#usually this is my “lock reality out for a while”-site

[timetomarvel]

I had no idea this is happening in NZ right now..

Honestly.. this sounds like they understood aswell what the far right party in Germany already declared publicly. They said "Je schlechter es Deutschland geht, desto besser für die AfD" (the worse off Germany is, the better for the AfD). The far right profits if people are unhappy, angry or (even better) desperate and scared. They offer "simple solutions" that will never work in reality and usually present an enemy that people can blame for their worries. Immigrants, some religion or another, lgbt groups, left politics or any other group they can demonize.

None of that helps with real issues of course. But that is not the goal anyway. They want to make things worse for as many people as possible so those people get angry or desperate and become easy prey for their lies. They direct this anger towards the "enemy" and present themselves as the only ones that do something against this "enemy".

It's a shame.

And it works.

All over the world. More and more while climate change makes living conditions harder and people start to realize (subconsciously at times) something dangerous is happening.

Take it from someone who has been watching and listening to people their whole life. They told us their strategy and given the chance, they act it out.

We all need to vote against it when we still have the chance.

If you know Germany's history, you know what I am talking about.

USA please listen to me: the price of “teaching them a lesson” is too high. take it from New Zealand, who voted our Labour government out in the last election because they weren’t doing exactly what we wanted and got facism instead.

Trans rights are being attacked, public transport has been defunded, tax cuts issued for the wealthy, they've mass-defunded public services, cut and attacked the disability funding model, cut benefits, diverted transport funding to roads, cut all recent public transport subsidies, cancelled massive important infrastructure projects like damns and ferries (we are three ISLANDS), fast tracked mining, oil, and other massive environmentally detrimental projects and gave the power the to approve these projects singularly to three ministers who have been wined and dined by lobbyists of the companies that have put the bids in to approve them while one of the main minister infers he will not prioritise the protection of endangered species like the archeys frog over mining projects that do massive environmental harm. They have attacked indigenous rights in an attempt to negate the Treaty of Waitangi by “redefining it”; as a backup, they are also trying to remove all mentions of the treaty from legislation starting with our Child Protection laws no longer requiring social workers to consider the importance of Maori children’s culture when placing those children; when the Waitangi Tribunal who oversees indigenous matters sought to enquire about this, the Minister for Children blocked their enquiry in a breach of comity that was condemned in a ruling — too late to do anything — by our Supreme Court. They have repealed labour protections around pay and 90 day trials, reversed our smoking ban, cancelled our EV subsidy, cancelled our water infrastructure scheme that would have given Maori iwi a say in water asset management, cancelled our biggest city’s fuel tax, made our treasury and inland revenue departments less accountable, dispensed of our Productivity Commission, begun work on charter schools and military boot camps in an obvious push towards privatisation, cancelled grants for first home buyers, reduced access to emergency housing, allowed no cause evictions, cancelled our Maori health system that would have given Maori control over their own public medical care and funding, cut funding of services like budgeting advice and food banks, cancelled the consumer advocacy council, cancelled our medicine regulations, repealed free prescriptions, deferred multiple hospital builds, failed to deliver on pre-election medical promises, reversed a gun ban created in response to the mosque shootings, brought back three strikes = life sentence policy, increased minimum wage by half the recommended amount, cancelled fair pay for disabled workers, reduced wheelchair services, reversed our oil and gas exploration ban, cancelled our climate emergency fund, cut science research funding including climate research, removed limits on killing sea lions, cut funding for the climate change commission, weakened our methane targets, cancelled Significant National Areas protections, have begun reversing our ban on live exports. Much of this was passed under urgency.

It’s been six months.

[headingalaxys-spicy]

Hello ! Can I request an headcanon for Russia please ? Russia has been in a relationship with a human (gender neutral please) for almost a decade and one day he decides to tell them that he's a nation. After the confession his s/o decides to reveal to him that they're not human but immortal (like they were born in France at the beginning of the 19th century, so they are about 200 years old), how would Russia reacts ?

Thank you in advance, have a nice day ❤

Incoming fluffy post. I don't know why; just this ask filled my mind with clouds.

Enjoy anon~

From the outset of an innocent romance that began when you were in Tomsk. You had seen a tall and imposing giant on the opposite side of the lake looking over at you. At first, his stance toward you seemed ominous. He looked like a legend of a summer Yeti, greyish blond locks slightly rustled in the wind, ever still and watching from the foliage out at other humans that he knows whose lives are transient like that of the mosquitos other small insects that buzz incessantly in his ears. He'd been watching you for a while now since your arrival in the spring to a small cottage home built of pure stone.

Since you were new, you paid him no mind. For he only seemed to appear at random times through the first couple of months. You kept track of the times that you would see the "man beneath the trees" A fun little pastime while adjusting to the new realities of being in a new nation. It was fun and also extremely depressing at times.

You wouldn't be lonely for much longer. Though for one day, he brought his eager cat, who go overzealous and dived into the river. Somehow it swam fast over to your side of the river.

'My owner needs to be bold and get a grip. This is the only way to accomplish it.' As the Siberian Forest Cat speeds away even though it's coat was heavily laden with water from the pristine lake.

From that point on, he finally decided to talk to you. It started a decades-long relationship. That involved long nights walking through secret botanical gardens only he knew about to old war sites that carried history that he deemed essential to him. Some days would be filled with frigid silence after an argument. Others were strange where you only wanted to hold his hand, but not hear his voice. The extreme highs reached the icy tips of Mount Elbrus to the deep lows of the murky black sea. Your type of love is enduring, real, and rare.

Which is why it was easier ...yet still vexing for him because losing you would be a detriment to him, but it could also be spellbindingly exciting. He would no longer have to edit his feeling and speech with you. He could lament about his past and sing you the songs of which he sang while he was lonely.

You were in the same place where you met him when he decided to let the truth soar into the sky.

"Y/N?" He grips your hand tighter than usual. It was a polar bear grip that he had whenever he'd had a harsh truth to tell you. This action pulls you out of your mind and away from the blooming sunflower fields that were only 15 ft away from your vision. You maneuver your now worried eyes up towards his glowing lavender shades. His face is still primarily unreadable. You knew you had to depend on his subtle gestures to read him. You turned your body to face him, and you felt a little wobbly on the grassy ground that had small sprouts, lightly sweeping your snow shoes.

"Ivan."

"I'm a nation. Which means that I'm immortal and I've been alive for hundreds of years. I'm not like you at all but....You're one of the only beings to ever struggle with what love is, and I....." The words came rushing from his mouth like the Neva river reaching the Gulf. He wanted the unpleasant moment to be over in a flash. He know he'd lose you now. You'd think he's crazy, power-hungry, a mons-

A lone hand gently caresses his face to ease his fears. You're unsure of how to react to a confession like that. You don't accuse him of lies or of trying to gain some sort of tiktok fame. You simply just stay silent and allow you smile to bring the sunshine that he's always loved gleaming over his tattered soul. It was a safe haven for him.

"What's wrong sweetheart? If you're afraid you'll lose me because of the confession well consider that fear invalid."

You reached up onto your toes to give him a reassuring cheek kiss. He will in turn accept and let his cheeks go full flush. His face is as red as the last stripe in his flag.

"Y/N?" He asks again as his heart quivers, he's unsure of how to handle the host of new feelings that come along with being as free as a songbird released from it's cage.

If you got Russia of all nations to confess that he’s a nation… Holy Shit that’s a lot of emotional labor that you put into the relationship. Not only that he’s the hardest to get to confess. 

This is a topic that the two of you will have to work out over time. You’re going to be shell-shocked by the truth for a while so much so to where you do leave for a while to work out how you feel. Although during that time you reassure Ivan that you don’t hate him, it’s just a lot to consider. Since he trusts you, he doesn’t freak out about your sudden trip back to your home country. He knows that you need time to process. He’s witnessed you when you’ve been baffled and acknowledges that you need space. Although right before you leave and right after you come back, he will be high-level of clingy. So be prepared for that. You’re the longest stable and HEALTHY relationship he’s ever had so he doesn’t want to mess it up. However, since the foundation of your relationship is solid and not transactional in any manner. His confession to being a nation will draw the two of you together closer.

Neither of you spoke for the rest of the day. You didn't need to. For the sturdy foundation of trust that was already built was enough for you to not worry about what he said but now you were curious as to what the real implications of his confession would be. But none of it scared you or made you anxious. For as long as you had trust that flowed freely between the two of you, nothing else mattered. You grabbed both of his thickly gloved hands and looked him dead in the eyes.

"I love you, Ivan Braganski." as a bold proclamation as if you were about to implement an immediate takeover. You rose to your feet once again and the sprouts seemed to bloom and push you upwards so that you could give him a gentle kiss.

[lostonehero]

I don’t know what What Remains After Eternity is so I’m going to just give you my best approximation on what it is

So I came from the mechs tag so I assume it has someone to do with those goobers, and after eternity sounds a lot like dttm

So here’s my vision, after dttm, Drumbot Brian, and Nastya accidentally fall into the same black hole Raphaella sent herself into, turns out black holes transport you into different universes (there’s theoretical stuff for this to be true in reality but I don’t know the specifics of how it works so I’m just going to incorporate it into my world view and sci-fi writing because it’s cool)

They end up in and alternate universe where they all got mechanised as children and are permanently such.

Don’t question how that works but the point is Brian, raph, and Nastya make a daycare to take care of these alternate mechanisms crew children.

Jonny keeps eating crayons (and other children he doesn’t like)

Ashes somehow keeps reinventing different scam schemes and roping the other kids into it

Ivy ignores everyone else in favor of making pillow forts and reading, and only lets the adults and little raph into the pillow fort.

Gunpowder Tim somehow manages to learn how to make dynamite (probably with the help of little raph)

The toy soldier is now child sized but essentially the same otherwise. Enjoys its very imaginative playmates

Marius likes playing both doctor and house, and is very dedicated to finding and creating the best possible props for this.

Little raph spend a lot of time reading through scientific papers. Tv-shows, articles, and documentaries. She has the entire bill nye theme memorised at this point and absolutely loves those little science kits made for kids

Little Nastya likes to disassemble and reassemble things to find out how they work, along with messing around with scratch(the coding site). Shed probably go absolutely feral over roblox studio too

Little Brian is quiet but when he does speak it’s usually to call someone out for something he views wrong which varies on his mode.

Raph likes to observe the children and help educate them while Drumbot Brian will usually settle disputes between them, and Nastya manages the more logistical side of running a daycare business.

All the kids do keep their original sort of parental figures from their backstories for better or for worse.

I can link it if you wanna read it it's a bit more depressing than that

So imagine many many (like a fuck ton of years) after DTTM the mechs are dead and ended up on their homework and well time passes and they continue as if they believe they are the only ones remaining

Lyf is shot forward in this incredibly distance in the future because Yog Sogoth was bored and was fucking around and he stumbles upon Tim first

Jonny is alone in New Texas. Fixed everything became a saint and just waited in a palace of his own, making the general population assigns him companions he buries them all

Marius back on his war torn home planet

Nastya rebuilt Aurora from her black box bigger stronger and ready for eternity

Brian a pet to the gods

Ivy locked in a planet she turned into an archive

Ashes ruler of a galaxy

Carmillia trying to reunited them miscalculated how they would react to true immortality

And others, but you'll have to read since I don't want to spoil things any more than I had.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/57033829/chapters/146390956

It's one of my longer aus that I'm still working on if you're curious

[kchasm]

Let’s Watch: Kamen Rider: Episode 2: The Terrifying Bat Man

I didn't do the obvious Spider-Man joke last time; I'm not gonna do the obvious Batman joke this time. Look, I'm not the one who decided to translate the names this way. These aren't even fansubs or anything, okay? I'm watching them on a site that's got 'em officially.

Anyway, our episodes begins with a woman named Miho Yamano. She's heading home one night when a voice from the darkness informs her that she has been "chosen" to join the ranks of Shocker. Naturally put off by the claim, she secures herself in her apartment. Unfortunately, she's not alone.

Things don't end very well for Miho. In fact, she gets a couple of fangs in the back of the neck, which as a fictional character is generally not the sort of thing you want to become familiar with unless you're in one of those paperbacks I pretend I don't like. In short, bummer.

Cut to the next day: Takeshi Hongo, the stole force standing against Shocker's efforts at global domination is... taking part in the Tokyo regional tryouts for a European motorcycle race.

Now, I understand that the first reaction you might have here is, "Hey, Hongo, don't you have more important issues to be concerned about? Like the whole 'folks being turned into brainwashed cyborgs' thing?"

I'm actually willing to give Hongo a pass here. This can't be long after he had his body altered against his will by a secret global organization and saw someone die right in front of his eyes, and for all the hot-bloodedness I'm told is the norm in these kinds of media... that's messed up! That's a completely awful thing to have happen to anyone!

And response to trauma is a funny thing. It's not unusual that someone can't entirely handle whatever terrible thing has happened to them, at least not immediately. You'll see people who've gone through horrible things try to return to their daily routines, as if whatever happened didn't happen, and if they act normal enough maybe it'll all go away. A sort of soft denial, a fending off of reality. Because like the shark that dies if it stops swimming, to acknowledge it would be to fully accept that it happened, and that your life has been irreversibly changed.

... So yeah, Hongo wins the race, and a woman comes up to him to congratulate him. She might be acting in an official capacity as like a "race queen," but without the stereotypical outfit that usually gets? I dunno. The point is, it's Miho Yamano, but the dramatic irony doesn't even last a minute before Miho is trying to give Hongo a kiss on the cheek. And by "cheek" I mean "neck," and by "kiss," I mean "that's some teeth, dude."

Hongo flings Miho off him before he can be grazed, and her plot rumbled, Miho goes on an all-out attack. Unfortunately for Miho, this consists of repeatedly running at Hongo with her arms raised menacingly outward while going "hee hee hee hee hee" in a really high-pitched voice, and between Hongo and (Tobee) Tachibana, Miho is easily neutralized.

I just want to note that this is happening in front of all the race officials, by the way, who are reasonably flabbergasted at the race queen (?) growing fangs and, uh, markings that out you as whatever kind of horror this is, I guess?

Someone a face mask (the kind you wear if you have a cold) watches from afar. He muses that he'd hoped to kill two birds with one stone, but the experiment has been a success.

Hongo, reasonably (if a bit illegally) goes to Miho's apartment to—

Okay, lemme hang here a second, 'cause I've got a question. Is Miho dead? I mean, she didn't explicitly die just there, and all she got was flung messily to the ground, but we've seen that followed by Shocker baddie death before. Did they put Miho somewhere? Lock her up? Hospital? They shouldn't put her in a hospital. Things might get exponential. It's not immediately touched upon, however, so I don't have any answers to my questions, which is kind of a shame. I really want to know how people who aren't in on the whole "Shocker" thing deal with this weird stuff that's happening all of a sudden. Like I said, the race officials were right there, right? They definitely saw something, even if they don't know what.

Anyway, Hongo goes to Miho's apartment complex, where sadly, Miho's isn't the only tragedy unfolding. A woman with telltale markings spasms as she begs her husband to run away before it's too late, as a voice speaking directly to her orders her to bring him into the collective.

She can only hold out for so long before she goes in for her husband's neck, but Hongo pulls her off before any biting can happen. He yells at the dude to run, not explaining anything except "I'll look after your wife," and the husband, beginning to suspect that this isn't exactly a migraine that's happening to her, obeys, only to get audibly got off-screen.

Hongo just sort of leaves the fight with the wife alone (her name is Chie, by the way), and runs out, where he follows a dark figure into another apartment. And that's when we see the extent of Shocker's actions here:

So you know, that's horrifying.

In the apartment, the Monster of the Episode confronts Hongo. A brief fight scene ensues, and our Bat Man explains what's going on: This apartment complex is serving as testing grounds for a virus developed by Shocker that turns folks into vampire mooks, basically. He leaves Hongo to be killed by the turned apartment denizens, and Hongo realizes he can't kill them. I mean, he could, but it would be ethically icky—all these folks are victims who have been trapped under the Bat Man's mind control.

But now all these victims have him hemmed into this apartment room, with no obvious way out. Looks like he’s gonna have to jump—!

Another fight scene ensues, this time with Hongo transforms. He grabs hold of the Bat Man and tosses the both of them off the roof of the building—

Cut to: Shocker base. A Shocker mook says that soundwaves from the experiment have ceased (?), but another, more authoritative voice assures him that the Bat Man has the ability to use autohypnosis to protect himself (??). And when he sleeps, the infected apartment-dwellers will sleep as well (???).

Yeah, listen, I have no idea what any of that means, and I don't know if it's because the scene was poorly subbed or because it's a bunch of technojumbo to justify why the episode can't end nine minutes in. I'm going to assume the first one. Benefit of the doubt.

Cut to: Amigo. Ruriko Midorikawa—Hiroshi Midorikawa's daughter, remember?—is confronting Tachibana, her boss at the cafe. Doing some reasonable detective work, she's thinking that Tachibana (who gave Midorikawa directions to her father and Hongo in the last episode) might know where Hongo is, which is important because she still thinks Hongo killed her father. This is despite the fact that what she saw was Hongo grabbing at her father's throat, which is admittedly sus but doesn't exactly match up with the whole postmortem disintegration that happened right after, unless maybe she thinks that Hongo is really, really good at strangling people? I dunno. Tachibana claims ignorance, which Midorikawa to-tal-ly believes, so much so that he listens in at the door when Hongo calls Tachibana up to tell him he'll be a Jonan University.

Which he is, because we're just... we're just totally moving past the end of that last fight scene, I guess. Hongo and the Bat Man went off the building together, then undefined stuff happened, and now the Bat Man is still Bat-Manning around. I guess. Maybe we'll get at least some dialogue later explaining this?

Anyway, Hongo's brought a blood sample over to his scientist buddy, Kishimori. Kishimori's astounded—what Hongo's brought is some sort of "intelligent virus" that reacts to external stimuli, which Hongo tests by shaking the microscope slide back and forth. The virus, travels through the blood to the brain cells, and can then be controlled—and the victim controlled, by extension—by soundwaves.

... Yeah, we just sort of hopped all the way to it being soundwaves there, when Hongo just showed us that shaking the virus is also accepted stimuli to make it To A Thing, but the Shocker mook also mentioned soundwaves so we know Hongo's right. Somehow. Don't worry about it.

Anyway, can Kishimori make a serum to defeat the virus? No, because, like, he just found out this virus exists. And also it's doing weird extraordinary virus things. So no, he can't just whip out some sort of antivirus and feed it to the victims, which is bad news for the victims.

Midorikawa continues to stalk Hongo, becoming alarmed when Hongo goes to her workplace. She rushes in, but Tachibana's sitting there alone, claiming that he has no idea who that guy was but he just came in and then escaped through the window because he said he was being stalked by someone shady. "Oh, shucks, that was you?" "Oh, shucks, that was the guy who killed your father?" "Oh, shucks, my bad."

Tachibana is not a good actor.

Midorikawa begins to assume, not incorrectly, that he is In Cahoots. Okay, so if she can't stalk Hongo, she'll stalk Tachibana instead. This is unfortunate, because Tachibana's next stop is the apartment complex, where Hongo's got all the Bat Man victims tied up to keep them from Bat-Manning. When Midorikawa beans Tachibana in the back of the head with a vase, and then sees all the mess of trussed up, people, which is admittedly suspicious as all hell. One of them (The Bat Man in human guise?) is groaning awake, so Midorikawa (reasonably) asks what's going on, in a conversation that goes something like this:

Midorikawa: "Did Takeshi Hongo do this to you?" Bat Man: "How do you know Takeshi Hongo?" Midorikawa: "He killed my father, but I can't prove it!" Bat Man: "Your father?" Midorikawa: "Dr. Midorikawa!" Bat Man: "Oh, yeah, Dr. Midorikawa! Hongo totally killed him, and I have proof. Just untie me and I'll help you out, okay?" Midorikawa: "lol k"

... Needless to say, by the time Hongo makes it back, the Bat Man has Midorikawa held tight with the virus coursing through her veins.

Bat Man takes the moment to explicitly gloat that Dr. Midorikawa was, of course, killed by Shocker—which is really fortunate for us, because without that plain language clearly laying out who killed or didn't kill who, Midorikawa would probably still think Hongo was her father's murderer, and frankly I'm not sure how much more of this "I am after Takeshi Hongo, the man who choked my father so hard he vaporized" subplot I could have withstood.

Oh, but the Bat Man has a deal. If Hongo cooperates with Shocker, he can cure Midorikawa. And there is a cure—if one of his victims is stabbed with his wing, they're injected with an anti-Bat-Man-viral serum. In a move authorized by his Shocker bosses, he demonstrates this, using one of the Bat Man mooks, who looses all those facial markings toot sweet.

In short, Bat Man just confirmed that there is a cure for the virus, where Hongo can get that cure for the virus, and how to use the cure for the virus. That's way too much information to give your opponent, Bat Man! Which is why Hongo immediately goes full Kamen Rider and proceeds to drop justice on Bat Man's wrinkly personage (and also a bevy of summoned generic Shocker mooks).

...I'm pretty sure Hongo straight up kills a couple of dudes here.

And of course, Bat Man gets similarly taken out of the picture.

One less Bat Man and one more mass application of a leftover wing claw later, everyone's hunky-dory. Even the whole "Ruriko Midorikawa thinks Takeshi Hongo is a baddie" issue has been cleared up, Tachibana points out!

Yes, Hongo says, but he's still a cyborg. And he rushes off to motorcycle dramatically into the distance.

To be continued!

All in all, an episode with some Weird Spots. There definitely could have been more explanation of what exactly happened after Hongo and Bat Man went off the roof—no, that was never explained, past the cut away to the Shockerites says that Bat Man protected himself with autohypnosis. In addition, that science bit was certainly hinky—I would have liked an extension of that scene, perhaps with Hongo and Kishimori narrowing down how the virus works.

I am not the target audience, however. I am the one overanalyzing a children's TV show. I'll bet this episode worked out just fine for the people who were supposed to be watching it.

That's how it goes.

[sailor-kaiju]

@razorblade-skies asked me to explain my examples from the comments, and I didn’t wanna lose it in the little reply box on my phone

This will be HELLA spoilery, obvs.

