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padfootagain · 15 days

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Love in Verses (VII)

Chapter 7 : And so I still wait, like a lonely house, for you to see me and inhabit me again. Until that time, my windows ache.

Hi! Here is another chapter! On the menu for today: lots of aching, some terrible ideas and a plot twist!

I hope you like this new chapter! Tell me what you think!

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Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 2148

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

Sonnet 65

Matilde, where are you? I only just noticed behind my necktie and above my heart, a certain melancholy between my ribs: It was that, all of a sudden, you are gone.

I needed the light of your energy so much. I looked all around me, devouring hope, and saw that the space without you is a house, with nothing left in it but tragic windows.

In the pure silence now, the roof is listening to the falling of ancient leafless rain, to feathers, to what the night has imprisoned.

And so I still wait, like a lonely house, for you to see me and inhabit me again. Until that time, my windows ache.

Pablo Neruda, 100 Love Sonnets, 1959

Elwood was the reason Andrew crawled out of bed the next day. A Sunday morning filled with rain, the colour of the sky matching his mood. The dog came licking at the hand hanging from the side of the bed, and Andrew was annoyed, for sure, but the second his eyes fell on his lovely dog, he could only groan in exasperation and sit up.

He looked at the empty spot in his bed, undisturbed and cold. It felt like staring at the chasm that had claimed his heart since Sam had left. Empty, dark, frightening, lonely…

He didn’t even know who he was anymore. He used to be Sam’s partner, what was he now?

Single.

The word echoed in his head and chest and brought a new set of tears to his eyes. And he had thought about marrying her…

What a fucking fool…

Elwood let out a whimper, looked up at Andrew with begging eyes. God, he had to get up, take care of his dog. He couldn’t just lay there all day, he needed to take Elwood on a walk, despite the rain and his bleeding heart. Feed him, scratch him behind the ears for being a good boy…

Andrew needed to get his body functioning again, there was no use in lying there all day anyway. That was what the logical part of his brain was saying, trying to coax his body into motion, but his muscles simply refused to respond. He was exhausted, didn’t have the strength for it. He knew he couldn’t let himself spiral into a depressive episode, he had to wrestle against it or else he would drown in it.

He heaved a painful sigh.

“I’m coming, buddy. I’m coming,” he mumbled to Elwood.

The dog rubbed his snout against Andrew’s legs as he rested his feet on the cool tiles of his floor. He took a couple of seconds to gather his strength and stood up, his back aching after laying down for too long.

He grabbed his phone as he got dressed in a hurry, checked the voicemail left by his mother asking how he was feeling, his brother’s text, Alex’s five unanswered calls. He tugged the phone in the pocket of his jeans without answering to anyone. He would deal with society and people later, for now, he needed to find the strength to get decently dressed, find his keys, find Elwood’s leash.

He didn’t eat or drink coffee before leaving, he simply secured Elwood’s leash, and walked out of his apartment, brain buzzing with static noise and body numb. He pulled up his hood once he stepped into the street, the feeling of the rain finally bringing him back to reality, anchoring him for a moment.

His head was swarming with thoughts, with questions, with hate towards himself. But more than anything else, he couldn’t understand what was happening. Sam had refused to even move in with him, saying that they needed to grow as people before doing that, saying she didn’t feel ready to share her space with another person. But Andrew was beginning to realise that her refusal had never been about her need to grow, her need for independence, her need for self-discovery. It was about him. Andrew had been the problem all along, and she had strung him along for years, talking about future plans they would accomplish in their thirties, like the finish line was this new decade that stretched ahead of them. But the truth was, she simply didn’t want to do all this with him. He wasn’t enough, and he never was. He was the fucking problem.

And he had thought she was the one…

He still thought she was the one. He still loved her. He still wanted her back.

He waited for Elwood while the dog sniffed around a tree, the rain heavy on his coat, the rhythmic pattern of raindrops drowning the noise of the busy city. And Andrew thought of you, of the weight of your body in his arms as you collapsed last night, the streetlights shining on your tears, the pain in your eyes…

You wanted your ex back as well. Frank. Frank.

Frank who had seduced the love of Andrew’s life, Frank who was now going to marry the woman he loved, Frank who had shattered your heart and was now responsible for your pain…

Frank… Christ, Andrew hated him. He had seen him for only a moment, and yet he hated him. He hated him for all that he had taken from him, taken from you…

And he seemed to be Andrew’s perfect opposite. Handsome. Charming. Charismatic. Extraverted. Blond with blue eyes, a smile to die for, a bubbly personality, the kind who easily made friends, who loved socializing. And he wasn’t a stupidly tall, clumsy tree like Andrew was. He was muscular, clearly worked out a lot. An image you would expect to see on the cover of Vogue magasine. Andrew wasn’t. Andrew wasn’t, and he had thought Sam liked that he wasn’t like that, that he was him. Clearly, he had been wrong. He could feel all of his insecurities bubbling up to the surface again, about his appearance, about his height, about his personality…

Was Sam bored of him? Did she realise he wasn’t attractive or something?

Elwood tugged on his leash, brought Andrew back to the present.

No… no, he couldn’t believe that the last eight years had happened for no reason. And he couldn’t believe that she was going to marry a man she had met two months ago. That wasn’t like Sam at all. She was… she was acting stupid. She was having some kind of crisis, he didn’t know what it was. Maybe she felt bored in their relationship, but he could make efforts for her. To go out more, to develop his social skills, to be more charming, to surprise her more… he would do it. He would hit the gym if she wanted. God, he’d do anything…

This whole situation with Frank made no sense. And Sam needed to realise that she was acting without thinking, clearly, that this was crazy.

The rain got heavier, Elwood was getting cold, so Andrew decided to shorten their walk, and he hurried towards his home again. Head low, staring at the glistening curb, he thought about how he could bring Sam back to her senses. Elwood was pulling on his leash now, cold and wanting to hurry home.

Surely, there was a way to make her see that this made no fucking sense… right?

You were surprised by Andrew’s call that morning. The buzzing of your phone woke you up, you answered with a voice groggy with sleep. He apologised for waking you, asked if you could meet him at a coffeeshop that afternoon. You were taken aback by his invitation, but you accepted anyway. You needed to get out of bed, eventually, and seeing Andrew gave you a reason to get dressed and get your body moving.

You were wearing sweatpants and an old cardigan under your coat as you waited for Andrew to arrive at the coffeeshop, and the truth was, you didn’t give two shites about your appearance today. You were too sad for that, too stunned as well…

You didn’t notice that Andrew was fifteen minutes late, you were busy with your thoughts. When he sat down on the opposite side of the small wooden table, you barely noticed him.

“Hi! Sorry, I’m late…”

“Hi! It’s okay…”

“I hope you didn’t wait for too long.”

“No, that’s alright.”

You forced a smile as your gaze caught his, but you read the same desolation in his reddened eyes, in the dark circles under them. He had spent his night crying too…

“How are you feeling?” he asked a polite question, but you saw in the way he stared at you that he really meant it.

“Terrible. You?”

“Like proper shite.”

“Yeah… I reckon that last night was… a lot…”

“I didn’t know Sam knew Frank. I had no idea…”

“I didn’t know either. I would have told you, had it been the case.”

He nodded, cleared his throat.

“Want a coffee? Tea?”

“Coffee would be nice, thanks.”

He went to get your drinks, offered you a warm porcelain cup when he came back.

“Why did you want to see me?” you asked quite bluntly, but you reckoned there was no reason to circle around the issue.

“Erm… I… I thought we ought to talk about what happened last night.”

“How so?”

“I… First, I want to make it clear that it’s not going to change anything in how I see you. And I… it won’t change anything concerning our work.”

Slowly, you nodded.

“Same. None of this is your fault.”

“Good… grand… I’m glad to hear you say that. Like… I was worried you would resent me for Sam and Frank.”

“Looks like we were both the ones who got fooled.”

“Yeah… big time…”

Andrew was nervous. Very nervous. The way he kept on touching his face, on readjusting his glasses, on rubbing at his palms were obvious signs. He averted his eyes and seemed keen on avoiding all eye-contact for a while. You wanted to reassure him.

“I… I’m not going to lie, I’m devastated by the whole thing. But I’m well-aware that none of this is your fault, Andrew. It won’t change anything in the way I see you, and I won’t resent you or… or feel uncomfortable working with you.”

He slowly nodded.

“Is that why you wanted to see me?” you asked, but Andrew bit on the inside of his cheek for a moment before he would answer.

“Partly, yes. I reckoned that we needed to discuss this together before we would be back at Trinity. But… there’s also… I wanted to talk about something else. I wanted to make you an offer.”

“An offer?”

He let out a long exhale, before finally gathering the courage to look at you again. You stared at his hazel eyes, silently questioning what he meant.

“Look I… I understand that we’re colleagues, that this is highly unprofessional of me but… I love Samantha. I want her back. I want her back, and to be honest, I’m ready to do anything to get her back. And… judging by your reaction last night, and for the past few weeks… I can clearly see that you want Frank back as well.”

“Of course, I want him back.”

“Honestly… this whole thing is ridiculous. It’s nonsense. Sam and I were together for almost eight years and all of a sudden… she gets engaged to a guy she met two months ago?! No offense towards Frank…”

“No, no, I agree! Like… Frank and I were engaged, he pushed back our wedding because he wasn’t ready and all of a sudden he’s ready to marry a woman he barely knows! Like… I’m sure she’s great, but he doesn’t even know her at that point!”

“Exactly! They’re clearly making a mistake, I don’t know what’s gotten into their heads, but it’s madness…”

“It is! And they don’t seem to realise it!”

Andrew nodded, stared at you for a moment.

“I want to make her realise that she’s acting stupid, that she needs to think things through, that this is a mistake. And I think you want Frank to do the same, right?”

“Yes, of course. But I’ve tried talking with him, and he shuts me down every time…”

“Sam does the same. But I’m determined to show them the truth. And I… I want you to help me.”

You blinked, frowned.

“What do you mean?”

“I want Sam back. You want Frank back. We both agree that they’re acting in an illogical way, and that they’re making a mistake. We need to show them, make them realise this whole thing is a terrible idea, bring them back to their senses. But I don’t think we can do that on our own.”

“And what would you propose we do then?”

“We need to show them that this wedding is a terrible idea. We need to ruin their wedding.”

You raised a surprised eyebrow, taken aback.

Ruin their wedding?

Show them they weren’t meant for each other?

Andrew offered you his open hand.

“This would be highly unprofessional,” you added, and Andrew merely nodded.

“It would be, yes. And I’d understand if you refused. But I don’t see another way out. Do you?”

You didn’t. There didn’t seem to be any other way out of this mess. And at least, you wouldn’t face all of this on your own anymore.

You stared at Andrew’s hand, long, pale fingers stretched towards you. When you shook it, your hand seemed ridiculously small in his.

You looked up to catch his hazel eyes with yours again.

“You’re right. Let’s ruin their wedding.”

#andrew hozier byrne #hozier #the hoziest #hozier x reader #hozier x you #hozier x y/n #hozier x fem!reader #hozier fanfiction #hozier fanfic #hozier fic #hozier au #hozier professor au #professor au #hozier series #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #series

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local-hellhound-steals-spaghetti · 8 months

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Hi! Given your experience working with marine mammals and intelligent views on cetacean captivity, I wanted to ponder the following. Here in the Netherlands is a cetacean (mostly porpoise) rescue organisation. After years of having no facilities, and having a 100% kill policy unless a porpoise could be returned straight away, they finally have a gorgeous rescue facility again.

Recently they announced the facility would be getting an outdoor expansion, featuring habitats emulating the Wadden Sea ecosystem. Providing both education about its inhabitants, as well as a place for late-stage rehab porpoises to spend their last weeks before release outside, in a larger habitat. And, in case an animal is non-releasable, provide an adequate space to hold them for while while next steps are being assessed.

The response was overwhelmingly negative. Most of their following is cetacean-smitten, but completely anti-cap (of the emotional, uninformed type). They all bristled at the idea that perhaps a few sharks and seals would be kept there "and then you'd be no better than a zoo!" (which is of course the worst thing to be). But mostly: the amount of people saying they would honestly rather see a non-releasable porpoise killed, because death is preferable to spending a single day in captivity ("because that is what I would want"), is frankly staggering. What do you say to these people??? A rescue facility is getting a beautiful outdoor expansion - GREAT! How can someone claim to love the animals so much when they would rather see them dead than in a situation that makes them personally uncomfortable? It just boggles my mind and frustrates me to no end.

Tl;dr: people want rescued porpoises dead because they might end up in captivity, and have you found an appropriate response to this ridiculous line of thinking?

Wow that's really amazing that the Netherlands is stepping up like that! It sounds like a great option for rehab and also to provide much needed education about porpoises to the public.

Honestly my response to those people is pretty much what you said: "Why do you want to see these animals dead just because it makes you personally unhappy to see them in human care?"

I think it's important to call out these comments as what they are: advocating for the death of animals. It's not noble, it's people projecting their own guilt complexes (of something they have no control) over onto animals.

And that is what a lot of anti captivity propaganda relies on - shame and guilt. That's what I remember when I was starting to allow myself to learn more about SeaWorld after being so convinced by Blackfish for a long time. I felt a hollow shame feeling in my chest as if being curious about how killer whales are trained was somehow wrong or bad.

Activist marketing (especially The Dolphin Project and anything from Naomi Rose, Lori Marino and Ingrid Visser) is about making you feel bad for even considering going to marine parks or learning more about cetaceans in human care. As if it would genuinely make a difference on things like Taiji or improve the lives of the animals in any way (it won't and it looks like it's only making things worse at this point)

A lot of these activists have massive egos and savior complexes that are fed by this sort of marketing. As if their snarky comment on Facebook is going to make a difference.

At the end of the day, they're people that have to make zero personal sacrifice (going to a marine park is not a hard thing to do for them) to feel a sense of moral superiority. And that's very reinforcing and feels good.

If you calmly give them the facts about cetacean welfare in human care and tell them exactly what they're advocating for (death or poor welfare)- it may not change their mind (because that's not how our brains work) but it may convince the people reading the comment thread.

#cetacean welfare #blackfish #seaworld #marine mammal rescue

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mishacakes · 11 months

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how do you connect to your character? like how do get to know them so well? how do you pick out their likes, dislikes, habits and those itty bitty bits about them? I've been struggling to do that for sooo many of my ocs, and i'm also at a lost of how to design them. like i once had a clear idea of what kind of character they are, but i wanted to change them a bit, make them a little better, and i feel like I've lost that character and that character i'm working on doesn't exists, no matter how much i loved them and enjoyed writing an drawing them. this has happened with every single character i made and it just makes me think that i may not be cut out for drawing or writing characters. i look up to you so i thought of asking you for help

sry for the long rant idk wat im doing

HELLO HELLO THANK YOU FOR ASKING!! So basically I took this question and turned it into a 1.6k word essay on writing characters and how I like to do it, so, uh, hope you enjoy!! and hope it helps!

