, with increasing lewdness. But Crawford barely heard a word of it. He had the unsettling sense that every time the singer cast his gaze across the crowd, it lingered on himself. And not just for a brief moment. For entire lines of a song, it felt. That was impossible. He was a nobody and he didn’t even care about this band, so why would he even suspect a thing like that?

“What’s that symbol?” He asked, so suddenly he wasn’t entirely sure for a moment where the curiosity came from.

“What symbol?” Dane said, shaken out of his perverse musings.

“This!” Crawford grabbed the sleeve of a man’s jacket. On his shoulder was a sort of upside down cross symbol that struck Crawford like a punch to the gut. 

“Fuck off!” The man to whom the jacket belonged, jerked his arm away from Crawford.

“That’s just one of the band’s logos,” Dane said with a shrug, obviously not seeing anything deeper in it. 

Was that why it was familiar? Because now Crawford could see it was everywhere in the shop. On patches and necklaces and mingled into the promotional artwork hung on the walls. He shook his head as if he could shake off the weird feeling that it was important somehow. 

———

The rest of the show was only a few more songs. Needing time to think, Crawford convinced Dane he’d be fine and to actually go enjoy himself. What he really wanted to do was slip outside for a smoke. But something told him to stay there. That he was missing something. He wasn’t the sort to give a shit about celebrities, and this guy wasn’t even proper famous. Half a step above a basement show where no one cared about who the band was as long as they played something decent. So why the hell did he feel like the singer was actively watching him? It wasn’t necessarily a feeling of paranoia, but something twisted in his gut. Why couldn’t Jackie be here? She’d knock some sense into him and call him a paranoid idiot for it.

Finally, the singer went into some ramble about orgasms as a lead up to a song about a clock. At least that’s as far as Crawford could tell. He wasn’t paying very close attention, trying to shake off the feeling he was being watched and the relief that he could leave this surreal experience behind him. 

As the singer said his goodbyes, bowing and blowing kisses to the crowd, Dane staggered out of the loosening crowd. He was a sweaty mess, shaking slightly from exertion, but looking like he was having the time of his life. “Thanks, man,” Dane said with such genuine gratitude it seemed like he might cry. “I mean it, I really, really mean it.” He leaned on Crawford in a sort of half hug. Crawford suspected it was mostly to keep from falling over. 

“C’mon, let’s get out of here,” he said, an arm across Dane’s back to guide him towards the door. But he didn’t get two steps before bumping into a wall of black. A wall of black topped in silver. 

Two figures dressed like the musicians who had been on stage stood before them, stock still and facing them. These two definitely hadn’t been the ones on stage, both considerably wider in a way that suggested pure muscle. 

“You mind making room, assholes?” Crawford growled. He tried to step to the side, only to be met with another masked man. Both he and Dane staggered, stepping back to find another way only to discover another three behind three behind them. Six in total, boxing them in. All six facing them, and letting everyone else flow around them.

Rough, strong hands grabbed them from all sides, half dragging them through the dispersing crowd. No one seemed to take notice of this, chatting and celebrating amongst themselves. Ignoring Crawford and Dane’s shouts of protest as the masked goons forced them toward the back of the record shop. 

The fresh air should have been a welcome relief as they passed into the narrow alley out back, but all Crawford felt was a rising terror. Especially as he saw where they were headed. The singer stood there, talking with the two masked men from the stage as they packed up their instruments. He held a cigarette in his gloved fingers, looking as casual as if they were all just friends and there weren’t six men dragging people out to be presented to him.

“Oh, there you are,” the man with the painted face said, his voice just as accented as it had been on stage. Maybe that part wasn’t an act. 

“What’s the meaning of this!?” Crawford demanded, trying to pull free of the men who held him, but their grip didn’t budge. 

“Papa…” Dane breathed out. “It’s an honor…”

“You, my friend,” the singer said, pointing with his cigarette toward Crawford, “Have quite the gift. And you can’t even see it.”

“What the fuck’re you talking about?” Crawford growled. If the man behind him weren’t so tall, he could have nailed him in the balls with the heel of his boot to make him let go. He doubted a blow to the shins or knees would even be felt.

“That little song of mine, it’s…well, it’s mostly metaphor. A bit of exaggeration. But like with all forms of art, some parts of it are completely true.” A faint smile played over his lips as he regarded the two held captive before him. “The part that’s true is I can see into people’s hearts. Truly.”

