#very first moment being alive in the world was one in which i was ********* my very first days alive in the world i was completely alone an

[kseniyagreen]

About Zhao Yuanzhou's personalities and their dreams.

I see a clear symbolism in the fact that the diametric opposite of the crazy demonic part of Zhao Yuanzhou is the fantasy of a quiet life with Wen Xiao.

And this makes sense regardless of whether you see their relationship as romantic or not (I prefer to see it as platonic).

When I saw this scene for the first time, I thought - " it is a perfect image of a mental health center". Nature, a simple quiet life, in some very isolated place.

If the "evil" part of Zhao Yuanzhou represents his greed for emotions and desire for absolute freedom. Then, fighting with this part, he turns to the other extreme - and this is the role of Wen Xiao in his life.

She is associated with an image of some kind of normality. Like a goddess, she has "pills", I mean, divine power, calming all demons. But what may be even more important is their history together.

When Zhao Yuanzhou was in a severe depression, the former goddess asked him to look after the young Wen Xiao. Probably not only for Wen Xiao's safety, but also for the demon's own mental stability. This contact could not cure Zhao Yuanzhou's depression, but such a calm presence in the life of another person gave support to his existence. And this is the beauty of their connection for me.

For me personally, this connection is not about passion, but about the fact that Wen Xiao gives others the strength to continue to be.

We often tend to underestimate the importance of such people in our lives. Their role is not as noticeable as those who make the heart beat faster and the soul sing. But in a difficult period, it is these people who separate us from jumping off a cliff. In this, I see the power of Wen Xiao as a person (not fully revealed, in my opinion, this could have been realized better), but as it was probably intended.

That is why she was able to grow that tree for three hundred years. It is not just about patience. It is the gift of being, which is different from the gift of life, but precedes it. The ability to give strength and stability to the world around. And to rely on reality as it is.

Therefore, it is Wen Xiao who represents for Zhao Yuanzhou the ability to exist without his entire internal opera theater of passions and desires. This part is stable, but it is absolutely separated at the other pole from his demonic part.

What is also symbolic is that in those moments when Zhao Yuanzhou does not argue with himself, but as if mixes in some kind of semi-delirium, he sees a completely different dream.

And this one is not at all peaceful and harmonious, it contains pain and a shade of nightmare, and at the same time it is also a way of life of his dream - the one in which Zhuo Yichen becomes a demon and takes the place in his life that Li Lun used to occupy.

And this dream is feverish and painful, because only the one who can make him alive can kill him, and being alive goes with pain, fear and confusing, these two sides go together.

[little-fae-hero]

Linked Universe, The Hero of Time

my headcanons/aus

Art by Atro Avis

Colored version.

Long talk/Ideas under the cut, warning for slight body horror and dark fae topics. (Note: I may add stuff over time, but nothing will be deleted from the list)

Twilight. Wind. Legend. Hyrule. Four. Sky. War. Wild.

Time (Ocarina of Time/Majora’s Mask). Other nicknames: Mask, Sprite, Old man, Pops.

Titles: Hero of Time, Hero of the Kokiri, Hero of Mask, Hero of Termina, The Hero’s Shade. The Changed Kokiri

God who has claim over his soul: Kishin (Fierce Deity)

Note: Also appears in Hyrule Warriors. Is responsive for the first timeline break:

Fallen timeline - never grows when picking up the master sword and ends up dead because the energy of the fight was too much on his body.

Child timeline - Where he went through Oot and was sent back. So, to everyone he just got the gems and as a kid with visions warn of the outcome. (twilight princess)

Adult timeline - this was the timeline where he defeated Ganon as an adult, it was abandoned after (Wind Waker).

History:

Time is not human at all, though he looks like it. He is a Kokiri, a child of the fae and once leaving the forest, he’s considered a changeling. His mother is Navi, though she wasn’t by his side for most of his ‘childhood’ as she was sent on mission by the great deku tree.

Being sent on his adventure after the great Deku tree’s death, he and Navi leave the forest (much to Navi and the other kokiris horror). And start the journey from Oot, the only difference is Time has a full-on panic when he wakes up as an adult, because he knows physically, he’s a kokiri. Even after the events of Oot, he is never fully the same, this isn’t helped when Navi leaves his side for a moment, and he can’t find her. As he goes to find her, he ends up in Termina and ends up in a hellish time loop. Time is unsure how long he was in this loop, so his age mentally is completely unknown. Eventually he succeeds, however he doesn’t get time to rest as he is immediately sent to the Era of War (Hyrule Warriors), with skull kid and others. He ends up growing close to the Link from that era and he learns a lot about him before he is sent back. He never goes back to the Kokiri forest, for fear he wasn’t Kokiri anymore and the lost woods would transform him.

After being sent back to his time, he ends up living at Lon Lon Ranch, going on small adventures before marrying Malon.

His death: Time is sent somewhere for a war and ends up wounded in the lost woods. He’s injured with a metal mix that is poisonous to kokiri . Knowing what awaits him, Time holds onto his regret, which would keep him as a ghost on the world. The biggest regret was leaving behind someone he was protecting, never fulfilling the promise to see him again.

Interest stuff/Head canons:

Kokiri's are children of Fae who have yet to decide what they want to be, they are adaptable to everything, hence why they mainly take on human children or little tree children.

The sharp teeth, claws and inhuman eyes are typically just a defense to keep humans away, the biggest difference being their blood and tears proving they are not human.

Time’s teeth and nails are still sharp, he just actively keep them trimmed or filed down so others won’t freak out

Typically, the guardian fairies are the ones to protect the kokiris however they can use their teeth and claws if needed.

Although It’s discouraged for any Kokiri to experience or cause harm from the old saying ‘not to spill blood in the forest, as the tree will remember and crave it’, and blood and flesh will have to become a part of diet to grow up healthy (so Time eats a lot more meat then most).

Time was very much afraid of dying from leaving the forest, he was reassured that having the gem and his mother would keep him alive and healthy. It’s why he hunts for Navi so much after Oot, and later so heavily used to Fierce deity mask in HW. He now knows he doesn’t need it (the mark FD gave him is enough), but he still wears the gem as comfort.

He still hopes to see Navi one day, maybe just for comfort.

Because of his Kokiri/Fae nature and his ability to adapt, he took on aspects from each of the transformation masks, most are hidden from sight.

The Deku scrub has left Time’s insides to be a network of roots and vines rather than veins, this does allow him to heal faster. The Goron has transformed his bones to rock, as well as the heat not affecting him, he could stick his hand in lava if the vines didn’t scream in pain. Zora already improved his musical ability (fae song) but also has added scales and the ability to breathe underwater. The FD has added his height, the marking that married his face and eye as well as his unnerving and unreadable magic signature.

However Time does his best to hide his inhuman features, it’s why he doesn’t take off his bottom layer of clothes. Only the FD mark can be seen.

Time's blind eye acts like the lens of truth times 100, however he keeps it close because of the information overload.

Time loves Malon, and always dreams of having a family with her, but he always fears what his inhuman genes might do to the kid. Twilight, who shares so many traits with him and Malon, eases these worries.

He is very experienced and physically is the oldest.

However, he does just enough odd stuff that the closer you look at him and his behavior, the more you're on edge.

He can speak Hylian, Zora, Goron and Deku really well, but all sound very stiff and formal. Fae is the only one he speaks naturally though it's been getting rusty as he mostly speaks Hylian.

He still has a lot of childlike mischief still left, so he not above pulling pranks, but mainly harmless ones considering he’s the voice of reason.

Time's favorite food are sweet treats. He has stolen many cookies.

He still has all his masks, and while he does show them to the group. The transformation mask never leaves his bag. Despite the FD mask being the only one with a soul left, it feels off to let anyone mess with the Goron, Deku or Zora.

Time’s eye glows in darkness.

He gave himself the scar over his eye.

He has a tattoo on his shoulder from the Goron’s back home. It’s just never seen sense he doesn’t take off his shirt.

Because of Termina, Time can keep time down to the second, day and night.

—

Hope you enjoy my dive into madness, hehehe

[pickingupmymercedes]

Salt and Starlight - Lewis Hamilton

Lewis's 40th birthday special part 1

warnings: none

genre: fluff

wordcount: +2k

a/n: It's a '3 times y/n's made Lewis feel like a teenager (on the brink of turning 40) and the one time he did' (except that last bit is the part 2 coming later)

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

______________________________________________________________

What do you give someone who has it all? He is Lewis Hamilton, after all.

I’d been asking myself that question for weeks.

Lewis isn’t exactly the kind of guy who needs another watch, another car, or another piece of art for his collection.

He’s got it all—trophies, fame, money, and a closet full of designer clothes that probably cost more than my first car.

So, what do you give that man ?

The answer came to me one night when we were lying in bed, talking about nothing and everything.

I’d been reminiscing about growing up by the beach, about the stupid, reckless things I did as a teenager that made me feel alive. Lewis had laughed, that deep, warm laugh of his, and said, “God, it’s been years since I’ve felt anything that… teenagery.”

And there it was. My gift to him.

“Are you sure this isn’t just an elaborate ploy to embarrass me?” Lewis asks, tugging the brim of his bucket hat lower over his sunglasses. The hoodie he’s wearing makes him look like a man trying to sneak out of a high school reunion unnoticed.

Which, okay, is kind of the vibe I was going for.

The drive to Santa Barbara was… well, let’s just say Lewis loved being a passenger princess, most times, and that wasn’t one of them.

He kept fidgeting, adjusting the seat, and asking if I was sure I knew where I was going. (Spoiler: I did. Mostly.)

But by the time we pulled up to the boardwalk, the sun was setting, casting the sky in shades of pink and orange, and he finally stopped asking questions.

The amusement park was exactly how I remembered it—bright lights, the smell of cotton candy and fried food, the sound of laughter and screams from the thrill rides. It was chaos, but the good kind.

The kind that makes you feel alive.

“You’re not serious,” Lewis said, staring at the roller coaster like it might bite him.

“Oh, I’m very serious,” I said, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the line. “Come on, old man. Let’s see if you’ve still got it.”

He glances down at me, a boyish smile breaking through his mock-suspicious expression. “Always.”

And there it is—the grin I was waiting for.

The one that reminds me of the Lewis who still feels like a kid sometimes, who loves the thrill of life just as much as his achievements.

For once, Lewis doesn’t have an itinerary. No obligations, no pressures. Just us.

We hit every ride that promises to throw us around like ragdolls. Rollercoasters that make my stomach drop (and Lewis laugh at my shrieking), bumper cars where I play dirty and spin him into the wall, and that spinning thing that got me questioning my life choices.

By the time we got to the Ferris wheel, the sky was dark, the stars just starting to peek through.

The Ferris wheel was… different. Slower. Quieter.

As we climbed higher, the noise of the park faded away, and it was just us, suspended in the air. Lewis was quiet, staring out at the ocean, and for a moment, I wondered if I’d pushed him too far with this.

“This was the plan all along, wasn’t it?” he says as he leaned into me. His voice is light, but there’s that knowing look in his eyes.

I feign innocence. “What plan?”

“The Ferris wheel. The whole night was a setup for this.”

I smirk, settling into the seat beside him. “You’re giving me way too much credit.”

The wheel begins to turn, the car gently rocking as we rise above the chaos below. The lights from the boardwalk blurring, and for a moment, neither of us speaks.

The world feels smaller up here, quieter.

He shifts closer, and I can feel his gaze on me, warm and intent. “This was a good idea.”

I smiled, leaning into him. “I have those sometimes.”

And then he leans in, his lips brushing against mine.

It starts softly, like he’s savoring the moment, but it deepens quickly, and suddenly the air feels electric. My mind goes blissfully blank, except for the thought that this—this might’ve been what I wanted all along.

When we finally break apart, his forehead rests lightly against mine, and he’s grinning like a teenager who’s just stolen his first kiss. “This feels straight out of a cheesy rom-com.”

“Good,” I manage, still catching my breath. “It’s meant to.”

He laughs, and it’s the kind that bubbles out of him, genuine and unguarded. And I think, there it is again.

That boyish smile I’d give anything to keep seeing.

“You know,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper, “this is exactly how I imagined love when I was a teenager.”

He chuckled, his breath warm against my skin. “Yeah? Did you imagine me too?”

I rolled my eyes, but I was smiling. “Shut up.”

And then the Ferris wheel started moving again, and we were laughing, and for the first time in a long time, Lewis looked… free.

We were still laughing as we stumbled off the Ferris wheel, my hand in his, the cool ocean breeze brushing against our skin.

Lewis had that look in his eyes—the one he gets when he’s trying to play it cool but is secretly having the time of his life.

It’s rare, these days, to see him so unguarded.

“You know,” he said, pulling me closer as we walked, “I haven’t done anything like this in… I don’t even know how long.”

“What, ridden a Ferris wheel?” I teased, bumping my shoulder against his. “Yeah, I can tell.”

He rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “No, I mean… this. Just… being spontaneous. Letting go.”

I stopped walking and turned to face him, raising an eyebrow. “Lewis Hamilton, are you telling me you’ve never been spontaneous? Because I find that hard to believe.”

He shrugged, that infuriatingly charming smirk playing on his lips.

“What?” I ask, bumping my shoulder against his as we weave through the crowd.

He gives me a sideways glance, lips twitching like he’s holding back a laugh. “Nothing. Just you, scheming. Don’t think I don’t know you planned that whole Ferris wheel moment.”

I roll my eyes but can’t help the small smile that sneaks out. “Oh, please. Like I can predict what’s going to happen in the heat of the moment.”