And yes I’d loie to babble more about them |D

This is my list for people wanting more examples:

Momento-

Momento is a movie about a man who has no ability to make new memories who is trying to hunt down his wife’s killer through hints he has left himself. Throughout the movie we are shown and told realities he doesn’t know, but we don’t have the context for them, especially with unreliable narrators. When you realize that he accidentally killed his wife by giving her too much medication because of his memory issues, many earlier scenes are VERY different.

Perfect Blue-

Perfect Blue is about a Japanese Pop Idol who quits her singing job to become an actress.

there are a few possible, VERY different meanings to the same set of events. Depending on which one is real, you may be seeing one very different thing unfolding than what you think.

Steven Universe-

It has been a minute since I made this post and some of SU is not as fresh in my mind as when I made the OG comment BUT I believe I was talking about the identity of Pink Diamond. There are a lot of massive spoiler level hints before you have the context (especially about Gem culture” to understand.

6th sense-

“I see dead people.” Told to the dead person he is looking directly at.

There’s more but honestly…that’s pretty dang on the nose.

Devilman etc-

A guys weird ass bestie makes him a not-evil monster to fight evil monsters. His bestie is secretly Satan. This is shown a lot before you’re told but also nobody assumed that shit was on the table.

Even tho it’s called Devilman and maybe we should have.

A lot of the anime influenced by it I mentioned also plays with “The big, true enemy is in plain site and usually bragging about it.” vibe. Special mention to half of Clamp’s work.

Shout out to Evangelion, the classic fucked up robot Kaiju anime which may be like 50% “none of this makes sense until it all makes terrible sense” tbh

The Others-

The Others is about an Edwardian mother and her children, who both have a severe sensitivity to light, living alone (besides a three house workers) in a giant house the mom keeps locked tight in these intense layers to keep the light away. The father is away at war, and mom is clearly already at whits end when they start being haunted, the doors left open, etc

The whole movie has the vibe but particularly a scene where the father comes home and has a strange conversation with the mother before just…wandering away.

Turns out they are the ghosts. The father died in the war. He was coming to say good bye but couldn’t communicate with her because she was no where near accepting being dead.

Westworld (The TV show, I have not seen the old movie)-

A company opens a theme park where perfectly human robots act out western fantasies for rich guests.

While there are interesting mind games with the “who is robot who is human” angle, this happens a lot more with time shenanigans. About half way through the show you suddenly realize what you thought was all one time line (assumed naturally by viewers relying on the fact that a good chunk of the characters aren’t aging)

In fact it is several time lines over MANY years, and multiple “different” characters are actually the same guests coming different years and playing out different fantasies. the robots (the majority of the character’s) don’t age and have their memories regularly reset.

Including the love interest (coming his first time in his 20s and playing out a romance story) ALSO being the awful villian (visiting in his 60s, bored with the normal plots and now playing an evil run)

Bonus point: the Robots are literally programmed to this trope. If they see something that would break their illusion (a picture of a McDonald’s for example) they can’t process it. “It doesn’t look like anything to me.”

Arrival is also a good example. Alien ls come to Earth, and create a story line where time is fluid in ways we don’t realize at first.

oh i never know how to explain this properly but i looooooooooooooooove when a story just absolutely TELLS you something and it’s so obvious it goes right by you. like the equivalent of hiding in plain sight. i’m thinking in the original cut(?) of alien where they showed the full xenomorph, crouched and ready to pounce, but because we’ve never seen it before, we can’t tell what it is and interpret it as part of the spaceship. or it’s a detail that seems so out of place or wildly insane that you automatically ignore it and assume you misinterpreted until that exact detail comes back in a big way? (like when noah the raven boy flat out tells everyone he’s a ghost and they take it as a joke, so the reader does too) is there a tvtropes name for this i’m obsessed with it

[letarasstuff]

Making the Voice quieter

(A/N): This was requested by an anon. I hope you like it!

Summary: Spencer finds out about his daughter's eating disorder, he will he react?

Warnings: Angst, discription of an eating disorder (bulemia to be more specific), discription of (binge) eating, bad body image, self hatred, abuse of pills (diet pills)

Wordcount: 2.2k

✨Masterlist✨

______________________________

Prison. Cat. Diana. All those things happened close to each other. Luckily a few months have passed since then and slowly everything settles down. Spencer is able to get his feelings sorted through, processing the events.

Ever since his imprisonment he follows a more or less strict routine, given the uncertainty coming with his job. Spencer still tries to keep it up. So is every Friday dedicated to buying the majority of groceries and needed non food articles.

Sometimes (Y/N) tags along, other days she already has plans with her friends. Her father doesn’t mind it much, he is happy to see her socializing with people her age. The two of them have one father-daughter-night in the week anyways.

“Sweetheart, I’m heading out! Did you put everything you need on the list?” He shouts into the apartment. A faint “Yes! Love you!” echoes back to him. A smile forms on the doctor’s face. Oh how he longed to hear those words from her every night while he laid in his bed, locked up for a crime he didn’t commit. “Alright, love you, too!”

Meanwhile her father has to deal with Karens being their ignorant selfs, (Y/N) is under the biggest stress she has ever been. The end of her sophomore year and suddenly every teacher thinks it’s alright to give the students a load of work in every single class.

It’s beginning to get to her head. Four essays, three projects and studying for two tests and everything is due next week. She can see herself sitting at that very desk for the whole weekend, trying to contain control of her current situation.

As (Y/N) begins to read the page in front of her again to pull any information from it, it feels like her brain shuts down. Only one thought possesses her. One thing that can assure her, make her happy again.

Her body moves automatically, into the kitchen to the fridge. Her hands grab what they can. Puddings, yogurts, bananas, apples, last night’s dinner, everything that she can carry. Then the teenager sits down at the floor and devours everything she just got out. (Y/N) doesn’t stop until she gets to this intense feeling of being full.

It seems like she snaps out of a trance. Upon seeing what she ate in the shortest time, the girl feels even worse. Quickly she tries to destroy any kind of evidence, getting the trash out, making the fridge appear more full than it is, anything.

In her panicked state she remembers the small container of pills in her room. Relief washes over (Y/N), thinking everything will be better. She takes two of them for good measurement.

With the relief also guilt takes over. What just happened wasn’t normal. But (Y/N) tells herself that she can stop any time she wants. It’s not like she is sick or something, everything is fine. It’s just her way to copy stress. A way she discovered while her father was in prison. The diet pills help her to undo her mistakes. Someone from her friend group, who is already 18, got her them from the doctor for a fair price.

Feeling calmer now, the teenager sits back at her desk. A new perception of control helps her to continue her school work. She has to get done as much as possible, because in not even half an hour (Y/N)’s best friend will be the toilet.

Spencer is completely obvious to it. Sure, he is a profiler and he noticed his daughter’s new view on eating healthy food and working out. He just assumes that (Y/N) and her friends are on a healthy trip and he doesn’t see a problem in this. On the contrary, he is happy that she wants to be good to herself and her body.

But as the weeks go on, a suspicious feeling captures him. “(Y/N)? Why is the fridge nearly empty? We got groceries last Friday and it’s only Tuesday. Did you have a party over here while I was away on the case?” Spencer enters his daughter’s room, trying to joke about it.

(Y/N) freezes. Of course she isn’t able to say that the food went bad and she threw them away, her father is meticulous regarding this subject, always checking the best before day date. “Uhm, please don’t be mad. But Alex, you know her, the short one with red hair, uhm her parents are on a business trip and she is not the best cook. So I brought her lunch and dinner over. I’m sorry for not telling you.” She looks down at the floor, not only to feign sadness but also to avoid his eyes.

The second the teenager talks Spencer knows there is something fishy. Her voice is higher and she fidget with her hands. But he writes it off as being nervous for not telling him. Ever since he is out of prison, it feels like his daughter is withholding something.

“It’s fine, Sweetheart. Just give me a heads-up beforehand, so I know to buy more groceries. What do you think about ordering something tonight? I heard from Luke that a small Chinese restaurant opened a few streets down. We can celebrate the end of the stressful phase in Sophomore year.”

It seems like (Y/N) is calculating something in her head. Spencer knows exactly what she thinks about. “You can forget about your calorie intake for one night. I see how much time you invest in living healthy, but we can let loose for a night together. Just some noodles with chicken or spring rolls and us trying to use chopsticks and giving up after two minutes and resorting to forks. How does that sound?”

The teenager would love to sigh, but it would only alarm her father further. “Yeah, you are right. Let us let loose. But only if I can choose the movie we watch after dinner!” (Y/N) feels bad for eating unhealthy food again. Her last binge was only yesterday and usually she tries to consume lighter things. But she has to bite into the sour apple, else her father will be more suspicious. After all, she can just stop. (Y/N) promises herself to not think about her weight, her shape or the calories she will eat.

Well yeah, no. Just after the first noodle hits her tongue, intrusive thoughts take a seat in her mind, getting settled.

‘You already look like a potato.’

‘Are you sure this is the right thing to eat?’

‘Can you really stop?’

‘Dad is going to hate you when he finds out.’

All of them and more enter her head. (Y/N) is unable to shake them off. She is fine. She doesn’t have a problem. She just doesn’t feel like eating now, that’s fine, right?

“Uhm Dad. I’m full and really tired from the day. Is it ok if I go to bed? Maybe we can rain check on that movie?” The girl asks, feeling even worse for ditching her father. Usually it’s the other way around.

“Are you feeling ok? You look a little pale. Are you sick?” Spencer fires his question canone being the borderline helicopter father he always is. “Yes, just really exhausted from all the assignment and school work. A good night's rest and I will be good as new.” (Y/N) attempts a small smile, but fails miserably at it.

“Ok, sleep tight baby. I’ll put the leftovers in the fridge for you tomorrow.” Quickly she goes into her room. The thoughts in her head scream louder and louder with each step she takes. Can she really stop? Maybe she should come clean to her father.

‘And risking him hating you? Look at you, thinking you are sane is the only thing keeping him from abandoning you. How would you explain him keeping you otherwise? It’s definitely not for your looks.’

Later that night, (Y/N) hasn’t gotten a wink of sleep because of the voices, she makes her way back to the kitchen. In an attempt to distract herself, the teenager scrolled through her social media sites. There she was met by pictures of perfect people.

Perfect bodies. Perfect lives. Perfect smiles. Perfect family. Perfect friends. Everything about them is perfect.

And then there is her. Her body is unperfect. Her life is a mess. Her smile is not that of a model. Her family is just her, her father and the people he works with. Her friends aren’t always the best associates.

The stress of not feeling enough is getting to (Y/N)’s head. Like several times before that her body goes into auto. She doesn’t control her movements, though she tells herself all of this is willently.

Like so many times before the girl goes through the fridge and eats everything up she can get her fingers on. But this time one thing is different. Her father is at home. And he isn’t a heavy sleeper.

The movement in the kitchen wakes him up. Immediately his brain jumps to a burglar or even worse, an UnSub they once arrested coming after him. Quickly he gets his revolver and sneaks through the hallway to the source of the noises. As Spencer only sees his daughter sitting there, he instantly relaxes.

“Hey Sweetheart, what are you doing up? It’s a school night”, he softly asks in order to not scare her. Still, (Y/N) gets startled at the sudden voice.

“Uhm, nothing much. Just hungry. Probably because I didn’t eat dinner”, she explains, looking at her father like he caught her with her hand stuck in the cookie jar. Spencer watches her closely. “This is it? Because from what it looks like you not only ate your dinner but also tomorrow’s breakfast and right now lunch.”

(Y/N) swallows her bite, feeling that sinking reality in her stomach. The pills. She needs the pills fast before her body begins to digest the food. “Uhm, yeah. I probably should go to bed. I need my sleep. Just let me tidy up. Good night, Dad.” But he is quick to stop her.

“(Y/N), I want you to sit down. There is something we have to talk about.” Hesitantly (Y/N) takes a seat. “What is it Dad? Are you reprimanding me for eating? I thought you wanted me to let loose for a night.”

Spencer sits, leaning against the kitchen counter. “Baby, I want you to be alright. But I think you are not.” His eyes get a sad look. “I’m alright. I am fine, Dad. What do you think is wrong with me?”

“Look, (Y/N), I don’t need to be a profiler to see that you are struggling with something. Do you want to tell me about it?” Her answer is a tight lipped smile and a “I’m fine. There is nothing to talk about.”

The father sighs. She is not leaving him much of a choice. “And what about them?” Spencer asks after getting something from the highest shelf in the kitchen, the one (Y/N) barely reaches by stepping on a stool. He sets a little container down on the table.

“Dad I-” “No (Y/N). You don’t need to explain anything. It’s my turn to talk. I found those in your room yesterday while I was looking for a book. At first I thought nothing of it, I mean you are trying to live healthy, so I thought this is part of the process. But then I saw that they have to be prescribed and I know that these aren’t yours.

“I wanted to talk about it with you anyway. But now I know that I caught you binge eating and I see all the signs. I see them and I’m sorry for not acting sooner. (Y/N), you need help and I’m here for you. I know the last few months were especially hard on you. I can’t change what was and what happened, but I will be here for you now." Tears stream down on boths their faces.

(Y/N) is stammering for words. “I-I am fine. I can stop anytime I want. Th-this was a conscious d-decision.” Her father envelops her in a hug, cradling her head to his chest. She begins to sob.

“I know, Sweetheart. It’s hard and it won’t get easier from here on, but I’m here. You know you can’t stop, it’s only an illusion your eating disorder wants you to believe. But we get through it together. You, I and the team if you want to. We take it at your pace.” By now the two are crying loudly.

“I want it to stop, Dad. Please make the voice go away.”

He can’t make it go away. No one can. But Spencer helps to quiet it. Together they tackle the disorder, through the good and the bad times. He takes off from work for a time and (Y/N) out of school for a few weeks to be able to work on it together, to make the voice quieter and her life better.

Taglist:

All works:

@dindjarinsspouse

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl @herecomesthewriterwitch @ash19871962

[wlwmarvelenthusiast]

More Than A Friend

Summary: A weekend trip with Carol leads you to realize you might like her a little more than you'd thought.

Pairing: Carol Danvers x Reader

Warnings: language

Word Count: 6,194

You crept into the bar. It was a rowdy place, even this early in the evening. Your eyes scanned the crowd, taking in all the different people that were scattered throughout the room. The football game was playing on the TV, but unfortunately, it wasn't really your sport. Finally, your eyes landed on a blonde sitting at the bar. You moved toward her, a smirk on your face. You didn't even bother to slide into the seat next to her.

Your hand touched her hip and your lips were right next to her ear when you spoke. "What's a beautiful thing like you doing all alone here?"

She startled a little, whipping to face you. When she saw you, though, she smacked you away, an unamused expression taking over the surprised look she'd had a minute ago. You slid onto the stool next to her, eyes watching as the bartender held up a single finger to indicate he'd be over to you in a moment. You only nodded in acknowledgment before turning back to the girl beside you, the smirk still on your lips.

"You're an idiot, you know that?" She rolled her eyes.

"Come off it, Care-bear, you love me."

"Christ, I hate when you call me that."

"I apologize, oh Captain, my captain."

The bartender arrived and prevented her from retaliating. You didn't even bother looking back at her as you ordered your drink of choice, glancing up at the football game that you didn't care about in order to not look at Carol. She finally snorted and bumped her shoulder against yours. It made you look back at her, unable to keep a smile from forming on your face when she gave you a hearty wink. She laughed.

"How was work?"

You shrugged. "People are idiots."

When you were sixteen, you'd worked a retail job where you'd learned just how stupid people really were. You'd learned that fully-grown adults had nothing better in their lives to do than yell at teenaged, minimum wage workers during their spare time for nothing more than a minor inconvenience. When you'd become an Avenger, you thought that would stop. You were incorrect. You might not have been a teenaged retail worker anymore, but people found a reason to lose their temper anyway- even right after you'd saved their life.

"That good, huh?" She chuckled.

"Are people nicer on other planets, Care-bear? Take me with you?"

"They're not, no," Carol huffed, sipping from her glass. "And the drinks don't taste as good."

You wondered what she was drinking that she seemed to be enjoying so much. It was colourful, and had, at this point, piqued your interest. You reached out and snatched from where it sat in front of her on the bar. You sniffed it first. It was something fruity, that was all you could figure. Finally, you dared raise the glass to your lips. The second the liquid touched your tongue you felt like you might overdose on sugar and sweetness.

"Oh, my God, Carol!" You exclaimed, setting the drink back down on the bar top and sliding it to her. "What the hell is that?"

"She got it extra sweet," the bartender said as he walked by. "Your friend's got a sugar addiction."

It didn't seem to bother her at all. While you felt you could puke from the sugar content alone, she was sipping it happily. You rolled your eyes at her, reaching for your own drink, much preferring the taste of it. Carol turned to you suddenly, the straw still between her lips. You watched as she lowered it back down, using the same straw to stir the drink around, the ice clinking off the side of the glass as she did. She sipped it again.

"What's our weekend plans, then?" Carol asked finally.

"Who says I have plans with you?"

"Oh, please. You practically begged me to come stay on Earth for a weekend."

"I did absolutely no such thing."

You absolutely did do that. Carol was away from Earth more often than not and you missed her. It wasn't like it was a crime to. So, you'd phoned her up and asked her over and over to come spend just one weekend on Earth with you. She'd finally agreed on the eighth ask, and now here you sat; on the right of the girl you'd missed so dearly, teasing her relentlessly about whatever that abomination was swirling around in her glass.

"We're taking my new car on a little road trip," you finally gave, sipping your drink. "Music, fast-food, and deep talks on the interstate."

"Snacks?"

"Snacks too," you promised with a chuckle. "And we can get a nice motel room or pitch a tent at night. Whichever you please."

You had to laugh at the smile that had crept over her face. The way she giggled in excitement, you had to wonder if it'd just been too long since her last day off or if the alcohol had gotten to her already. She waved the bartender lever as she finished hers. He placed a new one in front of her, and she thanked him quickly, bringing it close and immediately bringing the straw between her lips. You wondered whether the sugar or alcohol content would hospitalize her quicker.

"So, when do we leave?" She chirped.

"In the morning. Don't drink too much. You'll get hungover and I want to actually have fun."

She stuck her tongue out at you. You rolled your eyes in response, finishing your own drink and then declining another. You didn't want to be hungover when you were the one driving the two of you around. The bartender brought you a pop instead. You sipped on it, watching a bar-goer stumbled over with a drunk grin on his face and tapped Carol on the shoulder. He said something you didn't quite hear, but you saw Carol nod. He took her hands and dragged her onto the dance floor. You brought her drink toward you.

Carol was a flirt. She always had been. She was a flirt with you, your teammates, and strangers. She was also gay. This dance with this guy didn't mean much to her. You weren't sure if it even meant much to him. You couldn't be sure that he'd even remember this dance. He was absolutely wasted, and it wasn't even midnight. Regardless, he seemed to be enjoying it. His eyes travelled up and down Carol's body and you squeezed the glass in your hand a little tighter. You were protective of her, despite knowing she could absolutely hold her own.

When the song finished, she winked at him, retreating back to your spot at the bar. She finished up her drink and then insisted the two of you head back to your place and that you were right: she didn't want to be nursing a hangover while you were supposed to be having a good time. You paid the bartender and then linked your arm with hers, leading her out the door and onto the streets. She glanced up at the tall buildings around her. A smile had formed on her face.

"You don't appreciate how beautiful this place is."

You glanced up at the glowing buildings that towered above you and marvelled, for a moment, at the soft light that radiated off them. Your gaze was tugged downward, though, at a rustling noise. You were snapped back into the reality of your city as you watched a rat scurry along the curb of the sidewalk in the direction opposite you. You chuckled at that, motioning to it as you looked up to catch Carol's bright gaze.

"Surely some of those planets are far more beautiful than this."

She shrugged. "Some, maybe. Some are worse. Some are kind of alike to this. This has always been my favourite, though."

You might have understood that if Carol had taken the time to visit the actual beautiful parts of the Earth. But she was always in the city. She'd never gone to stare in amazement at a waterfall or glance at towering mountains. She had never seen the true beauties of this Earth, and you promised in that moment to change that fact. If she thought New York City was beautiful, she would be blown off her feet by the things you showed her.

"One day, Carol, I'll show you the actual beautiful things on this Earth."

"You're pretty beautiful yourself."

You smacked her. That was her flirty side coming out once again. It didn't mean anything. It never had. So, you wondered what that strange flutter in your chest was when she said the words. You ignored it, passing it off as a longing for a meaningful relationship. You hadn't had one of those in a while now. You probably just wanted someone to say those words to you and mean it. You made a mental note to sign up for an online dating site after the weekend had passed. It was too hard to meet people in your line of work without them.

"Yeah, I know," was all you gave in response.

When you glanced over at her, she had a grin on her face.

It wasn't long until you'd reached your apartment building. You smiled at the front desk as you entered the lobby and immediately made for the elevator. You pressed the button to the seventh floor and waited patiently for the doors. You knew Carol was suppressing a squeal of glee when they arrived. She usually just flew everywhere. Using simple inventions like this one had always gotten her more excited than the average person. To anyone else, an elevator was just a boring elevator.

"Can I do it?" She asked as you pulled out your key.

Carol really was just like a child, in a sense. Everything was so advanced out in space that these were the things she enjoyed doing. You pointed out the bronze key and watched her run ahead. She practically skipped the distance to your apartment door. She pushed the key into the lock and turned it, glancing back at you and smiling widely when the door pushed open. You smiled affectionately as you took the key back from her.

She may not have visited Earth overly often, but every time she did, she visited your apartment. Resultantly, she knew her way around. She knew, as well, that you didn't mind in the slightest if she made herself at home. She slid her shoes off and jumped onto the couch, pulling the blanket down over top of her and snuggling into it. You actually took a photo of the sight before you moved into the room behind her, lifting her legs, sitting on the couch, and then dropping them back over your lap.

"Can we watch a movie?" Carol asked, pleading gaze turning to you.

You showed her the remote you'd been reaching for. "Already on it, Captain Danvers."

"I take it back," she giggled, tossing her head back so that it hit the armrest. "That's worse. You can call me-"

"Aw, my Care-Bear!" You laughed, shifting your position so you could throw your arms around her shoulders.