“Fuckin’ exo…” Crawford didn’t care that people had abilities that he’d never have access to, but he hated when they acted like they were somehow special. Exos, phenoms, moxies, specials, metahumans, whatever term was used, it didn’t mean they were extra ordinary. Some people could do advanced calculus in their heads, some people could paint, some people can create fire with their bare hands. It didn’t make them special. 

“Do you often speak of yourself with such derision?” 

“I’m not a fuckin’ exo,” Crawford snapped. “He is,” he nodded to Dane. His friend who could change shape at all, but usually just turned into some sort of dog.

Dane was about to say something, but the singer placed a single gloved finger on Dane’s lips and he fell utterly silent. “Oh yes, I am aware of this,” he said, leaning closer to Dane’s face. “And so very eager.” His voice dropped to just above a whisper, “If you’re a good boy, you might have a chance to show your appreciation for your Papa…” he leaned closer still, his painted lips brushing Dane’s ear as he whispered something Crawford couldn’t hear.

Swallowing hard, Dane nodded, his face completely flushed. “Y-yes, Papa…” his voice trembled as he spoke. 

“But you,” he turned back to Crawford. “I can tell simple devotion is not in your…” he gestured vaguely with the cigarette. “…nature, as it were.”

“Get to the point, old man.” The more he spoke, and at this distance in the natural light, Crawford could more clearly tell the age beneath the makeup. The stark black and white did a lot of work to mask it, but there were deep lines in his face, especially around his eyes. From the back of the record shop, Crawford would have placed the man closer to his own age of 26. But at this distance it was obvious he was more than double that age. 

The man gave a slight nod as if it were a statement of fact and not an insult. He took a slow drag off his cigarette before continuing. “You remember the door, do you not?”

Crawford was barely aware of Dane asking “what door?” as he felt the floor drop out from under his feet. The memory had almost completely faded, and now rushed back with shocking clarity. 

“Ah, now you do remember. These doors you see, they’re all those things that make you, well, you.” As the man spoke, Crawford had the sense of walking side by side with him along that corridor of doors. “You have a lot of anger in here, do you not? But it is not without reason. Oh…” As if the man were peeking into a room that Crawford could not see into. “You are quite the talented musician yourself, Crawford Stone.” Hearing the man speak his name without even a vague introduction made it fell all too real, like the wind had been knocked out of his lungs. “Let us hope you do not take my job, huh?” 

A sound emanated from the masked men at the joke. A sarcastic sort of laughter. It was the first sound any of the had made and it lasted only a moment. 

“But that is not what we are here for, no.” He stepped closer, his back rigid and yet only coming up to about Crawford’s chin. Fingers grazed that chin, such a gentle touch yet forcing Crawford to look down into the man’s eyes. There were no stage lights here, yet there was that strange blue glint in the white eye. “No, we are here for a very special door.” 

In a sudden breathless flash the scene was as real as the alley. He and the man stood before the metal door marked inexplicably with a crude version of the band’s inverted cross logo. “This door!” the man exclaimed, gesturing to it with both hands. “Well, the door is not special. It is the thing behind this ugly thing that is special.”

“Why is it here?” Crawford’s head swam with questions. In a way he understood what he was seeing. There weren’t really any doors. It was just a way to see what was inside his head. But why would one of them be so hidden and locked? Why would he forget it so easily when he knew the things in the other rooms so well. 

“Someone put it here, of course.” The man ran his fingers over the carved symbol. His gloves were no longer, but skin tight black leather with gold claw-like nails attached. “By someone not exactly in our church, but affiliated perhaps. Someone who knew we would be the ones who might save you, my friend.” 

As the man pressed his whole had to the door, Crawford felt a stabbing pain in his head. He dropped to his knees and the whole corridor shook. The man jerked his hand back, eyes sweeping the space. “So that is why…” His fingers tapped his chin as he surveyed the door. “This will be no easy task to undo.”

“I don’t think you should be touching it,” Crawford growled, his head still throbbing.”

The man shook his head, clicking his tongue. “Sometimes, if a man is shot in the head or in the chest, he can live with that bullet inside of him. The body covers it. Encapsulates it. That is what you have done.”

“I didn’t do this. You did.”