He hums noncommittally, but the way his hand slides into mine, fingers lacing tightly, tells me he’s not buying my act. And I’m not about to argue with him on that. Ever

We walk aimlessly for a while, the neon lights of the boardwalk fading behind us as we drift toward the quieter streets. It’s one of those perfect in-between moments—neither here nor there, where everything feels suspended, and nothing needs to make sense.

That’s when he says it.

“You know,” he starts slowly “you were right earlier. About the Ferris wheel. It did feel… teenagey.”

I smirked. “Told you.”

He hesitated, then said, “So… what’s next?”

I blinked at him, surprised. “What do you mean, what’s next?”

He shrugged, but there was a glint in his eye that made me suspicious. “You’re the one who planned this whole thing. What’s the next stop on the nostalgia train?”

I stared at him for a moment, then grinned. “Well… there is one thing” and before I can stop myself, the words tumble out. “We should get that tattooed. Like, right now.”

For a split second, I expect him to laugh, to brush it off with a comment about how I’m clearly delirious from all the carnival food. But instead, he just raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “What, the ferries wheel?”

“No, ‘40,’” I say, half-joking, half-serious. “Something simple. For this moment, for you.”

To my surprise, he doesn’t immediately shut it down. Instead, he tilts his head, considering. “You’re serious about this?”

“I mean… why not?” I shrug, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious under his gaze. “You’ve got plenty. One more won’t kill you.”

He hesitated, and I could see the wheels turning in his head.

Lewis doesn’t do things on a whim—not anymore. His tattoos are works of art, carefully planned and executed by the best artists in the world. The idea of walking into some random parlor and getting inked on a whim was probably giving him hives.

He looks at me for a moment, his expression unreadable. And then he smiles, that slow, deliberate smile that makes me feel like he’s about to say something I’m not ready for. “Alright. Let’s do it.”

“Wait, what?”

“You said it yourself. Why not?”

And just like that, we’re standing outside a tattoo parlor that looks like it hasn’t seen a renovation since the early 2000s. The buzzing sound of the needle greets us as we step inside, along with the unmistakable scent of disinfectant and a tattoo artist who looks thoroughly unimpressed with our arrival.

“What are we doing?” I whisper as Lewis fills out the paperwork, his calmness somehow making me more nervous.

“Living like teenager, apparently” he says simply, handing me the pen to fill out my form. “You know, like… spontaneous, stupid, matching tattoos. The kind you get when you’re young and dumb and think it’s a good idea.”

The design we settle on is simple: the number 40, styled in a subtle, abstract way that could mean anything to anyone else. It’s perfect.

Mine goes on my wrist, tucked just under my watch strap. His ends up near his elbow, seamlessly blending into his sleeve, the one he’s spent years building.

When it’s my turn, I flinch at the first touch of the needle, earning a quiet chuckle from Lewis. “Don’t start,” I warn, gritting my teeth as the artist works.

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” he says, his voice entirely too amused.

When it’s done, we step back to admire our matching tattoos. They’re small, subtle, and utterly reckless in a way that feels right.

“40,” he says, his voice soft but laced with meaning as he looks at the ink.

I glance at him, my chest tightening in a way I wasn’t expecting. “The big four-oh.” I echo.

His lips twitch, but he doesn’t look at me. “Here we go.”

I grin, nudging his arm with my shoulder. “What? It’s a big deal. A milestone. People throw whole festivals for this kind of thing. They buy sports cars.” I pause, then laugh. “Well, I guess you’ve already got the cars covered.”

“Funny,” he says, finally glancing at me. There’s a glint of amusement in his eyes, but it fades quickly, replaced by something softer, more reflective. “It doesn’t feel like a big deal. Not really. It’s just… a number.”

“Uh-huh.” I tilt my head, studying him. “And how many times have you told yourself that the past month?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Too many.”

By the time we’ve grabbed more food—a greasy basket of fries—it’s late. The boardwalk is still buzzing behind us, but we’ve drifted to the sand, away from the crowds.

The ocean stretches out before us, vast and dark, lit only by the moon and the occasional flicker of a far-off boat.

Lewis sits beside me,  his hands occasionally finding their way onto my back his hoodie pulled up against the chill of the night. I watch as he unwraps his burger with careful precision, like the fate of the world rests on not spilling ketchup.

“Not bad for a last-minute dinner date,” I say, popping a fry into my mouth.

He looks at me, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Not bad at all.”

We eat in comfortable silence for a while, the sound of the waves filling the gaps. I can feel him thinking, though.

The way his fingers drum lightly against his knee, the slight furrow in his brow—it’s all there if you know where to look.

“You’re being suspiciously quiet,” I say, nudging him lightly with my elbow.

He glances at me, a small smile playing on his lips. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

He takes a bite of his burger, chewing slowly as if buying time to form an answer. Finally, he swallows and looks out at the water. “About this. About everything, really.”

“Everything?” I echo, raising an eyebrow. “That’s… vague.”

He chuckles softly, shaking his head. “My birthday. Turning 40.”

I pause, the fry I was about to eat halfway to my mouth. “Oh, you’re having a midlife crisis?” I grin, trying to lighten the mood.

He gives me a look—half amused, half exasperated. “I’m not having a midlife crisis.”

“Sure sounds like one.”

He laughs, but it’s softer this time, his gaze still fixed on the ocean. “It’s not that I’m worried about turning 40. I just… I don’t know. It’s a lot to think about.”

I stay quiet, letting him take his time. You don’t rush these kinds of conversations.

“It’s funny,” he continues. “I’ve spent my whole life in this sport. Every year, every decision—it’s all been about racing. And now I’m here, about to hit 40, and…” He trails off, shaking his head.

“Hm?” I prompt gently, not pushing, just giving him space.

“And I thought I’d feel more certain about where I am.” He exhales, a long, slow breath that seems to carry years of weight. “I’ve told myself so many times I wouldn’t still be racing at this age. But here I am, and I don’t want to stop. Not yet. And now, with Ferrari…”

His voice breaks off again, and I see his hand flex slightly, like he’s trying to grasp something just out of reach.

“You’re scared,” I say quietly, not as an accusation, just an observation.

He laughs, but it’s more bitter than lighthearted. “Terrified…. Not of the racing—I know I can still do that. But of… everything else. Of failing, of not being enough. Of proving the people right who think I’m too old or that I should have stopped like Nico.”

I set my burger down, leaning toward him. “You’re not afraid of proving them right, Lewis. You’re afraid you might believe them.”

That gets his attention and his gaze snaps to mine, something flashing in his eyes.

“It’s not that I doubt myself completely,” he says after a moment. “But it’s there, in the back of my mind. This little voice asking if I’m trying to hold onto something that’s already slipping away.”

I take a breath, my heart tightening at the vulnerability in his words. “You’re not just holding on. You’re still building something. And you’re allowed to want that, even at 40.”

He looks down, his jaw tightening briefly. “I want to believe that. I really do… But then I think about all the things I’ve given up along the way—time with family, relationships, moments I’ll never get back. And I wonder if it’s selfish to keep chasing a dream.”

I nod, my chest tightening. “I get it. And I think it’s good that you’re thinking about these things. It means you care.”

His head tilts slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching. “You make it sound so simple.”

“It’s not simple. It’s messy, and ugly, and complicated, and terrifying. But it’s worth it. You’re worth it.”

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, just watches me with an intensity that makes my chest ache.

“I’ve never been good at slowing down,” he admits finally. “Even now, there’s so much I want to do. So many dreams I’ve had since I was a kid that I’ve never had time for. And part of me wonders if I ever will.”

“You will,” I say softly. “Maybe not all of them at once. But you will. We will.”

He sighs, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he leans back on his hands, staring up at the stars. “Sometimes I wish I still had that recklessness, but with everything I know now.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works; you know that don't you, grandpa?” I tease, trying to lighten the mood.

He chuckles, the sound warmer this time. “Fair point.”

After a beat, he smirks, glancing at me. “You keep calling me old though, but I don’t remember you complaining last night.”

I burst out laughing, shaking my head. “Oh, shut up. You’re ruining the moment.”

He grins, and just like that, the heaviness of the conversation lifts slightly, replaced by something lighter but no less real.

As we get up to leave, I brush the sand off my hands and glance at him. “For the record, I like vintage Ferraris better anyway.”

“Now that you’ve mentioned it. There’s another teenager dream I’ve always had.”

He laughs as he reaches for my waist, and this time, it’s full and unrestrained. The sound carries over the waves, as he turns me around on the sand and captures my lips with his once again.

There, under the moonlight I know how much I love this man—even when he’s scared, even when he’s uncertain.

Especially then.

_____________________________________________________________

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[katakaluptastrophy]

This is your semi-regular reminder that for all that he very much leans into being 'just a guy', John Gaius is a horribly unsettling and disturbing eldritch entity who has not been entirely human for 10,000 years:

As the world went up I remade us both. I hid me in you... I hid you in me. And when we were together... I became God..

We're repeatedly told how uncanny Alecto was. And how terribly ordinary-looking John is...but how deeply, deeply upsetting his eyes are to behold. They're repeatedly described as "monstrous" (on one occasion, directly before John jokes "I'm not a monster"), as well as "terrible", "like dead planets", "primordial", "chthonic", "inconceivable", and "deeply fucked up".

There are multiple descriptions of how his down to earth persona suddenly falls away and he can be seen as something infinitely more awful:

"terrible divinity clung to his skin"

"It was the first time that he had seemed at all mortal. Humanity touched him briefly, like a passing shadow"

"He was no longer human. He was immortal again"

"He was always somehow more alive than everyone else around him, and yet dislocated from what you considered living. A man-shaped eclipse."

"The Emperor of the Nine Houses - the Resurrection - the First Reborn - sat at the end of the table, his plain face splattered with gore, and his eyes were the death of light."

There's one moment in particular where Harrow perceives him as something vastly beyond human:

his great immortal age - of an enormous distance between you, of an ignition too bright for you to conceive. You were an insect standing before a forest fire. You were a cell holding a heart.

(Though of course Harrow herself is far from metaphysically straightforward - in the River, Gideon says "You were a sigil: you were an intermingled fire...you were a hunger without a stomach...")

When John describes Resurrection Beasts to Harrow - although we do not yet know that this is a confession of murder and of a sort of cannibalism by a part man, part planet - he is "lit from beneath by electric lighting, the gleam in his eyes black and wet. You caught him moistening his lips with the tip of his tongue."

Even when he's not obviously being an eldritch thing, his very normal crown of foetal bones moves on its own, and the white rings in his eyes are described as flickering. Even blithely sitting in a Cohort Admiralty meeting munching peanuts, John is in constant, unsettling motion.

As if that doesn't already sound unpleasant enough, it seems rather like there is something physically discomforting about making eye contact with John. Looking on those white rings is likened to "dying" and "a migraine", and described as "scalding".

It still hurt you a little, to look into his terrible eyes... You had never become used to it.

Making eye contact with John doesn't just cause physical pain. It also seems to open you up to some degree of suggestion or compulsion. Here's Gideon's description of making eye contact with John:

God looked at me...and held my gaze. It was this that pinned us in place. When those white rings hovered on someone else, the blood rushed back to your brain; when they flickered back to me, I went white and blank again, mute and stupid, a floating outline... Those white-ringed eyes closed, and your heart almost relaxed in your chest.

Which seems to place two incidents that otherwise might be explained as Harrow's difficulty refusing the man she has been raised to worship as god in a different light:

It still hurt you in an undefinable way, to see him lowered so: as though he offered a compliance test where you ought to flatten yourself in front of him as low as you could go. The white ring around his pupil was so white.

He looked at you as though he were glad to see you... some nameless softening in his face and those white-tinged, primordial eyes. He reached out for your hands. You could not refuse him, and in any case had no choice of doing so; your body reacted long before your mind did, and the meat of your meat and the flesh of your flesh belonged to God

I don't think we're nearly frightened enough of John... Or of the prospect of John and Alecto - the man who became god and the god who became man - reunited (even if at odds) in ATN...

[jhdyuiee]

treasure trove

𓇼 pairing: husband!johnny x fem!reader

𓇼 tags/warnings: fluff, smut!, unprotected sex, tit job, fingering, multiple positions/orgasms, oral (m receiving), tit/breast play, sucking/marking/biting, kissing/making out, dirty talk, breeding kink, cursing, name calling (good girl) & pet names (wife, babe), sex by the beach :0, rough johnny

𓇼 w.c: 2k

𓇼 a.n: hehe, i told ya'll i'd be back very soon and with my first ever johnny fic no less, hehe. anyhow this is the last release of the week, please stay tuned next weekend for my next releases! thank you for your continuous love and support, i truly appreciate it & i love ya'll just so much! until next week, jiji out 🤍

Maldives. 

Nothing beats the ocean side view. The water so clear, so exquisite. You looked out the window of the restaurant you and your husband were dining in for the night. Today marked a day until your honeymoon was over. You were a bit sad, not wanting this to end, not wanting to leave just yet.

You watched as the sun slowly set, illuminating the beautiful ocean. You were always fond of the ocean, it was the center of all your good moments in life. You teared your gaze from the beautiful ocean to the man in front of you.

Your husband: Johnny Suh.

“I’m starting to think you’re on this honeymoon with the ocean rather than with me,” Johnny says as he swirls the wine in his cup.

You couldn’t help but smile at his commentary. “Jealous of the ocean, Suh?” you teased.

“You’re a Suh too now you know,” he answered, taking the cup of wine to his lips. His face scrunches up when he gets a taste. He sets the glass down, using that hand to entwine his fingers with yours.