Carol grunted at the impact against her torso. Once you settled, though, she breathed a little easier. You were both squished against one side of the couch, now, but the closeness was nothing new to you. You still had the remote in hand, and aimed it at the TV, managing to get it to Netflix. You flicked on a random horror movie, setting the remote back down on the coffee table in front of you. You nestled back into the cushions.

It had always amused you how jumpy Carol got when she watched horror movies. She was a literal superhero that fought literal aliens all the night and day and yet a ghost jumping out of a darkened corridor had her cringing away from the TV screen and pulling the blanket further up her body as if in an attempt to protect her. She would always adamantly deny it if you ever brought it up later. You would never show her the picture you had of her, fuzzy blue blanket pulled all the way up to her nose, eyes wide, as she watched The Conjuring. She would delete it off your phone as you slept.

Today, though, her nerves seemed to be calmed somewhat by the cup of tea she had clasped between her hands. She looked entirely content, sitting cross-legged on the couch with that same fuzzy blanket draped over her lap and a grey, ceramic mug warming her palms. The alcohol had clearly gotten to her a little, you realized, as you watched her eyelids droop every once in a while. The corner of your mouth tilted upward ever so slightly. She was wide awake a moment later.

It was a sudden jump scare. Even being half asleep, Carol was still paying attention. So, when the TV boomed and there was a flash and a scream, she jumped. The tea that she'd been holding in her lap sloshed over the edges, a large amount of liquid soaking into the couch cushions. You were out of your seat in an instant, reaching for the remote to pause. Carol was apologizing profusely, jumping to her feet and following you to the kitchen.

"It's okay, Carol. It's fine," you chuckled, wetting a dish towel and grabbing some paper towels. "Hey, it's fine. Really. Chill out."

Carol seemed hesitant to do that. When you lightheartedly flicked the wet towel at her, though, she finally smiled taking the paper towel out of your hand and heading back to the living room, pressing the paper towel into the couch and absorbing as much of the liquid as she could. When she'd finished, you used the wet rag to clean the beverage out. As you tossed the paper towel away and threw the dishrag into the kitchen sink, you stood back and took a look at the large wet spot on the couch.

"Guess we're moving to my room, then. Let's go, Care-Bear."

Carol nodded. She trod behind you into the bedroom, where you flopped onto the bed. She was lagging behind and you waved her onward to hurry her up. She finally jumped onto the bed and sat next to you, sliding her legs underneath the covers. You turned on the small TV in your room and resumed the movie you'd been watching. In the soft comfort of the bed, though, it seemed the tug for sleep was greater. Carol's eyes finally fluttered shut and she lay down against the pillows. You chuckled, turning off the movie.

You, unlike your friend, hadn't fallen asleep involuntary. You were able to head to the bathroom and brush your teeth before yawning tiredly and deciding to join. You padded back into the room, climbed under the covers, shut off the lights, and lay your head onto your own pillow. You smiled once at Carol's sleeping figure before you shut your eyes, letting sleep take you.

*

As hard as you tried to convince her, you weren't able to get Carol to stick her head back inside the sunroof. You weren't sure how to breeze was so exhilarating to her. The superhuman could fly faster than your car was going right now. The wind in her hair had to be a familiar feeling at this point. Plus, there were no laws against flying above the interstate to feel the wind in your hair. There were, however, laws about standing with your entire torso stuck out the roof of the car.

You'd given up a while ago. If she fell out, she'd be just fine. If she got you a ticket? Oh, there would be serious hell to pay. She'd agreed to that already. You'd honestly be surprised, though, if she did get ticketed. It'd be quite a sight to see: a measly police officer ticketing the Human-Kree Hybrid superhero. That sight alone might actually be worth the fine you would have to pay. By the time she'd pulled her head back in, though, blonde hair windblown and a smile plastered to her face, you'd yet to see a single cop.

"Have fun?" You asked, doing up the sunroof.

"Absolutely. You should try."

"Do you know how to drive?" You scoffed.

"I can fly a ship."

"Yeah, I'm sure UFO controls are much different than cars so I'm gonna have to politely ask you to stay the hell away from my car."

Carol only stuck her tongue out at you. She still didn't do her seatbelt up yet. She twisted her body so that she could reach into the back seat. You turned back to the road, but when you shot a second glance at her a few seconds later, she was popping open a can of Pringles with a large grin on her face. She bit down onto a chip with a giggle before turning the can to you. You reached into it with one hand and took a small handful of them, setting them down on the centre console for easier access.

"Where are we staying tonight?" Carol asked through a mouthful of chips.

"A campground up in a small town in Ontario," you hummed. "It's still a good few hours away. I'd ask if you wanted to stop for food, but I'd guess you've filled up on snacks."

She dug through her backpack. "Do I need this?"

She held up the passport you'd made her get last time the two of you had headed up to Toronto. Despite the fact that she really wasn't a citizen of the United States... or even of Earth, you'd managed to get S.H.I.E.L.D. to make you an exception for Carol. It was the perks of being an Avenger, and a close friend of Nick Fury, you supposed. To answer her question, you simply nodded your head as you reached for the Gatorade in your cup holder. She stuck the papers back into her bag.

"So, are you seeing anyone?"

The question almost made you spit the red beverage onto the steering wheel. It wasn't that you and Carol had never talked about it. She was one of your closest friends, after all. She was the first one you'd called when you'd realized your feelings for your last girlfriend, and she was the first one you'd called when you'd broken up. Carol wasn't someone you didn't talk about your love life with. It was just that it was completely and entirely out of the blue. It didn't help that the answer was still no, even after the long period of time since she'd last asked it.

You'd tried to assure yourself that you were just busy with work. It wasn't a lie. You'd been busy as hell ever since Loki's sceptre had inexplicably gone missing after the Battle in New York. But it wasn't just that, you knew full well. Something seemed to be wrong with your brain, or maybe your heart. Maybe it was just that your standards were practically in the clouds, but no one seemed attractive to you anymore. Not even the girl Natasha had tried to set you up with (and you were well convinced that Natasha only knew attractive people).

"Not at the moment, no," you finally admitted. "You?"

"On-and-off," she shrugged. "Just a girl from a planet called Xandar."

A pang of jealousy struck your chest. You were carving something- anything. You would've given anything even for something on-and-off just about now. Had it really been that long? You could hardly believe you were jealous of her. It wasn't like you to be jealous of something someone else had. You were supposed to be happy for her, not sulking over your own lack of a love life... or sex life. You forced a smile at her, wishing it could be real.

"Oh, yeah? Tell me about her."

"Not too much to tell," Carol said, biting down on a potato chip. "She's cute, funny, sweet. A little younger than me, but most people are," she chuckled as she glanced over at you. You plastered a phone smile back onto your lips and forced a laugh from your chest. "Her name's Alya."

You almost grumbled, but managed to bite your tongue on time. You resorted to ripping open a packet of gummy bears in order to keep your mouth full and therefore unable to make any snarky comments. Carol didn't seem to notice that, only reaching over and grabbing a green bear out of the bag. Though you might have been a little frustrated, you let her. It wasn't her fault that you were touch-starved and desperate.

"You know, we could spend this trip trying to find you a girlfriend," Carol grinned, tossing a candy into the air and catching it in her mouth.

"No," you denied immediately. You didn't need for her to see how weird your head was being right now. You were certain there was no one she could find that would be able to snap you out of this strange state of no one being attractive to you, yet craving someone. "I'm not looking for a girlfriend in Ontario."

"What's wrong with girls from Ontario?" Carol teased.

She'd been to Ontario once before. She'd pointed out that, though they may have dressed a little different and talked a little different, the girls from Ontario were just as attractive as the girls from New York. You'd had to point out that, at the time, she'd had a girlfriend. With Carol's ogling at girls on Earth, clearly, she and the girlfriend hadn't been working out well. They'd broken up two weeks later, leaving them both a little hurt, but not beyond repair. Even still, they saw each other for lunch or for a drink, but just as friends. It was admirable; the respect they had retained for one another.

"Nothing is wrong with girls from Ontario," you huffed. "I'm just not in the mood. This is supposed to be our weekend."

"What if I want to spend our weekend finding you a girl?"

"I don't. Drop it," you finally snapped.

Immediately guilt rushed to settle in the pit of your stomach. You readjusted your grip on the steering wheel as your gaze refused to leave the road in front of you. You didn't want to glance over at the frown that had surely taken the place of that infectious smile you loved so dearly. You definitely didn't want to look at it knowing that you were the cause of it. Carol was so incredibly joyful all the time and that was one of the things you loved about her. To be the one who had taken that joy from her, even momentarily, broke your heart.

"I'm sorry," you muttered.

She didn't answer that.

You attempted to swallow the lump in your throat as you tried to focus on driving instead of picturing the frown that was probably tugging at each of Carol's features. You wished you could actually physically kick yourself for what you'd done. She didn't deserve you snapping at her like that. She hadn't done anything wrong. You were just being pissy for reasons you weren't sure even you quite understood. You finally turned to her, but she was looking out the window.

"Look, Carol-"

"Hey, don't worry. Sorry I pushed."

You didn't deserve Carol Susan Jane Danvers one single bit. She deserved more than the world and you swore right then you'd work every moment to give that to her. Despite how you'd treated her for reasons she couldn't possibly have understood, when she turned to you, she was still smiling. As always, her smile put a smile on your face too. You turned away from those soft brown eyes to glance back at the road in front of you.

"It's okay. I'm sorry I snapped. I just... it's a long story, Care-Bear."

"We've got a long ride ahead of us," she tried.

"I don't know that I'm feeling like talking about it right this second," you admitted.

She seemed to accept that. You felt her touch your arm with her hand. Warmth seemed to rush from her touch, up your arms, and into your chest. How one person could instill such comfort into you amazed you. She said a few soft words to you that you didn't quite hear, but you felt you might not need to. You knew they were words of comfort. Just that knowledge was enough to put a smile onto your face. Your eyes flickered from her to the road.

"No problem," Carol chimed. Then, without missing a single beat, she changed the subject. "Hey, which bag did you put the Fuzzy Peaches in?"

"The green backpack."

Just like that, it was easy again. Carol didn't let you linger on just how upset you were for more than a second. She practically dived into the back seat for the backpack, reappearing with the orange package in her hand. She plopped back down into her seat, still refused to put her seatbelt on, and ripped the package open. She reached out and turned up the music when one of your favourite songs came on. You wondered if she knew that.

*

"No! That piece goes over here!" You insisted.

Carol frowned and handed you the long pole.

Pitching a tent with an alien who hadn't even known was a tent was, up until five minutes ago, was not easy. She'd practically rolled herself up like a burrito in the rain fly right after nearly putting the stakes directly through the floor to pin the tent down. You'd been guiding her, preventing any damage from coming to it. She was listening intently, making sure she did everything exactly how you said. She stuck the peg through the guy line and looked at you.

"Like that?"

"Yeah. Perfect. I think we're just about done, Care-Bear."

At that, she unzipped the door, diving through it into the empty tent. You reached into the trunk of your car, throwing the many pillows, blankets, and sleeping bags through behind her, not caring much where they landed. When you finally shut the door and ducked into the tent, Carol was beneath the large pile, peering out from where only the top half of her face was visible. You had to chuckle, grabbing one of the blankets and pulling it over her face.

Carol insisted she set up. She had you sit aside by the door, munching happily on a small bowl of popcorn as you watched. She carefully unzipped the sleeping bags and lay them down on the floor, putting the pillows atop them, and then the two comforters stacked on top of each other on top of that. When she finally finished, she gestured proudly to her completed setup. You raised an eyebrow.

"We both sleeping there?"

She nodded. "It's cold."

You had to give her that. You were practically shivering just from waiting for her to finish. The sun had dipped beyond the horizon at this point, the darkness of night did nothing to heat up the air around you. You clambered under the blankets, careful not to drop any of the popcorn you still held. You placed it next to you, letting Carol reach over and grab some as she, too, climbed into the makeshift bed. She popped a piece into her mouth.

"Up to talking about it yet?"

It was a genuine question. Carol wasn't pushy. That was something you could tell by her tone. She had waited patiently and was continuing to wait for you to be ready to talk about what you needed to talk about. She didn't want you bottling it up, but she didn't want to pressure you. She was able to do that. You glanced down at the red blanket that covered your legs, pondering her question for a moment. Then you nodded your head yes.

"I just haven't felt myself recently," you shrugged. "I would like to get out there and find someone, no doubt. Recently, though, it's like my standards are unmeetable. No one seems even remotely appealing to me."

"No one at all?"

"Nat tried to set me up with her Russian model friend," you said, turning to Carol with a grin finally on your lips.

"Nothing?" Carol said, an exaggerated amount of shock on her face. "You must be broken."

You shoved her. She chuckled; the offensive action having done nothing. She was inhumanly strong. If you'd decided to punch her, you likely would've broken your hand against her. She shoved you back, only lightly, so you moved a few inches away from her. She stuck her hand back into the popcorn bowl as you shuffled back into your place beside her. She was chewing thoughtfully, and you didn't dare interrupt her with the very focused expression on her face.

"Do you already like someone? That usually takes away the appeal of anyone else."

You stopped to think about that. You knew that could be the case. In eleventh grade when you'd had a crush on Adelaide Artenbaker, you'd suddenly failed to find anyone else attractive at all. Of course, Adelaide had eventually rejected you on account that she was straight as an arrow. It wasn't malicious. She'd actually given you a kiss on the cheek and assured you that, if she discovered wasn't, she'd let you know. It had made you laugh.

Now, you had to wonder if there was anyone that was making your stomach flip and making you dismiss anyone else. It wasn't the Avengers. You'd been in the changing room with Natasha, the Black fucking Widow, two days ago, and she'd strutted up to you in nothing but her bra and underwear. You hadn't even bat an eyelash as she'd asked you if you wanted to get some Chinese food after the mission (but you had said yes, of course).

"Yeah. Maybe."

Her words had knocked some serious sense into you. You definitely had a crush on someone, and it had definitely been impairing your ability to get out on a date. That someone was around so little, though, that you hadn't realized right away just how you felt for them. Maybe if she visited Earth a little more often, you'd have realized why you blushed so deeply when she'd crawled into bed with you last night or right now.

"Who is it, then?"

Carol had a girlfriend. It may have been on-again-off-again, but she had a girlfriend. You were not now, nor ever, someone who would come between that. You were going to let her be happy with someone who was making her happy and you were going to be happy for her. You plastered a smile onto your face and reached into the bowl of popcorn that sat on your lap, letting the snack cloud the feelings of jealousy that you knew now weren't jealousy of a relationship, but if Carol.

"Nat."

Carol didn't miss a single beat. "Liar."

You glared at her. "The fuck do you mean? Telling me who I do and do not like?"

"I know who has your heart right now. It isn't Nat."

This time when she reached for the popcorn, she leaned over. To support her weight, her hand came to rest on your upper thigh. You had to refrain from reacting. You sucked the inside of your cheek between your teeth, biting hard on it to suppress any sort of reaction that Carol would have noticed. It seemed to have worked. She grabbed a small handful and then backed away, the pressure of her hand disappearing from your limb.

"Yeah? Who is it, then?"

"Someone that likes you back."

"And who says Nat doesn't?"

You might have actually been offended if it weren't Carol you were talking to. You were good enough for Natasha, right? She was practically a goddess in respect to her looks, but you were something, too. Not that you liked Natasha in that way. She was a friend. Carol was the one that you cared about. Something about that sweet smile and that confidence mixed with an innocence she had after being away from Earth for so long warmed your heart every time.

"Fair," Carol admitted. "But you know, you're pretty oblivious. With all the hints I've been dropping, you'd think you'd have realized your feelings are reciprocated."

"What?"

"I like you, dumbass. More than a friend likes a friend."

Your jaw might have dropped. You coughed, choking on the popcorn that you'd been eating as you whirled to face the blonde. She had a twinkle in her eyes, and a giggle escaped her lips when she saw the expression on your face. She tossed a piece of popcorn into the air, catching it in her mouth. She chewed on it as she waited, arms crossed, for you to collect yourself. Finally, after a long drink of water, you calmed.

"Pardon?"

"You're an idiot," she mumbled.

Then she grabbed the front of your shirt and pulled you closer. You didn't fail to notice, as your lips moved against hers, that she moved the popcorn bowl so that it wouldn't spill. It seemed completely unimportant, though. You felt everything starting to melt away into Carol Danvers. Her lips were talented and kissing her felt like an intricate sport and suddenly you needed to breathe. When you pushed away, you realized what you'd done wrong.

Her feelings to you didn't matter. She had a girlfriend. Unless that fact changed, she and you didn't get to be more than your friend. You pushed her even further away. You knew she had the ability to, but she didn't resist. You backed off a little further so that your bodies were completely separated. Her eyebrows knitted together in confusion, but she didn't push. She even waited for you to speak first. Your eyes wouldn't meet hers.

"You have a girlfriend."

"I just said that to make you jealous," she scoffed.

You immediately got defensive. "I was not jealous."

"You were so!"

"Shut up."

She did. You suspected the only reason she had shut up was because she was kissing you again. It didn't matter. You were on cloud nine. You felt right again. You felt more right now than you ever had. Carol was exactly what you had needed for longer than you could figure out right then. She was clouding your thoughts and, honestly, you couldn't have cared less. You didn't want to think about anything besides how good her lips felt on yours right then.

You couldn't even find it in yourself to be mad at her for the little stunt she had pulled. You could only be glad that this so-called girlfriend wasn't actually real, and was just a part of her stupid plan. Without the girlfriend, you were free to kiss her as much as she would let you. Judging by how she was kissing you now, she wasn't going to stop you anytime soon. Her teeth grazed your bottom lip as she pulled away, not moving more than an inch from your lips, though.

The hand that clasped your shirt uncurled. She pressed her hand flat against the centre of your chest, pushing you onto your back. You had to chuckle as her knees pressed into the ground on either side of your waist. She kissed your nose once, scowling at the laughs that were beginning to bubble from your chest. You leaned up and kissed her lips for a brief moment, before using a hand to caress her cheek and tuck her hair behind her ear.

"What are you laughing at?"

"Nothing. You were right," you stated. "I'm kinda glad you were right."

"You're kind of glad? Can you imagine how stupid I'd have looked if I were wrong?" Carol laughed.

"Quite," you agreed with a nod.

You pulled her down next to you, wrapping your arms around her and feeling hers do the same to you. You pressed your forehead against hers, taking the time to admire her smiling face. She giggled a little, pecking your lips quickly. She didn't linger, though, having been preoccupied in reaching over your shoulder into the bowl of popcorn once more. She shoved a few pieces into her mouth and chewed happily.

"Care-Bear, what's more important: me or snacks?"

"You are a snack."

You gaped. "How the hell did you learn that term?"

She shrugged. "I hear things."

You rolled your eyes, pushing her away from you. She let you, reaching for her water bottle to wash down some of the salty flavour that had come off the popcorn. She offered you some water, which you accepted. When you finished and handed the bottle back to her, she pulled you close to her. Your body moved until it was flush against hers. Her torso was so warm you could've fallen asleep right then and there.

"You're more important."

Being more important than snacks, in the opinion of Carol Danvers, was just about the highest compliment you could have received.

[willowisbunger]

God Im Sorry (A tapeworm clef fanfic)

Before we begin. This is all for jokes. I am so sorry for anyone who has to read this. Its also just a draft and will be complete at some point. For now enjoy what little I give you.

You find yourself resting on the couch of your dearly beloveds bed quarters. You scroll through your phone looking fondly at old text messages of when you and your husband to be's first text messages. All the ridiculous nicknames you two exchanged, all the flirting, photos, and various other things you two have sent to each other over the years. You couldn't help but giggle. You find it hard to believe this all started cause you decided to help some weird blonde guy with a ukulele out with his broken leg.

You two have been dating for almost 8 years and two months ago, the man, Dr. Alto Clef. He took you on a date. Just a nice simple stroll around the woods, which ended in a nice picnic by a river. In which you saw the man you have fallen head over heels for, get down on one knee and began plucking at the strings of his ukulele. Singing a sweet melody like a song bird in the spring, before pulling out a wedding ring and asking those simple words of "will you marry me". Your heart flutters with glee as you chuckle. You feel giddy and so over joyed with happiness. Right as your giggle fit calmed down you heard the front door open, and there stood your beloved. With a wide grin on his face as he held some folders in his hands. He had a doctors appointment that day since he had been feeling strange. With his face showing his usual bright beaming smile and his three beautiful eyes showing their usual mischievous gleam, it was clear that he was in more than perfect shape.

"Heya there pumpkin. I'm home. And I've got some great news." He spoke in a raspy slightly southern voice. At first it was grating on ya, but now its like all your favorite songs combine into one incredible tune. "Welcome home sweetheart!" You chirped as you ran up to your beloved teddy bear to give him a quick peck to the lips as you hugged him close, "What's the good news teddy? I can tell from that big dumb grin of yours ya got somethin real good to tell me. What did the doctor say?" You said as you affectionately pinched his cheeks causing him to laugh as he took both your hands to hold. "Well besides me being fit as a bull. Looks like I'm gonna be eating for two from now on."

You blinked and tilted your head in confusion, slowly processing the information as you stepped back a lil. "How? Babe I never top and we always use protection. Who-" "Oh no pumpkin. I ain't pregnant" He interrupted, chuckling as he ruffled your hair. "I got a tape worm. The doc took some sonograms of my stomach to see if there were any issues and yeah, there's a lil fella in there. Look." The blonde handed you the folder, which you opened and began reading through and your face turned pale at the sight of the tape worm in the photo of an ultra sound. You gagged a lil as you shoved the folder back into clefs arm. "Babe that's not okay!!!! That's a parasite!!!! Its gonna just keep reproducing and shit and its gonna fuck up your insides." You said quite loudly, usually you were quiet but this, this was making you quite distressed. Your fiancés face turned from a smile to a disappointed frown "I thought you would've liked clef junior....".