OK!! character writing. How do you do it? or, well, how do I do it. I’ve got a few methods that help me out the most and are the most fun for me to think about. Here’s my big secret, if it’s not fun I don’t do it. I’m not here to do homework I’m waaayyyy out of school. I’m a legal adult. I pay my taxes. I’m not gonna do something that doesn’t give my brain the good fun juice. Anyways. My methods are: symbols, archetypes, and character inspiration. I use all these to figure out the CORE of a character, their very beating heart, and most importantly, what haunts them. Everything about a character, in my opinion, comes from this core and their ghost. Their habits, their fears, their joys, their coping mechanisms. So long as you have a clear grasp on their heart, you won’t go astray. Let’s dive into it! The characters I’m going to be using to describe how I use these methods are Alice and others characters from my webcomic—namely Edith, Hatter, and Rougina—and Tomiko (you know her you love her, catgirl supreme).

Symbols! I love using symbols, they’re something that can describe a character through metaphor, even without going into detail about their whole backstory and habits. Tomiko’s symbols are lanterns (specifically light), cats, ghosts/yokai, shapeshifting, and gold. They all work to further her character as a rough around the edges monster cat with a heart of gold, who uses shapeshifting as a method (both literally and metaphorically) to mold herself into what others need her to be. Alice’s symbols are hearts, eyes, and flesh in general. Try picking one general symbol (the ocean, the forest, the city), and see how specific you can get from there. Or pick a god or goddess that resonates with your character and see what symbols are used for them. Rougina (the antagonist in my webcomic) is a war goddess fallen from grace, and is symbolized with land and volcanoes, so I’ve used volcanic plants to evoke her. Personally I also love going through the tarot for symbols, assigning a tarot card to characters (of the major arcana) is a fun exercise. Which leads us nicely into our next method:

Archetypes! The tarot deck’s Major Arcana is pretty much only archetypes. The Empress as the Mother. The Magician as the Wise Mentor. The Tower as The Worst Thing That Could Possibly Happen Oh Jesus Shit. These can help a lot with who your character is. I’m extremely storytelling oriented, so it helps me knowing What Role a character serves in the story they inhabit. Another thing I love in archetypes in the Zodiac. Yes, I am an astrology bitch. The whole reason I love talking about my methods is my Sag rising, I love giving my wisdoms. But astrology can be used for writing, and not just for excusing and not reflecting on shit behavior (can’t help being a gemini!). The zodiac is FILLED WITH ARCHETYPES!!! From elements to how they function! The four elements (you A:TLA bitches know this), and three modalities. If you’re interested please watch Eugene’s Rank King video, it’s very informative on the signs. Also many symbols! For example, Alice is a Taurus—May 4, Alice Liddell’s birthday—so she’s pretty stubborn while also loving creature comforts. Tomiko’s birthday is August 23, making her a Virgo, so she likes being precise in her work. More archetypes you can look for are DnD classes! I love using that to design costumes. One of Edith’s recent costumes is very wizard inspired, since that’s the class I see her having as she’s very studious and driven. Heck, all of Alice and the Nightmare is derived from the character archetypes of the Alice in Wonderland characters! Rougina is specifically the Red Queen, NOT the Queen of Hearts!! The confusion started with the 1951 Disney animated movie when the two characters were merged!! Lewis Carroll himself said the two were different! The Queen of Hearts is an “embodiment of ungovernable passion” and the Red Queen is “the concentrated essence of all governesses”!! GOD!!! Tim Burton meet me in the fucking pit you’ll pay for your alice crimes. anyways.

Archetypes help a lot in costumes too, figuring out what kind of fashion they’d like to wear. You can start broad and get more specific with it (like going from a wizard type character to a wizard character with steampunk themes). Fashion is just an extent of character. What are they comfy in? Are they confident in their body? What colors do they like? Bright high fashion or simple dark sweaters? Ryoko Kui is a master of character design I HIGHLY HIGHLY recommend checking out her work.

Another method I like using, specifically for Alice and the Nightmare characters, is what I call the “three trait method”. When I was in middle school we did a production of Alice in Wonderland (I was the White Knight), and too many girls auditioned for Alice. So the director’s solution was to split the character into three parts, and assigning each part to an actor. Her temper, her intelligence, and her innocence, all used in different scenes. Now I use that to think about my own Alice character, except with “polite, temper, and curious”. Edith’s keywords are “nervous, tactical, and intelligent”. Hatter’s are “kind, enthusiastic, and intuitive”. Using keywords can help figure out how they’d react in a situation, what side of them would shine the brightest. Hatter’s want to help everyone is his kindness, but overstepping his bounds can be attributed to his enthusiasm. Edith can know what path to take in a pinch, but her nervousness can freeze her in place. Reading the source material helps a lot with Alice characters too, which brings us to our final point:

Character inspiration!! The art of taking things you like and shoving them into your own characters and stories. DISCLAIMER THO!!! If you take things without really EXAMINING what about them you like, WHY you like them, and how you’d like to evoke that same love in the things you make, the interpretations can come off as shallow. (for more on this subject, watch HBomberguy’s RWBY video essay, specifically the section on “anime homework”)

Tomiko’s biggest inspirations are Izutsumi from Dungeon Meshi, April Ludgate from Parks and Rec, Power and Reze from Chainsawman, San from Princess Mononoke, and Mei from LMK. It’s a good cocktail of aloof, biting, vicious, weird, fierce, loving, and bright. Figuring out what I love about the characters and what I want to write in a character like that helps a lot in writing Tomiko. It’s also really fun in a sense for screenshot redraws and memes.

Music is also a HUUUUUUGE source of inspiration for me, I love making playlists. And even as playlists can change as characters grow and change, having a couple of core songs still helps me ground to that character’s center. For Tomiko it’s “Make Them Gold” by CHVRCHES, and “Nice Girl” by Ashnikko. Alice’s is “Headlock” by Imogen Heap and “Demons” by Hayley Kiyoko, Edith’s is “Warrior” by Kimbra, and Hatter’s is “Dementia” by Owl City.

Ok, we’ve gotten though symbols, archetypes, and made a couple of banger playlists. Next is something that can help write your character, the Big Lie. The thing that keeps them up at night. Their biggest fear, their ghost, what haunts them. What’s holding them back from their goals? What do they need to overcome? That can be as central to their theme as any symbolism. For Tomiko it’s the lie that her emotions don’t matter, only what she can do to be of service to her mother. Her arc is about overcoming her dismissing her own emotions and learning to not run away from the people who she truly cares for. Alice dismisses the literal ghost that is haunting her believing that that will let her have a normal life. Edith pushes down abilities that come naturally to her for fear that she’ll be exiled, not just from society, but the world. Rougina believes she must burden the world’s problems on her own shoulders with no one’s help. The outer character and the inner ghost can reflect, mirror, and inform each other.

Now, listen, sometimes characters are hard to get to know! Tomiko was lol. Quinn was for a looong time. And in times like this, I just, let them be. I listen to some music to get inspired, and let them tell me about themselves when they feel like it. And they will, it just take a little while. And a few dozen quick exploration drawings. But they come through. Also, try not to get bogged down with habits and little details of their character, keep their core in mind, what their heart is. Start broad and get specific. That way, if you feel like you’ve lost your way or the character feels different to you, recenter yourself at their heart and go from there. Or, if you find that their center no longer fits, don’t be afraid to change it! Characters are meant to be fun! First and foremost!! I make characters cause I like writing and storytelling, and drawing little comic for fun and me time. Sometimes characters stick around, sometimes they fall by the wayside. You really have to find what sparks joy, and chase your bliss!

So as long as you have your character’s essence in your hands, and you WANT to keep working on them and drawing them, there’s really no wrong way to go. This whole essay I’ve given is just a set of tools that works for ME, and I HIGHLY encourage you to find stuff that works for you! I really really hope that all this has made sense and isn’t just the ramblings of a madman. Good luck and happy charactering!!

#meesh blabs #misha writings #character writing #happy reading and happy writing!#THANKS FOR ASKING <3

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bump1nthen1ght · 6 months

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Do the Crime, Pay the Time (M!Reader x M!Undead Knight)

Pairing: Male!Artist!Reader x Male!Undead Knight

Genre: Urban Fantasy, Misunderstandings

Warnings: Extremely Dubious Consent, No preparation

Word Count: 2254 words

Summary: All you had wanted was to paint, to decorate these abandoned ruins with your art. But it seems your presence is unwanted at these ‘abandoned’ ruins.

Request: i have an idea for a request,,

how bout an Undead Male Knight x Male Graffiti Artist

The Graffiti artist would wander into some ruins away from the city to paint a mural, unknowing of its origins and get caught by the Undead Knight…

Maybe some punishment for trespassing on the ruined kingdoms property,,? 🥹

You should have known this place was too good to be true.

You had stumbled upon it wandering one day, shocked that the crumbling ruins weren't kept behind a “KEEP OUT - PRIVATE PROPERTY” sign. That wouldn’t have stopped you, of course, but the fact the large complex was seemingly abandoned made it all the more interesting.

Most of the ceiling had caved in, remnants of flying buttress and great arches overgrown with moss and water damage. Some remains of stained glass lay shattered on the ground, brushed into the corners by the wind or wandering animals.

But what takes your attention is the surprisingly intact wall, clean of debris and dust. It’s perfect for a mural, and on first site the painting is already forming in your head.

You head home to pack up supplies and pray it stays unsigned by the next day. Your arms shake from all your equipment - a ladder, cans, some brushes and paints - and you mentally cheer once you see the clear wall left intact.

The high of uninhibited artistic creation must dull your senses, because you do not hear the crunching of rusted armor or the dragging of long-slept limbs. No, it’s not until you’re being choke slammed into your easel that you realize this place was very much inhabited.

“Speak your name, intruder.”

Your attacker’s voice is low, tense and full of authority. Your nails scramble at the armored hand holding you up, trying to pry them off your throat.

I need to breathe to speak, you psycho!

You try to scream with your eyes, feeling your vision go spotty.

All you can see of your assailant is a glowing green eye, trembling like an open flame out from their dark helm. The light from it hints at something underneath, bleach white like bone, but it must be from the lack of oxygen to your brain. Surely he isn’t-

The man loosens his hold on your jugular, blood rushing back in as you suck in a deep breath. You slowly regain your faculties, and your eyes begin to adjust in the low light of the morning.

“I didn’t realize-”

The arm pushes you further against the wall, raising you so your legs dangle like a ragdoll.

“I asked for your name, not an excuse.”

The voice says, no less angry than before. A filtered beam of sunlight comes through one of the stained glass windows, and you see another glimpse of his face.

Your brain hasn't deceived you. It was bone, a stripped clean skull right underneath a fiery green eye. But it was only one half, the other side being that of a shockingly handsome knight, sharp cheekbones and a smatter of freckles. His more human eyes are the same acid-green as the other, but doesn’t burn or glow the same way.

“___! My name is ____!” You gasp, hands still desperately trying to rip away his fingers.

The knight hums, eyes rolling down your form. It’s just some painter's overalls and a t-shirt, surely different from the thieves and nobles he is more familiar with.

“Why do you trespass on this place that is not your own?” He commands, holding you up with minimal effort. The bulk underneath his armor must not be just for show, especially with the large greatsword he wields on his back.

“I didn’t know someone was here! I just wanted-” You choke, feeling the palm of his armor digging into your jaw. You tap it furiously, and the knight must deem you harmless enough to set you down on the ground without a fight.

You drop to your butt, hands clutching what is surely your bruised throat.

“I just wanted to paint.” You urge, trying your best to seem innocent and non-threatening. This dude seems to have a hair-trigger temper.

The human eye appraises you again, the knight humming with burgeoning thoughts.

“I see.” The bared teeth of his skull clink together as his mouth grits, brow half-furrowing as he thinks on what to do with you. You eye that massive sword, brain going for the worst.

“Listen, I can go right now. I won’t tell anyone about this place, and once again I am so sorry-”

A palm is in your face, the other creasing the growing knot in the knight's brow. He seems less angry now, more frustrated. The bared teeth clink together.

He keeps his thoughts to himself as he stews, seemingly having a mini argument in his head.

“I see you are not a thief, nor do you seem to have…” Both eyes roll down your outfit again, taking stock in your lack of weapons or tools, “...nefarious intentions. But nonetheless you have disturbed this holy place, and for that my cursed commands I punish you.”

You grab your throat, instincts somehow believing your hand could stop that sword from separating your head from the rest of your body.

But the knight just sighs, arms not going for his great sheath, and instead kneels before you.

The gauntlet is cold against your flushed cheek, the knight's hand nearly the size of your face as he tilts your jaw to him. His face has fallen back to flat, contemplative and in control.

The human iris feels hot as it looks down the column of your neck, eyes your heaving chest, still full with nervous breaths. You think you see it sweeping lower, lower, before darting back.

“I suppose I can provide punishment in an alternative way to the convention.” The knight grips your jaw, yanking you forward.

His glowing eye is hard to look away from. You feel like a moth, drawn in by the flickering emerald spits in his eye. Your heart thuds in your ears, wondering if you’re about to get the beating of a lifetime

And then the bastard kisses you.

Well, half-kisses you. The lips he has are soft and plump, conveying a lot of experience with one smooth motion. The bone is a little more jarring, jagged teeth crashing against yours, yet making the same movements as the lips.

All in all though, not the worst kiss you’ve ever had.

The knight pulls away, no breath being lost on his end as a string of saliva connects your wet lips. Both eyes burn with something familiar,and he flicks a tongue across his half-lip.

“Yes, I think this will do perfectly.”

Before you can clarify, the knight meets you in another steaming kiss. It's quicker than the last, lips traveling down your neck and sucking hickies into the flesh. The knight seems particularly enraptured by your pulse, lingering and nipping at the pumping blood.

Ok, I guess this is happening.

You don’t really have a place to complain, as it seems your options are this or grave bodily harm. But even so, the flight-or-fight, survival monkey part of your brain tries to see the bright side. The bright side being that this guy isn’t too bad looking, and seems to be a very affectionate lover.

“U-uh mister knight-” You stutter out, brain beginning to bounce back from the shock of the last five minutes, “-what may I call you?”

“Sir Arthur.”

“Okay, Sir Arthur.” Your voice becomes breathily as Sir Arthur’s hands drift down your coveralls, deftly undoing your straps and yanking your pants loose around the waist. A metal hand caresses under your leg, groping the bottom of your thigh before reaching the fat of your ass, where it pushes and kneads like it was bread dough. Your body's instinctive reaction is to lurch forward, unintentionally grinding your crotch against his. There's muffled growls against your skin, and those gauntlets are back to yanking off your pants and underwear.

The castle floors send goosebumps down your bare legs, Arthur’s armor feeling ixy as he throws them over his thighs. The steel sends a jolt through you, your hips canting backwards as your cock feels the cold steel. But Sir Arthur’s grip is strong, his forearm keeping your power back in place. His hips swivel, groaning as he paws at your ass.

Does he even have a-

Your sarcastic question is answered with a couple pull of straps and the clank of armor falling to the ground. Something hot, heavy, and sticky thwaps against your stomach, brushing against your cock.