“Did I ever tell you how magnificent you look tonight?” your husband speaks, a slight blush adorning your cheeks.

“Yes, yes you have… in fact it's all you’ve said to be tonight,” you told your husband who just looked at you like a love struck fool. He was your fool, head over heels for you. In Johnny’s world he always thanked the lord above for letting him meet someone like you.

“Well, what can I say, my wife is simply just the most radiant woman in the whole world!” he says a bit louder, loud enough for other guests to hear.

You slightly shout his name as you see the few guests turn around to your table. Johnny just laughs, bringing your entwined hands to his lips where he kissed it so lovingly.

“I love you,” he mutters, instantly melting your heart.

“I love you too,” you tell him as you then bring his hand to your lips so you could do the same thing.

And so your dinner with Johnny continued, laughter and smiles radiating from your table. Everyone in that restaurant could feel the love surrounding you two– the newly wedded couple. Once it was time to go, Johnny made sure to take your hand–holding it real tight–and walk you to his car. You noticed there was no one else there except you two, Johnny noticed this too. And Johnny for one was someone who wouldn’t miss an opportunity to do something… revolting.

His hands quickly find their way to your waist, holding you as he slams his mouth onto yours. You could taste remnants of his wine from him, intoxicating yourself. You didn’t mean the wine, but Johnny himself, the man was like an addicting drug, something you couldn’t help but intoxicate yourself with.

You find yourself trapped, being eaten alive almost. His tongue fights against yours, dominance overriding Johnny. His hands lingered on your ass, groping it which caused you to moan into his mouth. He lightly smacks one of your cheeks before soothing it. You could feel your panties begin to wetten, yourself begin to heat up.

He parts from the heated kiss first, instead going to kiss your cheek, jaw, before settling on your neck. He uses one hand to brush away any hairs, leaving your neck in full exposure to him. He nips on your skin before sucking on it. You grab onto his brown locks, holding him as he tries marking you. You were sure you were going to be left in a body full of marks by the time ya’ll leave tomorrow. Well, not that you were complaining.

Once Johnny felt satisfied he parts from your neck, meeting you at eye level. And just as he was about to devour you again, you two hear a woman’s laughter in the distance. You two freeze, instantly sobering up. However you didn’t fail to notice the remnants of lust in Johnny's eyes.

“Just wait until we get into the villa,” he whispers into your ear before taking your hand to guide you to the passenger seat. As you take your seat and he begins to drive off, your mind wanders to all the indecencies that are about to unravel.

𓆉𓆉𓆉𓆉𓆉𓆉𓆉𓆉

You two couldn’t make it past the front door before he had you two undressing. You were left in nothing, naked as he sucked on your tits. “How are you so perfect,” he groans against your breast, kissing his way to the other one where he proceeds to suck on your nipple before marking you up. You gripped onto his hair, watching as he loved on your body.

When he’s had enough he brings his lips to yours, pecking them before saying, “why don’t you take care of me now, I’ve been hard ever since the restaurant.” Johnny guides your hand to his hardened member that was still confined by his boxers. You shyly smiled before dropping onto your knees where you then proceed to take them off. His cock springs out, leaking with pre already and the tip looking red.

You licked your lips before inching towards his cock. You dart your tongue out before swirling it around his tip, licking up his pre. You groaned at the sour taste, only focusing on his tip. Johnny looks down at you with an urge to just shove himself down your throat, but he wanted you to do it yourself. He watched as your cute tongue licked his tip before licking his slit. He curses and closes his eyes at the pleasuring sensation.

You looked up, finding your husband in pure ecstasy from just some licking. You felt it was right to now kick things up a notch, so you spit on his cock. You used one of your hands to spread the spit around him, making sure to wet him well. When you felt it was wet enough you begin. 

Johnny opens his eyes again when he feels his cock slide in between something soft, something he knew all too well: your tits.

“Fuck,” Johnny curses as he watches you try to fuck his cock in between your tits. Eventually opting to help you out by thrusting himself in between them, watching as you take his tip inside your mouth.

He knew he wasn't going to last, feeling himself nearing his release. You too could feel it in the way he twitched in between you. So being the caring wife that you are, you helped him out a bit by squeezing your tits a bit tighter and taking him in your mouth more deeper.

Johnny gripped your head, holding it as he came. His warm seeds erupting inside your mouth before you swallowed them. You lick him clean one last time before getting back up. Johnny immediately kisses you, tasting himself on you. You feel as his fingers go to your dripping cunt, he moans at the amount of juice overflowing you right now. He continues, sliding them in between your pussy lips. He barely gets to your entrance before you part from the kiss to say: “Pl-Please Johnny, in-inside… inside me pl-please.”

He groans, “anything for you my wife,” he says, unable to resist your pleas.

He flips your two around, your back against the wall. He takes one of your legs into his hand, holding it as he uses his other hand to bring his cock to your dripping entrance. You watched intently, watched as you swallowed him right up. Your hands fly to his shoulders, holding him as you feel his girth spread your gummy walls apart. He was snug inside you, fitting into you just right.

“So fucking tight, feels so good,” Johnny moans against your ear before kissing it. You mutter a sultry, yes, back to him.

Johnny starts thrusting, in and out, you watched with watery eyes. The pleasure so massive as you feel his cock reach up to your cervix, kissing your womb so nicely. You chant out his name when he continues pumping his length into you ruthlessly. You could feel yourself being fucked into oblivion already. You tightened yourself even more around him. “Fuck, already gonna cum babe?” Johnny asks.

“Mmmm,” you say, unable to cohort a simple sentence. Your fingers scratched Johnny’s back as he continued pounding you against the wall.

Johnny watches you in pleasure, watching the way your tits bounced in front of him. It was a sight he couldn't pass up on. Johnny wraps his mouth around one of your nipples, sucking on the poor thing as you grew closer to your release.

Too lost in the overstimulation from his cock and mouth, you failed to notice his fingers which grazed your clit. It wasn’t until you felt them rub your clit that you felt your eyes widened. Involuntary moans erupted from you as he continued playing with your clit.

“I’m… I’m cumming,” you moaned, as you gushed around his cock. Johnny too moans, loving the way you felt as you came around his cock. He continues his thrusting, overstimulating you into mini orgasms until he finally cums. You still couldn’t get used to how much he would cum, how’d he’d fill you up with such warmth.

However, just when you thought it was over, it wasn’t. Unlike the other nights, tonight Johnny was in a desperation of more. He carried you further inside the villa, rushing to the bedroom. He plops you on the bed, feeling it dip as he climbs on as well. Johnny opens your legs, watching as your and his orgasm mixed together and dripped out of you.

“Say, my dear wife, what if we have a child,” Johnny blurts out.

You didn’t know what to say, was this the cause of his sex driven state or was he genuine? Well, whatever the case, you didn’t mind. You were always talking about how much you wanted a child and were always ready to have one if the time ever arose.

“Do it, get me pregnant tonight my dear husband,” you whispered, pecking his lips. you were testing him, a test Johnny wasn’t going to play by tonight. He backs up a bit, spreading your legs wider before positioning his cock in between your folds. He rubs himself in between them, gathering the remnants of his leaking cum only to push them back inside.

“Y-Yes,” you moaned, “I could feel you so deep.”

Johnny smirks, watching your face twist in pleasure, watching as your eyes glistened with tears. He pistoned his thrust, hips slapping against your ass. He continues his ruthless thrust in and out of your cunt as the squelching sounds echoed in the room. He was wrecking your cunt, trying to make sure he was the only one that could ever leave you satisfied for all your life.

“Keep squeezing me babe and you’ll milk me in no time,” he groans, feeling as you squeezed him. “Good girl, just like that,” he then says as he rubs your clit once more.

“I’m go-gonna cum,” you moaned, tongue lolling out, “Cum wi-with me!”

His thrusting falters, going irregular until he finally cums inside you for a second time tonight. Yet he wasn’t done, he still had a promise to uphold. The promise to make sure you left this trip pregnant with his child, our child. And so he fucks his cum into you deeper, not stopping until he’s sure he’s made you pregnant. 

𓆉𓆉𓆉𓆉𓆉𓆉𓆉𓆉

Once everything seemed all perfect to him, Johnny takes his cock out of your stuffed pussy. Remnants of his animalistic side, subduing and being replaced by a gentle and cuddly husband. Johnny engulfed you into his body, his warmth, as he whispered sweet-nothings into your ear. 

Then everything fell silent, the ocean waves sounding in the distance lulling you to sleep. You peacefully slept in Johnny’s arms, resting after a long day and night. In the midst of you sleep you felt a hand graze your stomach, and a loving whisper in your ear.

“I promise to protect you both, my treasures.”

© jhdyuiee

2024. 11. 10

final a.n: have a great weekend! stay safe! & creds to the person who created the dividers, i lost their tumblr page so i couldn't tag them ahhh

[twizzie-lairs]

My Darling, My Honey

Alastor X Fem!Reader (Part 2)

Part 1 | Part 2

Quick Notes:

This is when both reader/you and Alastor are both alive. (... we'll probably end up in hell later on btw so stay tuned...)

Reader is an artist/painter.

Part 2:

Every day and night you had to stay trapped at home, it felt like nails on a chalkboard after that one fateful meeting that night.

The only thing that made the time bearable was the radio. Alastor told you he hosted a radio show. As so, you soon became one of his most loyal listeners. Anything to relive the moment when you felt like a person again.

So when the night finally came, that you could escape to Mimzy's establishment the next town over, you were over the moon at the chance to see Alastor again.

Luckily for you, your husband was going to be away for a week this time.

That night, you made it to the bar a bit later than usual, you had to be extra sure that it was safe to leave town unnoticed after a close call of almost being discovered by some relatives that lived nearby.

When you enter the bar, you hear some piano music. It wasn't unusual for Mimzy to invite musicians or let patrons play some music at the piano that resides in the bar, as long as they didn't get boo'ed off the stage. But this music stirred something in your soul, making you hurry into the bar.

It was Alastor.

You gasp, your heart beating a million miles a minute. You were so drawn to him. In this moment, the jazzy music that filled the air and filled up all the holes in your heart. You were captivated. So captivated, that you forgo greeting Mimzy and the bar entirely, in favor of walking over to Alastor at the piano.

He gives you a surprised look before smiling and immersing himself in the music once more.

You smile back and you can't help but sing along to Alastor's piano playing. The song was a classic, and also one your personal favorites.

As you sing, you sit down on the piano bench next to him. You notice he doesn't open his eyes, but the smile on his face deepens as your duet continues.

When your song comes to an end, it feels like you came back down to earth. The bar erupted in applause, the embarrassment flushing your whole face pink. You look over to Alastor who's looking at you with such a warm expression.

"My dear, what a lovely voice you have. Your talents truly seem boundless. I am quite surprised you knew that song."

You spend the rest of the night tucked away in a private corner talking with Alastor about all sorts of things, interests, likes, dislikes, deep conversations about life, and even your fears. But never once did you mention your home life, you'd rather die than let Alastor find out. The last thing you need is for him to treat you differently.

When you mention you listened to his every show ever since the night that you first met, his eyes light up and something in him clicked. He took your chin gently in his hand and brought your face closer to his, "Oh my, I have never met a finer woman with even finer tastes in entertainment~" which caused your heart to flutter like never before.

The tension and feelings between the two of you were palpable. It was clear to the rest of the bar that the two of you were smitten with each other, something akin to love at first sight. You tow were inexplicably drawn to each other.

You wish you didn't have to leave and go back home. But you knew you had to get home before dawn, even if you were going to come back the next day/night anyway. Relatives and in-laws usually liked to stop by unannounced and if they found the house empty, you'd be in for a world of punishment and pain. It happened once, and you would rather not relive that experience ever again.

So even though it pained you greatly, you had to say goodbye to Alastor. As you stood up to leave, Alastor's hand still held yours, you could tell he was reluctant to let you leave. Very rarely did he have the chance to enjoy such cultured and lovely conversation. With a sad and somber expression, you walked away, his hand slowly sliding out of yours.

"I hope you come back to me, ma chérie ..."

-> Part 3

[aphroditelovesu]

Yandere Daemon/Rhaenyra Targaryen w/Rhaenyra's Twin!Sister Headcanons (Poly!Romantic)

❝ — 🐉 lady l: this is weirdly long but I needed to get it out of my head! This is based on a concept they sent me a while ago. I hope you like it and forgive me for any mistakes! ❤️

❝tw: incest, slight nsfw, obsessive and possessive behavior, jealousy, mention of pregnancy.

❝🐉pairing: yandere!daemyra x rhaenyra's twin sister!reader.

You were Rhaenyra's twin, born a few minutes after her, and because of that, she always had a strong instinct to protect you, to take care of you and she always does. All your life, it was you and Rhaenyra against the world. And this arrangement always left you satisfied, you loved your sister and she loved you fervently in return.

Rhaenyra has always been very persuasive and for as long as you can remember she would convince you of anything; breaking rules, running away, stealing cake from the kitchen and getting into trouble. She didn't care, she valued you deeply and wanted to spend all her time with you.

Aemma and Viserys sometimes went crazy with the two of you being so naughty, but in the end, they always joined you. Aemma tried to be a little tougher with you both, but she always gave in eventually. Viserys didn't even try.

Rhaenyra was very possessive too, because you were her twin sister, she always felt entitled and that you belonged to her. After all, you shared the same womb and were born together, you belonged to her, in a way.

She was always quite bold and direct, and was often reprimanded for it. Rhaenyra knew she loved you more than she should have, but you were Targaryens, according to the traditions of your house and family, there was nothing wrong with her being in love with you. It was just the Targaryen way.