You stood baffled at the situation before you. Your dearly beloved, just, accepting and seeming to be happy about the fact he has a god damn TAPE WORM living inside of him. You've seen some shit in your days working for the foundation. A sheet of music that makes people go bonkers and try to bleed, Kondraki -clefs ex- ridding on god damn 682, and other shit that would boggle anyone's mind. But this. THIS RIGHT HERE. Just.... Leaves you speechless. "Pumpkin?" the third eyed man spoke in a concerned tone, which rarely came from him. "Are you okay?" You held your head in your hands as you sat back down on the plush couch and just took a deep breathe, and just as quickly as you sat down you sprung back up, grabbing your jacket and zipping it up. "Babe.... I just.... I need a moment.... I'll be out for awhile.... This is just, strange even for you and I need a moment to think about this." You sped walk past your -potentially ex- husband to be to the door. You shut the door, seeing Clef's face look uncharacteristically sad at you. It hurt you a little to leave your teddy bear like that, but you still needed time to just, think and process this whole situation.

You leave the housing area for researchers and quickly the site as well. You hail a cab and as soon as you enter the bright yellow vehicle you tell the faceless driver to "Take me to the nearest motel." Which he happily complied especially with the hefty tip you gave him. You just, Needed awhile to think and god knows how long that could be so you may as well rent out a room away from that hell site foundation to have a clear mind. After all who knows what might happen. Fucking Dr. Bright could tell you to give it a chance and raise the worm together with your teddy bear or some shit. You never know with this job and the people you worked with. While in your thoughts you rented out a room, room 105. Great another reminder of your hell job, even though it was just the simple numbers of 0 and 5 you can't help but be reminded of your faceless higher ups and the fact you work for them.

You found your room and quickly made your way inside to flop down on the bed, beforehand making sure to put up the "Do not disturb" sign and locking it. You burried your face into the hard cheap pillows of this motel, missing the one you had back at your place with its soft textures and the scent of your beloved.... Which once again brought you back to the worm. That fucking worm. Why the hell was your husband so keen on keeping it? He's at least some form of scientist he should know that tape worms are a dangerous parasite that affect your health. You stare up at the popcorn ceiling just, trying to wrap your head around WHY. Why would your partner; your future husband; the one who knows everything about you and you know everything about them.... just why are they keeping the tape worm?

You of course knew the stuff your teddy was known for, sleeping with that statue after a date, killing a dangerous reality bending child, father to 166 (who you were honestly happy to take in as your new step daughter). Out of everything. The tape worm makes you break. Makes you rethink your relationship with the man you've been dating for years at this point. All you can do at this moment is sigh, hearing the phone in your coat pocket buzz. You pull it out and set it to "do not disturb" as you set the device aside on a night stand. "Maybe I should sleep it off. Maybe I'll have a clearer mind then...." You say to yourself as you threw your coat off and roll onto your side. Feeling uncomfortable in your current clothes but you didn't pack a bag so, you just ignore the discomfort until eventually.... You drift off to sleep. The shallow hum of power surging through the building and the busy city outside envelop you as you feel unconsciousness take over.

While in your state of unconsciousness you hear a silky smooth, deep yet gentle voice speak to  you. "Y/N... Y/N its time to wake up Y/N". You slowly awoke, opening your groggy eyes, what laid before you, you didn't know. They had a handsome chiseled face, comparable to the statues found in ancient Greece with even a similar tone of white marble. They had thick luxurious hair that went down to their waste, rippling muscles that went down both torso and back.... They were ungodly white though. And didn't have legs. You stared at the bottom half and slowly processed what you were looking at..... A fucking tapeworm man. A fucking humanoid tape worm what the fuck. "Im going back to bed" You said as you laid on your side, and tried to ignore the hallucination.

The tapeworm creature, slid over you just to get to the side you were facing. You shivered feeling it’s disgusting body wiggle about. You close your eyes tightly as you did your best to ignore it. You could feel yourself holding back even more shivers as you felt their cold hands touch your face. “Y/n…. Look at me…. I just want to talk.” “And I just want to be left alone and not think about tapeworm men trying to seduce me while I’m contemplating breaking up my engagement.”

[mysterytickingegos]

I’ve Created a Monster

Pairing: Darkiplier x Clairvoyant!Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 2,480

Summary: After a bad date, you made a rather interesting friend. But better yet, you discovered something just as interesting about yourself. This something leads to a very exhilarating part of your life, but you learn the hard way that it’s not quite as glamorous an adventure as it may seem. The last person you’d expect is the one to bring you back to reality.

Anonymous Request: If I may request! :) Can I have a darkiplier x fem!reader fic with the prompts 37, 44, 45? After the events of wkm? Just some hurt and comfort to give me dem feelz 😀👍 Maybe Dark is the one saying it please? Much thanks!

Authors Note: Probably not what you were going for with the prompts but I hope you still enjoy it!

Want to read more?

[Image Description: A Gif of Darkiplier from the “horror” branch of “A Date with Markiplier,” speaking to the viewer at a table, while another image of him leans away and yells. End Description]

Junk mail, bill, wrong address, junk mail...

The usual. You weren’t sure what ‘cool thing’ you were expecting to get in the mail in 2020 but the disappointment was there anyway. Just as you shut your mailbox you heard somebody coming down the stairs and cringed, bracing yourself as you hoped it wasn’t who you thought it was. But of course it was.

Your upstairs neighbor, AKA the worst date ever. “Ah, hey Y/n.”

“Hi Mark...” You gave him a sad attempt at a wave, and he gave you a nod, walking over to his own mailbox.

‘How’s it going?”

“Great, yeah...you?”

“Good.”

And with that the room dissolved into awkward silence, and you took your leave back up the stairs. Funny enough these moments used to be filled with dumb jokes and flirting, that was until he finally asked you out. You had been overjoyed, happy that someone had taken an interest in you and glad that something was breaking your dull everyday routine. Little did you know the highlight of the date would be the end. He had taken you to an expensive restaurant only to reveal that he had ‘forgotten’ his wallet (which ended up falling out of his pocket in front of you in the theater.) Then he had been upset with you for accidentally falling asleep to what must’ve the most boring Rom-com you had ever been subjected to. You both seemed to be in silent agreement that this should never, ever happen again.

But unbeknownst to you and Mark, somebody else had been lingering around. That was the first time that specific somebody had decided to visit you, making a sucky date the least of your concerns. You spent the rest of your night watching compilations on YouTube and eating chocolate Ice Cream. You kept going from sad to angry over your horrible day in your head.

Were you only worth asking out for a free meal? A meal that for you took about half your grocery budget. You should’ve given that ass a piece of your mind.

You sniffed, wiping your eyes and scarfing down even more ice cream. “Damn it.”

“Aw, don’t cry, darling. It wasn’t that bad.”

You screamed and nearly jumped out of your skin, scrambling away from the man now next to you on the couch. The moment your feet hit the ground you grabbed your phone and locked yourself in your bedroom. “Who the fuck are you?!”

“Let’s say I'm a... friend of a friend. I thought I’d check up on you after that train wreck.” He spoke through the door. You heard a laugh layer over his voice, and wondered if somebody else was there.

“I’m calling the police!” You shouted back.

Then you heard the same voice just in front of you, clearly amused with the situation. “You’re welcome to do so, though I’m not sure they’d believe you.” It was the same man from the couch, smiling at you. You noticed how he seemed to be glitching, and how as his head tilted to the side his figure had duplicated in blue for a split second. “As I’m sure you can tell by now, I’m not exactly human.”

“What do you want from me?”

“I’d like to get to know you, Y/n. Is that so much to ask?”

The first few nights that you had stayed up a little too late and wound up speaking that deranged spirit again, you had been terrified. But soon enough you learned to enjoy his company. Sure, he could be a little unsettling at times, particularly when he was irritated and got...cold. Not just figuratively, which he was, but literally. The temperature in your apartment would drop a significant amount and you would change subjects shivering. But all in all, from what you could see behind that wall he had up, he was simply lost at worst, not exactly evil. And it was nice to not have to be so lonely all the time.

But during one of these visits, early on, you had decided to ask why.

“Why me, of all people?”

The man you had come to know simply as ‘Dark’  leaned in, lighting up as though he had been waiting on you to ask that this entire time. “Oh, Y/n. Don’t you know?”

“Why would I ask if I already knew?”

He let out an impatient sigh. ‘That’s...I was being...” He glanced up at you just in time to catch the smile playing at your lips after successfully ruining his aesthetic. “You know what? You can stay in the dark.”

“No no no, I’ll shut up, just tell me.” You turned to face him on the couch, tucking your legs under yourself.

He left you in suspense for a few moments, before dropping his voice down low when he spoke so you would have to lean closer in just to hear him. “Let’s just say you are...spiritually attuned to my world.”

“Spiritually attuned?”

“Yes, you are psychic, a medium, clairvoyant. Whatever you want to call it.” He explained. “You are a magnet to things outside the realm of the natural. A strange pair, aren’t we?”

And that was all it took, so many unexplained events from your past were now explained, and a world of possibilities was opened to you. You must’ve spent weeks researching how to harness your abilities, starting the second he left. Sure, most sites and blogs were absolutely full of it but you got the gist. With that and some common sense, how much could go wrong?

You started to take silly jobs on the internet, from old women who thought something was off with their mirrors to amateur ghost hunters who wanted a ‘consultant.’ It took you a while to gain some confidence that you weren’t just pulling this stuff out of thin air, that you hadn’t lost your mind. But after a few months, once you hit that learning curve, man it was fun.

Your latest job was a little more hardcore, a young family wanting help to push a poltergeist out of their new home. Their stories had chilled you to the bone, but you were happy to help. Your evaluation at the house went fine, nothing too far past what you were used to. Except, the entire time you were there you felt as though you had weight sitting on your chest. You could barely listen to the poor couple tell you what they experienced due to a faint scratching feeling at the back of your mind. You weren’t an expert yet but you could tell that whatever this thing was, it did not welcome you there. Worse yet, the feeling of being drained that the couple mentioned was certainly affecting you as well. Perhaps worse.

But all that accomplished was making you even more determined to rid the house of it. You took notes for your research later, tried to communicate in the most active part of the house (with no results,) and gave the couple the best advice you could at the moment.

“Until this thing is gone, it’s best you stay somewhere else.”

A few nights later, you had just finished packing your bag and begun heading for the door when you heard Dark just behind you. “Good evening, Y/n.” His voice was layered, followed by a subtle echo bouncing off the walls of your small apartment. When you turned to face him you saw he was already frowning, having realized you were on your way out. “Where are you off to so late?“

“I’m going to hang out with some friends. So I’m sorry, you’ll have to find some other way to entertain yourself tonight, instead of ya know, slowly but surely turning me into a nocturnal hermit.“ You joked, adjusting the tote bag on your shoulder.

He chuckled, bringing his hands behind his back. “I hate to break this to you my dear, but you were there well before we met.”

“Ha ha.” You turned to leave but were stopped short when you saw that he had apparated directly in front of you.

“What’s in the bag?” He asked, starting to reach for it curiously before you stepped back.

“Nothing.” You said, a little too quickly. “Just some party supplies, alright?”

He raised his brow, no longer amused. “...Convincing. Is it really so difficult to be honest with me?”

“Oh don’t even try and pull that card, you won’t even tell me why you’re haunting that jerk upstairs.”

His jaw clenched, and he looked away from you. “That’s different. Bringing such things to light would only do more harm than good.”

“Well, I may be wrong but...my thing is kinda the same. And I like what we’ve got going on so just let it go. Please?”

Dark stayed quiet, peeved off and clearly even more curious than he was before. Finally, he side-stepped out of your way, “Just be careful.”

When you got to the house, you were careful. Keeping lights on and keeping quiet while you did everything your research said you were supposed to. As you did, the spirit was also quiet, too quiet. And on your way home, you kept waiting for that heavy feeling on your chest to fade away.

Your apartment was freezing when you stepped out of the bathroom after your shower. Cold air brushed over your shoulders as you wrapped your arms around yourself. “Dark?” You called out, looking around for him. This wasn’t like him. He usually made you aware of his presence as soon as he showed up. You walked into your bedroom and when you locked eyes with another in the mirror, you froze.

This wasn’t like Dark, because it wasn’t him.

Instead, the person standing behind you was a very decrepit and very angry old woman, seemingly fading in and out of reality as she glared at you. “Y̸o̵u̶ ̴s̴h̷o̵u̶l̶d̸ ̸h̵a̵v̷e̷ ̵l̸e̴f̷t̶ ̷w̶e̶l̵l̶ ̸e̴n̵o̷u̶g̷h̶ ̶a̸l̶o̴n̸e̷.̴“

The mirror shattered and you whipped around to face her, but she wasn’t there. The air whirling around the place started to pick up, and picture frames flew off the wall at you, then other objects that had decorated your room. You tried to flee but your front door wouldn’t budge. You started to bang on it, crying in fear and praying that anyone would hear you. Next thing you knew though, you were flung towards the wall.

Finally, everything settled. The weight was off your chest, but there was plenty of pain there in it’s place. You slowly pulled yourself into a sitting position, then wiped the tears off your face with one hand and held the other over your ribs. You weren’t sure how long you sat there, waiting for something to happen and your heartbeat overpowered the ringing silence in your ears. You wanted to get your phone, to call for help but you were terrified of gaining attention again. You didn’t even really stop shaking until you heard a familiar voice.

“...Y/n?” Dark didn’t see you when he first showed up, just the disaster area that was your living room. Once had seen you, he was beside you in a blink of an eye. You didn’t even think about it before you wrapped your arms around him. He only gave you a moment of comfort before he pulled back, looking over you in concern. “What happened? Who hurt you?”

You couldn’t really get much out between pained wincing as he scooped you into his arms. “It was a -Ow- s-spirit.”

He laid you down on the couch as gently as he could, and you could see his face change from confusion to recognition to irritation. “Why, pray tell, would a spirit be here?”

“I may have taken a job to get rid of it...” You muttered under your breath.

“Unbelievable.” He shook his head, about to say something else before he stopped himself. Instead he moved his focus to your hand, moving it to reveal the dark bruise over your ribs.

“See, I knew you weren’t gonna like it.”

“You going off and messing with things you haven’t even begun to understand? Of course I don’t like it.” His figure glitched and layered itself in different colors before he got up and went to the kitchen.

You scoffed at his remark, trying to sit up. “Hey I understand more than you think, I’ve been doing this crap for months!”

He came back around the corner with an ice pack from your freezer in his hand. “Months?” He apparated in front of you, gently placing the pack down on the bruise, allowing you to squeeze his free hand until the shock wave from the pressure passed over you.

“I started looking into all this after you told me the truth.” You confessed. “I mean with the internet it wasn’t difficult, and I do my due diligence alright? I don’t know what went wrong.”

The aura behind him flashed pure red for just a moment, he approached his next words much softer than usual. “You can’t navigate things like this using the internet, Y/n.”

“Well I didn’t think you’d want to help me help everyone else get rid of their ghosts.”

He scoffed at you, beginning to raise his voice as the aura swapped back to blue. “You were right! I don’t understand why you would want anything to do with this, anyway. Why would you do this to yourself??” 

“I thought...I thought it’d be fun-”

“This isn’t a game!”

“You know I really don’t get you, why-”

“Of course you don’t! Do you even know what I am?”

“Well, no...”

“Neither do I.” He growled. His words truly sunk in once you saw the pain behind his eyes. He collected himself, taking a deep breath before continuing, “What I do know, is that I was human once. And people screwing with things that they shouldn’t have for selfish reasons is what turned me into this. Over the years I’ve had to see other terrible things happen to well meaning people. I’ll be damned if you throw yourself into the fire for fun.”

You nodded softly, breaking the intense gaze between you to look as your hands. “...Okay.” You opened your mouth to speak again after that, but decided against it.

“What is it?” Dark asked, trying and failing to hide the impatience in his voice.

“I just didn’t think...well I really didn’t think you’d care. Well, about this part I guess-”  You sighed, cutting yourself off this time, rather than rambling.

He was quiet for a moment, placing his hand under your chin and tilting your head up to look at him. “I care...more than you know.” It was the silence after that, that spoke volumes, and even more so the way he moved forward to press his lips to yours. “Now, if you’ll excuse me I have a poltergeist to take care of.”

[jengajives]

Lots of feelings about how my fave siblings would have felt about Maedhros’s fun trip on Thangorodrim. Also Best Cousins as well

“Wake up, Your Majesty.”

Maedhros didn’t move until the sharp toe of an iron boot jabbed his side. Then he grumbled and rolled over, but would not rise.

“Your Highness,” sang the serpent’s voice from somewhere above him. “Your feast awaits, oh King.”

A clatter. The tray of whatever food he was gifted with for the day hitting the damp stone floor. Maedhros still did not move.

“No appetite, hm? Your Majesty just isn’t himself this morning. Usually you’re so excited for your meals.”

A high, hot laugh. Maedhros got the idea Sauron was putting his boot in the food. A lovely image.

“You can tell your master,” he said flatly, without cracking an eye or rolling over, “that if He wants me mocked and ridiculed, He’d better come down here and do it Himself. I give little weight to the word of lesser servants.”

“Lesser?” Sauron repeated. Heat leached into his voice; Maedhros could feel it rising from the coward’s skin even before the fire-bright hands reached down to grab him, burning another set of hand prints into his shoulders with fat, red welts.

“I will show you lesser, pup,” Sauron seethed, “Are the failure son of failure fathers, and I am Flame itself!”

“You,” Maedhros said though his voice quivered with exhaustion, “are just a slinking dog afraid to leave his master’s heels. More likely to roll over than to stand up and fight.”

The pain of heat grew red and wild, like touching molten metal. Sauron’s fingertips dug in and Maedhros found himself locked in a fiery scarlet gaze.

“We shall see who rolls over for whom,” Sauron snarled, and dragged Maedhros unresisting from the cell.

“Look at you!”

Sauron’s eyes glowed in the dim light, gleaming with smug victory. His hands, so rarely idle, twitched by his side until he had to grab Maedhros by the hair and yank his head up so he could get a good look at his face.

The small myriad of new cuts went from cheekbone to cheekbone. Jaw to jaw. It was nothing, of course, compared to the pain against his spine he was convinced would never leave.

It had been hours and still it hurt sharp and blazing hot as ever.

It seemed like Sauron was trying to burn letters into his very skin, though he worked too gradually for Maedhros to make out the script.

Sauron laughed and gave him a sharp slap.

“The High King of the Noldor, eh? I don’t see it. All I can see is a houseless and pathetic murderer getting what he deserves.”

Maedhros spit at him, splattering his face with blood. Immediately the flame in Sauron’s eyes went white hot.

“Why, you little-“

“Mairon.”

Sauron paused, one hand drawn back and glowing like molten metal, as his master appeared looming like a mountain in the doorway.

“That’s enough. Leave him.”

His eye twitched but slowly he straightened and obeyed, with a courteous bow.

“Of course, Master.”

He shot Maedhros a spiteful glare as he stalked from the room, still wiping blood and spit away with a sleeve.

The sound of Morgoth’s approach was like a rumbling in the earth, but Maedhros had learned to ignore it. He let his head hang limp, cheek pressed to the cold stone, breathing steadily, trying to convince his scrambled mind it was safe to rest, even if only for an instant.

He hadn’t yet fully mastered the terror when Morgoth reached him and lifted his head by the hair.

No rest. No rest was fine. He didn’t need to rest.

“I’m afraid I have bad news for you, Nelyo,” said Morgoth with mock pity, his expression twisted into a deep frown. “I’ve just gotten message back from your dear brothers.”

Something cold that probably had been hope once rose into Maedhros’s throat, and he didn’t have the energy to keep it from showing. Cruel amusement flashed behind Morgoth’s heavy eyes.

“Unfortunately, it seems they’ve abandoned you to torment and pain for the rest of eternity.” The sympathy dripping from his voice tasted like poison; it was difficult not to choke on it. “Isn’t that just awful? Your own family... not even willing to save their sweet Nelyo. Their King. How horribly tragic.”

Any attempt to think through the news logically failed, so the only thought going through Maedhros’s head was the certainty that it was a lie. Maglor and Celegorm wouldn’t abandon him to this, surely. Fingon wouldn’t... Fingon...

No. Fingon wasn’t here. He wasn’t coming, he couldn’t be, and even if he was, why would he want anything other than pain for the sons of Fëanor? After what they had done... after what Maedhros had done to him. No, there was no rescue. No freedom. The Oath bound his brothers never to give up the pursuit of their enemy, not even for his sake.

“Get on with it,” Maedhros growled, raising his gaze to meet Morgoth’s. “I’ll be avenged. You’ll be paid for the lives of my grandfather, and my father, and... and me. Go ahead and do it.”

A pause, and then Morgoth laughed wild and cold.

“Oh, sweet boy. You think I want you dead? You think I want to kill you? No, no...” He leaned closer, his breath a whisper of ice and stone. “I want you to watch your brothers die. I want you to see exactly how fruitless all your labors have been. You, my dear Nelyo, are not going anywhere.”

Maglor was so distracted looking out over the mountains that he didn’t notice he was no longer alone until he got a hand clapped on his shoulder.

“Brother.”

He almost jumped as he flipped around, but managed to restrain himself.

“Celegorm!”

“Your hair is getting long,” Celegorm said, with a weak smile on his face as he rustle his fingers through the growing curls. Trying not to look as sad as he was. “It looks nice. Going to braid it again soon?”

“Oh. Yes, I think so.” Maglor did not have the energy to attempt a smile. Didn’t have the will.

“Good.” Celegorm patted him on the shoulder again. “Good. A king should have braids, yeah?”

Maglor was nodding along until he processed the words.

“K-King?”

“Yes.” Celegorm straightened up, resting a hand on the hilt of his sword. He had the same cool, collected expression that most of them wore nowadays. “You are next in line, Maglor.”

“Next in...” he trailed off, glancing east again to the mountains. “Wait, no, Celegorm, Maedhros is-“

“Maedhros is gone.” He would not meet Maglor’s shocked gaze. “It’s time we start accepting that. Our people need a king, and you-“

“No!” Maglor stepped back. “He is alive! Maedhros is our king, and he’s alive, and we aren’t going to abandon him like that!”

“I’m just saying we should think about it,” Celegorm said. “That’s all.”

“No.” Maglor looked at his brother in horror. “That’s awful, Celegorm, I’m not leaving him like that!”