Sir Artur is still lost in kissing your shoulder, leaving several hickeys behind, and you feel comfortable letting your eyes drift downward. Unsurprisingly, his inhuman cock is as green as his eye, though luckily not on fire. No, in fact the ghost-cock seems to ooze a neon fluid, not dissimilar from cheap ectoplasm effects in movies.

Well, I guess we don’t need lube.

Your thoughts take a turn as you're suddenly thrown on your back, ankles still hooked around his back as Sir Arthur pins you to the ground. He’s pulled away from your neck, now focused on pushing your thighs back to your chest.

“Too long I have been without touch. This heat-” Sir Arthur’s chest rumbles with a purr, the flaming eye pulsing, “-it’s addictive.”

A warm head pushes against your entrance and you thank whoever’s up there for that spooky slime he has going on, because wow this man was packing.

Sir Arthur takes his time sinking inside of you, savoring every second of stretching you open. His armor clinks together as his body shutters, head thrown back in a moan.

“By the gods.” He swears in a dead language as he reaches his hilt, green drool seeping out of his skull jaw. A keening whine comes for your chest, your cock twitching as the tapered head grazes against your prostate.

The first thrust is tentative, but Sir Arthur seems encouraged by the yelp which explodes between your bitten lips. The nex thrust is slightly faster, sending a shock of pleasure all the way down your spine. Your toes curl behind his back, a drunken haze making your nerve ends tingle.

Sir Arthur’s armor trembles again, but it seems he’s found the rhythm he needs, and begins fuckign to you with a feevent desperation. Trails of slime connect your ass cheeks to his crotch as he thrusts down and into you, raspy breaths leaking from between his ribs.

Beads of precum bubble at your tip, cock aching for a single touch. Your balls twitch and tighten with each of his guided humps, all targeted perfectly at your sensitive spot. Bubbles of blood come from your worried bottom lip, and your needy moans echo across the destroyed ruins of the castle.

A part of you prays no one else stumbles upon this site and overhears your debauchery, sees you spread wide open for this hulking beast of a corpse. This knight who is far too good at fucking, whose cock deserves to have a dildo modeled after it. With a slime function, of course.

Heavy balls slap against your ass, cold trails of Sir Arthur’s ooze dripping down your ass crack and onto the floor. An armored thumb presses down on your lower lip, prodding you to open your mouth. With a brain too cock-drunk to fight your jaw opens easily, the taste of polished metal on your tongue.

“Suck, whore.” Sir Arthur commands, voice dripping with desire. Your tongue wraps around each groove and sucks, your cheeks hollowing as Sir Arthur groans at the sight. The tears bubbling at the corners of your eyes, the mating press, it all drives him wild. The position of knight suits him well if all it takes is a little power to make him horny.

He’s not a particularly loud lover, Sir Arthur. Most of the noises is slapping skin and clinking armor, only some low grunts and curses joining the cacophony as fucks you with more and more fervor. But it’s the way his fiery eye begins to ignite, the way he bites his half lip enough to draw sickly green blood, and the tightness of his balls which tell you he’s close.

“I’m going to fill you to the brim.” Sir Arthur punctuates his sentence with a hard thrust against your prostate, spots dotting your vision. “You will leak of me for days, trespasser. I will make sure of it.”

You feel your own orgasm brewing in your stomach, cock weeping as your balls grow tight. Your eyes roll to the back of your skull.

“F-fuck.” Sir Arthur draws out his vowel as he ends with several harried thrusts, hilted deep inside when he finally climaxes. What feels like a gallon of oozing, green-tinted cum fills you up, bursting from between the seams of your connection and spurting into the floor. He was right, you will be leaking him for days. Your own orgasms comes just as dramatically, mouth open inna breathless scream as you finish all over your stomach,

You don’t quite remember him leaving you, only the gaping emptiness left behind. It's taking a bit for your consciousness to reboot, to remember where you are. But there’s the sensation of cold against your skin, a wet rag rubbing down your sore entrance and across your stomach. A dull heat radiates through metal, massaging your thighs and neck as you’re laid on your back.

True warmth comes in the form of a heavy blanket, and your eyes flutter close under its softness.

“Rest your eyes, artist.” Sir Arthur whispers. “I will escort you back when you awake.”

Your last thoughts are vague, somewhat remembering the various paints you brought with you, and the pain they’ll be to carry home unemptied.

#my writing #reader insert #monster romance #male reader insert #monster x reader #requests

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jester089 · 11 months

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Hello! Today I rewatched Titanic for the hundredth time, so I had an idea: https://youtu.be/EyPpMaIBgkI?feature=shared

do you know this scene in Titanic? In any case, here it is,if you haven’t seen this movie (I highly recommend it, crying every time lmao)

So, imagine that Rose is a character (Jax, Pomni, Caine/Kinger) and Jack is the reader

the reader (their s/o) begins to abstracting , the characters understandably end up next to the reader at this moment in a hope to stop the process, but then both realize that nothing helps, and before going completely crazy, the reader begins to calm down characters (just repeat lines from this scene lol) How would the characters react? I'm really interested in Jax's reaction.

P.S. If it’s not difficult, briefly describe how the characters will behave after the death of their s/o

So sorry for my English is so bad!!! I am not speaking it, hope you having a good day/night!!🫶🫶💋

Boat movie

Thank you for the request! I apologize to any Caine or Jax fans who hate how I write them. But hey you can always just not read it, and I write em how they are. Not how we all want em. From this post on I'm going to ask you all add something to your requests. When requesting either Caine or Jax specify if you want the real ones or the softer loving ones. Thanks! Caine, Kinger, Jax, & Pomni's reactions to Reader dying/abstracting in front of them/in their hands

Caine

You definitely aren't the first. And probably wont be the last. He understands that humans for whatever reason don't want to die alone so he stays with you. He stays there sitting next to you on the floor as you progressively get more and more glitched. Sadly he doesn't catch much of what you say as his mind is mainly just ready to put you in the cellar so you don't hurt anyone. Once your abstracted and in the cellar he moves on. Sure he felt slightly closer to you then with all the others digital circus's inhabitants but he'll get past it. Nothing really changes in the long run.

Kinger

Kinger found you abstracting and was about to turn tail and run to find help but you begged him not to leave. That's how you got to where you are Kinger holding you close while you gently cup his face. He listened to every word you said about how he was gonna get out of there and live his life. Have kids and die safe in his home surrounded by loved ones. He permanently searing every word into his brain. As you lean up to give him one last kiss before you fall off the deep end and abstract forcing Kinger to let go of you. He is crazy yes, but he's tough. And losing you makes him want to give up. But he'll get out of this place and live his life. If not for himself, for you.

Jax

Jax was sitting with you as you abstracted. He was just going to leave and do something else, but your pitiful glitchy voice got him to stay. He sits there staring at you as you progressively get worse not even listening to what your saying, his mind wandering to what he would rather be doing. Once you fully abstract he gets up and sprints away so he doesn't get hurt then leaves you alone to rampage about. Not his problem. Hey if someone else dies to you maybe their death will be funnier then yours.

Pomni

Pomni stayed with you. Despite every bit of code in her being telling to run and get Caine she knew she wouldn't be able to in time. So she stayed and held you gently using everything she had in her to not show how she felt. So you could have someone, have her there with you when you went. She listened to your final words and did her best to remember the feeling of you gently kissing her. Once you were gone she went straight to her room to be alone, and to write something down. In a journal Ragatha gave Pomni to try and help with stress she writes down you. You personality, your final words. And she draws you, draws you how you are (were). She isn't going to forget you. She will get out of this place. And if, no WHEN she does she's going to give you a proper burial. She doesn't have your body but she isn't just going to be the last thing she remembers of you, you or a version of you trying to kill her. (I'm feeling a little burnt out on angst asks. But I did enjoy writing this.)

xoxo, Jester

#tadc x reader #the amazing digital circus x reader #caine x reader #kinger x reader #jax x reader #pomni x reader #noob author #not beta'd

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lady-dragon-rider · 9 days

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Who are you, really? PT.2

Aeron Bracken x Reader

Reader tells Aeron the truth (at least what they know regarding what happened before they woke up)

///

Aeron has a small, young-adult life crisis.

Contains: Aeron having a life crisis, more Tyrell!Reader dramatics, uwu spoopy witch things, canon divergence, Angsstt/Comfort (finally)

Feautring: Brackwood shenanigans, mild Davos x Reader (he has a soft spot), supernatural superstitious spoopies

---

The next morning, after you had given your ultimatum to the Bracken heir. You found yourself on the back of a horse again (Though you technically had no memory of the first time, but still). Aeron was seated behind you, the only thing he had insisted upon. His arms were wrapped tight around you as the horse wandered the road in a slow trot.

"I still cant believe you talked me into this..." he mumbled, his stern face gazing off into the distance in search of dangers. "You know what happened last time"

"Well i have no memory of it therefore it didnt happen" you quip sticking your nose up at his attitude. "Your being a worrywort Aeron. I was going to have to this eventually as were you needing to get over it."

Aerons mouth fall agape and you tone. This was not how high-born ladies usually acted. And despite how long you had been awake, Aeron still hadnt gotten use to the change.

"Woman you are giving me a bad case of whiplash... i still dont get how youve changed so much... you are yet to explain yourself to me." He snaps, tone increasing in annoyance.

"Stop here. We are far enough."

Obediently, He stops the horse and ties it up to a low hanging branch. You get off and find a nice spot to sit. As you sit to motion for Aeron to do the same. "It will be better for you to sit. It may take a while."

As you had suspected, the more you tried to explain it in a way he would understand, the more bewildered he looked.

"Wait. So your telling me there is another existence, or 'world' as you called it. 'You' are from there. 'You' died being run over by a carriage, at the same time my version of you - the girl i grew up with and was to marry - fell off the horse at died?" He repeated. "But that doesnt explain why you inhabit her body and why she isnt here. Does that mean she if where you once were?"

"No. Unfortunately not"

"But you dont know that!" He shouted. Moving to his knees to grab at your shoulders roughly.

"But i do. I felt that body die. I felt my heart stop." You state coldy. It stops Aeron's incoming tirade in it tracks. He breathes heavily as you continue, a cool wisp in your voice. "You said that she was in a fevered state for days right? That was 'her', desperately trying to recover. But for some reason the soul - her soul - wasnt strong enough. So, my theory is, when i died where i was from, her body reached out and clung to my soul as it left my old body to 'fill the gap' and make this body strong enough to recover... but in the process some of 'her' memories were lost."

The young mans hands on your shoulders seem to tighten as his breathing becomes laboured. Unshed tears begin to form in his eyes.

"Im so sorry. I didnt mean for this to happen... i had no idea it was even possible."

"Youre wrong"

"What?"

"This cant be happening... youve gone mad, the hysteria has finally gotten to you and you gone mad as a way to punish me for letting you fall. Its the Seven's punishment meant to torment me as you were in those days of fevered rest..." He pushes you away as he gets up. Pacing and biting his nails while mumbling.

"Oh for the love of-" you get up after him and whirl him round to face you. Slapping him so hard across the face that it echos in the small secluded clearing. "GET A HOLD OF YOUSELF AERON BRACKEN" you shout. "The gods care very little over the folly of man if they exist at all. No one is trying to torment you with divine punishment i promise, as of right now i need you to pull your head from your arse and put that brain of yours to use." You rant giving him a firm shake as you firmly grip his shoulders. "Can you do that for me"

"Y-yes i can..." he mutters feebly, still in a daze.

"Yes what?!"

"Yes M'lady!"

"Good!"

You then pull him in a fierce hug. One that seems to take his breath away. A beat of silence passes as he returns your gesture; arms shaking as if youll disappear again if he lets go. You pull away just enough to see his face, and the handprint on his cheek which burns an angry red. You kiss it tenderly, making the rest of the young heirs face match its colour. "I apologise for hitting you my dear, but i need that beautiful mind of yours working on a way to save your family from burning rather than spiralling out of control."

The Bracken heir smiles as his arms maneuver themselves into a different position.

"Thats alright... though, is it bad to say that i kinda liked that? I think i may be getting used to this new personality of yours..." he smirks

"Aeron!" You gasp, smacking his chest playfully, happy the tense mood had been diffused. "Be serious right now! We need to figure this out! If i am to wed you and give you all the heirs you desire i need to know your house will live long enough to become my house!" You argue, tone lightly scolding but still light. A light tinge colours Aeron's ears at the mention of heirs but it is brushed off as his tone becomes more serious.

"What would you have me do? My father is the current lord. A lot of people respect his judgment, i barely have enough sway to make any input in our own house meetings. You were there. You saw what it is i face in that room" He sighs as his head bumps into your shoulder in defeat. "Unless of course you expect me to duel him for the seat of lord. Which if i may remind you, i am very much mediocre at."

"And you know of no one in the family that thinks like you do, like us? I remember making some very valid points that last time. I think i even saw some of them consider it." You mention thinking back to the meeting you had interrupted.

"Well dear that still doesnt change the fact that im still only the current lords heir." Aeron counters

"Well..." you mumble trailing off "Does a duel have to be with swords?"

"(Name)..."

"What?"

"(Name)... you are actually asking me to fight my father? Right?"

Aeron is met with your silence.

"....Right?"

"Do you proposed an alternative?" You ask

"You wished for me to be serious and yet you suggest such a thing to me?! I need you to be serious right now (Name)! Yes a duel for lordship is typically done with swords, something i again say i am very mediocre at!"

"Firstly, you initially suggested it-"

"In jest my love!"

"Let me finish" you scold before continuing "Second, you are a knight are you not. People arent typically knighted if they're only 'mediocre' at swordplay. Ive seen you, you are good. You are also brave and compassionate. Something your father lacks. I need you to be brave and fight your father. Of course, the choice is ultimately up to you... i never want you to feel pressured... but i cant think of anything else that may secure our future together... i dont want everything i love to burn..." you gingerly take his hands and bring them to your lips. "Think on it at least a little though. Its not an entirely bad idea."

---

The sun has started to set by the time you arrive back at stone hedge. The ride back itself had finally brought about a feeling of normalcy, after not feeling at home in your own skin - your own mind - it felt good for your betrothed to now know your truth. But as the gates begin to close so too does the sweet moment you had been having, as one of Aerons cousin comes rusing up looking distressed.

"Aeron! Where in the seven hells have you been?! You were gone for nearly the whole day! The boys and i were looking everywhere for you!" He wheezes, face beet red and sweaty.

"Erik? Whats wrong? I had just gone for a ride with (Name). I was sure to tell the guards at the gate to let people know i was gone if anyone went looking for me" he murmurs in confusion. He slides off the horse and makes his way over to Erik.

"Yeah, which wouldve been fine... had we not received a raven from the princess Rhaenyra... asking to reaffirm our loyal to her. A meeting is currently being held to determine our response... there is talk about ignoring the letter and awaiting further news from kings landing..." he mutters.

You feel the world around you collapsing. You hadnt realised you were approaching the point of no return. The thoughts swirling in your mind begin to make you feel sick. You can hear the bracken pair exchange some more hushed whispers, growing more frantic as the moments whirl passed but you cant seem to hild enough focus to hear them as your own panic sets in.