The only problem was that you were a woman. Not for her, that would never be a problem, but for others it would. She couldn't marry you and have you officially and it tore her apart inside.

That didn't mean she hid what she felt from you, because once she knew what she felt, Rhaenyra went to your room, which was next to hers, and confessed to you. It was embarrassing and a little awkward, but she was being sincere and it touched you.

You felt the same way about her too and it was eating you alive not being able to tell her, but she took the first step and you felt grateful. You didn't have any kind of experience, but you knew some things. The first kiss was sloppy and a little awkward, but it was understandable given the lack of experience between the two of you, but it was a precious moment,

You just kissed and hugged for a while, not knowing how to proceed. Until Daemon returns to King's Landing after winning the war in the Stepstones. You always liked your uncle, even though he caused a lot of trouble, he entertained you. And the feeling was mutual.

Daemon knew there was something between you and Rhaenyra, he very quickly noticed the looks and subtle touches you exchanged. It wasn't something platonic, he knew that and he wanted to know more.

During the night of Daemon's return, you had gone to Rhaenyra's room, as you always did, and there you found, along with her, some clothes left by your uncle and a note. Although your mind was full of doubts, you changed and followed your sister, who seemed excited for some reason.

Meeting up with Daemon, you explored a bit of King's Landing and before you knew it, you were in a brothel. You observed your surroundings with curiosity and interest, men and women doing intimate things.

When Daemon kissed Rhaenyra, you felt mixed feelings; surprise and jealousy being the biggest one. You would maybe scream at him when he kissed you, his experienced and strong lips yours, leaving you weak. You felt a desire rise within you.

His touches were strong and good, he knew what he was doing and you felt numb as he explored your body with his hands. Rhaenyra watched everything curiously. But something had changed inside him, as Daemon decided to stop touching you and left you and Rhaenyra alone in the brothel. You wanted to kill him here.

You and Rhaenyra returned to the Red Keep, sneaking out so you wouldn't be found and you both knew you wouldn't be able to sleep after witnessing what you saw. So, it was that night that you went further and had sex for the first time.

It wasn't something shy, but rather intimate. You had no experience, but it was good. Rhaenyra touched your body with care and her tongue loved your most sensitive parts, she quickly learned how to pleasure you. You reciprocated the pleasure as best you could, with your face buried between her legs, eliciting sighs and moans from her.

The following days were tortuous. Viserys had found out about your escapade and Daemon had been exiled and Rhaenyra was forced to marry Laenor. You would also have to get married, but your husband had not yet been chosen. Your sister's wedding was a painful time for you and her, the two of you constantly exchanging glances and Daemon had returned to the wedding, widowed and with your father's very reluctant permission, you and Daemon had gotten married.

After the wedding, you were forced to separate from Rhaenyra and you lived in Pentos with Daemon. You had learned to love your husband and he loved you, so it wasn't bad. Your heart ached to be away from your twin sister, but you were happy with your husband.

Daemon wasn't that bad, at least to you. He was loyal and treated you with kindness and respect, loving every part of you and comforting you when you were in pain. His kisses were more demanding and dominant, just like sex. Although very possessive and sometimes annoying, Daemon took care of you the best way he could.

Daemon had a lot of experience and knew how to please you, his fingers dipped between your legs and his mouth on your breasts or when he was buried in your heat he made you scream with pleasure.

You and Rhaenyra exchanged letters and a few years passed and children were born. You had two daughters with Daemon, twins, and Rhaenyra had had three sons. You met again at your cousin Laena's funeral, and a weight was lifted from your shoulders when she pulled you into a hug and held you, not wanting to let you go.

The three of you found yourself in a part away from all the whining and all the longing was broken. Words were exchanged, mainly between Daemon and Rhaenyra and when there was nothing more to be said, the clothes were removed and you made love on the floor, the longing prolonging the reunion.

Unbeknownst to you, while you were sleeping, Rhaenyra and Daemon met and actually talked. They knew they both loved you deeply and wanted you and were willing to cooperate and the best way was for you to get married in a traditional valyrian ceremony. With the plans made, Laenor was "eliminated".

You were shocked and saddened by your cousin's death, but you felt relieved because it now meant that Rhaenyra would be free.

During one afternoon, you, Daemon and Rhaenyra were married in a traditional valyrian ceremony, where you could be officially married. You became Rhaenyra's wife and she became yours and Daemon's. Finally you were complete and when the kiss was given, sealing the union, you knew there was more to this marriage.

The wedding with your uncle and sister would prove to be one of your fondest memories after the tragedy that followed over the next few years.

But for now, you would enjoy your possessive and protective husband and wife as much as you could, because only the gods know it won't be for long.

[shanastoryteller]

Congrats on finishing See Something Say Something!! I checked the notification of the first AO3 email sent out and you initially planned on five chapters.

Would you say that the ending changed considerably since you started in October? Or has that stayed the same?

thank you!

it stayed the same lol. while my fics getting wildly out of control and becoming way longer than i anticipated is pretty common, i'm pretty much never changing overarching plot when this happens. the story that i become interested in telling is typically the story then i end up telling

almost every story can be made shorter or longer. it's less about what happens and more about how that information is conveyed. things that really tend to affect writing length are perspective and breathing room

the shortest fic i have on ao3 that's not part of a series is You Were (Not) Meant For Me (posted 11 years ago, jesus T_T). the premise is that claudia was a witch who intended trained stiles to be a witch and she arranged his marriage to laura hale, the future hale alpha. this is a traditional pairing as talia's husband was also a witch married to talia in service of the pact. except claudia died before she could train stiles or tell him about the engagement. stiles starts learning magic after scott is turned. derek falls for stiles and feels like he's betraying his sister by loving him, betraying stiles by not being the alpha he deserves and not telling him about the arrangement claudia made, and hates himself the entire time, but not enough to stop himself

that's a 100k fic easy

it's 1,696 words

it's extremely limited perspective (derek's) and it's made up only of limited snapshots of moments with very little context. there's no seeing what's happening, only told, which i think would quickly grow boring if it was longer and if the real point of the story wasn't derek's self hatred and how he fails to deal with it. that's the part of the story that isn't told, really - derek does think explicitly that he hates himself, but we're also seeing it in the way he talks and thinks about himself and the people around him

by contrast we have survival is a talent, which is obviously my longest fic. we're over 500k and we've got quite a bit to go

perspective doesn't just refer to character pov, but audience pov - are you being told a story, or are you experiencing the story? this is also tied into breathing room. there's no wrong way, i've done both and will do both, but one certainly requires more words than the other in my experience

siat is told only through draco and harry's perspective, but it's all happening in real time. the audience is being taken along for this story. the thing is that that things in real life don't all come tumbling one after another, not all questions have immediate answers. when depicting character growth and a plot unfurling, i think it's really important to include breathing room to give the audience time to feel that growth and change. i'm stricter about this with siat than anything else i've written, probably sometimes to its detriment. i want you and the characters to have time to feel the effects of emotional revelations and plot hints. i want you to have the time to question and wonder about things the same way the characters do

one time a friend criticized the good place for including the portion where they were alive again on earth because it wasn't as interesting as being in hell, but i disagree. we needed that breathing room both to live with the effects of character growth of going through hell and to have time for the effects of their actions on the plot to settle before they moved forward again. i stopped watching agents of shield because we weren't given enough breathing room - there was never a chance to see the characters not in crisis, the world was always ending, ect. the alchemyst book series has the first like 3 books taking place over a day and a half. i got tired of it after that. there's no breathing room

a story where i gave up on the concept of breathing room was build your wings on the way down. i liked that fic, but i wanted it finished, and to do it with i think optimal pacing would have made it twice as long as it was. so i said screw it, avalanche time, everything is happening all at once right now. there's very little breathing room there, which i think doesn't work too terribly in part because everything is so urgent and everyone is stressed so not being able to catch you breath sort of fits

See Something Say Something did not need to be 215k, although i'm not at all complaining. i feel very happy with how i told this story. but the basic premise - sam getting his powers early, getting involved in the large hunter world secretly from his family, and dean feeling misplaced and worried about how much sam needs/wants him - could have been told a hundred different ways and all would have pulled it off, so to speak

i considered doing the the entire fic from dean's pov (as a sam girl i love his pov because all he thinks about is sam and he's so insane about it) which would have effectively cut out basically the first five chapters. i thought exploring the slow realization of what's going on purely from dean's pov, with the audience having not insight would have been really interesting, just like what I did in dumb luck or good ghost with dean slowly figuring out that sam didn't die in the crash. another thing is the inclusion of all the side characters which i did to make the world feel rich and real, but we didn't need all these outsider povs to get the basic point across. very rarely is something vital being conveyed by an outsider pov, but it reinforced and adds to the main characters. i also initially didn't have wincest, which obviously added a ton of words. i loved exploring dean's self hatred and fear and sam's obliviousness, but bringing them to a place of ignorance to acceptance to happiness is a lot longer of a journey than just dealing with dean's propriety love as an unhinged co-dependent older brother. again, i'm sticking by all these choices, i made them because i thought it was the best way to the tell the story i was most interesting in telling, but my point is that you didn't need them to tell this particular story

it was also how i told the story. we spend a lot of time wallowing in character's emotions, especially dean's and sam's, but the others as well. part of this fic is convincing you that these two brothers should fuck, actually, and doing that effectively is going to take some time, especially at this point in their lives when things are pretty normal. comparatively, fucking your brother after starting the apocalypse is pretty small potatoes. i wanted you to understand these people, to feel what they were feeling, to not feel that it was inconceivable that jess would be willing to share her boyfriend with his brother, to buy all their relationships with each other in a way that isn't purely based on convenience

part of the reason i wrote dumb luck or good ghost before see something say something was that i felt i needed a firmer grasp on who the characters are before getting into who they were and who they could be - especially john, who i feel is exceptionally difficult to write without over excusing his actions or over villainizing them. the reason john doesn't get a single pov in see something say something is that while he's a motivating and underlying factor in much of the story, the story isn't about him. it's about the effect he has on those around him, and i didn't want to sully the pureness of that effect by introducing his internal dialogue, regardless of how persecutionary or absolving it would be. it's just not about him. it's how he responds to others and how they respond to him in turn

anyway! this is another example of something ending up longer than expected, but yeah. the plot of see something say something didn't change much from posting of the first chapter and my stories rarely do - i have plot points in siat that have been there since i posted the first chapter that are still relevant and happening. "harry and draco just. cut dumbledore's fucking hand off" my beloved

[leahsgf]

MEETING – leah williamson

leah williamson x child!reader

based on this request | bubba masterlist

love love love writing for this lil universe so please keep the requests coming

the first few weeks of your life were spent in complete bliss, leah happily soaking up every single moment between the two of you in your own little bubble - before she'd have to introduce you to the chaos that was the rest of the world.

despite the eagerness of those around her to meet you, she had strictly said no visitors until she was ready, bar her own mother, who had moved in temporarily as you both settled into this new life.

-

you had just hit three weeks old when leah had finally felt ready to allow a few more people into your space, having settled a little more into the swing of things and also not having the energy to turn offers down any longer.

it started off small - with her nearest and dearest, her dad, brother, grandma, and friends, of course including keira, and then gradually branched out to perhaps the most impatient of the lot, your rather large flock of aunties - also known as her teammates.

due to you being born mid season, the arsenal girls were going to be the first ones to meet you, much to the dismay of some of the lionesses especially georgia, keira obviously not helping the cause whatsoever by endlessly boasting about the fact she'd met you before any of them.

(leah would never tell a soul that keira was so nervous when she met you that she had barely held you, and instead timidly patted your head, and said it was 'nice to meet you' whilst shaking your tiny hand)

she had originally planned on hosting the weekly team night at her apartment and letting the girls all meet you there, but then went against it when she realised just how cramped her living room actually was when it held an entire very eager football team inside, alongside the fact that going out and getting some fresh air was something she desperately needed, and an escape from the newborn chaos that had taken over her home.

so, she had instead settled for arranging with jonas a day where there wasn't an awful lot of training to do and only the odd meeting or two, where she'd bring you into the training ground and introduce them to you there as a mini surprise.

-

after what had felt like a year of trying to get ready to leave the house, leah still adjusting to just how much stuff and preparation was needed for such a tiny little human, she finally pulled into the car park and got you both out, praising her parking job and getting you both there alive before having what felt like the battle of her life with the pram whilst getting it out.

kim, the only one of the girls who knew she was coming, and the unofficial mother figure of the team- met her outside, marvelling over you in an instant, before leading the way to the meeting room where the rest of the team were.

-

a collective gasp travelled across the meeting room as leah entered, with you bundled into her arms, the focus immediately off jonas’ attempted distraction ramble and all on you.

“is she seriously in an arsenal kit lee” alessia giggled, letting you clasp one of her fingers in your hand, as the rest of the team gathered around the pair of you in absolute awe.

“of course she is less! gotta teach her young haven’t i, my little gooner! especially when she’s got an uncle and grandad who are dead set on making her a spurs fan - so who wants a hold first?” the blonde replied, switching the conversation and ignoring the laughter and the teasing remarks about her passion for her club, instead letting them fight over who got to hold you first.

-

you had been pretty fussy in everyone’s arms apart from your mother’s, not being a huge fan of the unfamiliarity and all of the sudden movement when being passed around the room, until beth had insisted on viv holding you despite how nervous she had been, and your grizzles had settled almost instantly, and your frown which was the carbon copy of your mother’s faded.