“I’m sorry.” Celegorm backed up, hand raised. “But he’s gone. There’s nothing we can do. I’m sorry.”

He turned and left the room, and Maglor put his face in his hands and wept.

The air was bitter cold up here. Bitter cold and reeking of smoke.

Maedhros tried so hard not to feel the pain anymore. Tried to close his eyes and drift to sleep but he couldn’t. The pain was too constant.

If his hand could have come off, it would have by now. It hurt. It hurt so bad.

The stone was razor sharp and tore at his back like knives. The wind bit into his flesh. And the manacle sliced his wrist and sent a constant stream of blood down his arm.

It hurt too bad to find escape in sleep.

It hurt too bad to think.

When the clear sound of horns rang across the hills and echoed through the peaks, Maedhros almost thought his mind had wandered entirely out of reality.

But then he saw the blue banners of Fingolfin in the valley below, and the horns rang out deafening and clear, and it was so loud it shook him to his core.

Fingolfin.

Fingolfin was here.

He was here, waving his banners, banging on the gates of Angband under the light of the silver newborn moon.

Strength flowed immediately through Maedhros and he squirmed, pulling himself up by the chain around his wrist. The white gleam of armor and jewels glittered like a living river of hope.

“Uncle!”

He twisted, trying to get enough air to his lungs to scream.

“Uncle!”

He didn’t know how Fingolfin had gotten here but he was here. He had come.

“Fingon! Uncle! Aredhel!”

His voice rang across the rocks loud and clear. Surely loud enough to be heard. Surely.

Surely. Please.

Please.

Night and sat blurred into one honey-slow and unsteady pulse, so slow. So slow and he had hung here longer than he could comprehend.

His back was sliced to ribbons by the stone face behind, and the cuts around his wrist were never properly allowed to heal and had turned his entire site dull copper with dry blood. It rained every once in a while and rinsed him clean, but mostly he was suspended there in his own blood and sweat and filth without escape.

No escape.

Never any way out.

Never.

The sound of strings on the wind couldn’t be real because no one would ever crawl up here for his sake, for any sake, let alone play. Let alone sing. Sing a beautiful song in Quenya that Maglor had written about the white streets of Tirion like some ghost of long-lost peace.

His body shook with shivers and fever and he closed his eyes and raised his nose to the wind.

Humming along brought momentarily peace, so Maedhros parted his dry, cracked lips and took up the tune slow and gentle. His voice was in no shape for singing, but he managed it, and it made him feel at home, so he tried anyway.

Abruptly the song stopped. The music died. He lowered his head and returned to the cold and the torment.

“Maedhros?” called a voice, and over a face of rock far below poked the dark head of Fingon.

Fingon.

Fingon was here for him.

He’d come.

Tears steamed hot down his cheeks, the only water he had left.

Fingon crawled onto the flat granite shelf and got to his feet, a vision in gleaming blue with a harp at his side. He stood for a moment studying the rock and the sheer face between himself and his cousin, then he cupped his hands over his mouth and called again.

“Maedhros, I can’t reach you!”

Even from this distance, Maedhros could see the silver bow slung across Fingon’s back.

He croaked words and just had to hope they reached all the way down.

“Just shoot.”

Blood ran down his bicep and dripped through the hollow of his spine.

“Fingon. Please. Just shoot me.”

He closed his eyes and missed if Fingon replied, because his arm ached so horribly he couldn’t even think.

It seemed to him a long time before he opened his eyes again and saw Fingon sat on the stone with his face in his hands and the bow resting next to him. He was crying. Maedhros could see his shoulders shaking from here.

Eventually he stood, picked up the bow and turned around to face the precipice.

Maedhros saw his lips moving, but he couldn’t hear the words. All he could see was the gleam of the bow as he drew it.

He closed his eyes again.

Awaiting the momentary pain that would herald his release.

It did not come.

He heard the wind of a hurricane, felt it push against his face and smack him back to the rock, and the roar of beating wings, and then hands on his shoulders holding him, warm, and firm, and present.

“It’s alright!” Fingon spoke through tears, a desperate smile on his face. “I’m here. I’m here, Maedhros. I’m going to take you home!”

Maedhros did not answer. It hurt. It hurt and it wasn’t like Fingon would be able to get rid of it.

He could feel him tugging at the chains. Trying to pry the manacle off the rock. Trying everything.

“Fingon,” Maedhros breathed. “Fingon, please. You can’t get me out of here. There’s no way out. Just... if you could just... please...” He looked meaningfully at the sword his cousin wore at his hip. “Just end it. Please. I can’t...”

“No, no. Stop that, I’m not leaving you. You’re going to be fine!”

“I’m sorry.” He wanted to cry but his body wouldn’t manage it. “Fingon. I’m sorry. I-I never meant to leave you b-behind.”

“Just hush. Keep your strength.”

“I’m sorry...”

Another tug at the manacle. It wouldn’t budge.

Finally, Maedhros heard the scrape of a sword being drawn, and a silver flash of sunlight blinded him.

Yes. Yes, at last. At last.

“Hold still. It’ll only hurt for a second, cousin, I promise. Just- Just don’t move!”

The dull pain in his wrist turned sharp and he let out a scream that echoed endlessly across the peaks.

So sharp. So cold.

Turned him to ice.

Froze him all up.

He didn’t even notice Fingon holding him, wrapping him in a cloak, forcing warmth back into his body. Binding his hand tight and clean.

His hand his hand his fingers were twitching and he could still feel the manacles.

“I’m so sorry,” he sobbed quietly into Fingon’s chest, and for the first time in too long he received an affectionate touch.

He closed his eyes and went at last to sleep.

[the-fiction-witch]

The Siren P2

REAL LIFE HORROR COUPLE: TBS X READER RATING: FLIRTY AF

I drove following the directions my phone told me driving down this long curving road beside the sea so many little houses and buildings lined the way between the road and the ocean. The sounds of seagulls and fairground rides breaking through the sounds of the radio playing something I didn't know. The sweet smell of sea air and chips, I drove on following the directions seeming to leave the world behind me going further and further from the busy town down these kong winding roads. Even the little houses stopped now I could see the crisp blue sea down a long drop to the ocean many broken railings were no doubt people had lost control and ended up going to the bottom. I took a turn and I saw it.

Tall, striking sat beside a beautiful cove of crystal blue water and golden sand, the sky a muted grey, the old bricks without a flaw, large victorian windows with purple drapes behind them, a fountain at the front that the road went around with little water coming from it and an old carefully preserved mermaid statue in the centre seat on a rock brushing her hair. The sign on the twisted gate confirming I was in the right place 'The Siren's Bay' hotel, restaurant, and bar. With a smaller sign on the gate

'All non-hotel guests must be off site by 10'

That seems fair. I pulled my car up and saw a car park to the right so i parked up grabbing my stuff and walking over by az soon as I took a step on the marble I jumped seeing a man stood there he was old, a little withered in a pair of black suit pants a red button-down and some black suspenders, he had a bushy beard not too unlike Santa but with tones of grey

"Good afternoon," he said welcomingly

"Good afternoon. I uhh in ti-"

"We know. We've been expected you" he smiled “Come I’ll have someone tend to your things,” He said

“Okay” I nodded a little unsure this felt weird, I swear some kinda Stephen king shit kicks up I am fucking out of here. I followed him up the steps and through the wooden door to a rather nice little reception room with checkerboard stone floors and tall fictional features, the desk central in the room in front of a large staircase to the left was a doorway to a large bar and restaurant with views of the cove and to the right a glass door out to a terrace that overlooked the gardens even if they seemed a little worse for wear then in the pictures online

“We’re a little down at the moment out of the high season you see” He said

“Oh yeah, of course “I nodded going over to the desk with him and he did a little paperwork and handed over a key

“Feel free to use al our facilities during your stay, you’ll be up in room Thirteen” He said “If you can just sign?”

I nodded and signed on the paperwork taking my key “Thanks”

“Go on up, and I’ll have things taken to your room”

“Thanks very much” I nodded heading up the stairs.

I got to my door and unlocked it revealing a very nice room it was large and open with a small area for the fridge And some counter space, a beautiful for post bed with blue curtains some sheer and some less so, beautiful blue and white covers on the bed with so many pillows you could build a fort. A very vintage and stylish bathroom to the side with a bath and seperate shower

There was a lovely old sofa that looked out the large glass doors out to the balcony, I opened the doors pushing back the blue and white curtains and walking out onto the lovely balcony looking out across the sand and sea of the cove nowone down there and honestly it was a little chilly but this Tome of year I don't know what I expected. Soon enough the man from the front brought my things up I thanked him and began to unpack hanging my shirts on the little wardrobe and such as I was to be here a while once I had put everything where it needed to be I smiled and jumped on my bed getting cosy with all the soft covers.

I had myself a nice warm bath and got dressed I'm on holiday perfect Tome to dress up a little for dinner I got my dark blue suit pants on and my light blue button down on doing my hair a little before heading down to the restaurant it was actually fairly busy clearly a lot of local people come up for the evening there was a older woman at the bar washing a glass of I had to guess I'd have sad she was the wife of the guy I met this morning, I took a seat at the bar as that was all there was and she smiled at me "room thirteen?" She asks

"Yeah that's me" I nodded showing my key a moment as I still had it in my hand from locking my door

"Not many in the hotel itself. Most just come up for dinner" she says "I can do you a drink while you wait for a table?"

"Sure" I nodded going for my wallet but she laughed

"No charge sir, part of you staying you see" she says

"Okay. I'll uhh have a cider then" I smiled she did me the drink and I sat sipping It looking out at the beautiful ocean I noticed someone at the bar he seemed off. Sat looking at his drink and nothing else his glass in his hand inna vice like grip, he seemed old, tried, nervous. I made a note of him and continued to look around the very nice room when suddenly there was noise people where applauding I looked around a little confused why before I noticed at the edge of the restaurant by the windows was a raised area and there now stood a woman.

I was for a moment taken aback by her. She was… beautiful.

She stood there in a long blue dress with white petticoats peeking out from the skirt, a white belt on her waist, she had silver bracelets and a necklace with a blue crystal hung from her neck, a white headband in her purple curled hair, she had perfect make up with a bright red lipstick, and eye shadow that made looked like waves apon the sea, natural looking lashes and a glow on her cheeks that sparkled purple and blue she had quiet wide hips and rather voluminous breasts she smiled doing a little curtsy as she stood there setting a microphone up I smiled widely just watching her I don't know why but she made me feel so happy, so peaceful and relaxed music began and she began to sing, it was gentle, slow, sultry and perfect like an old lounge singer designed to make you smile and maybe dance to her songs, but I couldn't help watching her it was like the world went dark and only her and I existed as she sang, like she was singing only for me and it was heavenly.

Once it was over I felt strange, I felt empty like I'd been thrown back to reality and I didn't really want to leave everyone applauded her I did too and she went off somewhere else many getting up to leave now the song was over so I got my table for dinner sitting by the window with my cider looking over the menu as the place cleared out only one old couple in the corner and that weird guy at the bar still here

"Would you mind if I joined you?" A voice asked I looked up and saw that woman again now with a glass of rosé in her hand

"Ohh no not at all, I'd be delighted" I said offering her the other chair at my table she smiled and took it "your song was beautiful"

"Thank you" she smiled "I've not seen you before"

"No I uhh staying here for a holiday only came down this morning"

"I see. How do you like it so far?"

"It's amazing. In really waiting for someone to pull the rug out from under me it all feels too good"

"Well it's a nice place, I'm sure they'll be something somewhere" she smiled

We both ordered another drink and some food getting a sharing thing between us

"So, do you live around here?"

"I do. In the hotel"

"I see. You work here then?"

"As a cleaner. sometimes singing"

"I see well your song was beautiful I've never heard anyone like you"

"Thank you" she blushed her hand gently stroking the top of mine. I blushed a little so not use to having anyone… flirt with me well other than kelly at work but not like this. I couldn't deny I was interested in her she was beautiful and I couldn't stop looking at her breasts our food and drinks came and we spoke for a good while about the area, the hotel, the food.

"Sorry I uhh I don't even know your name"

"Y/n." She smiled

"Y/n? That's a very beautiful name" I smiled "Tom. Or Thomas. Either"

"Tommy" she giggled

"Okay"

"Okay?"

"usual Don't allow that one" I told her

"Ohh sorry I'll-"

"But. I'll let you" I smiled giving her a little wink

"That's sweet of you" she smiled stroking her foot up my leg a little I smirked and did it back too stroking my foot on her ankle and a little up her leg as we finished our food and our drinks

"So you have another song to sing?"

"No just one tonight, nothing left to do likely just go back to my room"

"Yeah me too."

"I could always. Come and keep you company?"

"Company? In my roo- oh."

She shrugged and smiled at me

"Yeah sure I uhh I'd love some company"

"Which room?"

"I'm room thirteen"

"I'll see you later then" she smiled getting up giving my head a kiss and heading out into the hotel as soon as I knew she was gone I pretty much bolted up to my room...

[sweetwritertanya]

Dressed Up For Halloween (Jimin)

Summary: Your boyfriend is currently miles away on Halloween night and you watch the special live he and the rest of the members had scheduled for tonight. But things get interesting when you come up with a special unplanned costume that he seems to rather enjoy on you.

Warnings: SMUT! For this fic there will be: swearing, erotic body touching, mutual masturbation, female masturbation, male masturbation, phone sex over videocall, dirty talk (like, lots).

Word Count: 3759

You turned on your computer and smiled once the video started, watching your boyfriend and his friends on the other side of the screen. Jimin was too busy to celebrate the 31st of October with you this year. He was currently shooting a Halloween special live with the rest of the members quite a few miles away from the city you both lived in. There was no way he could make the trip back in one night, so he and the boys would just sleep in hotel rooms.

Still, as you watched his cute mushy face smiling at the camera, you really wished you could be with him right now. Sighing, you get off your couch and grab some snacks and a drink from the kitchen. You couldn’t be with him personally, but you would be with him digitally. You would watch the full live and text him all about it after.

Chuckling to yourself in your empty apartment, you watch curiously as they play a game to decide who gets what costume for the night. You didn’t know they would be dressed up for Halloween, but it made sense when you thought about it. Their team would definitely prepare something like that for them.

It couldn’t have gone better. You almost choke in your food once you realize what outfit Jimin was supposed to put on. An angel. Coincidentally, he was wearing a white blouse that went along perfectly with the pair of wings he struggled to get on his back. Alongside his blond painted hair and already angelic features, it took your breath away. This man was truly an angel among men, no question about it.

Your eyes couldn’t leave him for the first half hour of the live, your lips with the corners pulled up without you even noticing it until your cheeks hurt. Once they made a little break halfway though, it was like you were called back to reality. You got up and went to the bathroom in the meantime, only to come back in time to hear your phone ping with a message.

Grabbing it from between the cushions of your couch, your smile returns as you realize it’s a text from Jimin. He tells you about how much he misses you and how his day is going, namely about how he got stuck with the angel’s costume. He actually sends you a selfie showcasing his wings, as if you haven’t been watching from the beginning.

That makes you think of something. You always wanted to go out on Halloween with a boyfriend on a couple’s costume. Maybe you two couldn’t be together this year, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t match your costumes. You were pretty sure you still had the props you needed that would go along with the scandalous red dress at the back of your closet…

In a whim, you get up and run to your bedroom, searching for the things you needed. You strip from your hoodie and leggings to a short spaghetti strap red dress, showcasing your bountiful cleavage and soft fluffy arms, as well as your rounded legs. The dress was tight fitting, hugging at your curves perfectly. You skip any make-up except for a bold red lip. And, of course, to tie it all together, you grab the props from a box at a top shelf of your closet: a red trident and a hair band with two little red horns.

Damn, you looked good. Before you second-guessed yourself, you pick up your phone, lay in your still unmade bed and take a pick. Just a bit suggestive, enough to raise a bit of blood. You tell him you miss him too, that you dressed up to match with him and send the picture after.

Back in the living room, you wait in front of the computer for the live to continue and a few of the guys are already sited back in place. You wait for Jimin to come up, but he takes longer than the others and is the last to show up, something the members tease him about as always. Only when the camera zooms on his face do you realize the slight blush ramifying from his cheeks to his ears. You bit your lip as you wonder if it was because of you.

Eventually the rest of the program they had for the live continues and it actually stretches another twenty minutes longer than the planned time. You had a good time watching them, like you always did. But it did feel lonely once the live ended and you closed your computer, realizing you were alone with nothing to do for Halloween.

You were picking up all the snacks you brought to the living room and putting them back in place when your phone rang again. Finishing your task, you go back into the living room and see a message from Jimin. He is telling you not to change your outfit and give him twenty minutes. All in caps.

You suck in your smiling lips as a rush of excitement runs through you. He only used all caps when really passionate about something, he must have really liked your costume. Thankfully, you still had everything on except the lipstick that had smudge while eating. So, as you wait to hear back from him, you take your time to style you hair a bit better, reapply the lipstick and, as silly as it was since it’s not like you would be seeing him personally, you even put on your favorite perfume.

By the time he video-called you, your stomach was in butterflies and your heart skipped a beat at the first ringtone. When you answer, you see him back at the hotel, in his own room, still in his white shirt but no longer wearing the wings. He is laying with his stomach down on his bed, usually slim eyes enlarged as he looked at you through the phone’s screen.

“You’re still wearing it” he whispers in an incredulous manner.

“Of course, you asked me to” you answer back, standing up only to sit back at the head of your bed, where the light from the lamp was best.

“Why are you doing this to me?… You know I can’t go and be with you today, still you sent me a pic like that? You’re killing me here, angel” he whines, with that amazingly cute pout he always made.

“You’re the angel here, Mr. Jimin. May I remind you, today I’m the devil” you point with an index finger to the pointy horns on your head.

He grins and looks away embarrassed for a moment, only to look back at the camera with half-moon eyes.

“You tease me too much, Y/N. Do you know how hard it is to see you like this and not being there to witness? To see you in person, to hug you and touch you and kiss those pretty red lips and… Arrgg!” Jimin was only frustrating himself, it seemed.

“I wish you were here too, love” you confess. Then, a most devilish idea crosses your mind and your heart accelerates with eagerness and anticipation. Maybe you were getting too much into character today, letting such sinful desires guide you. “But, if you were here, just out of curiosity, what would you do? You know, to me, I mean.”

Your bottom lip disappears behind your teeth as you watch Jimin blink in surprise and look away as he licks his lips, gulping hard before responding. The colored flare from before seems to return gradually to his cheeks. All of this pulls at the muscles of your lower stomach in a familiar way.

“I, hum… I would kiss you, for sure” he shyly starts.

“No, no. You never just come up to me and just kiss me like that. You always build up to the kiss, Jimin. So, how would you do it if you were here?” you press for detail.

Jimin changes his position on the other side of the screen, sitting in a similar position to you in bed, with his back against the headboard. He takes a deep breath and looks slightly away from the phone as he answers you again, in a more thoughtful way.

“Well, if I could go and see you right now, the first thing I would do is hug you tight in my arms. Wrap my arms around your shoulders and pull your warm body to mine, breathe in your unique scent.”

You smile at that, picturing it effortlessly in your head.

“And I would hug you back, my hands on your back keeping you close to me. What next?”

“Then I would pull back just a little. Just enough to look at your face. I would frame your cheeks in my hands” he seems to look at his hands as he talks, as if imagining it vividly like you. “I would let my fingers brush your skin slightly before leaning in and kissing you.”

“I can see that. Perfectly, in fact. What type of kiss?”

It’s his turn to bite his plump lip, no more denying the blush evident on his face. He looks away to his right, giving you a nice view of his lean neck and the collar-bones peeking through the shirt. He then looks slightly down as he answers in a lower voice.

“Small pecks. At first.” His eyes glance up quickly into yours before he continues. Even through the phone, the intensity behind them sends sparks down your body. “Then longer kisses. Deep loving ones.”

You nod your head, wondering if he could tell your cheeks were flushed too.

“And I would kiss you back. My hands would be around your shoulders, grasping at the nape of your neck or along your spine. Care to tell me where yours would be?”

When he gets up of bed instead of answering you, you think that maybe you went too far and he didn’t like it. That he was uncomfortable with this. But instead, you listen rather than watch, since he had the camera of his phone against his pants and all you saw was a black screen, as he walks to his room’s door and the sound of the door locking is clear as day.

Jimin resumes his place in bed as if nothing happened, but you were both relieved and giddy.

“Honestly?” he questions staring at the screen with a bit of uncertainty behind shy eyes.

“Yes. Honestly” you assure with poise.

“They would probably move from your face to your waist” he begins, now a bit more confident as he keeps his stare on yours. Those dark eyes have your skin burning from underneath and it gets harder to breathe as he keeps talking. “I would let my fingers sink into your fluffy skin and then squeeze it. Maybe let them wonder all the way to your round bum. Give it a few pinches too, hear you yelp as I do so.”

You body starts itching for something and it’s difficult to keep still. You clean your throat as you switch your position a little, letting your phone stand on the nightstand against the lamp as you sit sideways to look at him, your hands now free. You keep them hugging at your sides.

“You do like to do that” you acquiesce. Jimin smirks on the other side. “I would probably be pulling at your hair by then, one hand clawing at your shoulders or down your chest. Ask you to take your shirt off.”

To your surprise but undeniable delight, he does just that. The phone falls to the bed but you can still see his arms as he raises them to take the white shirt off. Once he picks the phone again, he is half-naked and you can see the blush is spreading heavily to his ears now. But he keeps his eyes on yours, intense and provoking.

“We would be in the bedroom by now, next to the bed. I would… I would kiss down your neck as I pulled those tiny straps down your shoulders” he continued, referring to the current red straps from your dress. He pauses and you realize he is waiting. With a hammering beat inside your chest, you tilt the phone so he can see as you use your fingers to slowly brush them off your shoulders like he wanted. He swallows dry and nods. “Like… Like that, yes.”

“My hands would be all over your skin, down your muscular back, tracing the curves down your arms or creating paths down your torso” you murmur in a deeper voice, expressive. You don’t tell him how you would feel his muscles tensing under your digits whenever you did so, or how he would shudder under your touch. “And then?”