“The door you did not do, nor the lock. But hiding it, resisting it, that is you. Well, mostly you. The door, it whispers ‘forget about me, don’t look at me’ and you were very good at doing that. So good you will slowly forget if you are not looking directly at it.” 

Crawford started to protest, but the man interrupted him. “Stop talking and listen. I showed you this door, and what is written upon it. Within the hour, you forgot even the symbol carved into it. Even now you fight to get away, to not even speak of it. But it is not fear that keeps you away, it is something else. It is…a twisted obedience. But not to me or mine…” He was watching Crawford’s face with those mismatched eyes, studying him intently. “To he who hurt you so deeply. He who gave you so many scars…” His fingers brushed first the scar under his right eye. A gift from his step father, landing a back-handed slap across his face so hard it knocked him flat on his back. The gems of his ring gouging a chunk of flesh from under his eye. He’d only been sixteen. 

The man’s finger trailed down to his lower lip next. Another scar from the same source. He’d come home one afternoon with his lip pierced, in a fit of rebellion against his step father. The man had used a knife to forcibly remove it, instead of just removing it properly. Anyone so much as asking about those scars would have had Crawford biting their heads off. But as the man’s gloved fingers caressed the scars, it was like something inside him broke. There was a tenderness in that touch that he hadn’t felt in so long. 

Slowly he dropped to his knees, everything in him feeling so very heavy. As he looked up to the man before him, blurry through tears he refused to let fall, he felt no judgement for this. “He did this?” he asked, his voice softer than he expected. 

“It would seem he had it done,” the man said, stepping back and turning his attention back to the door. “I thought my own father a real motherfucker sometimes. But this…this is a cruelness only a righteous man can dream up.” 

“Why…” was all Crawford could manage before his voice gave out.

“Greed. Hubris. Pride, perhaps. I’ve not had the…pleasure,” the word dripping with sarcasm, “of seeing much of this father of yours was like, just the rage you feel for him.”

Crawford shook his head, trying to get his thoughts straight. “No, why…why do you care?” He had never asked the question so earnestly. This man was the frontman of a moderately popular band. Crawford wasn’t even a fan, but he’d still been singled out. 

“Because of this.” He ran a clawed fingertip along the barely legible words that accompanied the cross symbol.

“I can’t read it,” Crawford admitted.

The man looked at him, seemingly with concern, before his shoulders relaxed. “Ah…” as if he understood. He read over the words again, then nodded. “Well, essentially, it’s a sort of ‘If found, return to the Ministry’ message.” He thought for a moment, the turned away from the door. “It is much too complicated to fix here.”

Crawford became aware of the alley around him once again. It was like the lights coming on after a movie. Like the physical setting had stopped being important but still there while wrapped up in the big glowing screen. He was no longer being held by the large masked man, instead on his knees, slumped against the singer’s shoulder as if he’d fallen asleep. 

Straightening up, dazed, he looked around for his companion. Why hadn’t he said anything. The deep strumming of an instrument caught his attention. Dane was standing around with a few of the masked men, with one of their instruments in hand. He was showing off what his long, slender fingers could achieve on the bass, working through some surprisingly complex riffs. Crawford hadn’t heard Dane play since they’d been in high school, foolishly planning to start a band of their own. Apparently he’d still been practicing. 

“We have a small church here in the city,” the singer held up a business card before tucking it in the pocket of Crawford’s jeans. His arm was still under Crawford’s arm and across his back. “I want you to visit them. They will be expecting you.”

“What—“

“I will be paying your city one more visit, in a few weeks, before I return to my home. You will be going with me, then we can fix what is inside that head of yours.”

“What—“

“Have your things packed when I return.”

“I can’t leave the city!” he protested, finally.

“Oh, we won’t be leaving the city, we’ll be leaving the country.”

Crawford was left scrambling to his feet, trying to protest, but the man walked away to gather his minions. 

“Be good, my little pet,” he said to Dane, caressing his cheek. “And you might get to come with.” One of the masked men caught the bass as it slipped from Dane’s hands. Before either of them could utter a word, the man and his followers slipped back into the record store’s back door, taking their instruments and other equipment with them. 

“I don’t think that cult thing is an act…” was all Crawford managed to say, as Dane just stared at the closed door as if he wanted to chase after them.