“hi schatje, i’m your auntie viv, we love you so much already.” she murmured, stroking your cheeks ever so softly as you stared back up at her, still in the phase where you were fascinated by the world around you.

you beamed as she tickled your nose, your first official, non wind related smile that leah had been desperate to coax out of you for weeks now.

“looks like vivi is a natural! even baby williamson can sense that she’s a goat!” katie grinned, forever the leader of the ‘miedema fan club’, leaning on the dutch woman’s shoulder and poking her tongue out at you.

-

“welcome to the one of your forever homes my girl. you’re so so loved already.” leah whispered to you, cradling you and embracing the moment of peace she had after stepping away from the chaos in order to settle you down in your pram - allowing kyra and vic, who you’d undoubtedly overtake in maturity at some point, to take you on a walk around with steph’s supervision for your nap.

[belit0]

How about Uchiha men with S/O big chest but she is a tall and athletic woman, which makes her very attractive to the male population

My first request in what feels like years. Bear with me while I get back on track, lol.

Indra

Indra observes the woman with a mixture of intrigue and detachment. It is not part of his character to prove anything to others, but a curious gleam appears in his eye as he meets (Y/N). His eyes, sharp and analytical, take in her tall, athletic figure with discernment born of his legacy. For Indra, strength and skill are qualities of great respect, and he perceives in her more than physical attractiveness; she is a reflection of his own ideals. Perhaps she is the right person, the one with whom to nurture a legacy worthy of calling his own. However, he is careful not to let his admiration be misinterpreted. Indra's gaze is intense but distant, appreciating her as the embodiment of power and elegance rather than just her looks. He wonders if such a woman could understand the weight of his expectations and if her strength could match the burdens of his mission. Would she be able to keep up with his agenda?

Madara

Madara's interest in her is immediate and intense. Known for his commanding presence and boundless ambition, he sees her as a formidable ally-or a potential adversary. Should (y/n) refuse his advances, or suddenly reject him out of hand, mutual hostility would be born immediately. Her tall, muscular, eye-catching figure is secondary to him; what really captures his attention is her power and poise. Madara's calculating mind evaluates her as a force to be reckoned with, someone who could stand beside him as an equal. Of course, the additional beauty the girl brings with her is pleasing to the eye, and he must be reminded on several occasions that staring at someone can be interpreted as a weak gesture coming from the clan leader. This attraction is not purely physical; it is a recognition of the power she exudes, which resonates with his aspirations and unwavering resolve.

Izuna

Surprise and lust. His warm and open attitude contrasts with his brother's more reserved nature, leaving him in evidence as the womanizer he is from the very first moment he appears on the scene. Izuna perceives her attitude and confident presence as a breath of fresh air, but nothing deeper than that. She's not his type, nothing he'd generally go for, but a change of scenery is always nice. He doesn't intend anything serious, considering her as one more conquest of his vast collection. What better than a challenge to remind oneself of the virtues of being alive and handsome? In any case, he finds the combination of power and beauty a bit intimidating, appreciative of how her looks are matched by an undeniable confidence. Izuna is not entirely thrilled to have someone equal to or stronger than him by his side, a matter of compromised egos, but the harmonious blend of grace and strength (y/n) possesses captures him. Irresistible, for now.

Obito

This Uchiha's initial reaction is one of awe and a hint of melancholy. The woman's imposing figure and aerial prowess remind him of a world he once hoped to protect, a world where those qualities were celebrated. For him, her presence is both a source of inspiration and a painful reminder of the life he has lost. Despite his internal struggles, he is drawn to her resilience and strength, traits that resonate deeply with his own journey. Obito aches for her not only for her appearance but for the way she seems to embody an ethos of resilience and charm, qualities he wishes he could continue to embrace. Either way, (y/n) represents light at the end of a too-dark path, someone to cling to to heal and restore a broken soul. Her stability engenders trust and he soon falls into a great emotional dependence on her.

Shisui

Shisui perceives (y/n) with a combination of amusement and subtle admiration. His eyes slowly wander from the curves in of her breasts to her hips, roaming her body centimeter by centimeter with stealthy eyes, a gaze too indecipherable, preventing anyone from interpreting his ulterior motives. Lightning speed itself. He is used to being chased by people he is not interested in, mainly because none of them can keep up with him. Shisui doesn't want someone by his side to constantly protect, he wants a challenge, someone who brings fun to the table and can contribute to his day-to-day life. A person who will challenge his skills and not regard him as a god, an equal. Finally, someone who can match him, providing dynamic workouts more fun than usual. His interest is tempered with genuine esteem for her personality, recognizing that her physical attributes are matched by a compelling inner strength. Shisui admires her ability to attract attention while maintaining an air of humility and pride.

Itachi

Itachi's perception of her is marked by his usual depth and complexity. Her towering, lithe, athletic figure and imposing presence are observed with a sense of silent respect. To Itachi, her physical attributes are important, but secondary to the fortitude of character she displays. (y/n)’s a force to reckon with, someone to be valued and not underestimated. He monitors her acutely, appreciating how she performs with a poised blend of stamina and flare. Every movement is calculated to perfection, and those are the details that make him realize she knows what she's doing. Itachi's admiration is measured, recognizing her attractiveness while remaining focused on the substance of her personality. In her, he sees a reflection of the balance he seeks in his own life, a combination of outward strength and inner fortitude. He would never approach her with offensive or lustful intentions, too polite to inconvenience a lady of such high caliber.

[hannieehaee]

Ahhh I’m so excited that your requests are open, you’re like my fav fic author!! If it’s alright would you be able to do a fic where Wonwoo proposes to the reader please? Thank you!

content: bf!wonwoo, established relationship, fluff, proposal, etc.

wc: 1368

a/n: thank u so much u are so so sweet T-T i used a few of wonwoo's own quotes to carats in the confession hehe hope u enjoy!! <3

masterlist

for the first time in his life, wonwoo's brain had completely shut off.

he had no plan. he was completely unaware of what his next move should be. the ring had been purchased exactly two weeks ago (wonwoo knew you so well that he was extremely confident you'd absolutely fall in love with his pick), but no further steps had been taken after that.

it's not that he was an anti-romantic or anything like that. you'd always let him know how loved his words made you feel. you had singlehandedly revealed to the world a romantic side of jeon wonwoo that even he had been unaware of. it was always just so easy with you. loving you was the easiest thing he had ever done. there was never any thinking behind the loving gestures he gave you, nor behind the fondness in his eyes every time they met your own. which was why he currently stood once again with no plan in mind.

there was just no perfect way to ask you to be his forever when he already thought the two of you to be imbedded to each other in all ways possible. although a ring on your finger would make wonwoo the happiest man alive, he already knew you were his as much as he was yours. however, he wanted nothing more than to give you a grand gesture as he expressed to you how badly he wanted to spend every one if his remaining days by your side.

but being wonwoo, he knew no grand gesture would do. he was certain that he would not be able to go through with a grand gesture without throwing it all aside to pour words straight from his heart as he expressed the purest of love towards you. there was no possible way for him to hold back the moment he finally pulled that tiny squared box from the bottom of his sock drawer. the mere thought of looking into your eyes with the intention of making you his would have a plethora of love confessions flying out of his mouth without him even realizing.

despite all this, he had formulated some sort of plan to propose.

tonight was the first time his busy schedule would allow the two of you to share a bed due to the short break he had from tour. he figured that since he finally had you in his arms for the whole weekend, he would cook you a meal (courtesy of mingyu's training) and get on one knee afterwards. it was very simple, but he knew you'd appreciate an intimate setting for such a moment.

however, that had been the plan for tomorrow. today he was simply meant to finish brushing his teeth and join you in bed, finally able to hold you through the night as your breathing soothed him to sleep. yet this was, unsurprisingly, an impossible task for him to complete, as his mind became blank the moment he stepped into your shared room and saw your soft figure waiting for him in bed.

how was he supposed to hold back from begging for your hand in marriage when you were already so fully his? when he knew that a ring would bring him a promise to end his days in your arms until the end of eternity? it was as if time had slowed as he stepped into the room, his eyes full of love as they refused to look away from your form perched in bed, making just enough space for him to fit in there. and he knew that the moment he laid in that bed you would shape yourself to fit perfectly against him. he knew that you'd place yourself in his hold and play with his hair as he told you about his day (despite already having shared bits and pieces of it with you throughout the day), commenting on the things he did today and making plans with him for tomorrow. he knew you were completely unaware of his feelings in this moment as you laid there as soft and pretty as you always did.

yet knowing all these things did not prevent him from from making a quick stop at his drawer and hiding the tiny little box in his pajama pants – pants you would later insist he takes off because you love the feeling of his bare skin against yours. you still hadnt realized he'd been watching you this whole time, as your gaze was still on the tv in front of you. this gave wonwoo the perfect opportunity to nervously approach you as he called your attention away from the screen.

like always, you met his eyes with a smile full of interest for what he was about to say. if he wasnt sure before (which he completely was), then he was sure now. he needed to propose to you right in this moment. he needed to remember the mundane, the day by day that he would have with you for the rest of your lives. his heart was beating for you, and his lungs pumping out air just so he could breathe out his next words.

"marry me?", completely out of breath and with nothing but love in his eyes, he dropped to his knees next to the bed, his extended hand holding your own while the other pulled out the boxed ring from his pocket.

your eyes jumped out, but you didnt seem too exalted apart from that. you scoot over to sit at the edge of the bed, speechless as your eyes began to cloud due to the tears that would soon begin forming in them.

before you could say anything, wonwoo spoke up once more.

"im sorry. i didnt plan it like this, i just ... i couldn't help myself. i couldnt watch you be the love of my life for another moment without making you as mine as humanly possible. i know i couldve given you a dinner and fireworks, or even brought the guys out for a serenade ... but that's not us. this. this is us. this is what i want for the rest of my life. you in my bed, ready to hold me in your arms at the end of the day, letting me do the same any time you come home tired from work," he paused to hold onto both of your hands, looking up at you with adoring eyes as he inhaled, "i hope to become your daily confort in the way you have been mine. even when i'm not tired, i can lean on you. i always know happiness is just around the corner, because you are all i see ahead of me. you are my youth, my past, my future, you are everything. will you please become my forever?"

it was hard for wonwoo to put his feelings for you into words. his relationship with you had always been an enigma of emotions for him; emotions that left him feeling a level of comfort he never thought possible. he had always chased for happiness. he'd always been of the philosophy that one must build their own happiness; that one must live and experience life in order to discover the meaning of the word. except you had thrown him a curveball somewhere along the way and shown him what it truly meant to be happy pretty early in his life.

and now he felt the most happiness he had ever experienced in his many years of life. no matter how many accomplishments he achieved, nothing had thus far compared to seeing you smile with tears in your eyes, nodding crazily at him as you threw yourself into his arms, completely disregarding the ring in his hand. because you didnt care about a ring or a title. he knew you simply wanted to be his in the same way he needed to be yours. there was no better scenario in wonwoo's mind than your enthusiastic approval and the promise of a lifetime chasing happiness together. and now wonwoo would get to have you in his bed, waiting to love him every day for the rest of his life. just like today.

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: Icicle

Debut: Cold

What is this, a crossover episode? That's right! From nearly the very beginning- since Mario Bros., to be precise- Mario has worked closely with the world's second most beloved public domain ice shape, Icicle!Plenty of us are familiar with Icicle. When it's cold enough, dripping water can freeze into a spike, which, in Mario's case, could potentially fall down and cause quite a booboo.

And it can do that in our case, too! Do you ever think about that? There is a non-extreme weather condition that leads to the formation of temporary SPIKES in our environments. Often dangling right above sidewalks! They're genuinely dangerous! Icicles are an incredible phenomenon. I've never been harmed by one, but I do know it can happen. Also, I've seen one moment of Grey's Anatomy ever in my life, and it happens to be the scene where someone is impaled by a falling icicle. Ouch! Right in the anatomy!

Thankfully, real icicles are not as HOSTILE as the ones Mario has to deal with, because in Video Games World, icicles just LOVE to fall when a scrimblo walks underneath them. Even when it's too far away to justify it as being vibration-based. These slippery spires are doing it on purpose! Mario has also encountered Huge Icicles, which are large and tough enough to stand upon, and one of those would probably do just fine as a table in a snowman's house. Just like an icicle would be a perfect weapon for a snowman, and also a perfect gardening tool, and also a perfect carrot substitute, because a snowman eating a carrot would be almost cannibalism. No, I don't think a snowman eating snow or ice would be cannibalism. We carbon-based creatures eat carbon-based food all the time! Now calm down and imagine a nice bowl of Cream of Icicle Soup.

Honestly, I just wanted to gush about icicles here and used Mario as an excuse. I hope that's okay. If it's not okay, I will not repent. But another thing that makes icicles so video-gamey is that they have, basically, an elemental counterpart, in stalactites! It's almost like convergent evolution, except they are not alive, and never were. And just think of the name! Stalactite. Even if icicles didn't exist, it would make all the sense in the world for a game to reuse the graphic, tint it blue or white, and you got an ice variant! Except they would have called it Stalactice! Unfortunately, I have never in my life encountered a Stalagmice...

There are so many variations of the humble icicle in the world! Have you ever heard of sapcicles? They're incredible! Nature's frozen treats, beloved by all manner of creatures! But please do not lick the sap of a tree you don't know well. Sapcicles are thought to be the way that indigenous Americans first discovered the sweetness of maple sap! And what about brinicles? Underwater icicles! Lethal to any poor, slow-moving echinoderms that may be underneath as they fall... and of course, there is our most beloved elemental spire: the grass/ground type Carrot! The world is full of so many shapes and structures, and I hope you now realize how much fun you can have when you really think about something you once took for granted!