“Then…” he seems to be breathing heavier now, and the crimson color is spreading to his neck. “Then I would pull the dress down your chest and watch your breasts just jump out.” His voice was almost shy, small but filled with want. It made your skin prickle, anticipating his touch that would never really come.

“Oh? You mean these?”

Your hands travel up your body to grab at your chest yourself, squeezing them roughly before you pull the tight fabric off of them and display your naked tits to him. He gasps in surprise, small eyes doubling in size before he closes them and throws his head back against the headboard, half groaning and half whimpering.

“Y/N, fuck, you’re killing me!” he whines, sucking a breath as he looks back at the screen.

“It will be worth it, love. Now, c’mon, what would you do with these?” you try and refocus, ignoring the chills going down your back.

“I… I would burry my face in them. I would hold them in my hands and play with them, kiss them, lick them, suck on them until you scream and pull at my hair.”

Nervous but determined, your hands act as if they belonged to him and start teasing at your hardened nubs, flicking them and pulling at them, rubbing them exactly the way Jimin would do it, except you couldn’t replicate the feeling of his mouth on them. Even so, doing this as he moaned on the other side of the screen was more than enough to have your core burning with desire, jolts of electricity going straight to your womb at every brush of your nipples. Your back arches into your hands and your legs rub together on their own accord.

“Y/N, I am… I want to…!” Jimin is struggling to communicate how he feels but you can see it in his face. Even if far from the perfection it is to see it in person, the pixels don’t hide his blown out heavy eyes, his heated-up face and parted lips, breathing heavier and heavier through them. His hands are nowhere to be seen on the screen and you have a feeling you know where they are placed.

“Show me yours and I’ll show you mine, love” you whisper seductively to the phone.

“What?” Jimin is confused, not getting what you’re hinting at.

So, to clarify him, your hands drop down from your naked chest and, out of his view for now, you pull the rest of your dress down your body and even pull your panties off. You go back to your position in front of the phone’s camera and dangle your underwear in front of it.

“Show me yours, I’ll show you mine” you repeat, and now understanding dawns on his face.

“Oh, fuck me” he exhales, the phone suddenly being moved and once again you don’t see much but you can hear him moving around in a frenzy.

“That’s the point, yes” you chuckle and decide to get a better angle for him as well.

It was a bit awkward, trying to position the phone against your stacked-up pillows so that the most of your naked body is on view for what you are about to do. But Jimin’s reaction so far silence the doubts that threaten to creep in and make you feel embarrassed. You couldn’t be with your boyfriend in person, but it didn’t mean you two couldn’t find pleasure together. And there was nothing wrong with that.

“Ready, love?” you ask as you are laying in bed on your side, facing the still dark screen of the phone.

“Hum, yeah, yes!”

He finally comes into view again, the phone now standing on something tall that gives a perfect angle of him laying down in bed as well. Except, he still has his boxers on.

“C’mon, love, that’s unfair. I’m all naked, why aren’t you?”

He licks his lips and in a swift move, his boxers are gone. And there he was, laying in all his naked glory, his girthy hard shaft standing proud and flushed against his belly. His hands twitch while they remained on his thighs, probably refraining from using them on his cock just yet. Dark eyes set on you, awaiting your next move.

Your hands travel down your soft skin, around the curve of your protruding lower belly, down the sides of your thick legs, into your warm and malleable inner thighs. You huff slightly as your fingers reach your core, delving in between your labia just slightly.

“I’m already so juicy for you, Jimin. I didn’t know I would get this worked up over phone sex” you confess, almost a bit embarrassed by it.

“M-Me too. I didn’t want to tell you, but I was already, hum… hum, leaking and I had to clean myself up before. This… This is really hot, Y/N. It’s making me dizzy.”

You smile at that and your heart expands, while the fire down bellow is fueled by the notion.

“You can touch yourself, Jimin. As if it was me. As if I was there with you right now, taking a hold of your pretty dick and pumping you until you were hot and throbbing, completely hardened in my hands.”

It doesn’t take any further encouragement, Jimin’s hands wrap around himself and you watch in amazement as he moves his hand up and down his stiff member, in a faster pace than you would have probably had, sliding with ease and using his thumb to engage with the red tip every other turn. He has his eyes half-closed as he does so, puffy lips opened, muscles tense and a glint to his skin form the low light around him. It was the most erotic view you had ever seen, Jimin getting himself off at the thought of you, in front of you.

He whispers your name breathless and you moan, your fingers that had been still all this time starting their own work. You imagine his hands on you, much like he was doing. You rub at your moist folds and your body shudders at the jolts of pleasure that curse through you, dragging the tips of your digits up and down the slit until your reach your painfully throbbing clit.

“J-Jimin!” you moan as you start drawing circles around the flesh button, your legs widely spread as you lay with your back to the mattress.

“F-Fuck, Y/N! You look so pretty like that!” he tells you in a high-pitched breath. His hands, from what you can tell through your heavy eyelids, speed up on his shaft. “S-Sink your finger in for me, angel! Let me know how warm and wet you are inside.”

Your fingers brush your clit just once more before going south and easily sliding in to your entrance. You mewl at the feeling, juices gushing around your fingers as you start thrusting them in and out. It takes a lot of will power for you to concentrate and convey with words the feeling to your partner.

“I’m… I’m sizzling and drenched, Jimin. I wish… I wish it was you, love. Ahhh, I wish it was your cock instead” you confess bashfully, your fingers never stopping their work.

You hear him curse under his breath but your blood is starting to rush too rapidly in your veins that it muffles your hearing. You curl your palm so that you can use it to drag against your clit at the same time you sink your fingers, deeper and faster as a ball of pure tension grows and grows down in your belly, about to blow up.

“I’m about to… Y/N, oh, fuck, Y/N let me see it, please, angel” he begs in a cry and you don’t quite get it at first. “Let me see your fingers, please, I’m so close.”

Breathless, you nod and take a hold of the phone with your free hand and, the best you can, angle it so you can still see the screen while he can see your fingers continuously disappearing between your spread legs, into your pink glistening and slick flesh. He groans loudly and you force yourself to keep your eyes open just so you can see the blur that is his hand on his cock, moving so quickly the phone can’t pick it up with definition and it just hazes. His angry red mushroom head is already spewing white cum and you watch as more starts to come out and lands on his ever-moving hand.

Your fingers work to match his impossible pace and you curl them inside just as your walls start fluttering and strings start pulling at the blistering knot inside. The palm of your hands continues rubbing against the engorged pearl of nerves while your fingers curl at that exact spot that has your body jolting and spasming, exactly at the same time Jimin groans and curses your name as thick ropes of white spew out from his throbbing length and land on his abdominal muscles.

You squeal breathless as your hips buck up and the ball of nerves burst inside, spreading rushes of pleasurable relief all across your body, white noise defining your ears, black dotes impairing your vision and your brain melts away in the feeling of being high on dopamine. Your fingers slip out coated in your juices and you struggle to move the phone back to your side, now with only a vision of your face on the camera as you struggle to regain your breathing and coherence.

“That… That was incredible” you hear Jimin say, he too trying to catch his breath.

You smile, happily tired and spent.

“The devil works wonders, love.”

[skullrock]

the campers, chapter six

chapter five - the lost (and the found)

series summary: Steve gets a job as a camp counselor at Camp Know Where, intending on using the summer to discover himself. When things start to go wrong at camp, the only people that can help him are the Party, Hopper, and his mortal enemy - you. [Enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort]

chapter summary: Investigations into the disappearance of a camper ensue, while you and Steve confront your feelings. 

warnings: swearin’ and some loving caressing

word count: 4.8k 

a/n: you can catch up on the series here! romance and evil is in the air bbs

===

You wipe your tears away swiftly, instantly sobered at the reveal. “What?”

“Some kid,” Jen says. “He’s just… gone.”

You hop out of bed, anxiously tugging your shoes on. As you head outside, you notice all of the counselors booking it to the usual conference room. Steve’s made it there before you, a worried Mia gripping onto him. Your heart twists and you force your eyes away, towards the front, where Josh and a few other counselors are chatting hurriedly. Eventually, Josh claps once, the room going painfully silent.

“Today around five, a camper was reported missing by his friends. Brent Albright. He’s twelve, about four foot eight, skinny little thing. He was last seen playing in the woods about a hundred yards from campus.”

Steve stiffens. He knows Brent - and he knows the resemblance to Will Byers is uncanny. His mind wanders to when Will went missing, his stomach flipping.

“We have a search party going out as soon as the local law enforcement gets here. Some of you need to stay behind to keep watch of the other kids. We’re upping the security on site - we’ll have two people patrolling all night, each night. At least until we find Brent.”

The teams separate, you and Mia heading with the search party while Steve books it for Dustin’s cabin, scared of what he might find.

===

Luckily, by the time Steve gets to Dustin’s room, the rest of the Party is there, Suzie included. Steve halts at this, shutting the door slowly. His eyes dart between Suzie and Dustin pointedly.

“Relax, she knows,” Dustin says, very nonchalantly, everyone else seemingly on board with this.

Steve lets out a noise of frustration, surprise, and anger. “You told her?”

“When it was safe to!” Dustin defends.

Steve rests his hands on his hips, sighing in frustration and anger again. “Well, great. That’s really just great.”

Dustin’s face contorts in anger. “Uh -”

“Look,” Steve interjects, turning to Suzie. “You’re great - lovely gal, really - but I don’t -”

“What’s the problem?” Lucas pipes up.

Steve turns to him quickly. “Oh, of course you’re defending him, since you let Max in on the little secret, too -”

“Hey!” Max shouts, brows furrowed in anger.

“Don’t get so upset, you know you’re my favorite -”

“Hey,” El says.

“Alright - you too -” And Steve stops when he sees Will’s face, ghostly pale and frightened.

Steve and Mike are beside him first, Mike wrapping an arm around his shoulders while Steve kneels in front of him. “Hey, are you okay?”

He nods uncertainly. His hand slowly reaches for the back of his neck, and he shakes his head. “I don’t… feel him.”

“The Mind Flayer?” Mike clarifies.

“Yeah. I can’t feel him.”

The tension in the air evaporates slightly at this. Everyone had the same thought - what if it was the Upside Down again? It seemed to follow them everywhere, year after year. It wouldn’t be much of a shock if it had infiltrated their lives at camp.

“See? I told you it was nothing,” Lucas says. “It’s just some kid that got lost. I’m sure they’ll find him.”

Will winces slightly at the words and Steve frowns. “It’s not just some kid, Lucas. There’s… bears and shit out there. He’s lost and alone.”

Everyone goes quiet, staring down at the ground - well, everyone except Suzie, who’s still not completely sure if everyone is bullshitting her or not.

“Can you feel anything, El?” Mike asks.

She furrows her brows as if concentrating. “I can’t tell… I feel like something’s there, but I don’t know what.”

Steve stiffens, but the others seem unphased.

“That could mean anything,” Dustin says.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit too convenient for this to be happening here?” Steve asks, annoyed.

“It really could be anything, though,” Max says slowly. “I mean, he really could have gotten lost in the woods. They can be tricky.”

Mike stares at her as if she’s an idiot, but Steve nods gently in response. “They’re not as bad as the ones at home, but they can be disorienting….”

“I don’t think we should worry unless something’s definitely wrong,” Lucas says. “Like, without a doubt, weird shit happening.”

Steve feels nauseous. “I just took a hike in the woods… something wasn’t right there.”

“What do you mean?” Will asks anxiously.

“It got so quiet,” Steve explains. “There wasn’t a sound. And a deer got so close to us… something just didn’t seem right.”

Everyone goes quiet again, contemplating.

“Well, it could have been a bear,” Suzie says, her high pitched voice piercing the silence. “I mean, animals get quiet to avoid predators, and there are definitely predators in the woods here.”

Steve gives a half-hearted shrug, and his eyes wander back to Will. He seems tense, his jaw locked, and Steve’s eyes meet his. At the look of fear and worry in his eyes, Steve stands, deciding to be the voice of reason. There’s no need to worry the kids when things may just be unfortunate, but not hellish.

“You know, you’re right,” he says, running a hand through his long hair. “It’s probably nothing. Brent really may have just gotten lost. Until we know, let’s assume it’s an accident, okay?”

Everyone nods reluctantly, shoulders falling and breaths exhaled. Will’s eyes soften, but he still looks unsure. Steve gives him a reassuring smile and squeezes his shoulder. Will tries to return the smile, but it’s weak - Steve’s heart hurts. As the kids begin to disperse and talk among themselves, Steve pulls Will to the side.

“Hey,” he says quietly. “I’m not letting anything hurt you, or anyone else.”

Will freezes slightly. “I - I know.”

Steve always had a hard time talking to Will, genuinely not knowing what to do or say or how to act around him. He’s been through so much that Steve views him like an ancient artifact, too fragile to touch and too experienced to match.

“Your friends have your back, too,” he adds, albeit awkwardly. “Just - don’t feel unsafe. We’ll all protect you.”

Will nods, relaxing slightly, and he does something he hasn’t done with Steve before - he holds out his hand to shake. Steve takes it, confused but intrigued. They simply shake hands, Will giving him a warm smile, and then he walks off to the rest of the party. Steve’s brows quirk but he smiles, feeling accomplished - and then his heart plummets again as the reality of the situation sets in.

He wishes he could spend the night with the Party, truthfully. He’s a bit jealous that Will and Mike have each other in a room. Steve has Nico, but he’s pretty sure Nico was wigged out when Steve woke him up with a shout the night he had a nightmare. Steve’s face burns in embarrassment just at the memory. Hopefully the search party would be out for a while; Steve always felt safer when others were awake, able to protect him as he let his guard down. And then his mind wanders to Mia, hoping she’s doing okay, and then to you.

Steve feels a bit lightheaded when he thinks of you. The time at the waterfall felt like days ago, but it was only a few hours. He feels guilt for not checking on you sooner, for not catching you before you went to scour the woods. And he remembers your reaction to his in the woods, how scared and anxious you seemed. The guilt pumps thickly through his veins and he sets a reminder to check on you in the morning - you were sure to have a long night.

Steve leaves the room as the Party continues to talk. He’s unable to even decipher the words they’re saying - he just wants to be in his little cot, curled up and safe under blankets. Dustin once again catches him as he’s leaving, though, grabbing Steve and forcing him to stop.

“What’s your problem?”

Steve opens his mouth to ask Dustin to elaborate, but remembers what he said about Suzie’s knowledge of the situation. His gaze hardens. “You shouldn’t be telling people about this. That’s putting your life in danger, and hers, too.”

“So I’m just supposed to act like nothing ever happened? I’m supposed to never tell her?”

Steve sighs. “That’s not what I’m saying -”

“That’s what it sounds like -”

Steve’s anger flares. “I’m saying that maybe you shouldn’t be giving life altering information to a girl you’ve been dating for what? Six months?”

“We’ve been dating for over a year, Steve!”

“You could get her and her family killed over this, Dustin -”

“Just because you won’t open up to people that love you doesn’t mean that I can’t!”

Steve stills, his anger deflating and replaced with sorrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, but he knows exactly what it means, and he doesn’t like being called out on it.

“You’ve avoided new friends this entire time because you refuse to have any type of meaningful conversations with anyone except those you share trauma with.” Dustin’s eyes are narrowed onto Steve, even though Steve attempts to look away. “Have you even told Mia?”

“Of course not,” Steve spits, anger coming back. “I’ve only been seeing her for like, a week -”

“Then what about Y/N?”

Steve scoffs, but he panics. “No.”

“Did you want to?”

“You don’t understand,” Steve stresses, forcing a change in subject. “You read what we had to sign. We aren’t supposed to tell people about this. Anyone! Not our parents or our partners -”

“I know what we signed!” Dustin interjects. “But there’s nothing wrong with telling someone you trust about this. And there’s definitely nothing wrong with opening up to people in general.”

“I’m not like you, Dustin.”

Dustin squints. “No shit.”

“So hop off my shit, okay?”

“Whatever,” Dustin huffs. “Just - go be alone, up on… up in your little King Steve palace -”

“Yeah? Fine, I will!”

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

Steve turns on his heel and sulks off into the dark, anxiety creeping in as the light from the cabin dims and is replaced with the steel curtain of night.

===

The search party finds nothing the first week.

It’s a gruesome task, sifting through the woods, finding no leads. Park Rangers and local law enforcement came in to set up an investigation. Rumors spread amongst the campers and counselors in regards to closing, but there were only two weeks left, and it was only one kid. Instead, a curfew was established, and counselors took turns patrolling the grounds in pairs at night.

It was, to say the least, a very stressful time. Your neck and back hurt from bending over in the woods for hours on end the first week, desperately trying to find any signs of the kid. You felt sick the entire week, hardly able to teach your classes, and hardly able to keep the kids’ attention. You noticed the stress was working hard on other’s, too - Steve and Mia had hardly talked, and you’d only briefly caught up with Steve. He had been spending most of the week patrolling the camp. He couldn’t sleep much even if he tried.

Friday, six days after the incident, things seemed to settle down. The camp had pretty much come to the conclusion that it was a freak accident, that the kid probably was attacked by a bear in the vicinity. Some kid’s parents had them leave early, and some came to hotels and motels nearby to be closer to their kids. One of these people was Jim Hopper, who volunteered to team up with local law enforcement to teach everyone about wilderness safety.

Steve knew why Hopper was really here, though - to keep an eye on Will and El. He’d promised Joyce he had it under control; he just wanted to take some precautions. Steve wasn’t sure if Hopper’s presence in the area was comforting or horrifying, but he figured it was the former. At least he didn’t have to be the only adult here. And the kids felt safer with him too, at least.

Friday night, a counselor proposed a bonfire to help everyone relax and unwind. You decided to go, if for nothing more than to just talk - it had been a lonely and tense week. You also, of course, hoped Steve would be there. You hardly caught a glimpse of him all week, only once out on the lake in his kayak.

When you do see him, you almost wish you hadn’t.

Steve hadn’t slept in at least four days. The last night he slept - Sunday, he thinks - had been filled with Demogorgons and gore and hopelessness. Calling Robin on the payphone only did so much (and he couldn’t reveal much over the phone), and while he and Dustin had reconciled, Steve didn’t want to overwhelm the kids with his worry. He wanted to be strong and brave for them, but he could hardly be that for himself. So he strolls up to the bonfire, looking ragged and ghastly, almost like a ghost. His frame is thin and he’s pale, his under eyes purple and puffy.

“Jesus Christ,” you breathe, walking up to him. “You look like Dracula.”

“He’s sexy, right?” he jokes, a weak smile on his face.

You blush and roll your eyes, still frowning with worry. “Have you slept?”

He shakes his head gently. “Haven’t really got the chance.”

Your brows quirk. “Haven’t got the chance, or haven’t let yourself?”

Steve’s impressed with how easily you see through his bullshit. He shrugs. “Maybe both.”

You guide him to sit with you on a long log by the fire. You have to force yourself to not hold him, but it’s very difficult. You were so worried about him, about his zombie-like appearance. But you didn’t want to pass any boundaries - you weren’t totally sure if he was still with Mia or not.

Almost like he read your mind, Steve speaks up. “Mia is patrolling tonight.”

“Oh.” It’s all you can say. You want to ask if he’s seen her, if they’re still a thing, if you have a chance, but you instead focus on the fire.

The night goes on, and you talk with some of the other counselors. Conversation is light but weary, and the alcohol two boys had snuck in was gone within the first thirty minutes. You turn to ask Steve if he wants a drink, but you’re met with his head resting on your shoulder. You didn’t even notice that he’d clocked out, and your brows furrow while your stomach fills with butterflies.

You contemplate whether or not you should wake him up - he obviously needed the rest. You let him stay there, continuing to mingle, but staying perfectly still so that he didn’t wake up.

Steve’s eyes finally open around midnight, as the fire is taming down. He sits up and looks around, dazed and confused, before realizing that you’re beside him. He blinks in surprise. “Did I fall asleep?”

“Yeah,” you say. “I didn’t want to wake you up, so I….”

He stretches, his shirt riding up his stomach, revealing a sliver of skin. You pull your eyes back to the burning embers.

“You must be like a sleeping pill or something,” he says, voice slurring from sleep. “Really knocked me out.”

Your lips quirk up. “Maybe I’m just boring.”

Steve knows it’s not because you’re boring; it’s because he’s comfortable with you. The moment he sat down beside you, he felt safe and protected. It allowed him to let his guard down just long enough to slip into a dreamless sleep, and that’s really all he could ever ask for.

He doesn’t vocalize this, though. He doesn’t know how to. “No, not boring. Just warm.”

It makes no sense and perfect sense at the same time. You blush and look down, wishing he was still leaning on you. Steve scoots away from you and you frown, the absence feeling like you’ve lost something.

“Hey,” you whisper. “Want me to walk you back to your cabin?”

He nods slowly, sleep clouding his vision. You stand and he grabs your hand, using it to help him get up. You laugh slightly and start walking him towards his cabin, staying close beside him. Something about him made you feel safe - whether it was your crush on him or just Steve, you weren’t sure.

“This sucks,” he says, breaking the silence.

“Yeah.”

“I mean, it all sucks,” he clarifies, “but I mean that it sucks that I know I can’t sleep tonight, and they won’t let me do rounds anymore.”

“That’s because you need sleep,” you say gently. “You have to rest.”

“But I can’t.” His tone almost sounds like he’s amused. Steve looks off into the distance, at the treeline, sinister in the night. “God, trauma sucks.”

You don’t know what to say to make it better, so you snake your hand down to his, lacing your fingers again. Steve hums and relaxes, his shoulders dropping and his pace slowing. It’s almost an enjoyable walk, just the two of you in silence, nothing else but the wind and the lake lapping the shore behind you.

You slow as you reach his cabin, and Steve becomes stiff once again. His brows furrow with worry, and you notice.

“You’re safe,” you whisper.

He shakes his head, frowning. “I know….”

Steve turns to face you then, and you both stand like this, facing each other, faces illuminated by the moonlight. You think he looks so pretty, so beautiful, even with the bags under his eyes. You wish he’d kiss you, embrace you and tell you that you mean something to him.

And Steve, in his sleep deprived state, also begins to realize just how pretty you are, too. It’s something he’s always known, even when he was a jerk. Something fond to think about, at least one beautiful thing from his youth. His brows twitch as he looks down at you, at your soft eyes, the care and adoration held within them.