[seokiloquy]

Wine and Movie Pt 2 - Ushijima Wakatoshi

Au: Regular (timeskip)

Tags/Warnings: GN! Reader, uhhhh

Word Count: 1.6k

Pt 1 | Pt 2 | Pt 3

Suzaku glared at the pitch as the boys ran after the flying ball. His fingers fiddling anxiously with each individual hair, to the point of plucking them out, has you staring at him with more concern pulling your features than necessary. He huffed to himself and you finally caved.

“Uh, coach? Are you okay?”

His eyes flicked to your first, followed by his head. “Can’t you see the problem?”

“I’ve been more cornered that you’re gonna give your chin a bald patch, so no.”

“Look.” He jutted his chin out. “Toshi’s unbalanced.”

You took a minute, watching Ushijima run up to the net and plant his feet before lifting himself into the air and swinging down with his left arm. His weight was pushed forward, making him float towards the net much more than normal.

“He’s favouring his right,” you hummed.

“Ya, but why?”

“Likely just pulled a muscle last game. He was playing full-out non-stop.”

“As he should have.”

“Humans aren’t machines, and even machines are prone to breaking. He just needs a good stretch and some heat. I’ll take him out after this round.”

“Oh, he’s going to love that,” Suzaku’s voice droned sarcastically.

“If he wants to keep playing, he’s gonna have to.”

After an additional fifteen minutes, the team was finally let go for a water break. Hoshiumi ran in front of the rest to get his bottle, on the other hand, Ushijima was staring down at each step he took, a pinch growing between his brows.

“Yah, Wakatoshi!” his head shot up at your voice. You nodded your head to the gym exit. “You’re with me.” Behind you, Hoshiumi gossiped, eager to see the taller man’s reaction to being taken out of play. You huffed. “It's just practice, you seagull. Stop squawking and get back there.”

The silver-haired man laughed, chugging back his water before running back to the net, and you led Ushijima out and away from the gym.

“What’s this for?” he asked.

“You’re tight. Just got to stretch you out and let you recover a bit.” You looked over your shoulder at him, saw his harsh expression, and smiled. “The sooner you’re better, the sooner and longer you can play.”

Softening, Ushijima nodded and followed you into the next room. A plush orthopaedic mattress sat in the middle of the room, and without prompting, the lumbering sack of muscle lowered his 200 pounds of weight onto it. He shut his eyes and sunk into the mattress with a sigh.

You chuckled. “Okay, let's start from your legs. What’s bothering you?”

Without saying a word, he patted his left glute and back thigh, showing where the tightness was.

“Alright, knee up.”

You grabbed his shin, pushing it up to his chest. He was as flexible as his muscles would allow. If he weren’t so buff, his knee probably could reach his shoulder on a good day, but with the tightness, it couldn’t. Passing 90 degrees, he let out a small huff that sounded like a big dog having a dream. You loosened up before pushing forward again, hoping to stretch out the muscle. 

Eventually, Ushijima seemed to be fully lax against the mattress. So much so, you wondered if he had fallen asleep. So, with him comfortable, you switched. Hand and lower stomach against the outside of his knee, and right hand on his left shoulder, you pushed.

He grunted, eyes opening the widest you’ve seen, before sending you a dissatisfied stare.

You cuckold. “Butt sore?”

“Yes.”

“Relax your muscles, Toshi.”

As he followed your command, your body weight sank further against his knees and with an extra push, a satisfying crack came from his back.

“Big boned!”

“I’m just big.”

“Oh, I’m sure.”

He looked to the side, a bit of rosiness appearing on his ears, and you grinned to yourself once you realised why.

After twisting his other side out to even out his back, you sat him up and took hold of his left arm.

You didn’t even need to ask what was tight on his arm. Easily, you began moving his arm around, contorting it in every position possible to stretch out the kinks beneath his skin.

“What mystery movie do you like the best?”

“Hmm?” You met Ushijima’s eyes. “Oh, Hmm. Have you watched Knives Out?”

He shook his head. “Should we watch it next time?”

“Next time?” You found it hard to hide the grin on your cheeks.

“Tomorrow.”

“How do you know I’m not busy tomorrow?”

“Are you?” he asked expectantly, still with a steely expression. It didn’t seem to match, but it was just so perfectly him.

You let the grin explode onto your face. “Now I am.”

Your home was messier than Ushijima’s and had more western furniture than Japanese, becoming an odd fusion that was distributed by the occasional mess on every counter or seat.