[k-tarotz]

Would You Survive A Horror Movie? | PAC

𐙚 1 𐙚 2 𐙚 3

𐙚 4 𐙚 5 𐙚 6

written by Candy

Since Halloween is here, I thought I would do a more dark pick a card! I wish I could have posted more for spooktober, but unfortunately I couldn’t. Regardless, I came up with this because I genuinely think it’s a fun concept and we have all been curious about something like this at least once in our lives. If you dressed up as anything for halloween or will please do let me know! I love hearing what people dressed up as! 🫶🏻

Pile One

🃏: the moon, the star, ten of coins, eight of wands side ways

Hii my beautiful pile one! You would definitely survive a horror movie, but not alone. I do think that you would do better in a group because you are someone that thrives better in them, even if you are usually quiet or more on the shy side. This is honestly due to you being able to rely on someone, you need a sense of stability to not completely lose yourself to fear.

Honestly, being in a group could also remind you of reasons why you would keep alive, it could be quite a big motivator factor for you to be honest. Especially since I do think that most people choosing this pile thought of a very specific scenario, trope, AU or media that they would like to partake in! [for some of you this is a zombie apocalypse scenario/AU.]

At first you might be a bit lonely, but you have the kind of spirit that doesn’t give up. You aren’t easy to bring down. So you could for sure survive on your own, and you would, but it isn’t necessarily something that you would enjoy. It might even make you think that you won’t be able to survive, because perhaps you don’t trust in your own abilities that much, even tho you are awesome trust. Regardless, because of this you will keep seeking out a group to be a part of and will offer your help and rely on other people when needed. I do think that you are also very great at listening to other people, so that’s nice in this scenario! It would help in high tension situations, bc you would always be able to tell what’s right to do at the given moment. Although, I do think that you would be mentally scarred from the experience, you tend to be more sensitive to heavy stuff than the average person. (Which isn’t a bad trait at all, so no worries about that.)

Regardless, your energy seems like one of someone incredibly sweet yet still badass.

Thank you for reading! Please don’t forget to look at our paid readings if you enjoyed this! 🤍

Pile Two

🃏: the devil, the lovers, three of swords, eight of swords reversed, the world

Hello my dark romance enjoyer pile.~ If that doesn’t apply to you, this is probably not your reading. Either way, when it comes to you, it really depends on several factors. Do you know the killer? Are they attractive? Do you hate their personality or not? How are you feeling on that specific day? So many things to answer, so many things to say. Regardless, I do think that for the most part you would survive, unless you are like super depressed that day and genuinely have no will to keep on fighting.. or if the person physically overpowers you simply due to them having way more strength than you do.

Otherwise you would survive tho.

Matter of fact if the person that would try and kill you is a person that you hate you would just kill them yourself. You as a victim just sounds wrong, you know how to fight for yourself if you need to. The energy is sort of like ‘no human can bring me down unless I allow them to.’ (or creature if you are thinking of something along the lines of an alien or monster.)

Now, regardless of all of that.. as I already mentioned, some of you are into dark romance. This could be due to the media you consume, but I genuinely don’t think it’s a bad thing bc this pile seems very intelligent and also daydreamy!

Regardless, if you will like the person you will for sureee try to seduce them. Yes, the killer. I don’t mean this in a sexual or really sensually charged way, but like by treating them nice and being yourself, not being overly scared and reactive. (Someone in this pile likes venom a lot.. yes it applies to you too.) It would work though. You would gain yourself a pretty partner just by being yourself and I honestly think that’s adorable!

Though people might think you are a victim but you would be happy, just chilling. It reminds me of Gomez and Morticia Addams.. Morbid but full of genuine love without any sort of doubt between them. It’s very cute!

Thank you for reading! Please don’t forget to look at our paid readings if you enjoyed this! 🤍

Pile Three

🃏: the fool, five of coins reversed, the tower, wheel of fortune

Well in real life? No, you would absolutely die first, you would keep making the wrong choices over and over, because you would simply not be able to think straight because of fear, at all.

In a movie? you would survive for sure, simply due to pure luck. And plot armour, you would be the main character for sure. I think, if you would be in a horror movie people would watch it due to it being entertaining, not because it’s scary at all.

I do not mean this in a bad way at all though, of course, I don’t look at this as a bad thing. Your energy is more like the scary movies with ghost face rather than a story right out of the conjuring. So people would love the movie because you are fun, easy to relate to and very entertaining!

If you would be in a horror movie it would very specifically be one with a serial killer, or at least a real human in it, because I don’t think you would actually be scared of anything paranormal but that you would rather brush it off.

Though, in real life your story would unfortunately be tragic, but one that would get a lot of media exposure and bring awareness to people! Of course you are safe though, don’t worry about things that haven’t happened 🫶🏻

Thank you for reading! Please don’t forget to look at our paid readings if you enjoyed this! 🤍

Pile Four

🃏: the high priestess reversed, six of cups reversed, three of cups reversed, king of swords, page of cups

No, because you are simply too self sacrificing. I don’t think there is much to say about your pile aside from how loving and good hearted you are. I do think that most of you would self sacrifice yourself for your friends or family, but many of you would sacrifice yourselves for pets or helpless animals in general. You would rather sacrifice yourself than allow them to suffer, even if there is a slight chance of them surviving due to your sacrifice you will take it.

However, I do think that many of you would not even bother to try and save yourselves. For some of you the people and pets that you love are your everything, your motivation to keep on going and live your life everyday. So if they go you won’t try to keep on living. For this group, I do not think that there is an exception due to how big your heart is, due to how loving you are. You guys are very empathetic people, you might give more than you receive in life and that especially emotionally. Unfortunately, that would be your weakness in this. Maybe even now you put others before your own self.

Though, I do think yours would be a natural disaster horror movie (for example ‘under paris’, or a tsunami or something. definitely something that includes water though.) so not the cliche killers or paranormal experience.

Maybe, for only a few of you, there is someone that you love so much that if they tried to kill you (drown you), you wouldn’t mind at all. Just let them. You could have realised this while watching some media? Either way, yours would be a story of tragedy. (Please do not let anybody hurt you though.)

Thank you for reading! Please don’t forget to look at our paid readings if you enjoyed this! 🤍

Pile Five

🃏: the magician, four of cups reversed, the wheel of fortune, justice, ace of cups

You would survive because you are very smart! Yours would be more of a survival story, becoming a horror due to the cruel realistic things portrayed in it. With stomach turning scenes that absolutely do happen in the real world, in the shadows, in secret, which would he the horrifying part about it! Hard to wrap your head around, but still plausible if you give it a thought for a little while.

Regardless I do think that you would get along well with the killer, but not due to genuine interest at all, rather because you would want them to believe that they can trust you, that they can confide in you and that you listen well to them. Which you would, you would earn their trust in you and when they least expect it escape. (Bc I honestly think you are the sort of person that would get kidnapped and held captive, based on the energy in this pile.) So to put it simply; you would intentionally manipulate them so they won’t kill you right off the bat or hurt you as severely as they intended to do so. Though I don’t think you would be without any traumas, you would be much more lucky than victims that have came before you because you would know how to achieve your goals. How to pull the strings without being suspicious or causing chaos.

You would have a silent confidence in yourself despite being scared; because you are someone that’s very mentally strong.

You would survive due to pure tactics and because you would never get too comfortable or lost in your thoughts, lost in your feelings and emotions. There would definitely be a tunnel vision of what your goal is which would save your life!

Thank you for reading! Please don’t forget to look at our paid readings if you enjoyed this! 🤍

Pile Six

🃏: judgement, ten of cups, king of coins, death, six of swords

Yes, but there is nothing really celebratory about at all. At least you wouldn’t find anything joyous about it. Rather, there is a bittersweet feeling of guilt. Sure, you would be happy that you survived but you would feel like you shouldn’t have at all. That someone else more deserving of it should have, that they should have lived instead. It’s like you would try to convince yourself that you don’t deserve to be alive, which is not true, but you wouldn’t be able to live with the guilt. Everyday you would be reminded of it, even in the ordinary and simple things.

I do also feel like this is in regards a very specific person that is close to your heart! They wouldn’t survive, but you would and I don’t think you would be able to live your life in a healthy way without them. You would think about them a lot, everyday.

It reminds me of the end of “Train To Busan” where the pregnant lady and the little girl survived, they lived but ultimately you could see the devastation on their face. They weren’t happy at all, just exhausted. One lost a husband, and one lost her father.

You would be like that, a ghost of who you used to be to the point of no return. I do think you would live on though, for them. To honour them, to not disrespect them.

Thank you for reading! Please don’t forget to look at our paid readings if you enjoyed this! 🤍

[unholyhelbig]

fuck yes wandanat!!!

Center picture Cred: Jadiakallisti

Title: The Beast You've Made of Me [Part 1/7]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff

Wordcount: 3977

Summary: When reader wakes up in her own grave, she's suddenly aware of a past that spans lifetimes, but she's not the only one. Two Avengers are tasked with keeping readers past a secret, or at the very least, controlled.

Warnings: Being buried alive, claustrophobia, guns, general violence, cold leftovers and horrible grammar.

[a/n: Let me know if anyone wants to join the taglist! I should be able to post every week to bi-weekly depending on some travel! This is setting some things up, but I promise it gets better.]

[ Part one | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven ]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

The weight of dirt was beginning to make the lid of the state provided casket buckle. It wasn’t very sturdy despite its drastic price that the government contemplated paying. It would have been easier to cremate, send you into the afterlife with the kiss of fire white-hot enough to melt bone. But your will had been specific, not necessarily written by you, but detailing that you must be buried, nonetheless.

No state representative wanted to have the ghost of a twenty-something paralegal on their hands. Though most were Roman Catholic and believed whole-heartedly that once a candle was lit in recognition a spirit couldn’t possibly seek vengeance. Still, they respected your wishes.

No, not your wishes. You were too young to even think of a will, or any specifications that would result in your burial. You still swallowed two cans of candle-flavored alcoholic seltzer with your sad dinner of microwaveable lasagna. You hadn’t made a habit of signing legal documents between sloppy bites and buzzed naps in the sun.

Which begged the question of why you were in a casket in the first place, and why dirt was starting to sprinkle down from the creaking wood above. Doctors made mistakes, but burying you alive? Well- shit, that was less of a mistake and more of a deliberate ignorance.

Your body was stiff, cold and unwelcoming to the life that suddenly thrummed through you. Maybe you had been dead. Nothing two full bottles of Advil couldn’t ebb out of you. Your fingertips pushed against the fabric lining, testing the validity of the box you were in.

This was all somehow extremely familiar; the darkness that swam around you, the putrid scent of your own breath after being beneath the earth for God knows how long. You could taste the film on your teeth and almost craved a toothbrush more than you did freedom. Almost.

Despite the pain in your calves, you situated yourself to where your feet pressed against the lid. With just a little leverage maybe you could push hard enough to free yourself. There was a rhythmic shoveling above; so you weren’t completely packed in yet.

Suddenly, very thankful for the yoga classes Jennifer was making you take, you maneuvered until you got enough strength to push. For a few agonizing moments, nothing budged except your spine. Fuck, fuck, fuck. A few more breaths and a harder push and the latches on the outside of the casket seemed to give way to the pressure with a small pop. You could taste dirt, feel it in your eyes.

Another brisk shove and the lid flung off it’s hinges, crashing loudly against the meticulously carved grave. You winced at the cold soil that suddenly surrounded you. Worms squirmed against your skin and that was enough for you to sit up with gusto, holding back a stomach full of vomit. Formaldehyde? It tasted terrible, either way.

You shivered and dusted yourself off. It was either early morning or just before dusk. You couldn’t tell but the electric blue sky had just started to fade to orange. You wouldn’t have been able to handle the sun being in full force, barely blinking away the color of the world, much brighter than the dark box you’d dismantled.

And boy, did you dismantle it. You’d only intended to push it up, free yourself, but the cheap wood had splintered and crumbled under just a little force. You stood in the wreckage and peered up at the company you had obtained.

“What the fuck?!”

It was a man who looked younger than you in his fear. He held a shovel in his hands, hugging it close to his chest. His mouth was slightly opened and his deep brown eyes were widened in fear and shock. The knees of his dark blue jumpsuit were stained with dirt and water.

“Can you give me a boost?” You croaked.

“A boost… I, fuck, I shouldn’t’ have taken this job.”

“You can quit after you help me out of this hole.” You shivered, looking down at the dirt below your feet. You swore you saw it pulse like a heartbeat. Too many worms, maybe even a few spiders. You’d never been too fond of bugs. You reached your caked hand up. “Please.”

He made a small noise in the back of his throat. “I don’t want to be patient zero.”

“Do I look like a zombie to you?”

“A little,”

“Now I’m offended and freezing my ass off.”  

He regarded you, probably checking for a nasty festering bite, yellowing skin and any general signs of reanimation. When he didn’t find any, he reached a shaking hand down to you. Both of you struggled and strained until you found the perfect hold on the side of the grave. God- you were never so happy to touch grass.

You panted and stared up at the sky, stars were starting to pockmark the navy blue. It was, in fact, night. The metal tip of a shovel was pointed towards your neck. “Aw, come on, I thought we bonded there.”

“I’m talking to a corpse, we are not bonding.”