Steve’s realization doesn’t hit him quite the same as yours did. It’s almost like a slow rush, like finishing a puzzle. Dots begin to connect, memories come back, and he realizes that, holy shit, he likes you. He likes you a lot. He’s liked you for years. The good things he’s remembered - they were because of his affection for you. That’s why he remembers your laugh and your pigtails and your blue beaded bracelet. That’s why he forced away the icky, dirty things.

Because he liked you. And he always has.

While he’s processing this, you’ve formed a bit of a plan. You’re nervous to ask, but you do anyway. “What if you spent the night with me?”

Steve’s long streak of thoughts comes to a halt, crashing, his mind left blank. His brows knit together. “What?”

You blush and step back, almost like you’re stepping back behind a boundary. “I just - you slept so well earlier - maybe if we were together… we’d sleep better?”

Steve blinks. “Oh.”

“Forget -”

“No, let’s do it,” he whispers, rushedly. “I… I think that’s a good idea.”

Steve sees the adoration and care in your eyes, but he can’t imagine it has any weight to it. You never let on that you liked him. So this situation is almost a win-win for him; he can pretend for one night that the universe is in place and not out to get him, and he can get some rest.

“Are you sure?” you ask, barely audible.

He nods. “I’d really like some sleep.”

“Jen’s patrolling tonight,” you whisper. “I can - we can - sneak you in.”

Steve smiles lazily. “I’ve always said I’m like a ninja.”

===

Sharing a bed with your crush is not as phenomenal as the movies make it out to be.

Steve’s pressed himself up against the wall, as far away from you as the twin bed would allow him to be. You lay on your back, eyes wide. It’s an awkward situation, and you nearly regret suggesting it. You lay like this for twenty minutes, then forty, and then it’s two a.m, and you can still hear Steve’s rapid breathing beside you.

“Steve,” you whisper.

“Hmm?”

You blink up at the ceiling while cursing yourself. Your hands ball into fists beside you and you finally croak, “You can come closer.”

You hear his breath hitch. “I… I’ll smother you.”

You roll your eyes. “C’mon, Steve.”

It’s a minute before he rolls over, facing you, his body touching yours. You both feel like a jolt of electricity has been shot through you, and you wince before melting into each other.

You will yourself to stay on your back. Even while you can feel Steve’s warm brown eyes on your temple. You can feel his warm torso on your arm, too, the skin of his forearm close to the side of your head. Temptation wins, though, and you roll over to face him.

Your breath catches, like you’ve been hit by something massive. Steve looks so peaceful here. You take the time to notice some things you hadn’t before, since you’d never been this close. The stray hairs under his brows, how long his lashes are. How pink his lips are, how straight his nose is. You notice a scar on his right brow and reach out to touch it gently with your fingertips. “What’s this?”

“Scar,” he whispers.

“What happened?”

Steve swallows hard and shakes his head. “You should see the rest of them.”

You frown and drop your hand, but Steve gently picks it back up, placing it on his cheek. He looks at you softly, asking for permission, and you cup his cheek. Your thumb rubs across his cheekbone and his eyes flutter shut. Your heartbeat is through the roof, and it only gets worse when Steve reaches out to pull you in to him. You blush, both from attraction and embarrassment, because he can surely feel your heart beating rapidly against his chest.

“Where else?” you ask, voice shaking.

His brow quirks. “Hm?”

“Where else are there scars?”

He pauses, contemplating, but remembers but Dustin had told him. There’s nothing wrong with opening up to people. So he lifts his right hand, where it had punched Billy Hargrove years earlier, a cut on his knuckle turning into a silver stripe. You pull your fingers away from his cheek and to the scar, touching it gently. You want to kiss it - God, you want to kiss it so much - but you pull your lips into a thin line instead.

Steve drops his hand and it goes for his shirt, his fingertips rubbing gently over his ribs. “Here.”

You wonder what the hell had happened to him. You don’t ask; instead, you move your hand slowly to the hem of his shirt. You look at him and he nods, giving you permission to run the pads of your fingers to the area. His eyes flutter shut again and he focuses in on the feeling of your fingers, caressing him gently, almost lovingly. It feels nice to let someone touch him like this. Not sexual, not even romantic - just with care.

You lick your lips and feel his skin, soft and warm, a little uneven in the area where he’d been brutalized the year before. Steve opens his eyes to watch your face before his eyes trail down to your arm, pushed up under his shirt. His heart speeds up and you can feel it, hard and fast under your fingertips. You pull away at that, blushing once more, your heart rate beating in time with his.

Steve’s tongue darts out and he studies your expression. You look peaceful. Maybe a bit confused, but peaceful. In place. His hand reaches up to his lip slowly, another place that he’d been hit before. His finger lays lightly on a small scar that spreads from the corner of his bottom lip and down. He stares at you the entire time, almost painfully, like he has something he wants to say. You only reach out and replace his finger, rubbing the small mark gently.

You want to ask him what you’re both doing. It’s a weird dance, almost. It’s laced in something beyond friendship and sealed with a bow, but what it is, you’re not sure. Your hand moves away from his face and you finally look down. Your eyes stay focused on his grey shirt, at the pattern of the fabric.

“I have a hell of a concussion, too,” Steve whispers.

You look back up at him and smile. “Maybe that’s why you’ve forgotten so much.”

He frowns slightly. “Maybe.” He pauses for a beat. “Do you have any?”

“Scars?”

He nods.

You reach for his hand and pull it down towards your knee, to the scar you’d shown him at the waterfall. His fingertips press into it gently, and there’s a pained look on his face. “I wish I could take it away.”

You frown. “You can’t.”

“Wish I could.”

You wish so, too. But his fingers rubbing soothingly on it almost takes it away; if not physically, than emotionally.

Steve’s hand wanders up your thigh and to your hip, gripping it just slightly. He almost looks like he’s pouting at you, and you’re not sure what it means. You just know you like the touch. You know you want to kiss him, and you know you can’t. It feels like you’re drowning, or intoxicated at the feeling of his hand on you, soft and strong, just as it always felt in yours.

“Hey,” you say. “You should get some sleep.”

His hand falls from your body and onto the sheets. He nods and his brows furrow for just a millisecond. “I… can you….” He clears his throat. “Can you stay close to me?”

You think it’s funny that he can’t say hold me, but you relent. You wrap your arms around him and he melts into you once again, feeling safe. It’s only a few moments later when you both fall asleep.

===

Steve sneaks out before the sun rises, leaving the bed beside you empty and cold. You’re sober this morning. You’re pretty sure you should not have shared a bed with him, or touched him - is that considered cheating? Are you an asshole? You reckon you’ll find out.

You officially get up a few hours later, pulling on your uniform lazily. Your stomach flips at the thought of Steve, and then flips again when you open your door to find Mia.

You know immediately that she knows. She must have seen him leaving when she was patrolling.

“Mia….” It’s all you can manage to croak out.

She laughs, warm and gentle. “I’m not mad.”

You blink. You lick your lips and shake your head, massively confused. “Are we thinking of the same thing?”

She comes into your room and you shut the door slowly, still quite confused. She sits on the bed and looks up at you. She looks wise and all-knowing. “I knew you had a thing for him.”

“I didn’t,” you protest.

She tilts her head. “C’mon. Remember when I saw you staring at him on the lake?”

You sigh and cross your arms. “I didn’t think I did.”

“We all knew,” Mia says matter-of-factly. “Everyone except you.”

You scoff. “Who’s everyone?”

“Em, Syl, Jen, Brooke, Syd, Kara… even Josh knew. Why do you think he set you up at the beginning?”

“What?” you ask, shocked. “I wasn’t - I never - I never liked him at the beginning -”

“Maybe not,” Mia smiles. “I guess he really just saw the potential.”

You roll your eyes and Mia beckons you to sit down beside her. She wraps an arm around you and leans into you. “I just wanted to see him for fun, you know. See if he was a good kisser. It wasn’t anything serious.”

“So you’re not mad?”

She sighs. “I’ll miss that boy’s lips and hands, but I’m not mad. We would have called it quits when camp was over. It was just a fling.”

You both sit in silence for a few moments before she speaks again. “You should really go for it.”

Your heart jumps to your throat. “I don’t think….”

“He likes you, too,” she says. “I’m pretty sure of it.”

You look at her with a frown. “I couldn’t do that to you.”

She smiles. “I’m just happy I was right. You do like him.”

You can’t help but to smile back. “Were there bets going?”

“Oh, yeah,” she says. “Brooke owes me ten dollars because she thought you’d never actually admit it. But I knew you would.”

You hug her then, relief flowing through you. Then you pull away and shove her. “I can’t believe you placed bets -”

The door swings open and Jen is there again, panting once more, eyes filled with fear. You and Mia jump up.

“Did you find him?” you breathe.

Jen shakes her head. “No. Another camper is missing.”

===

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[seb-owns-these-tatas]

Witcher of the Night (Chapter 22)

THIS IS MODERN ERA READER WHO WOKE UP IN THE DIMENSION OF THE WITCHER.

CHAPTER 21

WOTN MASTERLIST

Characters: Geralt of Rivia x small!Naive!Reader

Summary: Sorceress Ingrith might be going on far more ways to plan your early demise for you and your unborn child without the witcher around. The queen also thinking of plans to punish you without the use of drudging.

Warnings: Derogatory, plans attitude and words. Mention of the Witcher character named ‘Auckes’. 

Words: 5.6k

A/N: I’ve been feeling on and off with my mental state since last month. I just don’t tell anyone. Anyways, Feedbacks will be nice to receive. Thank you. I plan on writing two more last smuts for Witcher of the Night in the future chapters. So, watch out for that. I needed more of my Geralt fixation. LMAO. I’m sorry if my fic  is beginning to be boring for you, but I needed to write this for the sake of the story. I know I’m not the best writer out here. So, I’m sorry for any disappointments. Stay safe, Bb’s.

TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS CHAPTER! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE! Sorry for the grammatical errors and such because English isn’t my mother tongue! PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK AFTER READING, BB! I apologize for errors!

Disclaimer: PNG’s and pictures used in edits are not mine even the GIF’s too. Character development and personalities are based from my understanding and how I want them to be. I only own my original characters in this fanfic. Geralt GIF from the Tumblr account named (B-N-A-O)

MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

It's been a day of hearing from Eanraig that your witcher has started his journey over the hunt for the lost witch.

Hours have also passed after hearing such devastating and surprising news from the druid about your unexpected 'cursed' pregnancy whose father was a witcher that is expected to actually be infertile. The happenings intentionally given by a genie you only knew and expected to watch and read through fairytales; Disney fairytales.

Sleep was hardly your partner last night. Thoughts coming over the idea of a maddened witcher and your pregnancy, having only minutes of light slumber that has gotten you waking up with every single thud you hear from outside your chambers. Thinking that it was someone who wanted to hurt you again especially that Geralt wasn't around for you to hide from behind.

The early knock received before sunrise has got you scrambling on your feet, latching off the locks of your door for the queen of Kaedwen to emerge from your doorstep with more than a trio of servants following her while she trespassed inside your chambers.

She stood before you in her silk, expensively designed, black night gown. With her head held up high and hair bedazzled before she even decided to pay you a visit in her usual lavish gowns.

"You are quite the woman. Also, your witcher is as well."

Queen Makeda interrogated, gaze raking all over the room to check any evidences of her necklace being thrown around. She huffed to herself when there was no traces of her enchanted, Cobalt amulet that has been stolen by your doppelganger.

"---Demanding for a soft bed for you to sleep on while he hunts for the witch who has cursed my son?"

"Not even my young daughter would approve of this," she spoke in animosity, spitting the words like how she truthfully felt, "---Your horrible kind," the latter continued, taking heedful steps forward as you've stood on your ground; firmly and never backing down.

The queen was undeniably taller than you. She'd peered down, glaring into your narrowed eyes fighting back for her attempt on intimidating you. After everything they've done, feeling scared was running through your veins. It was pumping wrath and distaste for how they've treated you like an animal for pointing fingers over the woman who has stolen her necklace---even asking such favors for Geralt when they knew how he acted towards you; using it to their advantage.

"---You and your witcher. It disgusts me,"

"Look who's talking, guess Geralt is the only way to save your cursed son then? But, you still manage to hate his kind when you're depending over him to save your prince,"

Out of the blue, you've felt fingers clasping around your throat. Her long nails sinking through your skin as her hold was tight, ceasing the air passing through your throat that has gotten you growling beneath her palm.

She intently given you a death look, bequeathing the opportunity of laying a hand on you without the witcher who has never left your side from the moment he arrived.

"Give me back my necklace. It was a gift by the king that I hold dearly,"

The bitch was barking when she had no evidence at all. You mindlessly thought in the back of your head whilst being choked at the same time.

"Your h-highness," you dryly coughed out the air she was trying to cut you off with. You've given her a menacing glare as well, your mouth in an obvious lour. Her hold shifting around your neck as she tried to shift your jaw out of its current position, making you tilt your head to give her a sharp, side-eye.

You can't help but bark out a mocking giggle, appearing to be sicko while being manhandled by your very own gender while a taunt left your fuming mouth.

"---what's your kind? I doubt your kind may be human,"

Queen Makeda scoffed after hearing that, pushing you to the ground which has left you heaving breaths and coughing out from the lack of it. Your fingers quickly grabbing onto your growing belly to protect whatever Eanraig believed there is to be inside of you. A child that he was cognizant of; slightly still leaving you in disbelief because of how you weren't seeing any changes at the image of your belly.

Until, you've realized that your period haven't visited you since the last week.

The realization had you staring at the ground you were currently sitting upon while the queen stood before you with all her might and certainty. Your instincts telling you to cease the in-denial for your pregnancy because it was the truth.

"You are awfully disrespectful. Just like your mutant."

At the mere acknowledgement of that towards your witcher, your longstanding antagonism for her has given you all the willpower of spitting on the ground she was standing on, tilting your head up at her from your seated position with utmost spite, glaring from below her in the greatest hostility you can ever give.

"You're not my queen. So I give you the least amount of my respect, Ma-ke-da. That's your name, right? Is there another word for Bitch here?---You're a bloody skank! Have I got the accent correct for everyone? Or should I continue my fake British accent? would you like it to be Scottish?"

Hushed gasps has been audibly heard from the queen's maids who stood aligned in vertical. Their posture slightly curved in a bow and never giving their gazes towards their majesty and had them glued to the ground. Howbeit, their hearing couldn't be helped as it was a natural instinct to listen despite of being ordered not to.

They've been disoriented from their prior poses, taking heed of how you've disrespect the queen who was reigning the whole kingdom. She reached out behind her, ushering over the court lady who was holding onto the used golden kirtle that seemed to be owned by a maiden who left the castle or has been punished to death.

In a cruel gesture, Queen Makeda has balled up the dress with her hands. Throwing them over your head that felt too impetuous and disfavourable because of how her servants felt the need to slyly giggle from the background.

"Womanly hands are needed in this palace," she brashly scoffed, tip-toeing over her tone like a taunt, playing over a prey she decided to amuse for the moment. You heedlessly yanked off the dress overthrown on your head and avoided their loathe-filled peepers who find your vulnerability entertaining their day.

The evil queen couldn't help but laugh beneath her breath, watching you bask in your own solitude and hopelessness---being a woman they believed as a thief or a girl with no name nor worth of living a happy and abounding life. A renegade in their kingdom that deserves the least amount of attention and respect.

It was probably your doppelganger's reality as she lives in Kaedwen; thriving in the most difficult way to live in their world---more desperate to stay alive more than you back in earth.

"I suggest you must help the maids as they serve us through night and day," she nonchalantly reiterated with a slip of her laughter every now and then. Her offhand way of talking resulting in giving her the most stony lour you could muster.

Queen Makeda spurned your woebegone with a simple simper, passing over the sepulchral spirit radiating off you. She'd turn her heels away, parading through your chambers with her servants following suit, but not forgetting to leave without a ridicule.

"Better than any corporal punishment. Am I right, tramp?"

Sundown came earlier than you've calculated. Being given the job of a scullery maid for this certain day has been backbreaking. You've scoured the dirtiest pots and plates with all your healing strength, straining your energy for the heck of it all because of how heavy their utensils and equipment can be. More than how the stuff in your workplace were much more lighter than ever. It wasn't a punishment you've expected from them considering how they've injured you in the flesh, taking Geralt's words accountable or was this just a hoax of their upcoming plans?

You knew that it won't be the only job given. Five days living in the castle has been a crestfallen experience that not any normal earthling could handle well.

Which has probably been also the reason why you were too stressed and angry with everyone and anyone including the father of your unborn child, raving in bluster for his slow-witted self in terms of one's feelings.

That was probably one of the disadvantages of being in love with a witcher. Geralt hardly receives love and care that he doesn't know how to distinguish it even for himself.

Laying on the cold surface of such mattress; back flat with aching muscles and healing wounds, one palm reached up to your slightly bilged stomach. The feeling of another human growing inside weren't obvious yet. Thinking that it was probably just because of the pastry they've fed you with which has gotten your stomach swelling.

"Are you really in there?" you quietly muttered to the ceiling, feeling your chest tighten from being all alone and dealing with what the witcher has said to you before he left. His words becoming an echo of your regret and sadness.

"---Or am I just bloated, Little princess?"

Soft caresses over your slightly curved skin has given you goosebumps all over your body. The act feeling too real for you to be talking to a baby that has probably never learn to kick yet. Simultaneously, a sigh left your mouth when you truly believed and hold on to Geralt's infertility tales when he has gotten you pregnant out of the blue.

Magic. Right. All of what was going on between you both was magic after all, even your growing child. He has been right after all.

"Am I really having a baby grow inside of me when I haven't expected this at all? your daddy probably has great swimmers---oh, wait. He should've been infertile." the train of thought has been ceased, your mouth curling in the opposite of a smile. Frowning being your constant expression the past few days with a round-the-clock dismal mood once you wake up and try to have a nap when you were hardly being given the chance to just like how your insomnia tries to eat you alive again.

It hasn't even visited you since before you've woken up from a different dimension. Insomnia has never been an issue when you've arrived in the continent. Perhaps, the witcher may be one of the reasons for your inner beasts to hide. Though, with the mist surrounding you both---it started to pay you a visit especially after experiencing physical and mental struggles through out your stay in the castle.

No matter how disappointed and angry you were with Geralt, he has still been your refuge from all the danger that his world can cause.

"Is this really happening? I'm going to be a mother now?" you went on in talking to no one in particular, caressing your stomach against the palm of your hand like how a mother would.

"---with the brooding witcher as your father?"

The mouth curled downward languidly pulled the strings to a solemn smile. Memories of Geralt and how he was finding you unappealing as each day passes was like a reality meant for you because even men in your world eventually leaves when you were showing them your humanly capabilities---the darker part of you that nobody can ever tolerate.

Even the witcher found you pathetic---a man from another world seeing what you actually were. Not an angel that all men believed you to be.

With a growing baby inside of you, it would be difficult to forget Geralt because of how he'd left a part of him inside of you and will eventually be born in a world you were fearful of.

When you said back in earth, that you wanted a child with Legolas. You didn't mean for it to happen in real life. Especially from a man who don't take children as a gift---something worth to be proud of as you remembered how Eanraig said that he would rather have his own child as a bait for monsters than to let him live in the continent.

Your heart was tightening further as you continued talking to your unborn offspring and into the brisk, solitary midnight with nothing but shadows to comfort your forlorn soul, "Your poppa' certainly won't accept you if he knows about your existence. Based on how we got into a fight over feelings we both don't understand." Pause.

"---If I shave his white head, will it be worth the revenge? You think he cares for his hair? Or maybe hide his witcher potions somewhere else where he would have a difficult time seeing it?"

You couldn't help but slightly giggle to yourself. The sound dethering and fading in the end from how forced it sounded; faking the happiness and trying to uplift your spirits by thinking that Geralt would still accept you in his life after tying him in a responsibility that he will surely detest.

"---I still can't help but think of him though. Especially after knowing you're growing inside of me now. I doubt he actually thinks of me more than I do,"

"Maybe the witcher might want to say that he loves you and that he is still on his witch hunt!"

Catching you off-guard, a squeaky, upbeat, childish voice resonated in your chambers. Hushed to the most quietest voice she could do, standing before the end of your bed was a curly haired child who was grinning amongst the shadows she tries to hide herself in. Her two front teeth sitting apart which has made her appear more adorable than ever. The features she had slowly coming to a point that it seemed to be familiar---like you've seen her face and heard her voice back in earth.

The child standing before you was a little demon known in your dimension. Delilah Cincinnati. A child who has always made your work more difficult than it can ever be---a nuisance who could always get you tripping when you were serving food for customers. You've had a nickname for her, Deli-the-menace that came from the character 'Dennis-the-menace' but this one was a little girl and her devilish grin suited her name.

But, her grin seemed to be different in this world. It was more sweet, utterly masking in pure innocence that made you sit your back on the headboard. Your fingers reaching below your pillows to grab onto the kitchen knife you've managed to sneak in because of how you didn't trust anyone in the castle---taking Geralt's advices seriously.

People would probably think you were crazy, but you've been thinking that this child in front of you would transform into an evil gnome and eat your unborn baby because she was hungry for flesh.

"Delilah?" your voice turned squeaky as well. Swallowing the nervousness back down the pit of your stomach, you crumpled your legs under your thighs, shifting away from the child when she dragged her feet upon the foot of the bed; crawling towards you with a smile.

She jumped the half of her body beside you, tucking her little legs under the bed sheets. The ends of it pulled by her tiny fingers and tucked under her chin whilst turning her whole body with a ceaseless smile.

"You're a silly lady! I'm no Delilah, miss witcheress."

The adorable child snuggled closer on your side, hiding behind your body as if she was sneaking from someone.

"Princess Corinthia of Kaedwen. You can call me 'Coco' instead. Just don't tell my mother!" she placed a finger in between her pursed lips, giggling behind as she thoroughly sneaked her miniscule body in between you and the headboard.

You've inhaled a deep breath before being cut-off by the princess and her mischievous warning, "Shh. The knights are searching for me!"