Leading him to your couch, you quickly swiped up your launching laundry and threw it into the basket behind your bedroom door.

“I, uh, didn’t have time to plan food or anything for today. Do you want to order something? I’ll pay.”

He paused, observing your (rather small) couch before sitting. “Hayashi rice.”

“Uh. Okay. I’ll call. Do you mind pulling up the movie while I order?”

Being in Ushijima’s home felt like being ushered into a dragon's den, Ushijima being in your home felt like trying to bring a dragon into a mouse hole. It felt too small for him and made you skitter around to find space to breathe.

He was there, in your home, where not many get to enter. No problem, not at all. You peeked out of the kitchen, phone ringing in your ear as you watched him search for the movie.

Ushijima waited for you to return to the couch before hitting play. “Is this a movie I want to pay attention to? Or is talking allowed?”

“Hmm, I think some talking is fine, but you’ll also be a bit too absorbed in the plot to say anything.”

Ushijima nodded, watching the screen start to change colour, and slouched into his seat.

Having already seen the movie and already knowing the ending, you settled for watching Ushijima’s expression. Studying each and every twitch he made in reaction to a new piece of information or twist. You smiled every time his eyes flicked a bit wider.

About 20 minutes in, the food arrived, and you were reluctant to leave your spot on the couch. Your eyes trained on Ushijima as you got up and walked back towards the door, grabbing the food as quickly as possible to get back to the couch.

When you sat the bag on the table, Ushijima scooted closer to the middle. Your breath hitched, but you distracted yourself by sorting out the plates. Maybe you could use the movie to distract yourself.

It didn’t work. With him sitting closer, Ushijima’s body heat seemed to radiate into your skin and only made it harder to look away from him. It was only when you were trying not to stab yourself in the cheek that you managed to turn away. His elbow brushing against your every time he lifted the food to his teeth made it difficult, though, and each brush only seemed to get longer and longer. It had gotten so bad that you only noticed the movie ended when Ushijima’s head turned and made eye contact.

“So,” you choked. “What did you think?”

“You are pretty smart.”

“Huh?”

“It was enjoyable. But I also think that only someone that strives for knowledge and understanding would want to watch this movie without prompting from another person. So, I think you are a smart person.”

“Really. Um, thank you. But, what are your thoughts on the film? You were pretty focused.”

“Hmm, I was.” He nodded, “I wanted to solve the mystery before they revealed it, but I don’t think I would have anticipated how it went.”

“Is there anything you think you would want to be different?”

He stared at you, thinking for a moment before shaking his head. “I don’t think so. I’m not sure if I’d be able to improve the plot at all. But, I do want to watch it again and see if I can notice the clues.”

You smiled, “Well, I guess we can put mystery movies on the list of things you like.”

He nodded, glancing down at the empty takeaway bowl in his hands. “Yes, among other things.”

Ushijima was back on an orthopaedic chair, letting you contort his body around to get every strain and crack out of his body before the game. But his left butt cheek would not let up.

“Toshi, I know you have fantastic control over your body. Please relax so you can get out there and warm up.”

You folded over his thigh more, leaning down a little closer than you’d want to while on the clock in hopes that that extra force would help stretch him out. It didn’t.

Lifting your head, you glared at him, expecting Ushijima to have his eyes perfectly relaxed and not see the angry stare.

They weren’t closed, and instead of giving up and getting off him, you froze up.

He blinked, eyes flicking to the side as he took a deep breath, before staring you down with a confident look you’d commonly associate with being on the court.

“I want to date you.”

“Heh?” It was your turn to tense, muscles becoming rocks.

“I want to date you. I hope I can take you on a date, a proper one.” He waited for you to respond, but still frozen and carried by the strength of his leg, you couldn’t. “Please, just say yes. I’ll buy you more wine.”

“Yes.”

Finally, his leg released, sending out a loud crack, and you scrambled off. You stared out into space, realising that you had been holding the position instead of having a tight muscle.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow.”

“Toshi—”

He had already had out the door and toward the stadium, leaving you blicking in his wake.

“Did he really just…” You suck onto the mattress, staring into nothing until you heard a loud cheer. Schweiden had gotten a point.

University makes me braindead. If ya’ll want another part, let me know what you want to happen cause I don’t I could imagine it up at the moment. -Bacon

Posted: 12/03/2023