Im too late. I thought i would have more time!

"(Name)? Are you ok? You look pale. Come, lets get you inside and have the maids make a warm bath for you. Erik knows better than to speak of such distressing matters to a Lady." Aeron says, lightly slapping his boy cousin for running his mouth.

"Yes... apologies Lady (Name)." He responds bowing apologetically.

"Aeron..." you whisper, tears brimming in your eyes. "I cant... im sorry... i thought I could-" you whimper as hot tears you can no longer hold back begin to break free.

"My love what are you saying? Whats wr-"

"Forgive me."

As Aeron begins to move back to you and the horse you wrench at the reigns and turn the horse around, kicking it into gear.

"Keep those gates open!" You shout, hurtling towards the gates without a second thought. Panicked and startled the guards freeze; haulting the gates movement and diving out of the way of the raging horse. Flung from his daze in a similar manner, Aeron rushes to the nearest horse and races after you.

"For the love of the gods, (Name)!"

Wind rushes past your ears and the cold starts to bite at your exposed cheeks. The sun feels like its setting faster now. Further driving your fear and desperation to spur your stolen steed foward.

"I thought we had made an agreement! Talk to me please!" The Bracken heir howls, trying to keep pace. But the headstart you had didnt seem to be closing, and his pleas were merely being lost to the wind. As the scenery races by him his begin to panic. You are deathly close to Blackwood territory. You, being a Tyrell and having no ties to the Bracken household - at least not yet - would be able to cross. Him? His crossing would be a declaration. It would not doubt start a fight.

One he scarcely had time for.

He jerks his horse into a stop mere meters away from where the boundary stones were. He can only stare in sorrow and grief as he lets you slip through the open field unchallenged. You continue riding hard, only looking back when you dont hear the hoofbeats of your pursuer. You slow to a stop and stare back at him your eyes mirroring his in pain and sadness. You hold the moment a breath longer before charging off again into the darkness and dangers of the Blackwood lands.

---

You had no clue where exactly Raventree Hall was. A rough idea sure, but being with the Bracken Household you werent exactly allowed to exlore the rivals home turf. After getting off the grassy fields you decided the best way to get to the Blackwood house would be by road. You were no longer being chased, so you had room enough to move at a slightly slower pace.

But you didnt want to dawdle.

A while later a large structure begins to form of the horizon; Raventree Hall. You had made it. Your navigational victory is short lived as an arrow lands a few paces in front of your horse, causing it to slightly rear up in fight.

"Hold there stranger or the next one goes between your eyes!" You feminine voice bellows.

Crap. Black Aly.

"Im not a Bracken!" You shout back, sliding semi gracefully of the horse and putting your hands up. "Im Lady (Name) Tyrell! Im unarmed and seeking sanctuary!"

"And why would we let a wench betrothed to one of those filthy snot nosed Brackens into our home!" A new voice shouts, masculine this time. You can just make out the silhouette of dark haired man, similar in age as you and Aeron.

Must be Davos...

"Since this 'wench' wishes to kneel to the rightful heir to the iron throne queen Rhaenyra Targaryen! Along with potentially stopping a war between dragons." You say slowly inching forward and into better light. Silence follows and as you try to stand with as much authority as one in your position possibly can, you begin to get nervous. The gates swing open and the voices from before; Davos and Aly step out. They are flanked by some of their men, bows and swords at the ready.

"You give such a welcome to all those who seek sanctuary withinn your walls? Im touched to be so kindly considered" you smirk, trying to hide under a false bravado.

"For a delicate Lady of flowers and gardens you sure act like you dont have an arrow at your throat" Aly sneers, arrow nocked and ready.

"Flowers are pretty and delicate yes, but they often have thrones and can be used for poison." You shoot back, eyes meeting dark pools of brown.

"A question for you my lady, how do you intend to stop this 'war of dragons' by using that sharp tongue to weave sweet honeyed words to stop people from fighting?" Davos teases, seemingly impressed at your gall, but unconvinced of your methods.

"Easy. I need to speak to that big dead tree of yours." You haughtily claim.

---

"I cant believe you actually let her in Davos." Aly grunts the group having now moved into the main courtyard area where the ancient weirdwood tree sat. "A pretty girl bats her eyelashes at you, makes a demand from her pretty face and you, in a typical manly fashion bend her whim a reid in the wind"

"So you admit that she is pretty" Davos teases, earning a hard elbow to the ribs which has him keeling over for breath.

"Besides the point!" She hisses "we know nothing about her. For all we know this could be some ploy by the brackens, a test of her loyalty or something to their family in order to hurt ours."

"What could one girl do to a tree that has been dead for almost a thousand years dear aunt?" He reasons

"I dont know? Setting it on fire?" She murmurs

"A doubt she could do that much damage by her lonesome. And if she did, there is no bracken here to save her, she would be dead before she even lit a torch"

"So you say..." Aly grumbles arms crossed.

"Can you two pipe down? This is hard enough as it is with so many eyes watching me." You chastise.

That... paired with the fact that i have NEVER done this before!

You close your eyes again and focus. You think how best to approach this. Taking a steadying breath you place your hands on the tree and whisper. "Helaena?... Helaena can you hear me?"

"Yes."

"Aaahh!" You shriek, tumbling to the ground as you trip over a nearby root. "Holy hells girl give a lady some warning before you jump out like that!" Startled you turn and find her standing in the courtyard with you. Only it is just the two of you. Confusion must have been etched on your face because before you can ask Helaena speaks.

"They are still here, just in a different space. Like a reflection."

"So you mean the pair of us are in the network then? And it only looks like this because this is wear the tree is?" Helaena hums at your question, like your explanation is somehow childish compared to her understanding.

"I need to speak to you, im sure you know about what. Aegon will become king soon, and with it, the downfall of the Targaryens will surely follow."

She nods

"There has to be a way to stop it. Tell there is a way. Tell me what you need me to do." You plead, stepping closer to her and gently grasping her hands. "You must know, Your sister doesnt want to be apart of the thing that tears this family apart. Your grandfather has been pulling strings from the very first moment. I wish to help you protect your children and your family." You peer into her eyes and you see a flicker of sadness pass over them. She seems hesitant to speak. The grief of a loss that hasnt happened yet - a choice she know has no right answer - haunts her.

"Is Luke dead yet?" You ask sternly.

Helaena shakes her head.

"Then there is still time. There will always be time to steer the world on a gentler path for those who know which way the river bends."

At the reassurance in you voice, a small smile forms on her face.

---

It is disorientating when you next open your eyes again, as you are face to face the carving on the weirdwood tree. You turn and collect your bearings, this time minding the nearby root you had previously 'fallen' over.

"Finally" Aly sighs "i felt my legs going numb from standing"

"You didnt need to be here." You growl "im pretty sure 3 bowmen, and two swordsman are enough guards... unless you think id be able to outmanoeuvred them in this intricate gown... or that they are inept"

Davos snorts but is silenced by Aly. She straightens and glares you down, the cool tones of her eyes now heated with barely concealed rage. "You better watch that thorned tongue of yours flower-girl, lest someone cut you down a size." She swaggers off and you are left with the remaining Blackwood entourage.

"Ignore her, she is just cranky that she missed dinner." Davos jests "ill escort you to the chambers youll be using during your stay with us M'lady. It may not be as nice as the ones from your own in Highgarden, but i hope it suits a flower as beautiful as you" he winks.

You roll your eyes, but wait for him to lead the way. "I believe i may grow tired of you and your family's flower puns if you keep this up." You say, wincing when you realise your error. Davos laughs loudly.

"And here i thought we were getting along" he wipes a forming tear from his laughter as he winds his way through the corridors. "Here we are. I hope you have pleasant dreams."

You walk into the room, fall into the bed and groan into the pillows.

"Lets just hope this works"

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd x reader #aeron bracken #house of the dragon fanfic #davos blackwood #aeron bracken x reader

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petrichormeraki · 2 years

Text

Tips For Writing C!TommyInnit, From A Loser With Brainrot

Tommy is LOUD. Whether he's angry or excited or playing around, he's usually yelling. He is not aware of how loud he is unless he's specifically raising his voice to overpower the conversation (which he usually only does when he's angry at someone/thing, or to make a point). He's only quieter when he's serious, at peace, or very very sad

TOMMY IS SMART!!! He thinks things through when he has time to do so. He is strategic and considers other people's behaviors when he plans something out (ex building the tower overlooking the prison slowly, so Sam didn't get as suspicious, and making a point to only inhabit it when it was dark to be less noticed). Tommy knows how people act/think if he's familiar with them, and he uses that to his advantage.

However, Tommy's very impulsive, and his emotions overrun his brains very often. This happens the most when he's angry or scared.

Tommy lets people take pity on him 80% of the time. Unless it's a serious situation and he's trying to prove himself, (ex Logstedshire) he LOVES free shit and he very easily falls into the "oh poor little TommyInnit, he has no family to his name and is dirty and cold, won't you spare some netherite for his poor soul?" narrative.

Tommy is childish. He bickers over things that don't really matter and is the epitome of "he started it!!" when he gets in trouble. He also constantly nags at people until they cave to get what he wants. I have no idea how CC!Tommy plays being a youngest sibling SO WELL since he's an only child but that is exactly who C!Tommy is

Tommy is not brave. He hides behind people to avoid danger and he runs away from conflict if he can. The times where this didn't happen (Exile, Final Disc Confrontation, November 16th) were because he was backed into a corner, literally or figuratively, and was forced to fight back.

more under the cut bc this got very long lmao

Tommy is not very private UNLESS it concerns his past trauma. He will talk about what he's doing, every thought in his head, and what he thinks of everything he sees, UNLESS it's recounting what happened to him. Getting information like that from the source is like pulling teeth, even for people he trusts completely. The reasoning for this (best as I can tell anyway) is that he simply just doesn't want to relive it.

Tommy has a very black and white way of thinking about his allies. If someone helps his enemy, they are his enemy too. He doesn't really care about personal motivations or reasonings unless they're close to him (Tubbo) and he does not forgive easily.

However, he also recognizes power. When Tommy ran from Logstedshire, he ran to the person who killed his best friend because he knew Technoblade was very powerful against Dream. Another example is when he ran to Phil when Dream escaped prison and went after him, even though Phil destroyed L'manburg WITH Dream AND killed Wilbur, two things that Tommy vehemently hates him for. Tommy seemed to not be thinking very clearly when either of these events happened, so this may have been a purely impulsive decision made out of fear.

Tommy squirrels away his riches. He only breaks into his ender chest when he really needs the resources, ie diamond armor and weapons for a showdown. He actually has quite a lot of diamonds and gold if I recall correctly, but he still resorts to stone/iron tools and no armor in his day to day.

Kind of related to above, Tommy keeps momentos of people he cares about in his ender chest, where no one can reach them but him. He is terrified of losing these things because they remind him of when times were good, and he had people he loved. (This was actually said by him, I just don't remember the stream sorry ;;w;;)

Tommy is very stubborn. He doesn't cooperate very often and views the way he does things as the best way. The only time to my memory that he defaulted to someone else was when Wilbur was alive (L'manburg, Pogtopia)

Tommy likes maintaining his surroundings. This includes harvesting crops and replacing them, patching up creeper holes, and replacing missing blocks from his house or the Prime Path. He does these things without anyone telling him to, on his "down time" if you will, and doesn't really call attention to it

TOMMY LOVES ANIMALS. He doesn't like killing them and tries to eat carrots instead of killing for meat (although he doesn't seem to have qualms with eating meat that other people give him)

Tommy has a soft spot for kids/small creatures. He tried very hard to hate Michael because he was bitter about Ranboo and Tubbo's friendship but he broke almost instantly if I remember correctly. He fawns over "cute" things and gets thoroughly distracted from whatever he was doing if he notices a baby chicken or something

Tommy is rarely still. He almost always is doing something with his hands (ie building, chopping trees, etc) if he's in conversation with someone. The only times where he actually sits down and stops is when he's watching the sunset on his bench, or having a self reflection moment/processing heavy information.

I'll stop here, but I plan on making another post that more goes into his speaking mannerisms and whatnot. I hope this helps somebody trying to write C!Tommy, feel free to send me an ask if you have specific questions!!

#meraki post #dream smp #c!tommy #idk how to tag this lol sorry #writing advice #??#i love him a lot i hope this helps someone

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lych33dragoncookie · 17 days

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alright so the main reason i wanted to make this blog; those new Wind Archer trailers.

I already had a lot to say about the first one, for... One big reason.

The fact we're going to the laboratorium is pretty exciting, but I did not expect for us to already catch a glimpse of the Ultimate Cookie. In fact, I had almost forgotten about that; I thought Matcha making MyCookie was more of a byproduct of the Beast cookies needing bodies to inhabit, but...

Well, I guess Dark Enchantress's original ambitions haven't left her. And she's really, really close to realizing her dreams; the dreams she carries on from White Lily Cookie.

It really makes me wonder how White Lily would react to these developments. To see her dreams realized, every bit as horrifying as she most likely knew they'd be, carried on by a part of herself. I really, really wanna see where they go with this.

On another note...

sorry, i just much prefer his Japanese VA HE'S BAAAAAAAACKKKKK~

You have... No idea how frustrated I was to see that the first Beast cookie to release was Mystic Flour and not him. And while it's not guaranteed we'll get him this time, either (even if i really hope we do)... Come on, it's just nice to have him back. He's a really, really fun antagonist. Sometimes, when all your antagonists have complex motives, believing that despite everything they've done, ultimately they're the ones in the right (with even Dark Enchantress only committing as much harm as she has as a response to the revelation that the world, on a fundamental level, was seemingly much more cruel, uncaring and pointless than she had ever thought; a desperate need to make a difference, no matter how many lives and pain it takes), it's incredibly nice to have that one villain, that one villain who doesn't try to find an excuse for what they do, having fun, not believing that they're doing everything that they do for some greater motive, but just to have fun, to make the entire world one big, brightly burning play area for them to toy with as long as they want, however they want. I love Shadow Milk, because he perfectly offsets the usual monologuing, self-righteous villainy we tend to see (And often enjoy, don't get me wrong, both Dark Enchantress and Mystic Flour have grown one me) with just pure, uncaring, show-stopping villainy for the sake of villainy.

He's manipulative, playful, silly, over the top, more concerned with putting on a show first and foremost than actually accomplishing his objectives; because you and I both know that he knows that he could probably just brute force his way into getting his soul jam back, into taking down the heroes without any opportunity for them to do anything about it. If he wanted to, he could very, very easily create an unwinnable scenario. But he doesn't. Because that's no fun.

And I absolutely adore him for it. Every single scene he's in is an absolute delight.

... Right, uh. Wind Archer.