She pointed towards a large sized painted picture of the whole royal family hung over the stone walls, enclosing her mouth with her small palms while she whispered.

"---A secret door."

Princess Corinthia offered another giggle that has kept your mouth zipped because of how untrustful she still is to you. Though, you dropped the knife back under your pillows again when she seemed to be harmless than what you imagined her to be; a little devil or a tiny monster that she might be in the witcher's dimension.

"I am a curious child. I've been hearing the tales of a white haired beast slayer stepping foot in our fortress! The maids even said that he has brought a frog for him to protect and this frog is his bride as every single person in the palace has gossiped about. Are you the frog? Do you have a curse like my brother too?"

At the mention of that, the scowl suddenly became one prominent expression since the moment you arrived in the castle. Huffing out a breath of exasperation over what nickname you've gotten. The witcher's frog. It didn't sound too appealing for you and even for the child because she was giggling through it all.

"A frog?! Seriously?! They were calling me ugly. How rude of them," you stated as a matter of fact.

"Our maids are just probably thirsty whores who may want your witcha'!" your eyes grew from the profanity that left her mouth. A single, plain warning of a look has been given to the child.

"That's a bad word."

The castle princess ignored your upbraid, palms covering her mouth with her eyes turning into big saucers that looked like to be as if she was guilty over saying such blasphemy.

"---because of the epic that his humble bard has created, many have been less frightened over their kind. Though, some are quite suspicious and still looking at them in disgust just like how most of our servants are. Is he handsome? they were chattering about him last supper in the kitchen! Also, they've talked about how they have seen how he didn't think twice to point his sword at any of our men---Chivalry at its finest from a butcher as said by them,"

From the way she has mentioned it came with astonishment over the witcher's valiant and chivalrous actions. Your mind in a blurry mess when you have seen him the first time---being brought to a room where Geralt has reacted in an aggressive way towards everyone in the room that not even a king can scare him away when you were a bleeding mess shoved on the floors. Your heart constantly being poked by a knife after realizing that a fight came after his magnanimity, the other side of you thinking that he has done it out of affection and care. Expecting it to be more than just how a sentiment is towards a friend because you've been seeing him more than just your confidante.

Was this how friends with benefits is in their world?

You couldn't help the crinkles on the side of your eyes. A small, close mouthed smile warping your face at the thought of the witcher you were highly proud of deep inside.

"He is quite dashing, brooding and utterly like a knight in shining armor, don't you think?"

"I may want to have a husband like him in the future!"

"I doubt you could," you simply testified, remembering that princesses in the medieval era are forbidden to marry a commoner. More so, for a witcher whom everyone repels towards their kind.

"---A princess can only be with a prince. Unless, you're in a Disney story. Then you can be like---"

She immediately cut you off with a sad pout, "Aren't witchers like a prince? beast slayers but still a prince?"

You've turned to look into her eyes; genuine and seeming to be in a different state of mind as you sincerely implored, "To me---he's a knight. An imperfectly, perfect scarred knight who always saves my life." pause. "---Sometimes, picking a commoner is better than being with a perfect prince because they always make you believe in fairytales that don't exist. The witcher's a mutant. A freak of nature that they always see of him. An experimented human who had no other choice but to accept his lonely fate. But, this doesn't make him any less human, Princess Coco."

Princess Corinthia had her almond, doe eyes peering up at you. Her spirit filled in utmost inquiry for what your witcher really actually is. Unable to perceive how he also looked like because she had only seen his armored, broad back as he gently dropped you on the bed. Both of you seeming to be in a debate while his face inches away from yours, seeing him lean all the way forward to give you a pucker of his lips. A gesture that the princess has always seen from servants who had a secretive relationship with their knights. The opposite of what she sees from her parents because you never leaned away from Geralt unlike how the queen avoids her husband's affections.

Endearing to be seen from you both because her parents hardly appeared to cherish one another.

"Geralt has a kind heart that no other prince may let me see from and I wish for your future to be best and full of love like how I wish to have,"

"Geralt? is that the witcher's name?"

You've heard loud stomps of footsteps banging outside the room, knowing that it was probably chevaliers searching for the young princess. She was quick to pull the blanket over her head, forcefully shoving herself on your side for cover. Hence, it also made you slip under the covers, grabbing onto her fragile shoulders to pull her inside to veil away from the night that wanted to pull her in for a nightmare. The cloying feeling swaying your insides because of a young child that could delicately press onto your heartstrings, showing you how precious it was to have a daughter who was utterly sweet and gullible.

You couldn't help but giggle under the covers with her, subtly reaching for your growing stomach with a hidden caress.

"Yes it is, Princess. Now, hide!"

Morning came after and the night has still given you beasts as your foe, battling through the hours which has never given you enough sleep. The queen's princess having more sleep as she laid on your arm, telling you that she also had her own monsters to challenge with because she slept alone in her bed, thinking that it was all a lie when she dozed off after half an hour of your stories about Geralt and his adventures.

An understanding hitting you like a freight train when she began snoring as she slept on your bed.

The princess just needed someone to cuddle with. Comfort from another woman that the queen should've been doing because it was her daughter and not yours to begin with.

Dressed in your servant's clothes and standing in the middle of an empty kitchen, most servants have been called to be in the queen's chambers except for you. With a gurgling stomach and a set of pastries lined up in front of you and on the decrepit, wooden table---your fingers reach out for a piece of marzipan cakes until it has been whacked away from your hands with a tolerating slap of strength.

You were too hungry to even process that you have grabbed onto a kitchen knife, seeming to be in a greater starvation as each day passes by due to cravings for more food everyday. The blade has been hastily pointed upon the man's weak spot on his neck---remembering Jaskier's teachings about what vulnerable spot does it take to slash one's neck for him or her to bleed till her death.

Stunned forest green eyes were all wide as you point the tip upon his jugular. Your teeth barred and appearing wild before the familiar gallant whom you remembered to have seen back when Tybalt has forced his entry through your home. He was the cavalier who wanted nothing to do with Jaskier being shoved to the ground. The hesitant knight that you awfully remember.

"What are you going to do to me? Hurt me again?" you bark out loud, your fingers slightly trembling as the blade was close to his porcelain skin,  "---You knights are---!!!"

The obsidian eyed gallant raised his palm to covers your mouth, his gaze shifting around the empty kitchen before he talked, "Shhh. Don't eat those."

"---Mmmh!" you battled against his hold, shifting away but he forcefully kept you close by, never risking for you to scream or run away.

He shook his head, seeing him anxiously bite on his lower lip and looking away. His hand promptly leaving your mouth as he reached to grab onto one dessert that he saw one charmed servant bake and pour a nasty vile in the batter, "They're poisoned. I've heard it from Tybalt that you might be having a cub growing inside of you. One of the maids have been enchanted, poisoning your food."

You couldn't help but shut your eyes close in exasperation over people wanting to put you in danger. Your hunches immediately thinking about Ingrith because she has been the only person who couldn't stand you and the child you were bearing.

"Notice how no one eats them?"

"But, I seen them eat before I'm around,"

"But, not these. Correct?"

The maids have never eaten any dessert---nor had it look touched. They were devouring food, right. But, not desserts because somehow they suddenly had no sweet tooth over pastries; slyly knowing that you had a penchant over sweets.

It was probably the reason why they were simply poisoned.

You couldn't help but bite the insides of your cheeks, pulling out a chair from the table to tiredly sit and sigh about how stressful it is to stay alive in Geralt's dimension when people wanted you dead since the moment that an out-of-the-blue child has been living inside your stomach.

Was it a mistake made? was the child a mistake so that was why people were scared for it to be born? Eanraig has said that she would be born with a purpose to save their dimension---receiving such help to save humanity and cease chaos.

As much as how difficult it was to understand that, the only thing that has ever been a mistake was trying to honestly tell Geralt you love him before being cut-off by your witcher.

"Is it true?" the gallant curiously inquired, leaning his hip on the edge of the table as he crossed his arms in front of you.

"---that the Witcher is your child's father?"

It was still quite awkward to tell knowing that he was supposed to be infertile. But, being in a world where magic exists probably isn't the only thing peculiar after all.

"Yes."

"Oh, great. It wasn't just plain gossip after all," he momentarily exhaled a breath, rolling his shoulders back. Quietly moaning as he stretched his limbs, his youthful, juvenile timbre in his tone turning squeaky and nonchalant, "---They'll loathe you more especially that you're up the spout with the witcher's child,"

You could see the disgust in their eyes. People in the castle who somehow managed to see you. Though, the case with Eanraig, princess Coco and this chevalier was different because they looked at you as if there was nothing wrong which it should've been.

"Why?"

He pursed his lips and shook his head, grabbing onto another set of pastry that looked like some pudding as he raised it to his nose, subtly sniffing the food before calmly throwing it back away again, "That's not a question. Think of it---you're pregnant by a monster slayer who had tales of his kind that he is completely barren due to his genetic mutations. Then, you're suddenly carrying his sprog for magical reasons,"

Your eyes quickly narrowed with how sarcastic he sounded.

He continued his chatter, sighing every once in a while as he said his words that seemed to be a quote coming from another, "---Witchers are the offspring of foul sorcery and witchcraft. They are unscrupulous scoundrels without conscience and virtue, veritable creatures from hell capable only of taking lives..."

The latter exhaled one last long breathe, dramatic enough to pay heed over how you were trying to see through him; thinking what kind of person he was because after being injured within the castle has made you wary of anyone who wanted to talk. It even got to the point that you were guessing he wanted to talk and seek out information from you.

"---I've always remembered Amaury and his beliefs over witchers since he has encountered one before he was killed by him," he gave a small beam, showing teeth while he was in a flashback of memories from his journey before with a deceased close friend.

"I remember he goes by the name Auckes---maybe your witcher might know him,"

You simply nodded. Still cautious of his presence while you hugged your stomach from him.

"There are other witchers too?"

Geralt has left that question unanswered, back when you were serving ale for him. You've tried to remember that name for when you try to ask your witcher---that is if you're still planning on talking to him after the fight you and him had or if he would even care to answer.

Eventually, it was needed to talk to the father of your own child of surprise. A child of surprise that had no law being given or said.

He noticed you were dazing off, too deep in your thoughts that got him sauntering over the kitchen cabinets, slipping a hand inside to try and eyeball some fruit he tried to hid this morning. The man was thinking you were starving already which tells why you were staring out of nowhere, considering that you were eating for two.

"---Auckes became an assassin. He was formerly a witcha',"

You've snapped out of your stupor, the empathy you had for people swiftly slipping through your mind, "I'm sorry to hear that. May your friend's soul rest in peace."

"Amaury might be having a good time where ever he is right now,"

He strolled back to where you sat, standing before you with a bundle of apples, oranges and boiled eggs. His hands reaching out to give them while whispering the next sentences like he was forbidden to do it from the start or even talk to you, "Watch out for anyone. They have an entire repugnance for his kind and anyone related to him," you've taken the food out of his hands, placing them all on your apron and bunching them to yourself.

The lean built gallant took a step back, hands behind his back and realizing that he was younger than you thought. In the same age as Jaskier when he gave you a boyish smile, "Take care of yourself. Especially your child,"

You've finally beamed before him, slowly loosening up around his infectious presence. Self deciding that he was worth to trust after he took a bite of his own apple hidden inside the pocket of his breeches, showing you that the food he gave was poison free.

"Do you have a name?"

"Of course. The name's Otker."

"Thank you for the warning, Otker." the latter gave a toothy grin before it fell in a hot second, reaching to cup his nape in sheer embarrassment for whatever he was thinking.

"Forgive me for I have not helped you through Tybalt's plans," he honestly apologized.

Without warning, there were voices echoing outside. Voices of maidens chewing the rag over what the queen has told them and it made you shot up from your seat, the bulwark surrounding you suddenly building itself from hearing other people closing in---people who weren't worth the trust.

"It's fine. You had no other choice. You can't betray the man who you work for. Evil or not."

Otker cocked his head to the side with a knowing smile, his mouth in an amused straight line as he walked away with his steps going backward. He was agreeing to what you've said but also somehow disagreeing too.

"Tybalt's not all evil," the green eyed gallant pursed his lips from his psychoanalysis over the higher vampire after working with him for half a year or so; having faith over his ungodly gestures like his appearance had been a misunderstanding for his wicked characteristics that you find in him.

"---but, he isn't good either. Just being whispered words of propaganda by everyone surrounding him,"

A simple shake of your head was enough to get Otker shrugging his shoulders because he knew you weren't convinced after Tybalt basically stabbing you on the hip before he walked away as the judging servants came in the kitchen one by one again---planning to continue the stress they have been pouring.

Taglist for WOTN: (Strikethrough means your blog can’t be tagged. Please check your settings, bb’s! Thank you.) @alyxkbrl @himarisolace @barkingbullfrog @ayamenimthiriel @hellodevilslittlesister @turkish276 @spookypeachx @grungelovebug @fangirl-inthe-us @nympeth @amirahiddleston @gabethelobster @dreaming-about-fanfictions @uncoolcloudyhead @melaninstylezz @psychosupernaturalhero @missjenniferb @dance-dreamer​​​ @marvelousell​​​ @kingniazx​​​ @angelias134​​​ @tapismyforte​​​ @chook007​​​ @covid-donotenter​​​ @deadlydemon​​ @cheesecakeisapie​​ @angelofthor​​​ @carrieannewaywardson, @plantingmum, @stuckupstucky​​, @shesthelastjedi​​, @a--1--1--3​​, @gutfucks​​, @raynosaurus-rex​​, @britty443​​, @suhke3​​, @shadowclawstudio88​​, @ruthoakenshield​​, @just-a-sad-donut​​, @gxrdenr0se, @singeramg​​  @friendlyneighbourhoodweirdo​, @alexwinchester23​

Overall witcher taglist: @pizza-eater-i-ate-the-pizza​​, @crazybutconfidentaf​​

General taglist for any Henry Cavill fics: @agniavateira​​, @iloveyouyen​​, @rahdaleigh​​, @silverkitten547​​, @henrythickcavill​​, @kaatelyyynn​​, @marvelousell​​, @madelinelina​​, @summersong69​​, @raynosaurus-rex​​, @fckdeusername​​, @evansislife​​

[nachtelang]

so like a loooong time ago i mentioned my valorant oc and after like one billion years i finally finished his ref sheet!! i got lazy coloring him near the end pay that no mind LOL but his name is sayu and he’s a sentinel!! feel free to ask questions about him + more in depth stuff abt him under the cut but for those that jus wanna look at his ref there you go :-))

so his codename is sayu and he’s a cute lil cyborg guy!! when first light happened he got into a radianite related accident that left nearly his whole body extremely destroyed. due to his mass exposure to radianite when it was still like new to earth he was taken and almost held captive by kingdom, what remained of him experimented on, because he was thought to be dead. obviously he wasn’t but he was just in no shape to fight back or resist, so he remained kingdom’s experiment until he was eventually found and rescued by valorant.

the protocol themselves ( he was found at the same time they recruited sage, to coincide with my headcanon that she was also rescued by valorant and was once a captive of kingdom as well ) thought him to be dead too, but sage informed them that he was very much alive. but his body was beyond being able to be healed physically; so instead, the agents’ engineers at the time ( killjoy and cypher, this was before raze was apart of the protocol ) opted to try and fit him with radianite technology, like implants and prosthetics almost, in an attempt to get him at least moving like a regular person again. also hey shoutout to silver for the headcanon that cypher has cybernetic implants because i cannot for the life of me stop thinking abt that LOL

once his new and improved body had been finished, he joined the protocol! it took a really long time to finish because this was a totally different project for killjoy and cypher ( and raze who eventually joined in to help ), and his kit required a lot of testing before he was eventually allowed into the field, not to mention he had to be trained and taught to handle firearms because he didn’t have any combat experience prior to first light.

almost 80% of sayu is machine. all of his limbs are cybernetic, but his like body / torso area is still flesh. cypher and killjoy are the ones that usually handle maintenance of his limbs, and their combined efforts helped to make his unique agent abilities a reality!! he’s a healer because let’s be real the protocol needs more of those AWBHJSBDJ

now onto abilities!! sayu’s like “main feature” is his ability to provide support from anywhere on the map. and while his focus on healing abilities is a pro it’s a con because his kit is so focused on it that that it can feel like he doesn’t offer much else; he prefers to get on sites quickly using his shield in order to like lock them down by placing his holofields.

his signature ability holo orb deploys a holographic orb that can be deployed from anywhere on the map so long as the target is still alive. it does either one of two things; it either heals and restores your shield ( if you bought one ) or it grants the target rapidfire ( i.e. increased movement, firing, and reload speed ) it until the orb runs out of energy and must go back to sayu to recharge. sayu can also heal himself!

his first basic ability holofield has him create a holographic field that he can launch at the ground. allies that step in it will be healed, whereas enemies that step in it will be take damage over time ( like stepping in a swarm grenade ). the field lasts the whole round and cannot be destroyed, though sayu can recall them at any time in order to place it in somewhere different. he gets 2 and they cover about as much area as a sage wall just. minus the wall LSDKJFK and he can place them either flat on the ground or standing upward like a sage wall ( but enemies can still walk through it )

his second ability holoshield creates a shield in front of him that covers a wide area and blocks all bullets and projectiles thrown / shot at sayu and anyone in front of him, but he is completely unprotected from behind while using this. it can be reused so long as his shield still has energy, but once it runs out of energy he can no longer activate it ( similar to skye’s heal, but it doesn’t last as long ). depending on the projectile thrown at it, it either dissipates ( like phoenix’s hot hands ) or bounces off ( like brimstone’s molly ). it doesn’t block anything already active on the ground ( like an activated nanoswarm ) and sayu can’t use his gun when his shield is active, though his teammates can shoot through it.

his ultimate holographic support has sayu grant every person on his team ( that’s alive ) a holo orb that not only heals them and restores their shield, but that grants rapidfire and the additional ability of revealing enemies’ locations when shot ( like that team tracer orb from spike rush ). it lasts the same amount of time that it takes for killjoy’s lockdown to activate and also grants sayu an orb himself.

and that’s mostly it!! like i said feel free to leave asks abt him if you want because i really wanna expand on his character and lore. if you read all of this you’re so epic and ily so bad this was rlly long and rambly JKHDSJGH

[involuntarymotions]

Involuntary Motion is a semi-private powers roleplay site with a focus on what we like to refer to as “mundane superheroes”. We are a queer-run board with the hopes of fostering an inclusive, welcoming community catering to character progression, striving to find the perfect balance between high-action fun and more relaxed slice-of-life.

Together, these core tenets and areas of focus will — through the collective efforts of both our staff team and member base — create a community for like-minded and adventurous writers and roleplayers, fostering a close-knit community with whom we can all escape from our own mundane experiences.

These tenets are better explained below, serving as a first-look guide at what to expect of us:

I. SEMI-PRIVATE COMMUNITY

As veteran roleplayers with a long history in the roleplay community, we’ve all found that our most memorable, engaging, and favourite site experiences have been ones with smaller, more cohesive communities. As such, we seek to emulate this experience through a less open-ended recruitment method.

Through a combination of somewhat limited character slots and a simple, streamlined application process, over time we hope to build a group of writers that really mesh well with the community as a whole, adding more players in at the pace and amount the community sees fit.

Interested parties are encouraged to apply when our registration window opens, and keep trying should they not be accepted the first time. We aren’t gatekeeping on “quality”, talent, or other technical facets. Instead, we’re looking for people who we think will enjoy the site culture we’ve created thus far. These parameters may change over time as the culture adapts to new members, new events, and new ideas. A rejection is only a flat “no” in the event of rule-breaking, bigotry, and other extreme cases.

Our next registration window is intended to run from October 14th thru October 24th.

II. INCLUSIVITY

It is not enough to ask for writers to “be diverse” in their writing. Instead, we seek to create a site culture of inclusion, welcoming anyone — be they player or character — who may join the site. Members are encouraged to write rich, diverse characters in their time here, but that is not the only metric of an inclusive community.

Write with diverse characters played by others. Plot with strangers, whether they’ve been here for a few days or a few months. We cannot, and will not, force people to write with people they don’t personally vibe with, but we strongly encourage all members to try branching outside of their usual roleplayer partner.

We want Involuntary Motion to reflect the reality of our world through the lens of a science fiction setting. The city of Santa Ostía is not just one thing, it is not a monolith — it is a world filled with vibrant characters from all walks of life trying their best to survive in this world. We hope that our community, both in and out of character, will represent this as well.

III. MUNDANE SUPERHEROES

While brainstorming the concept for Involuntary Motion, we took to describing it as “mundane superheroes” before the setting was fleshed out. Inspired by superhero comics like the X-Men, particularly the Mutant Town/District X concept introduced in Morrison and Quitely’s New X-Men run as well as media like Teen Titans, My Hero Academia, and Heroes, it represents the other side of the superpowered world: the normal people just trying to live their life.

At their best, comics like the X-Men are stories about characters: their lives, relationships, and challenges. We want to combine that slice-of-life experience with the potential of larger, beefier plots afforded to us through the genre. These plots are not mandatory, however. Characters may be superheroes (or villains) if you so choose, but they may also just be a banker trying to control their telekinesis or a shop worker who can turn things into ice with a single touch. Both of these types of playstyles are valid and encouraged.

IV. CHARACTER PROGRESSION

Our core interest is a character’s progression. All too often in forum roleplay characters are created with good intentions but quickly stagnate due to a lack of development through progression. To mitigate this, we’ve developed a system we call Milestones, which are a list of goals a character wishes to complete. Completing these milestones on-site offers rewards through special tokens that can be redeemed to create new characters, gain extra powers, and earn special perks on Discord. More information on Milestones will be given later in the buzz!

V. SITE PROGRESSION

In addition to the typical slice-of-life content, Santa Ostía is still a superhero setting, and major plot beats will occur — whether they are catastrophic, villain-enabled threats, or simply political maneuverings which affect the citizens of the city.

As the member base grows, so will the site. New features, locations, archetypes, and plot updates will be locked behind site-centric Milestones: goals for the member base to complete through posting on the board and by voting on the next round of features up for consideration. We want to ensure that major, game-changing decisions are what our member base wants, not simply a reflection of the staff team’s opinion.