“Where are we?” You ignored his pointed stare and tilted yourself up on your elbows. A cemetery was the easy answer. But you wanted to know which one. There were at least 1,700 in the state of New York alone, and they all looked deceivingly the same. “Do I have to take a cab to Manhattan?”

“Uh, you’re in White Plains. Mount Calvary cemetery. I’m- I’m sorry, is this not freaking you out at all?”

You frowned, patting the pockets of a pair of jeans (why the hell would they bury you in jeans, they were the worst). In a long exhale you said. “Shit. I think worms ate my cash.”

It was a longshot to even think that your phone would be in your pocket. It wasn’t. But that left you stranded almost an hour, by car, outside of the city. It would be morning by the time you made it back and that was if no-one pulled up to the side of the road and tried their luck.

You did the only thing you can think of and peered up at this stranger with watery, wide eyes. It wasn’t a move you pulled often, meaning it still worked on Jennifer, on your mother and your father. This was a last resort and you were certainly willing to use it to your advantage.

“What? No.” He shook his head “No! No! Absolutely not. You just dug yourself out of a grave I fucking refuse-“

His name was Austin and he drove a 2002 Ford that needed to warm up for a few minutes before he even considered pulling out of the gravel drive. He was pressed as far as possible away from you and that didn’t exactly boost your confidence, but honestly, truthfully, you would take what you could get at this point.

Austin asked if you were freaking out, and you were. Everything was patchy and black in some places. You couldn’t remember how you’d ended up in a casket. It was clearly a situation that irked you for more than one reason. The forefront of which; no one had attended your funeral.

You weren’t even from White Plains. You’d known from your day job that this place had more than one government funded cemetery. So, most likely, you were given a half-rate priest with liquor on his breath and a funeral director that may have taken the twenty from your pocket, not the worms.

Your stomach clenched as Austin began to drive. He was tapping his fingers against the steering wheel nervously, and could you blame him? A corpse was in his passenger seat. Though, you felt alive enough.

“What’s your name?” He eventually asked, flicking on his high beams. You were on a long and deserted road flanked by oak trees. The occasional field passed by, the reflective quarter-sized eyes of cows blinking at the truck. “Frankenstein?”

You snorted, “Ha-ha. Frankenstein was the doctor, not the monster, you know? And I don’t remember my pitiful grave being struck by lightning.”

“You’re deflecting.”

“Perhaps.”

“Pitiful? Really? I work hard to maintain those graves.”

“I’m sure they’re lovely.” There was a rolling beat of silence. He glanced at you twice before shrugging his shoulders and leaning his chest closer to the wheel to see better. “It’s y/n. Wasn’t it written on the stone?”

Austin shook his head softly, “No, they don’t put the stone in until later. I’m supposed to spray paint a neon ‘x’ on the packed dirt, so they know what to make.”

How humiliating. You’d supposedly died, no one came to your funeral, and you were reduced to less than a quarter of spray paint. There was a system to everything, but this one made your self-importance fizzle out like a covered candle. There one moment and gone the next.

“Do you have a plan?” Austin changed the subject.

“A plan?”

“Yeah, like, are you just going to show up and say surprise, I’m alive? I’ve seen a lot of horror movies and that never goes well.”

Well, that was your plan. It was a damned good one too. There was nowhere else for you to go. While this near stranger was nice enough, you couldn’t impose on him for more than a single ride. His kind chocolate stare was telling enough. He would let you stay with him as long as it took to figure all of… this, out.

“Yeah,” You sighed out, leaning your head against the cool glass “That’s all I’ve got.”

Jennifer’s apartment building had a small box that required a code for entry. You knew the right numbers to press in the right order, they had faded away from regular use, but the door was always propped open by a cinderblock to let in the cool summer air.

If it rained hard enough, New Yorkers would take partial shelter under the awnings, and sometimes going as far as to loiter in the front lobby by the large set of mailboxes. They were the oldest and most fascinating part of the building, large and wrought iron. Allegedly, they’d survived three building fires.

Thankfully, no one but you stood in the lobby as you watched Austin’s taillights flicker out of existence. You’d have to thank him later- of course, you hadn’t gotten his number, but you knew where her work. At least where he worked up until now.

Escorting someone who had kicked their way out of their own grave back into the city was grounds for quitting, in your book.

The elevator was the second oldest thing in the building, but you somehow felt a wave of relief wash over you when the familiar warmth pressed against your skin. The mechanics jolted and hummed like an old lawn mower. All of these were comfortable.

Hunger tinged at your stomach in one fail swoop of feeling. You steadied yourself against the reflective interior of the elevator as it rose to the highest floor. Each number was signified in a loud and crude beep. You were tempted to hit the emergency stop; gaging the feeling in your abdomen.

Brains?

Yeah, the thought of them was absolutely unappetizing. Austin had gotten into your head. There was no innate need to dig your teeth into flesh and devour. In fact, you became more nauseous at the idea than before it popped into your head.

Zombies were chained to shitty horror movies you and Jennifer curled up to watch every Friday night, making fun of the gelatin that was used for wiggly guts and the cooked rice substituted for maggots. You could go for rice right now.

Knowing your best friend, she would have some sort of left-over cuisine in her fridge and you didn’t hesitate to run your fingers over the top of the doorframe to procure her hidden key, taped with a single strip of adhesive to the surrounding paneling.

Her apartment was dark save for the small tank with a one-finned goldfish named Gus. He barely regarded you, the dull buzz of his home and the pale blue light gave you all the vision you needed. Again, the familiarity of Jennifer’s apartment warmed you, comforted you. If you stopped for too long, you’d think about it all too much.

Waking up in a grave, not remember how you got there in the first place. When was the last time you’d had a meal? You’d purposefully avoided the side mirrors in Austin’s car, even the rearview was gently nudged by your dirt-caked hand. One thing at a time.

The fridge swung open with a satisfying pop and you were never more thankful for the red and white takeout containers that rested on the top shelf next to a box of wine. Neither of you ever claimed to be fancy.

You knew Jennifer’s order like the back of your hand. Sweet and sour chicken with a side of fried rice and no matter what, you would eat it cold. When the scent hit you, you even considered going forkless. If not for the slick dirt under your nails, you would have.

There was instant satisfaction in shoveling a mouthful of rice into your mouth, you barely chewed before swallowing. The neon light from the open fridge illuminated your shame and you swore that Gus, the one-finned fish, was judging you. He ate flakes for fucks sake, watching you spoon cold leftovers was the least of his worries.

You’d moved on from the rice and to the chicken before you noticed that you had company. It was a shift in the air, the feeling of being watched. But there was something more too, something like an itch on the back of your neck.

In a split second you turned from your cold meal and lifted your hand up with enough time to grip a wedge golf club that Jennifer had gotten from her father for her twenty-first birthday. They collected dust next to her coatrack, and right now, the metal edge was less than an inch away from slamming into the side of your temple.

You’d never been necessarily graceful, nor good at picking up on your surroundings. You never had to be, not with your work as a paralegal. The worst thing you had to look out for was a bad reaction to burnt office coffee.

Jenn was in an oversized Pink Floyd t-shirt and a pair of boxers, her eyes were wild, hair even wilder. A bloom of fondness wash over you despite her attempt at assault. You couldn’t blame her either, your mind so one-track on getting a meal that you hadn’t warned your best friend, not in the slightest.

“Fuck! What the fuck!” she wrenched the club away from you and moved to swing again, holding it behind her head like a baseball bat.

“Jesus Christ! Oh my God, put the wedge down!”

“You’re not-“She gulped in a cold breath of air “you died!”

“Don’t hit me with that thing and kill me again!”

Her chest was heaving up and down, fingers tightening against the rubber grip handle. Her eyes were frantic. “Did you eat my leftovers?”

You blinked at her, not sure what to say. She didn’t give you a chance to answer either, instead she sprung forward and wrapped you in a bone-crushing hug. You breathed her in, her scent of summer rain and freshly cleaned laundry. Her hair tickled your nose but you held her back, held her as if it were the last time you ever would.

Something softly broke within you, and you felt tears well up in your eyes. They slid silently down your cheeks. The fridge closed with a padded thump and plunged you both into the neon blue glow. Eventually, the club fell to the floor with a clank and her fingers fisted your shirt. You were thankful that she didn’t use her full strength.

“How is this happening?”

“I don’t know,” You rasped.

And you didn’t. Everything was so fuzzy and each time you attempted to press the subject in your mind, you felt the start of a headache at the base of your skull. For now, you were perfectly content holding your friend flush against you.

“You smell so bad,” She sobbed.

“Yeah, well, I was dead.”

Jenn pulled back and squeezed both of your shoulders, studying you longer than you had studied yourself, her breath shuddered “Maybe this is one of those Halloween things, like… like you have one night back on earth.”

You gave her a weak smile “It’s June, Jenn.”

She frowned at you, fingers pressing against your goosebump covered skin. “Sweetie, it’s October. You’ve been… gone, four months.”

But you hadn’t been buried since June. You were barely buried this evening. Your body ached from how stiff the casket had been, fingers numbed from the cold. You figured you were jarred, not in a different season altogether.

“I don’t… I don’t remember anything.”  

She swallowed hard, linking her hands behind your, they rested at the base of your spine. You could tell that she was afraid to release her hold on you. Her breath was warm against your collarbone.

“You were hit by a car that blew through a redlight.”

Okay- anticlimactic. You worked alongside Jennifer at Goodman, Lieber, Kurzberg and Holliway on cases that were focused on Inhumans, superheroes and supernatural beings that had gotten themselves into legal trouble. Being taken out by a car accident wasn’t on your top-five ways to go.

“It was all very… weird. They wouldn’t’ let me see you, and at first, I thought it was because we’re not family, but they didn’t let them in either. I even pulled the attorney card, which I’m not proud of, but they refused to let us even identify you.”

She withdrew her touch and started to pace around the kitchen. It was her way of thinking, and now that she was sure that you were a solid being, she was free to move around. “Even when I got six feet tall, mean and green, they wouldn’t let me in. I was two seconds from calling Bruce.”

Jenn stopped and lifted both eyebrows at you “You look remarkable for someone who has been under the earth for months.”

“I was being buried today in White Plains. I’m assuming there was no funeral, then?”

“No… no. They had said that private arrangements had been made and it’s my guess that those were keeping you on ice until now.”

You winced at the phrasing. You were never too fond of hospitals and the blocks in your memory scared you more than anything. If what Jennifer was saying was right, then, you may not have died in that intersection. You may have been through something much, much worse.

“Sorry,” She sighed out, desensitized just as you were. “Y/n, you can’t remember anything?”

“No,” The word came out as a broken whisper.

The two of you stood in a quiet moment. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, and you held onto that feeling. It was there, you were there, pockmarked memory and all. You felt the urge to reach out and hold Jennifer again, suddenly so exhausted you didn’t’ imagine your legs holding you up much longer.

Her eyes flickered down to the center of your chest and then back up to your stare with an immeasurable amount of fear. When you gazed down at the dirt-stained shirt, you saw a red dot, quivering as if a hand was behind it’s direction. Your shoulders slumped.

“aw, fuck.”

Jennifer let out a scream as her front door was splintered open and flung with great force across the room. The two windows that overlooked the view of the city shattered as heels broke against the panes. The one singular dot had changed to seven, long-range rifles aimed at you, and you were suddenly very sad that your last meal would be cold leftover rice.

Even in the dark, you knew that they had knocked over the fishtank holding Gus, multicolored rocks and glass slid across the wooden floor. There were light gray circles against the breasts of these intruders, a bird with outstretched wings in it’s center.

Your hands went up reflexively, both you ducked behind the breakfast nook, you were close to plugging your ears, the red dots trained on the fridge now, “Oh my god, did you call SHIELD?”

“No! No, I didn’t even know you were alive three minutes ago, I was going to hit you with a golf club and call the cops, not SHIELD.”

They were assholes and tight-lipped about everything, always. It was hard to get a phone call back from them divulging information about ongoing lawsuits, but now they were in front of you, guns raised and depriving Jennifer’s fish of life.

“Gus is going to drown,” You whispered harshly back.

“He’s a fish, he can’t drown.”

“In air.”

There was obvious shifting of firearms. The Agents were all calculated and still with their movements, there wasn’t subtle noise without intent. A gruff, raspy female voice called out to you. “Come out with your hands up, y/n.”

You peaked over the breakfast bar and squinted into the darkness. Your body was not equipped for this. It was already protesting from kicking open the casket with a bought of strength. It certainly wasn’t prepared for this.

Most of the agents were in swat gear, bullet-proof vests and helmets, their faces were covered with balaclava’s, leaving only small strips of exposed skin and eyes trained on you. You hadn’t had this much attention directed at you since your fifth-grade talent show, and you figured the last time would be your funeral, but that hadn’t gone exactly to plan.

The woman who was speaking was in a tactical suit. She didn’t’ bother to cover her identity, she didn’t have to. This was the Black Widow. Natasha Romanoff. Jennifer had gotten drunk one night after a losing case and told you about her cousin having a bit of a fling with her. You’d met Bruce, and that was… unbelievable in the nicest way possible.

Her emerald eyes were trained on you, serious and hard. A tingle ripped up your spine and your stomach squirmed at her scrutiny. Maybe it was the rice and the chicken, but you felt the urge to vomit. You wanted her to say your name again, despite not understanding why she knew it in the first place.

Jennifer gripped your ankle, shaking her head ‘no’ vigorously. Really, you should trust your lawyer friend.

The Black widow let out a sigh, the tip of her handgun pointed to the ground. “You can either come out, or I’ll blow a hole through your chest. Your choice.”