I'm excited for him! It's been a while since we've gotten any Ovenbreak legendaries, and with Wind Archer in the game, it means we're likely very close to seeing Fire Spirit and Millennial Tree (Both pretty big faves for me, though Millie is the one that does unholy things to my brain just from looking at him). And honestly, this feels like a really, really good use for him! No beating around the bush, no overcomplicating anything, just going straight to the point and trying to stop the current threat at its root. He's going to fail, obviously. Even if he takes out the ultimate cookie, chances are it can just be rebuilt, and the beasts on an individual level would be way too much for him to handle. And with Shadow Milk having awoken... Yeah, he stands just about no chance. But, it will be very fun to see, methinks. It's also just a pretty natural fit; a protector of nature that hunts down anything that may disturb or corrupt said nature being sent to strike down what's pretty much a threat that's entirely artificial, unnatural, bodies made through forbidden, arcane magic and ethically dubious means, stumbling upon the culmination of someone's ambitions to create perfect life by artificial means. It works out really, really well, methinks.

But yeah that's my thoughts so far on the 2 Wind Archer update trailers, I'm actually really excited for where they're gonna take this, we've actually got some good plot progression going on and a lot of interesting writing ideas that while I don't fully trust the devs to execute perfectly, I do still really like and feel pretty hopeful for!

... Now just give me Shadow Milk and Millennial Tree and my life is yours. And Lychee, maybe. That one might take a bit. how are they even gonna do Longan in Kingdom. that's... quite a lot to try to adapt without either rehashing content or completely hijacking the plot. god i hope this doesn't mean they'll just stop at Lotus. I miss my dragons. Except not really because OB has been doing some good stuff with them.

Sorry for the really long post, but I wanted to dump some thoughts and have a sort of primer for the kinda stuff I wanna make for this blog.

Oh, and expect some shitposts along the way, too.

#jester ramblings #cookie run #cookie run kingdom #wind archer cookie #shadow milk cookie

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grapejuicestyless · 9 months

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i have had this idea for so long, but i really think you could do this justice. sort of like the film the holiday!!! but not really set in Christmas and more so through the seasons. harry moves out of the city (doesn’t need to be a singer and could just be a CEO) into a small village in a lovely cottage where all of the furniture is mismatched and there’s sash windows which are always open. He’s there for a few months before he starts to feel lonely so decides to bring in a lodger! He hand makes posters and puts them on the village hall board and … he finally gets a taker! It’s a quirky girl who is totally all over the place and she moves in .. the seasons change and so does their relationship.. friends to lovers OR ACTUALLY maybe it could be so interesting for it to be enemies to lovers! That could be fun to write. But idk I’ve been thinking about it for so long !!! They could organise a dinner party for friends one night or maybe Harry goes away to the city for a meeting and that’s where y/n realises how much she misses him / likes him. Definitely has to be fluffy but also needs to have some drama. I haven’t figured that out yet 😭😭😭 I’m so sorry for this really long rambly post but I wanted to give u as much of my brain as possible lol. I would LOVE LOVE LOVE to see what you would do with this / if it’s something you’re even interested in. Have a gorgeous evening / day / morning xxx love you!!💖💖💖💖💖

Bad People

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Summery: Harry and Y/n met by pure luck. Sharing secrets and laughing like little kids, ribs and cheeks hurting. Y/n is sure Harry is destined to be in her life forever. She’s just not sure when that became a bad thing.

FLANGST/FRIENDS TO ENEMIES TO LOVERS

The pale blue sky looked gray from certain windows. The glass was cracked and the stove stained with boiled over soup broth and old sprinklings of spices.

The birds sang solemnly, humming the tune to what I believed sounded like something you’d hear at a funeral. Here, the pavement was cracked and the stars were consistently covered with clouds. Snow, more often than not, fell heavily. From October to April. The nearby ocean nearly always too cold to swim in. The backyard pool cold and clean, still with nobody to inhabit it.

All the beauty ripped from the earth, and replaced with another kind of it. I wouldn’t mind it half as much, if I had someone to enjoy the snow with. To enjoy the polar plunges, the visible breath and numb fingers.

Like old times sake, snowmen and snowball fights. Sledding or fort making. Rosy cheeks and icy hair a memory of the past. Cheeks hurting from smiles, not the winter chill.

The laughter of my mother was long gone, and my brother outgrew his desire for a sibling as soon as he turned sixteen. Few friends, not any at least, that would enjoy the activities the white powder offered.

So now, I look out the window, nursing a glass of wine propped up on the windowsill. I don’t see the snow day ahead or pray for a white Christmas. I pray that one day, I’ll find someone to enjoy it with me. To soothe the pain little eight year old me suffered with the absence of her father, her distant mother and her selfish brother.

“Looking at it won’t make it fall any faster, Y/n.” The puff of air coming from my nose fogs up to cool glass, and my fingers leave prints along the center.

He’s not looking at me, he rarely does when we aren’t fighting. It’s like I disgust him. I feel like a fool every god damn time.

“Have you always naturally been an asshole or did you grow into it?” I don’t look at him, but I feel his gaze settle on my reflection in the glass. His voice alone urges me to take a large drink from the wine glass. The ruby red staining my top lip. I spread it around and taste the bitterness of it on my tongue.

He begins to leave, almost succeeding without a passing glance, but biting his tongue is something Harry nor I have ever been able to do. So it’s natural how he goes for the last word.

“Theres only so much wine, Y/n.” He teases. I down the rest while he walks away. The sigh that leaves my mouth after I feel the ghost of him leaving me isn’t only for air, but because suddenly the room feels lighter.

It’s funny, how someone so special can leave such a disgusting taste in your mouth. Hatred doesn’t just happen. It creeps, seeps, saturates. It’s a pesky little thing that starts small until finally you can’t ignore how bothered you are. It’s vile and cruel. A poisonous little thing that no one is immune to. It’s a sad yet funny thing. To remember that it wasn’t always like this. I didn’t always hate my old friend, bounded to me through the home we share. I once enjoyed the company of Harry styles.

It was nearly a year since I’d moved in. A year since the snow turned to thick ice and roads became bare with people too afraid to try and navigate through the harsh winter.

Nearly a year since I first saw the house at the end of the road, with a neat front lawn and a tree with hanging branches ready to snap.

A red scarf and red mittens is what I wore. With a faded brown coat and worn blue jeans. A hat on top of my head and a journal tucked underneath my arm. He had the greenest eyes I had ever seen. The stars in the night sky didn’t quite shine as bright as his eyes, I swore it to myself.

He had an english accent, one that I wasn’t familiar with. Peach fuzz and dark chocolate curls a mess on his head. When I told him my job, he laughed, but something about his shocked expression after told me he didn’t mean it cruelly. Rather, that he was shocked, or just piecing the puzzle together.

“I’m my mother’s daughter.” I told him, “She always had a thing for poetry. The sappy ones with the tragic endings. I got it from her and I’m damn good at it.” I smiled at him then, and he smiled back bigger.

“It’s just funny. Moving somewhere so quiet for a job all about fantasy and adventure.” He explained, already guiding the two of us through the wide doorway. I set my boots in the old entryway which it seemed he had turned into a mud room. I admired the shade of green on the wall and nodded along. My cheeks hurt from smiling.

That night, while settling into my new space, I shared with him my life. My goals and dreams. With his toothy smile and boyish eyes, he made it so easy to trust him. I sat on my newly made bed and he sat in my spinning chair by my desk. Moving it back and forth, swaying slowly. A cigarette started dangling from his pocket, I still remember the way he took it between his thumb and his index finger. Rolling it around, debating whether or not to light it. It was like he didn’t know he had it.

“I didn’t take you for a smoker.” I laughed at him, he laughed back. Shy almost, only looking at me for a moment.

“M’not. A few here and there. Helps to wind down.” When he ran his hand through his hair, I remember seeing all his rings. A rose and two with his initials. One looked like a lion. That one was my favorite.

Other than his charming smile and infectious laughter, I knew nothing of him, I had come to realize. Here he was, knowing about my family and friends. My job and my hobbies. All I had asked him was his name.

When I asked him, he was just as talkative as I was. A sparkle in his eyes when he talked about his job. I remember specifically, how they lit up extra bright when he mentioned his mother, Anne, and his older sister, Gemma. I learned about his job too. Harry had everything he could ever truly want. The money, the power, the glory. His office at the top floor overlooking the bustling city that never sleeps. Families dancing around the square and traffic backed up into the city line.

The sad thing was, that even with all this pride he got to carry with his reputation, the city was no home to him. The summer held no comfort. Not the same now that he was long out of school. The heat was simply uncomfortable. His lavish suit sticking to his skin. Even the air conditioner couldn’t soothe the pounding of his head against the strong New York heat.

His nose stung in the summer. The warmer it got, the worse it smelled. Garbage littering the streets no longer covered by thick snow. Tourists and their children filling up all his favorite places of relaxation. Each carrying their own scent from home. The calming pine from the North or the tangy citrus of the west coast.

Harry felt no true love for his home anymore. No real attachment. There was no smell of home, and there certainly wasn’t any old faces with their gravelly voices and thick accents. If it weren’t for the business there, he would’ve fled somewhere else long ago. Somewhere quieter. Somewhere that felt like home. If he could, he would have tucked himself back into the small home his mother raised him and his sister in. He would’ve curled up happily in his twin bed and looked out the same crooked window each night and feel happy with only that.

He tells me that when he got in the car waiting for him at the airport, he was tempted to tell the driver to take him home, to see if it would make him smile. He’d seen the gag used in all the old rom-coms he and his mother used to watch. The short blonde running from the love of her life only to be led back into his arms. But Harry know’s better. He tells me so. So when the driver asks him where to, he tells him the address.

He told me about his work life. How there was a branch out in the UK. The one that started it all. And as his success grew, so did his aspirations and his needs. London no longer provided him with the luxury and opportunity that New York could. So he swapped out his office for a penthouse and acted like the smell of burning garbage and mysterious wet spots on the sidewalks didn’t bother him.

It’s a vicious cycle. To outgrow, to long for, to move, to hate all over again. Thats how he decided that London has just what he needed. His business within reach and smaller towns surrounding its borders.

“And what about now? Are you happy?” Harry crinkled his eyes then, smiling a nodding along. He didn’t even mind it then, when I would interrupt. In fact, he welcomed it. Claimed he loved hearing me talk.

I agreed with him when he said that the grass is greener down here. The stars are just that much brighter and theres not a single car honking their horn past nine. All things that left him feeling a whole lot calmer than the chaos of the city.

Here, Harry told me he didn’t mind not living in a lavish penthouse just a few blocks away from his work. Here, he was hours away from the city. He stays in a medium sized cape cod styled house, pre-decorated from the past owners who didn’t care to take their things when they left for something bigger. It sticks out from the rest of the homes nearby. He wonders how something so different ended up within the same area. And he smiled and sat on the floor when I laughed and told him he’d already lived quite the life for a nearly-thirty year old man.

When silence took over after over an hour long conversation, I bit at my nails and looked at the floor. Suddenly, it came to me.

“Harry?” I had asked. He hummed, looking at me. Even if I hadn’t looked back, I could still feel his eyes on mine. “What made you want a roommate?” When my eyes flickered up to his, I saw no hate, or disgust, or shame. Nothing that I am familiar with now in Harry’s eyes. I saw curiosity, warmth and happiness.

“I like the quiet. I like being able to sleep without someone yelling down the hallway. I like how green it is over here.” I nodded, waiting for him to continue. “But the quiet get’s lonely. And while I like the quiet, I hate being alone.” And it made me smile back then. Maybe it still does thinking about it know. He had been helping me in finding a home, some place warm to stay. Meanwhile, I had been able to give back. Give him what he wanted. At the time, my heart warmed.

For a long time after that, Harry made my heart beat fiercely. He brought me flowers and made us pancakes. Freshly picked blueberries from the local market. He cracked jokes and I repeated them back between our broken laughter, imitating his english accent.

He was a charming man, with an energy that invited and kept you drawn to him. Everyone wanted to be around Harry. The men and the women. Always wanting a piece of the pie. I felt rich in life, that while others had to work for a lifelong friendship with him, naturally, we fit together. We worked.

He entered my life by some kind of coincidence. I needed a place to stay and he was offering a room up.

When he brushed his thumb over my knuckles and kissed the skin, I believed we would be like this forever. Just the two of us.

When he whispered to me that he loved me that same night, I thought it was something he would never take back. Something that would never change. His warm breath and glistening eyes. He was red and shiny. A bottle of the cheap champagne sat on the table and an empty glass beside him. I let his lips trail around my hand and laugh at his antics.

“Harry.” I mumbled into the darkness, he doesn’t move. I silently giggle again after he puffs air out of his own nose onto my hand playfully. His shoulders shake with his own fits of laughter, “Harry.” I call out again, and my eyes are met with his dazzling emerald ones. I almost got lost, forgot how to talk looking at him.

My palms were sweaty with nervousness then. My heart beating out of my chest. I wanted more than anything to tell him everything. As a poet, it should have been easy to put my thoughts out in the open air. But they hadn’t sat within me for long enough to curate a straight forward answer.

How would I even manage to start on how beautiful I thought his brown hair was? Perfectly colored like milk chocolate treats that curled over his forehead. Or his toothy grin which pulled butterflies from the pit of my stomach and made me feel lighter? I couldn’t find just one thing to focus on. And the words that came out of my mouth tumbled out quickly.

“You’re my best friend.” I hoped that he would’ve been able to see how much love I held for him in my face. How even in the dim lighting of only the fireplace and the fading lamp in the corner, he could see how they sparkled just for him.

He pulled his hand away after that, clearing his throat and nodding. But he smiled so softly after that I didn’t see how his eyes welled up with tears. I only saw his perfectly pink lips and his rosy cheeks. For once, I wasn’t focused on his eyes, and I paid the price.

He never made pancakes for us after that night. Nor did he ever pick flowers from the fields or crack jokes until our stomachs hurt. My hand was never slotted between his and my head didn’t rest on top of his shoulders. He was colder, more distant. Quiet.

But the quiet grew old for us both. And the slipping away hurt more than anything I’d ever experienced. I was everyone else in his life. Fighting for a spot in the light so he would see me, smile at me, acknowledge me.

Part of me wondered why he never asked me to leave. To pack my bags and find another innocent man to love because he wouldn’t tolerate it anymore. But he never did. Harry hated being alone and I knew better than anyone else. I knew it because I was his best friend at some point. We shared the same breaths and drank from the same glasses. I wore his shirts and he used my hair clips. He kept me around not because he still wanted me, but because he still needed me. And the realization of it all hurts worse than the silence because it’s then I know that I’ve really lost him. It leaves me with the question, ‘What have I done to deserve this?’

I think back on that night when our world shifted on its axis and I go over every word that was said. I check for any signs of discomfort or anger and I find nothing. It plagues me with a new insecurity.

Maybe it wasn’t something I’d said, maybe it wasn’t something I’d done. Maybe the warmth from the champagne grew cold in his blood and the false euphoria from it all cleared from his peripheral vision and he realized that I was no longer enough. I was not what he wanted. The idea of his roommate becoming his only friend too pathetic for a man with such power.

Soon after, I stop putting up a fight. I stop fighting for a spot in his life and I stop trying to win back a man that was never mine. I figured at least if he could never be mine and I would never be his, at least I still got to see his pretty face everyday. And I could imagine that we never drifted.

I wake in the night, I pace like a ghost. The tears running down my cheeks are hot, burning my skin until my throat dully aches and my chest is red with flakes of nail polish and the dragging of my nails clawing at my chest.

I am sobbing, broken and tired. I dream of a life that is not as miserable. I dream of a life where I no longer doubt the things I love. Where I don’t have to question my friend’s loyalty.

He knocks on my door, leaning against it in only his flannel pants. He has tattoos that compliment his skin so well. He looks like a painting. I’m relieved to see him again. Even if it’s under these circumstances.

I wait for him to speak, even if it’s merely a mumble. Even if I cannot understand.

“Can you stop crying? I can’t sleep.” He requests. My lips part and I swear my lungs collapse within my chest. I can’t breathe and somehow I remain composed.

“Okay.” I say quietly, nodding along and trying to find his eyes. They look at the floor, and his face is contorted like it pained him to say that to me. Like it was against his will. But he doesn’t even look at me.

When he leaves, I collapse, shoulder shaking with rage, sadness, confusion instead of the contagious laughter that once rang out through the halls.

I decide then, July moon shining through the sash windows of my room that I couldn’t continue holding onto Harry. My heart still beats for him and my eyes still sparkled when his own lingered for just a moment longer on me, but I couldn’t like him.

Hatred doesn’t just happen. It creeps, seeps, saturates. It’s a pesky little thing that starts small until finally you can’t ignore how bothered you are. It’s vile and cruel. A poisonous little thing that no one is immune to. It’s a sad yet funny thing.

After that night, his selfish wishes turn to bitter comments which turn to vicious attacks at my confidence. And my resilience and devotion to silence, to ignore the cruelty of it all is worn thin. My bitten tongue is freed and I am betrayed by my own words. My own comments targeted at his deepest hurts. It’s a mutual hate between us, a mutual dislike.

We live within the same four walls, the same windows and creaky roof over our heads. We cook in the same kitchen and we sit on the same couch, but we cannot stand each other anymore. The house is no longer filled with love, and the warm heat turns to bitter cold. And yet, neither of us have the guts to leave.

We sit here, in a life thats so mean to us just because we are afraid of the loneliness that is surely to come with the other’s absence.

We are here, but we aren’t present. It makes me laugh, it makes me wonder.

Who could ever leave me? But who could stay?

The candles burned down to the floor, wax melting over the wood as the lights set a warm, homely mood for the night. The late December rush throughout the town turned to the few and far between searching for last minute supplies to ring in the new year. It’s peacefully still outside, and the dining room looks so nice I forget why the candles burn and our nicest plates are set out.

Harry insisted on having a small gathering with some of our friends to celebrate the new year before he went away for sometime for work. Being roommates, despite our lack of interest in establishing our own friendship, his friends become my friends and mine become his. It’s a fairly large group that was once two. But have now become so closely intertwined that it seems hard to differentiate who was friends with who first.

There was wine, pastas and breads. Hams and potatoes. Drinks and endless desserts. It felt nice, to have all those people we cared so deeply about chip in and help to create such a lovely meal for the few of us.

Hearing that first doorbell ring to see all of our friends stood proudly on our crooked doorstep made my heart flutter. Sarah, Mitch, Pauli, Elin, Charlotte, Nyoh. All holding various foods to add to the never ending supply on the multiple tables set in a row.

“Harry! Y/n!” The enthusiasm from our friends seemed to lighten the mood, letting the heavy feeling of heated arguments and constant anger slip down my back and into the farthest part of my brain.

It was times like these where I’d forget how to hate. How to spread anger and disgust to someone who clearly showed none of it in return in these times. Here, Harry was talkative. Always plastering on a fake smile and wave.

He was good at pretending. And while the walls of the house had seen a different story, those around us were innocent, forever unknowing of how Harry constantly belittled me, bothered me. Of how I was no better. How my tongue was sharp and my words shot to kill.

Nobody minded the difference in height of the dinning room table against the kitchen table. How one was round and the other a rectangle. Both covered by one long table cloth. Nobody minded the soft music in the background or how the light wasn’t the brightest. The soft flickers never mentioned.

We let the candles burn until they had nothing left to give, and we ate until it was bare and our stomachs hurt. Here, I never felt like I was trapped. Here, I remembered why I came to live with Harry in the first place. And I was thankful. It was times like these I couldn’t help smiling like an idiot. Cheeks sore and eyes crinkling. I would laugh at just about anything, trust anyone and agree with everything.

“When are you going to tell him?” An elbow to the ribs pulled my gaze from the end of the table, my smile dropping for only a moment at the sudden shock.

“Sorry?” I mumbled softly into Sarah’s ear. Her eyes glimmered with something mischievous, like she knew something that I didn’t. She licked her pink lips and looked briefly back to the end of the table. All the way over by the dining table, sat a few feet away and a couple inches higher, was Harry. Laughing and talking with Pauli and Elin about anything and everything. I couldn’t quite make it out over the soft chatter of Mitch and Charlotte and the clinking of forks on plates.

“Harry!” She called softly. When my eyebrows furrowed she rolled her eyes, sighing heavily.

“I don’t get it.” Forking another bite of vegetables into my mouth, I watched her fight for the right words to say. Her lips finally settling on the soft smile I knew very well.

“Don’t play dumb, Y/n. I know that look. Better than anyone. Thats how I look at Mitch.” She playfully nudged my shoulder. Did she believe that I held any romantic feelings for Harry? I couldn’t, it was impossible. Right?

His rude remarks and his mean demeanor. Sure, at one point my heart beat for the brunette with an infectious smile and shiny green eyes, but now it was a memory of the past. Another pretty face who had thrown away all of his charm and care and exchanged with unwavering cruelty.

“Oh, no. Sarah, I don’t think about him that way.” I tried to wave her off, trying to sound the least amount disgusted by her assumption. I couldn’t help but wonder why she thought that.

“I don’t believe you.” She sounded smug, crossing her hands on my thigh and giggling. “You don’t have to. I believe myself.” Brushing her off, I take another bite of any remaining scraps on my plate. Trying to avoid conversation.

“Come on, you seriously don’t see it?” She sounded exasperated now, even more so when I nodded carelessly. She was getting tired of my avoidance to the conversation, my disinterest in her false discovery. Still, the longer she pushed, the more I felt the heat rush to my face. The more my cheeks burned and my skin tingled.

“I’m serious, Sarah. I don’t look at him in anyway. He’s just my roommate. Nothing more, nothing less.” I lean back, volume brought down to a mere whisper with the dying laugher at the other end of the table.

“Well, he’s your friend at least, right?” The lump in my throat was unswallowable. With the growing tightness in my throat and the clamminess of my palms. I wanted nothing more than to slip away and pretend this never happened. So, I bite my tongue and nod, eyes flickering to Sarah while I do so. I pray that she doesn’t see the tears welling in the corners and how glossy they’ve gotten in such a short period of time.

“Yeah, he’s my best friend.” The lie stings, burning as it comes out. Partially because I hate lying to my dear Sarah, but mainly because at some point it was the truth.

Harry was my everything at one point in my life. He might as well have hung the damn moon and stars. I thought the world of him, wanted nothing more than to feel his arms wrapped around mine all the damn time. And it killed me that we’d gotten so far away from that idea that I had to lie about even being acquainted with him.

“Word of advice.” She started, eyeing Harry carefully. My eyes remained glued to the table, fork wobbling between my pointer finger and my thumb. “Best friends don’t look at each other that way.” And when she finished what she wanted to say, I swear my heart just about stopped. All color draining from my face and my eyes rapidly blinking away the tears by now.

Setting my fork down, I ignore her playful smile and the nudge of her shoulder into mine. I look for another face to converse with, to make me begin to forget everything I was trying so desperately to escape. When I search the table, it seems like each person has found themselves in deep conversation with the other. All but one.

And his green eyes capture mine in a way I haven’t known in so long. I’d forgotten what it was like to be the center of his gaze. How thrilling it was. With my eyes, glossed over and heart beating through my chest, it seemed impossible for me to ever consider looking away. His chocolate brown curls and sweet pink lips in a gentle smile. It was consuming and alluring. Irresistible even.

A face that once disgusted me, shattered my heart, angered me and knocked me down with no air left to breathe seemed not all that frightening anymore. And the warmth that spread in my chest scared me more than anything.

I begin to realize, maybe Sarah was right. Maybe that was why I hated him so much. I didn’t hate Harry Styles. And thats why it hurt just that much more. I didn’t hate him at all, in fact. No, rather my poor heart couldn’t handle the heartbreak and deflected in the most malicious way possible. I missed my best friend.

“Y/n.” Sarahs voice pulls me from my haze, and my eyes are flickering over to hers quickly. Lips still parted and eyes still wide.

“You’re crying.” I hadn’t felt the salty heat dripping down my cheeks until she announced it. My skin too numb from embarrassment to even understand what was happening.

My tongue is tied, and my throat is killing me. I feel like I might vomit if I stay here any longer. I can’t be here any longer, I can’t do it. Not when I’ve just realized what I did. I feel what I felt all those months ago when Harry told me to stop crying. When he shut me out for good and became bitter. I feel all air leave my lungs and my knees wobbling. I am going to collapse.

“I just need air.” I say all too loudly, pushing out the chair clumsily and stepping back. The loud scratch of the wooden legs of the wooden floors turns heads and my heavy breathing tells me to get the hell out.

I pardon myself after that, waving off any concern from Sarah, and making sure nobody else saw my escape. Everyone’s still deep into conversation when I turn the corner. All but Sarah and Harry. But neither of them make a move to reach me. I let myself collapse on my bed, mascara running down my white sheets and back aching from how stiff I became at that table. I silently pray that I’ll sleep through the rest of winter.

When the dinner got cold and we’d all run out of things to say, we all look around and silently agree to part ways. It was nice to have some company, I enjoyed being around these people so much. My heart should have been full, yet it felt heavy and empty all at the same time. Littered with a guilt I wasn’t even sure was mine.

I’d seen the way she looked at me. Really looked at me. Glossed over eyes and a quivering lip. She was red with the rush of adrenaline in her blood. Anyone could see how quickly she began to breathe. It was like she was stuck, consumed by something so strong that it left her powerless, weak, crumbling quickly under an undetermined pressure. She started to cry, biting back a sob by biting harshly into her bottom lip, eyes shaking while she searched my face. I couldn’t help but wonder what had happened. Who had said what, and how I could help her.

I wanted to yell at whoever hurt her this bad. And the feeling of that in itself was unsettling. How my heart still longed to comfort, protect the heart of the girl who once shattered my own with her own words. More than that, I wanted to scream when nobody followed her when she ran. How nobody cared nearly enough about why she was so upset.

I couldn’t understand why I was so invested in her. Someone I was sworn to hate. Someone I had teased and fought for months and let hurt me constantly in retaliation.

But then again, we were no better than one another. We never were. Always saying too little and not opening up quite enough. Creating issues instead of solving problems. We were explosive, nobody could hurt me quite like she could and yet, I felt horrible that she was so upset.

Like the day I’d found her pacing restlessly across the floor. Skin blotchy and eyes puffy with tears. Throat sore with the violent sobs ripping through them. I’d wanted to hold her then too, but I was too bitter to do anything but tell her to quiet down. I felt the same guilt in my bones. And I make the same mistakes I made the first time. I watch her break down and sit with the uneasiness of it all.

Mitch lays a hand over my shoulder, his other arm wrapped around Sarah as he leads her through the door. His eyes look sad and tired. But his smile is genuine and filled with concern.

“Check on Y/n for us okay? Sarah thought it would be best to leave her be for now.” His hand left my shoulder and the door shut quickly after. Leaving me with the unbearable silence and loneliness I felt so frequently nowadays. It breaks down my walls and scares the shit out of me.

Maybe thats why I make my way to the kitchen, shuffling slowly along the floors and leaning slowly over the makeshift tables. A bottle of rouge in one hand, a pack of cigarettes in the other. I stuff them in my pocket and hold the bottle close to my side.

I’m slow, delaying the inevitable question. When I knock on the door, it’s quiet. Almost like I’m hoping that if it’s soft enough, she won’t hear and I can pretend she was ignoring me. But, she does hear me, and she calls out a raspy, muffled welcome, signaling for whoever was hidden behind the door to come through and take in her puffy eyes and wet cheeks.

My throat tightens when I smell her perfume. Something that I would have drowned in not so long ago. She has clothes thrown on a chair in the corner, the same one I sat in so many months ago. I’m tempted to push them off and just sit in the silence with her like we once enjoyed doing.

Her head is in her pillow and her arms are underneath her. She is unaware of who she has let in, but her silence and unmoving body tells me she’s lost all ability to care. I want to leave. I want to turn around and convince myself it was all a mistake. I’d checked on her and she was still alive and well. I’d done my part and I could go on guilt free and forget about how crushed she’d looked just hours before.

When I begin to turn on my heels and pray for this day to be over, I see something unforgettable. A small Polaroid from last year. Just weeks after she’d moved in and charmed me with her beauty and whit. She’s sat with her legs over my lap and my arms around her body. We couldn’t be any happier, and the memory makes my chest sting.

She still cared enough to keep up the old memories of us, even after all the fights and mean glares. Why did she have to keep the damn photo up?

Guilt consumes me once again, and I am faced with the sad woman in front of me, still in the same place as before and just as sad as before. My feet betray my mind, and soon I am stood beside her bedside table with a bottle of wine dangling between my pointer finger and my middle finger.

The glass knocks against her shoulder in a silent invitation. My eyes wordlessly asking her to follow. Her eyes are red, and her lips still shake. She looks completely torn apart, desperate and distraught. Disheveled even. But for some reason in my blurry head, all I can think about is how absolutely beautiful she is in the pale moonlight.

“Come on.” I ask her softly, offering her my hand. When she takes it, she’s nodding already. Trusting a man who deserves no second chances, no trust whatsoever for his cruelty and his inability to communicate. But she follows regardless.

I can’t help but realize how having her so close feels good.

He lights the cigarette for me and watches as I let it burn. My lips twitch as they wrap around the end, tasting the bitterness of its contents and the dry paper.

“How did we end up here?” I ask him, looking over the horizon. The waves are calming over here. They almost silence the ringing in my ears, despite the distance between where we sit, feet dangling over the empty pool edge and the large grass behind it.

He shrugs, snagging the cigarette from my hand delicately and taking a long drag from its end. We swap, my hands wrap around the neck of the wine bottle. It’s tinted green and nearly full.

“Unlucky people, I guess.” He looks at his feet. They dangle in the pool beside mine. You can see just how close we are in the turquoise tint. How the lights make us look less vibrant.

“I wouldn’t consider us unlucky.” I look at the sky, and I can feel his eyes on my face. It makes me swallow, how intense his gaze is. It almost makes it feel that much more real.

“Why’s that?” He asks, twisting the bud out on the cement. It stains the freshly cleaned grey stone an ashy black, but I bite my tongue.