Your gaze flashed down to Jenn and she seemed to have changed her mind within a second, nodding with caution. “Okay, okay.”

Once you were at full height, the room bustled in movement. Your eyes remained on the Black Widow, and hers on yours. Your mouth felt dry, the tip of her gun pushing against your ribs before she flipped you and bent you over the granite counter. Jennifer was using her heels to scoot back to the fridge, trying to avoid the agents swarming around.

Metal cuffs were slapped against your wrists. The Black Widow was pressed flush against you, her warmth dominating. She grasped the back of your shirt and pulled you up. You were, for a fleeting moment, at her mercy. Her fingers searched your pockets, padded down your sides. Once she figured you clean, she holstered her weapon. “Y/n Y/l/n,” she husked in your ear. You suppressed a shiver, knowing she’d feel any move you made right now. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

Taglist: No one yet :(

[happy74827]

Contagiously Human.

[Brian Moser x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Killing was always the easiest part for him, but this… you… well, as fate would have it, that created a new problem for him. {GIF Creds: brothermoser}

WC: 1881

Category: Plot-Driven, Maybe Some Fluff/Angst…?

Someone asked me if I’d ever thought about writing Biney… and well, I decided to put my thought into actual words 🤷‍♀️

Just for some minor clarification, this is pretty much a “what if” fic in which Dexter does not end his life. This being said, I picture this taking place around season 5-6 ish.

『••✎••』

Hesitation.

The thing that makes or breaks a killer. The line that separates predator from prey. It's the pause between life and death, the time a man takes to make the decision, and whether he'll live to regret it or not.

He’s never had hesitation. Not once. In fact, he relishes in it; he finds peace in knowing that he can decide one way or another and be content with either outcome. It makes him a dangerous man, unpredictable, a ticking time bomb.

His baby brother, his blood, had the disease. The disease of being too much of a good person, feeling guilt, having morals, a sense of what's right and wrong. He was weak, he hesitated, and he wasn’t even aware of how much the disease was eating him alive until that Trinity Killer came around.

He was supposed to protect his brother, save him from himself, and show him the proper way of things. The way of survival. Of the hunt. But no, Brian wasn’t there to catch him. To stop him.

So, as all good brothers do, he’s here to fix him. To set him straight and rid him of the disease. Forever.

It's an easy task, really. His little brother is so trusting and caring that he'd do anything for the ones he loved. Why not start by showing him why he shouldn't?

Because clearly, the loss of his apparent wife wasn’t enough. He needed to understand, truly and absolutely, that the world would only disappoint him. It's a harsh lesson but a necessary one.

So, that led him to you. His brother’s friend from school. The woman, aside from Dexter’s poor excuse for a sister, that his brother actually cared about.

Just like him, you were naive. Trusting, too. Friendly to everyone, completely unaware of the monsters that hid in the shadows. His brother included.

You might’ve never killed someone, but with everything else, it was clear why his brother was so interested in you. He always loved the innocent ones.

So, the question was, how would he go about it? He could take you somewhere, but the element of surprise was an important factor. You had to believe you were safe and comfortable before he could make his move.

A Debra repeat? Or a more... Unique approach. He'd think about it, plan it out, and strike at the perfect moment.

He wouldn’t hesitate, after all.

When the day presented itself, the stars had aligned, and everything was just right; he made his move. It was noon, a warm Sunday.

You were in your little bookshop, reading one of the books in your free time. Business had been slow today, as most people were enjoying the weather.

You never saw him coming. He was the type to blend into the crowd, the type that you'd see once and forget about. The type you'd pass on the street without a second thought.

He had his ways, of course, and his way was simple. A simple, kind greeting. One that had your eyes lighting up as if you'd never seen another person before.

He was charming, handsome, the perfect man to lure you in. You didn’t stand a chance.

That's what led him here, picking up your fallen book and handing it to you, watching the smile that graced your lips.

A romance novel, of course. How ironic.

"Oh, uh, thank you. That’s very kind."

You smiled, a hint of blush dusting your cheeks. Far more tame than that Debra woman, thankfully. He didn’t have to fight back the urge to roll his eyes.

"Tea and romance? Can’t say I blame you." He pulled a gentle grin, one that had you blushing further, more so of embarrassment this time.

"It's the first of a series. A favorite, actually, I’ve been rereading it." You explained, holding the book to your chest. He didn’t miss the way your thumb rubbed over the spine, fond and gentle.

Just from that, he knew. He was going to have fun with you. “Believe it or not, I read the first one too. A few months ago, actually. It was quite the page-turner. The ending had me on the edge of my seat, I swear."

You laughed, soft and airy, and for a moment, he found himself smiling genuinely. His lie was working, and he couldn’t believe it was that easy.

"I've only heard mixed reviews on it.” You spoke, moving to place the book back on the shelf. "I'm glad to hear you liked it. Marienne’s death was hard, wasn't it?"

"Very." He agreed though it was a lie. He had to pretend he cared. "It was a shame; I really enjoyed the character."

"You did?" You raised a brow, surprised. “Most people didn’t. Given that she doesn’t even exist.”

Shit.

He cleared his throat, a slight pause. He was so blinded by the idea of finally getting to his brother that he'd forgotten.

You were a reader, an author; of course, you would know the ins and outs of the story. The characters, the plot, and every little detail. Why would you not?

First rule of hunting. Don’t get cocky.

"Alright, I admit. I've been caught." He gave a small shrug, his voice holding a hint of sheepishness. Maybe you’d fall for it. “I couldn’t help myself; I figured you wouldn’t appreciate my love for fantasy books."

"Fantasy?" You tilted your head, and he knew. You bought it. You were a sucker for fantasy; you didn't like it when others looked down on them.

"I'm a bit of a nerd. Guilty pleasure."

"I didn’t peg you for the fantasy type…” You raised your eyebrow, though a smile still rested on your lips—a look of amusement.

"Really? Most people can't seem to look past the collared shirt.

"No, it's not that. It's your aura." You shook your head, and now, it was his turn to raise his brow. What the hell did that mean?

"My aura?"

"Those books in your hands..” You nodded towards his bag, a small smirk pulling at the corner of your lips. "You're definitely not a casual reader. My guess is everything in there is a throwaway.”

"And that means...?"

"You're bullshit through and through. You don't like romance or fantasy. In fact, I think you absolutely hate it."

Oh. Oh, you clever thing. Now, he truly understood why his brother connected with you so much. You'd figured him out, and yet, you had no clue. You were clever, smarter than you let on.

"Alright,” He held his hands up in mock surrender. He was enjoying this; for once, someone could see through his façade. See his true self. It was a rush.

“If you’re so smart, what do I like then?"

"Hmm, let's see...” And just like that, you were off with him in tow. You were taking him along on a trip through the shelves, looking through the genres, searching and searching.

He was intrigued, his eyes locked on you, his ears drinking in the sound of your hums and contemplation. Your mind was running, spinning, thinking. You were truly in your element.

"Well, let's start with what I know. You like horror." You said, turning towards the horror section and picking up a book. "You seem like the type who enjoys the dark side of humanity and likes to see the bad guy win."

Damn.

He was almost impressed. Almost.

"How could you possibly know that?"

"Eyes. They tell the most about a person. You’ve seen a lot, and it shows. I could tell just by looking at you. Your eyes are... Cold. Empty." You said, and it was then that he realized you were more observant than you appeared. Naivety might’ve not been a part of your personality, but trust was. You trusted a lot. Too much. “Are you a cop, by chance? You've got the whole detective thing going on."

"Prosthetist, actually." He answered, his hand reaching out and picking up a book at random. He wasn't a fan of fiction, not really. He preferred nonfiction; it was more realistic—less pointless details.

"Oh, wow, I was completely off. I didn’t expect that." You mused, looking up at him with those eyes. You had such an expressive face; it was amazing how easy you were to read. He could practically see the gears turning. How could he use this?

"Expected an axe murderer, did you?" He joked, a smile tugging at his lips.

"Maybe. Wouldn’t that be a twist?" You grinned a glint of amusement in your eye. “Speaking of, that’s probably what you like. Thrillers. Those kinds of stories are full of twists and turns. No one is who they appear to be. Kinda like you, hm?"

"Ouch."

"Sorry, am I being too honest?"

"No, I like it. Keep going." He was having fun. With Debra, it was exhausting. She was so stubborn, so headstrong, she never listened. It took him about three coffees just to have enough patience to deal with her sob story.

But with you, you were a breath of fresh air. He didn’t have to force himself awake or hide his boredom. He could just enjoy it, relish in the moment, and the fact that you were so easy to play with.

You pulled out three books: two thrillers and one horror. A classic and a new one. "These are what I recommend. Start with Primal Fear; that’s the one I believe you'll like the most. The first one might take you a while, but if you stick with it, the sequel will be worth it.

He reached forward, his hand brushing over yours, his touch lingering as he took the book. He purposely brushed his thumb against the back of your hand, just enough for a spark to go through your veins.

He saw the way your breath hitched, and he smirked. This was too easy.

"Thank you, you've been a great help."

"One more thing before you go." You spoke, stopping him. His eyes moved up from the book to your own, and there he saw something that made him falter.

Something that made him freeze longer than he should have.

You had a fire behind those eyes. A flame that burned with a passion, a curiosity that threatened to eat him alive. A want, a need, to get into his head. To peel him open and look inside.

Your eyes weren't cold or empty like his. They were alive. Full of life.

"Books don’t impress women,” Your voice was low, a secret, something meant only for him to hear. “It’s the passion that opens their hearts. You have nothing if you can't show it."

"I think I've misjudged you." He spoke, his hand resting on the shelf above your head. He had no choice but to lean closer, and he felt the way your breath fanned across his skin.

"Oh?"

"Yes. You're a lot more than you appear, aren’t you?"

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

The question was left unanswered. He didn't give a response because, in truth, he didn't know.

He left that day not with his brother’s cure or even the thought of him. He left with three books.

Three books and the disease he believed to be immune to…

Hesitation.

[@numetalnerd2007] Since you asked, I figured this would automatically mean you were interested. At least I hope you were 💀

That being said, please be nice to me for this one since it’s my first time writing for Biney here (and I haven’t rewatched season 1 in forever), so his character probably isn’t 100% solid. It’s a work in progress 🙏✨

Also, for all my Joe Goldberg fans out there, did you catch the reference I made? I see a slight resemblance between Brian and Joe, so I wanted to sneak it in a little something. I think it’s the hair, honestly.

[lopsicle]

Arcane season 2 spoilers

/////

I have been thinking A LOT about Jayce and Viktor, mainly the scene where Viktor is reborn out of his pod of Hexcore.

Mainly because it means a lot for Viktor’s character. On a fundamental level, he never seen much worth in himself, but he did see worth in inventions, the things he made, it’s how he could prove himself to the world. This is why he becomes so concerned with his illness and the legacy he’ll leave behind on the world; he needs the Hexcore to work because he doesn’t have anything else.

But now, he is literally fused with his invention, his invention that he has grown to hate because it killed one of the only people who truly saw value in Viktor, and not the things he could, partly due to his own negligence. Viktor put it best, in his pursuit of greatness, he failed to do good.

He doesn’t really know how to process what happened to him at all, he’s a smart man, he can clearly deduce that his body has undergone some cybernetic change, he can probably remember the explosion in the council room, but other then that, he’s just confused, hence why he asks Jayce, “what am I?” Viktor’s body is entirely different and unfamiliar, and taking into context that the Hexcore, his greatest invention which he tied all his worth to, has failed before this, it’s likely Viktor had lost sight of who he was, and his new body only served to further that descent.

Jayce can’t think about any of that though, he’s just happy that his partner is alive and who wouldn’t be, he’d been waiting for days, possibly weeks for him to wake. Viktor’s mortality is one of the things that Jayce has struggled with the most in the series, which is what makes his survivor’s guilt so much more pertinent. A lot of people claim that Jayce grew up rich and coddled, and I think that’s true to an extent, but they forgot his family were workers, tool smiths. Jayce seemed to grow up with the idea that he wasn’t that fortunate, that he was a working, middle class man who was going to change the world, and then he meets Viktor, a “poor cripple from the Undercity,” and then he sees what the Undercity is really like and the conditions people live in. And that’s when Jayce realises; he had it good. I believe this is what encourages part of his admiration of Viktor; he is what Jayce thought he was.

Tangent aside, I feel that their hug is a very, very important moment, mainly because of Viktor’s reaction.

He isn’t relieved or uncomfortable, it’s just…nothing. Given what Viktor says about how he doesn’t feel that it’s cold and just recognises that it is cold, I believe this is the moment where it fully sank in how much his body had changed. He couldn’t feel Jayce.

And like, first off, that is such beautiful symbolism for what he says later about how they’re relationship was only held together by affection. Viktor physically cannot feel said affection anymore and know has no reason to stick by the side of someone whose views have become so contrasted to his. But more emotionally, it’s representative of Viktor’s belief that he is unloveable, his new body is merely proof at that, he can’t touch Jayce, he couldn’t save Sky, he couldn’t make the Hexcore work properly, he couldn’t even get Jayce to destroy the Hexcore. To himself, Viktor is a failure who is unworthy of love.

But, he still huge Jayce back. Despite not being able to feel Jaycee’s warmth anymore, despite it feeling like his whole life has crumbled, Viktor wants to give Jayce one last act of service. Perhaps to prove that he still has use, or maybe this was the moment where he decided he would have to part ways with Jayce, and just wanted Jayce to remember his touch, even if Viktor couldn’t remember his.

Anywho if enough people like this dribble, I may post my take on the rest of this scene because it shattered me