“We had each other. Maybe we aren’t the best people, maybe we’re cruel, but I’d rather argue than live in solitude, right? Company can’t be bought. Even the most painful of it. That’s something real. Something without a price. And we’ve got it.” And it’s true. We fight and we throw shit. We stain the walls and rip the curtains. We start fires and try to blame the other. We make a mess and make amends. But a house isn’t a home without someone to share it with. And at least if we had to suffer to get there, we got it.

“Thats some of your poet shit.” He laughs sadly into the silence, looking at his feet. I laugh along, though I can tell he was only half joking. Then, I let the silence wash back over us. Forgetting how we almost had a full conversation.

“I’m not a bad person. I don’t know why I’m so mean.” He says sincerely. It’s sudden too. I can tell from the rawness in his voice. How his eyes tear up and his lips quiver. His voice cracks. Our feet hang off the edge of the backyard. It’s a quiet life. Even now. With our fights and all the fraud. But it’s never a lonely life, and we only have each other to thank for it.

I want to tell him I know, and I’m so sure of it. I’ve seen the real him, we might just not mesh together. But we once had, and that fact alone holds me back. He takes the lack of response and an opportunity to excuse himself. Pulling his body up by the arms and grunting through the sliding back door. I sit alone in the backyard for hours, body curling up into itself and layers of clothing becoming less than enough after some more time.

“I know.” I whisper into the silence. I know he’s not a bad person, I know it so well and I am so certain of it. I knew Harry once. He’s loyal and kind and the smartest man I’d ever met. And I miss knowing him like that so much.

I thought for a second tonight, I’d gotten part of him back. And maybe I had, but he left so soon I couldn’t really tell all that well. He’s left me back in the silence, wondering what happened to us, and what will happen to us. Why he came to get me, and why he even bothered to open up to me. But he never gives me the time to properly ask, even if I planned to.

I ring in the New Year alone.

The next morning he’s gone. Back to New York for his business in the big city and I am left to sit and think about what was said. A half empty bottle of wine stained with my red lipstick and glitter on the floor from old party poppers Charlotte and Elin had made sure to use before making their exit. I repeat his words.

He’s not a bad person, so why is he so mean? It’s best left unknown. Because if theres one thing I fear more than anything, it’s the realization of rejection.

Even from a man I hate so entirely, it consumes me. That I could not stand to be faced with the fact that Harry and I do not get along simply because we do not work and not because of some other underlying reason.

After all, we had it all. Gave each other everything the other had wanted. Food, shelter, company. There was really so explanation for the bitterness between us.

After all, all this time, despite his anger and hatred, he never left me to the wolves. And despite my heartbreak and sadness, I never left him with an empty home.

A wise man once said to never bite the hand that feeds it. Yet, here we are. Ripping skin from bone until we are left with nothing. We are the ungrateful, the selfish, the cruel. And we both believe that we are in the right.

I am so scared of rejection from this man who I claim to hate because he is the hand that feeds me and I am the hand to him.

We aren’t bad people, so why are we so mean? We recognize all we have to be grateful for, so why do we bite the hand that feeds us?

I guess the vulnerability of it all must have scared us. And while facing the storm, we did what all people do. We let fear consume us and we bite.

Somehow, through all of this. The realizations and the tears and wine and dusty ashes, I love him. Even with my teeth sinking into his skin and his own in mine, drawing blood, I love him. I love Harry Styles. He is my best friend and I am his. That is why I am scared and that is why it hurts so bad. Not because I simply missed him, but rather because my heart was devoted to a man who did not want it.

My fingers fumble over the pad on the phone. I type up his phone number by heart and let it ring. He answers quickly, still waiting for his plane at the airport.

“Y/n?” I can hear the bustling crowds around him and the loud engines taking off from other terminals. I imagine he is plugging one of his ears and mentally cursing the noise for making it so hard to hear.

“Come home.” My breathing is unstable, and my hands run through my hair so much I create new tangles by my neck.

“What? No, Y/n, I have to go. People are expecting me.” He starts to explain how important this is for his business. How it would be so much simpler to be there rather than over a computer screen.

“Fuck them, who cares! Harry, I need you, and I want you, please just listen to me for once. Don’t scoff, or…or roll your eyes or leave! Listen to me this once and if it’s not worth it to you, I promise you’ll never have to listen to me again. Please, it’s important.” I ramble all in one breath, endless pleas met with silence. I can feel the rejection coming, I can hear the way he chokes on a breath, debating what I said.

“Okay.” The phone goes dead with his promise to come home. With the continuous beeps, I slowly come to terms with what I’d just done. But I do not feel panicked, or scared. I feel lighter with the fact that I am about to tell the moody boy something I wished I told him a long time ago.

The door opens with a creak, keys jingling in his large palms. I’d spent the morning pacing the kitchen. Leaving a trail of confetti behind in my wake. I hadn’t cared enough to clean with my endless thoughts and extreme amounts of adrenaline.

“Y/n?” His voice was unsure when it rang out. As if he didn’t know what to expect. The door shut behind him not long before I came rushing around the corner, fingernails bitten to the skin and hangnails bleeding profusely.

“God, Y/n what the hell…” Taking my hands into his, he examined the redness of my irritated skin stained further with dry blood.

“I know.” I looked at him, and he looked back at me like I was crazy.

“What?” His thumbs bent over the backs of my palms, holding me in front of him.

“I know.” I breathed out again, looking at him with such sincerity, praying for him to understand. “You’re not a bad person, and I know it because I know you. Because we fight and we tease and we scream and cry. But I know you because once we didn’t do all of that. And I needed you to know that because it wasn’t fair of me to make you believe that to be true after everything you’ve done for me.” My voice shook with how vulnerable I felt myself becoming. Harry’s hands only tightened the further I explained.

“But what about all I’ve done to you. Y/n, I’ve been awful to you and I never even told you why.” He tried to argue. I shook my head, biting my lips.

“I haven’t been much better.” I smiled sadly. He shook his head back.

“No.”

“Yes.” I blinked hard, pushing back the tears that formed watching his own gather by his waterline.

“No, Y/n, I’ve been horrible. I’ve been mean.” He tried to push away everything I was trying to ignore.

“And so have I.” I tried harder to make him understand.

“But you only did it because I had. And for what?” He finally spoke, voice raised with so much desperation behind it, I froze under his touch.

“Because I loved you so much it drove me fucking insane? Because I still love you and I’m afraid if I can’t get you to hate me I’ll never be able to stop.” He was crying now, pleading with me to make me see his side of things. All I could do was shake my head.

“Harry I could never hate you.”

“But you could never love me.” He argued.

“Thats not true, Harry tell me you know that it couldn’t be true.” I rip my hands from his grip to rest them on his cheeks. I try to wipe away his tears, but his hands cover my wrists and pull them back down.

“How could I? You said it yourself. All those months ago, I told you. I held you close and I told you I loved you. You told me I was your best friend. You couldn’t even pretend!” Neither of us could tell if he was angry or just sad. Maybe both, but no amount of denial would calm him down.

“I didn’t have to, I still don’t have to pretend! Harry, I only said that because I was so fucking scared. Scared of us, of me, of you. Of losing you if it didn’t work. And I lost you anyways, I would’ve just said it if I knew I’d lose you like this.” Our chests bumped and his fingers slipped between mine.

“Y/n.” He whispered into the silence, over our heavy breathing and salty tears.

“I love you, and I miss you.” He didn’t say anything. I could feel him slipping away as soon as his response never came. Not a single word left to say between us. Not a single amount of energy left to fight.

And then he was kissing me. Hard and sweet. Like I was everything he’d ever wanted and more. Like he was hungry, needing more and more of something he had always wanted but could never have. And at the same time, it was soft and tender. Like he never wanted it to end. My back arched within the grip of his wandering hands and my fingers tangling in his curls. I swore I would never let him go.

But it was a swear I couldn’t keep, because air dwindled quickly and spit strung between our lips. Something I would usually gag at, but didn’t mind at the moment. His forehead against mine and arms gripping the fabric by my hips so tight if I moved he could have ripped it.

“I’m sorry.” He apologized in between his heaving breaths.

“Me too.” Looking at him, I could see the red staining his lips from the makeup I’d slept in. It made me laugh, which in result made him smile.

“What? What!” He laughed along cluelessly, letting me back away for a moment.

“You have something-“ I pointed again his mouth and smiled.

“Oh do I? Do I?” He kissed my cheek, smearing the remnants of our kiss across my cheek. “Still there?” He asked with a sly grin. Like he knew he was winning.

So I kissed him hard again, smearing red around his skin and his pink lips with so much love, there was no denying my feelings anymore. There was no hate left to give.

“Yeah, you do.” It was yet another fight, but not one I minded.

After all, thats what we did for so long, it was what we were good at. The teasing and the fighting. Only now it wasn’t bitter, it was playful. And we didn’t coexist with the sole purpose of it.

Because now I was his and he was mine. And this knowledge answered all my questions, all my doubts I’d had before about our relationship and our shared insecurities that led us down this scaring path.

Harry was my best friend, and I was his. And there was no love greater than that.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry x reader #fine line harry styles #harry styles #yn x harrystyles #yn x harry

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skyeslittlecorner · 8 months

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IT'S TIME TO CELEBRATE! KING OF BABYGIRLS IS CHOSEN!

Let me contribute to this competition. As one of the people whose brain was rotten and taken over, let me be the (self-proclaimed) herald of victory.

First, a little kiss for Zagan, Sitri and Foras just because I’m biased and want to kiss my personal babygirls. Also, a huge kiss and a basket of delicacies served by the maids for Amon, and a salute to his nation. We carried out your will, my lord.

Now it's time to recognize everyone who deserves it! After hard battles and bloody fights, let's meet our winners.

Paimon stans, it was an honor to fight with you. Therefore, despite the lack of a podium, you deserve to be honorably mentioned.

Special mention - Paimon

"4th place? What a shaaaame." Paimon leaned in when you said you wanted to put an honorary sticker on his horn. "I'd rather keep it foreeever. Now I have to be caaareful when I wash my haaair! Maybe you can heeelp meee~"

It is true that the inhabitants of Hades are immortally loyal to their beautiful king. No wonder he is on the podium with us.

3th place - Leviathan

You give him a medal, definitely not saying he took third place, unless you want to hang from the ceiling and watch other competitors being hunted down by unspeakable horrors. “You called me what? What a ridiculous idea.” But obviously he likes it and hopes that in addition to a medal, the winner will also receive a kiss. At least.

One of the favorites from the very beginning. Deservedly, Eligos, one of the cutest devils, takes second place.

2nd place - Eligos

“Ohh, only second place?” You almost can't stand his eyes of a kicked kitten, so you gently pat his head and stroke soft hairs. His mood immediately improves, and he catches your hand with a sweet, mischievous smile. "Come on, you have to reward me now." A whole day of cuddles, shopping, eating and your undivided attention awaits!

And, at last. Kneels down. Allow me to pay tribute to our lord and ruler, the one and only sitting on the throne.

1st place - Andrealphus

You caught him off guard. He was playing with his phone, lying in bed, long hair untied and spread picturesquely on the sheets, T-shirt lifted over a chiseled stomach. You rarely saw this beautiful, lazy side of him, and almost forgot what you came for. “I have a surprise for you, my king.” He turned to you. Not that he has to, because he couldn't see you anyway, and yet always tried to face you. “Me?” “Let me serve you, as you shall sit on your throne.” He raised an eyebrow in amusement and got up, but didn’t ask. Silky hair got tangled in the horns, so you parted it gently and placed on his back. Each time you scratched him a little harder. First between the shoulders, then you ran your fingers over the muscles that you couldn't see through the material, but felt under your palm. "We had a little competition." You finally sat down on his lap so he could touch your face, feel your smile under his fingers. “Who among you, devil nobles and kings, is the greatest babygirl. It was a vote, several rounds, like a full-fledged cup. Hundreds of people took part!” “Sounds like fun.” “And you won.” His facial expression didn't change for a bit. “I what?” “You won! We voted and cheered and were with you every round. Congratulations!” You kissed him, but he needed another second to process what he heard. His eyes widened, and his fingers twitched on your face. He cupped your cheeks, stroking your lips and eyes with his thumbs, checking to see if you were joking. “How? You said it was hundreds of people. We have never met.” “But they know you in their own way. You're intelligent, kind and gentle… and you know what? Let's let all those who love you have their say. ” You started reading comments, hashtags, and all the happy nonsense you produced during this time. At first, he couldn't believe it, but you wouldn't lie to him. He hugged you tightly as you scrolled through Tumblr. You were having such a great time, and he felt the warmth spreading more and more inside him. So many people. So many kind words. He, who never had family nor friends, who was not used to closeness, always lonely, always depressed, listened to so many praises and admiration about himself. He was grateful that you included him in the vote. Victory? He would never have thought of it. So many people were with him. So many people loved him. He never knew them, never would, but he wanted to say thanks, to touch and know their faces, to hug each and any of them. All the emotions bottled inside felt down with tears of joy. “I would like to repay all of you somehow.” His voice became hoarse with emotions. Another kiss landed on his lips, as you brushed away long hair that had fallen onto his handsome face. “Do not even think about it. It's our way of saying thank you for who you are. And that's all we want you to do for us. Just be, and be yourself.”

#whb #what in hell is bad #whb andrealphus #whb paimon #whb leviathan #whb eligos #whb most babygirl polls #yes I had it prepared beforehand and you see it only because Andrea won #long live the king!#it was so fun tho op had such a great idea

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sheeparuu · 8 months

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I’ll call it Severed link au for now.

So I was always a sucker for a bad ending and I wanted to put out a few ideas cuz I thought it would be fun. Yes it started from Linked Universe since I’ve seen people make their own versions and I thought it would be cool to do it too. Also, English is not my first language.

Games I’ve finished:

1. Sky: Inheriting a god’s power after defeating them is not something Link would have expected to happen after stopping Demise. Still, if the corruption of his mind and body is not enough proof of that, his old home falling out of the sky might be.

2. Twilight: Having a pointy chunk forcefully jammed in one’s brain is bad, using it to keep switching between hylian and beast form is worse, loosing their mind the more they shift is the worst. At least he might be able to get a position as Ganon’s lap dog.

3. Wind: One would be surprised how hard it is to kill a parasitic entity, especially when it takes over your body as a host. Still, after such a gruelling fight, it might remain inactive for a long time, licking its wounds at the bottom of the sea.

4. Spirit: When the hero fails saving his best friend and end up having to swear allegiance to the demon lord inhabiting her body, everything seems to be going to hell. But having that fight with the said demon awaken something from the sea might be just as bad.

5.Wild: Sometime even if a friendly goat amputates your arm, it might not completely remove the malice from your blood stream, or stop it going to your brain. It might just slow it down enough for you to realize that something is taking over you from inside out.

Games I haven’t played/ finished but I tried to research:

6. Losing your uncle, the girl of your dream and having the path to Lorule closed might give someone things to grieve about. Hoarding magical items and knowledge for the purpose of “keeping the people you love safe” is also bad. Being swayed by the dark magic to the point where turning people into stone to “protect them” is, you guessed it, bad.

7. Time: Once a certain evil entity realizes that the kid carrying godness power is a better target than a mere Skullkid it might just have to switch hosts. Maybe if the other masks the “hero” carried weren’t splitting his mind like hair ends he could have stood a chance.

8. Four: Sometime allaying with the wrong side, even if you plan to change sides once you get the upper hand, might lead to actions that you can never forgive yourself for. And sometimes the shame grows to the point you can’t even face the three other versions of yourself, even when they are fighting the big bad of your world. And sometimes when they lose, you might feel the most vulnerable you’ve ever been.

9.Warriors: Maybe if the portals Cia chose to open lead to worlds were the heroes won their adventures, the story would have been different. Maybe if she never realized that Link wouldn’t be hers, even by force, she wouldn’t have turned him into a puppet king. Maybe if his mind wasn’t completely aware of everything around him, while being completely disconnected from his body he wouldn’t have had to agonize like this.

10. Hyrule: Sometimes when a the kindness and heroism of a child is rejected by the entire world and the cult that’s following him takes a much more manipulative approach instead of trying to kill him, it might just end much worse for the common man.

Notes: I always liked the idea that heroes are not purely good and always getting the good ending, and that if their life had just enough differences they would have failed/turned to the dark side. I mostly thought it would be cool for the characters to have a “failed” version and in my head they could serve as a “self discovery journey” for the og heroes. Like having to compare yourself with your worst version would cause some major introspection.

P.S: Yes I added Spirit since I think he and Wind could have some really cool dynamics. Also if someone already did the idea before me I'd like to know.

#loz #loz link #legend of zelda #my art #digital art #fanart #au idea #loz au #loz fanart #linked universe #lu #not sure it fits the lu tag entirely but was inspired by it

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waytooinvested · 12 days

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Forgotten, Not Forgiven - Chapter 27

This and previous chapters are also on AO3

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They sat in silence for a little while after that, the quiet broken only by a low, regular beeping from one of Kara’s monitors and the distant bustle of the DEO going about its day to day business. Out there agents would be dealing with (hopefully relatively minor) emergencies, hurrying about on important missions, gossiping, arguing, keeping the world turning; but in here behind the closed med bay doors everything was blessedly still. As Lena’s breathing synced to Kara’s, she finally began to feel her heart rate returning to something like its normal rhythm. She was alright. It was all going to be alright now.

‘Lena?’

‘Mmm?’

‘Are you sure you’re really okay to stay here? Because you don’t have to, if- I mean, I don’t want you to go obviously. But I know you walked out on a big event for me, and if you have things you need to do, or if you just want some space to process and be mad at me, you can. I’ll be fine, and I promise not to do anything to get myself hurt again if you’re not here to keep an eye on me.’

The small part of Lena that was still inhabiting her other life pointed out that yes, she really should go. She should be checking on Jess and the demo team, reviewing footage, writing press releases and a thousand other things, but she ignored it.

It wasn’t that it didn’t matter.

It was just that the part of her brain where it mattered was so far away from where she was right now, she couldn’t bring herself to do anything about it but hold Kara tighter.

‘As long as you want me here, this is where I want to be. Anyway, the advantage of everyone thinking I just had my appendix out is that I’m now more or less obliged not to do any work for the next couple of days at least, and even after that I’ll need to take it easy while I “recover from my surgery”.’

Saying this reminded Lena of the other recovery plan she had yet to discuss with Kara, and all of a sudden her stomach was fluttering with a very different kind of anxiety to the one she’d felt earlier. The idea had seemed so reasonable when she’d suggested it to Alex, but now it felt bigger somehow, more significant and… intimate.

Don’t be silly. You’re not suggesting a lesbian u-haul, this is a purely practical, platonic, medically sensible arrangement. Just ask her.

‘Actually Kara… I was thinking maybe we could recover together. Since your apartment has so many stairs up to it and Alex doesn’t have a spare room, I wondered if you’d be up for coming to stay with me for a few weeks? Just until you’re well enough to manage by yourself. It could be fun: like a best friend sleepover every night, only with less Twister and more pain meds.’

‘We have never played Twister at a sleepover. We absolutely should though, I love that game, and Alex has refused to play it with me since high school.’

‘So… is that a yes?’

Lena was already smiling through the question, still nervous but finally allowing the feeling to mingle with a growing excitement at the idea of sharing a home with Kara (no matter how briefly and platonically it might be). But rather than the ‘of course!’ and happy smile she was expecting Kara’s worry crinkle appeared between her brows, and she bit her lip. Almost immediately she released it again with a pained hiss, but instead of answering the question she just muttered something under her breath about stupid hard sidewalks and their effect on the stupid soft human body if you fell just a tiny bit, and how was anyone ever supposed to stay in one piece anyway?

‘… Kara?’

The grumbling stopped.

‘Sorry, I’m just- I’m not sure it’s the best idea.’

‘Oh.’

Lena had considered a dozen potential pitfalls for her plan to take care of Kara through her injury, but for some reason the idea that she simply might not want to live together had never occurred to her. She had no right to feel disappointed by that, but she did. Just a little bit.

As if Kara could read her mind, she hurried to reassure her.

‘It’s not that I don’t want to! I’m sure being roommates would be so much fun, and I’m really, really grateful for the offer, it’s amazing of you. It’s just that… well, I’m going to need help with showering and getting to the bathroom and things, at least until my wrist is better. And I just wasn’t sure if you could… do that?’

‘Oh!’ Lena said again, and then chuckled. Was that all?

She might never be a match for her unfairly advantaged Kryptonian friend when it came to physical strength, but did Kara really think she didn’t have it in her to help someone to the bathroom without dropping them?

…Alright, so there had been that one time at the bunker when she had technically dropped Kara, but it had been mostly Alex’s fault, and anyway, Kara didn’t know about that. Besides, Lena had been keeping up her strength training ever since (despite the voice in her head that pointed out how many other things she had to do, and how unlikely she was to end up in a situation where she would need to carry an unconscious adult by herself (again)), and her muscles had never been in better shape than they were right now. She flexed them subtly, feeling the satisfying strain of her biceps against the unyieldingly tight fabric of her shirt sleeves.

‘Luckily for you it just so happens that I’ve been working on building up my strength the last few months. Don’t worry, I won’t let you fall.’

This time.

‘No, that’s not- I mean, great! Um, wow, that’s- that’s so great, but. Um.’

Instead of sounding relieved Kara’s voice had gone weirdly high, her cheeks blooming suddenly and startlingly pink against the pallor of post-injury shock, and the steady beeping of her heart rate monitor had noticeably increased in a way that made no sense, unless-

Lena swallowed, throat drying as she considered the possible implications.

‘… Is it because I’d see you naked?’

‘Well-’

Kara was now so red she looked almost sunburned, but she didn’t try to bluff or deny it.

‘Um. Kind of? But for you, not me. Things have been so good between us lately, I don’t want to push it too far and make you feel uncomfortable around me.’

‘Oh darling, of course I wouldn’t be. Why would you think I’d feel uncomfortable?’

‘Because of… you know… our fight. The whole…’

Kara hesitated, as if Lena might jump in and spare her from having to finish her sentence, but she didn’t. A dawning, horrified suspicion had begun to form in her mind at Kara’s mumbled words, and she needed her to finish.

After an agonising couple of seconds, she did, in a whisper.

‘The gay thing.’

The gay thing.

The GAY THING?

As in her gay thing?

Or… Kara’s gay thing?

Was Kara saying what she thought she was saying?

It was no good, she couldn’t keep guessing or trying to put the pieces together with an incomplete picture, no matter that she was supposed to know all of this already. She had to ask. Lena closed her eyes for a few moments, trying to picture snow. Frost. Blizzards and ice and the goddamn Arctic Circle to keep her cheeks from flaming, but she was pretty sure it wasn’t working.

‘I think-’

She broke off to clear her throat, and was relieved when her voice came out steadier on a second attempt.

‘I think maybe you and I have a different perspective on exactly what happened in our fight. Would you please tell me your side?’

Kara squirmed.

‘I don’t want to bring it all back up again. I don’t want to ruin this.’

She looked more frightened than Lena thought she had ever seen her before, and it took everything she had not to take the request back, to tell her they didn’t have to talk about it after all, not if she really didn’t want to (but they did have to. They’d put this off too long already. Lena had put it off too long. She needed to know).

‘Kara, I know it’s hard and just after you’ve had an accident isn’t the best time to have this conversation, but I still think we need to. I’m sorry I stopped you when you tried to raise this before, but I’m ready to listen properly now. I’m not going anywhere this time, and I’m not going to get angry with you again. I promise.’

‘Okay…’

Kara stared down at her knees, still looking like she’d rather take her chances jumping off another roof than talking about this, but not arguing any further.

‘So I should probably start at the beginning of the whole Hopeful Paragon thing. Given how our- um… conversation about that went, I don’t think I ever properly explained to you why I was doing it in the first place. And before I do I want to be clear that this isn’t an excuse for what happened with us at all, but I think it might help explain some things. A bit. Maybe.’

Lena nodded encouragingly, trying to look as if she had some idea of what Hopeful Paragon was, and desperately hoping that whatever Kara said next would explain what it had to do with the gay thing without her having to ask (“a different perspective” was one thing, but there was no way to explain why she didn’t know something that was clearly so fundamental to what had supposedly happened between them).

‘Go ahead.’

‘Right, okay… So at the time I was kind of in a rut. I know this sounds like a pretty lame excuse for not doing more with my life, but I stuck out like a sore thumb in Midvale, and after that blending in kind of became my life’s purpose. I kept my head down, tried to fit in, and pushed down all the parts of me that were too loud, or strange, or felt things that people would find inconvenient. Being Ms Grant’s assistant was the perfect job for that person, because the whole point of a PA is that if you’re doing it right, people barely notice you’re there at all. I tried to be happy with that, but the most I could hope to achieve in my day was keeping Cat in a good enough mood that she didn’t make anyone cry, and I hardly ever managed even that much. It all felt so small and pointless, but I didn’t know how to be anything else. Then I created the Hopeful Paragon blog, and I suddenly had this space where I could be something different without having to tear my whole life down. I could still be me the rest of the time, but I could also be a hero.’

Kara winced at herself as she said the word, attempting to wave it away with her bound arm as if forestalling a criticism that Lena had not been going to make. Whatever had happened between them, Kara was a hero. Powers or no powers. Part of Lena wanted to voice the thought, but she held her tongue in favour of hearing the rest of the story.

‘That sounds so stupid now when I’m so obviously not a hero, but that’s how it seemed at the time. The blog got kind of big, and it made me feel confident in a way I never was in my normal life. I got to be loud, and angry, and fight for real change without worrying about getting in trouble for professional conflict of interest, or… I don’t know, being hunted down by someone dangerous I’d done an exposé on. It was this wonderful, private outlet that only a handful of people knew about, and when you and I started talking through it it didn’t seem like a big deal not to say anything at first, because I didn’t really know you well as Kara yet anyway. Only then I did and I still kept putting off telling you. At first because it would have sounded so weird, and then because- because somehow you made it feel like just being myself as Kara was a good thing, like it was the better thing. You made me feel like I didn’t need all the bravado and glamour to be worthy, because I just was. I didn’t want you to stop seeing me that way, so I made more and more excuses not to tell you the truth yet. But the more I waited the worse it was that I hadn’t told you, and then…’

Kara hesitated again, eyes flicking nervously up to Lena’s face and then back down to her own knees, as if she hoped they might take over for her if she willed it hard enough. She clearly didn’t want to say whatever came next, but Lena didn’t prompt her. She sat still on the bed, giving Kara space to find the words she needed and breathing through her own experience of reliving their past. It hurt to hear it aloud, even filtered through de-kryptonised memories. It might always hurt a little bit. But what had once been a knife twisting in her heart was now the gentle ache of a healing scar, and for each painful memory that surfaced in her mind, half a dozen good ones rose up to soften it.

There was so much more to Kara Danvers (to them) than the lie that had torn them apart, and Lena was convinced now that Kara truly meant it when she said she would never hurt her like that again. They were growing past their mistakes, and they were stronger than their history. Stronger together.

The quiet stretched out for several long moments more, but eventually Kara took a deep, shaky breath and continued.

‘When Jack came to town I realised how jealous I was of what he meant to you, and I handled it… badly. After I crashed your date like a total weirdo I promised I wouldn’t ever let myself do something like that again, and I guess the online chats became the place where I was allowed to feel that way. Because Kara knew you were straight and into Jack, and then James, but Hopeful Paragon didn’t. Then when you found out it was a woman who had been flirting with you and you didn’t react how I’d hoped it felt like this huge, personal attack, and I got mad and insecure and I said a lot of things I didn’t mean. And Lena, I know how it sounded, but I truly, truly didn’t mean any of it. Almost as soon as the fight was over I realised what I’d done, but it was already too late by then. You didn’t want to talk to Hopeful Paragon anymore.’

A tear trickled down Kara’s grazed cheek but she didn’t stop speaking this time, forcing the words out even as she began to cry in earnest.

‘I lost you from that part of my life, but you were still best friends with Kara, and I couldn’t bear for you to hate her too. So I kept lying to you, about Hopeful Paragon and about my feelings for you, and… God, I can’t even imagine how awful it felt to find all that out the way you did. What I did to you was the biggest mistake of my entire life, and I don’t blame you for cutting me out for it. I am so, so grateful that you forgave me and came back anyway, but I know that the way I felt -the way I feel- must still make it hard to be my best friend. I just don’t want to push that too far. Because of course helping me shower wouldn’t be about... that, but also, it would be way too much to ask of you in the circumstances.’

Fuck.

Shitfuckfuckfuckshittingfucking FUCK.

That’s what Kara thought they had fought over instead of her making kryptonite?

All this time.

All this time, Kara had believed that Lena was homophobic, and had kept being her friend anyway. And Jack, and James… well, that was a lot to take in too. Was Kara rebuilding false emotions to go along with her false memories for what had happened in those cases, or had she really had feelings for Lena for that long?

Was she every bit as oblivious about Kara’s feelings as Kara had been about hers?

Maybe if she had confessed outright that she was in love with Kara when she had first realised it, her friend would have shared her secret in return, and none of this would have happened.

Lena wouldn’t have withdrawn after Lex had spilled the beans.

Lex would never have kidnapped Kara and stolen her memories.

Kara would never have lost her powers and wouldn’t now be lying injured in a hospital bed, with only sheer luck having prevented her from dying after falling off a roof.

Maybe instead they would be dating now. Working together to save the world and then going home at night to share the same bed.

She and Kara might have had it all.

She reached for Kara’s hand, the tremble in her own obvious as she wrapped her fingers around it and stroked her thumb tenderly across the knuckles.

‘I’m so sorry I made you think I didn’t like that part of who you are, but I promise that wasn’t true. Not for Hopeful Paragon, and never, ever for Kara Danvers. Everything that happened in that fight- you have to understand that what I did then wasn’t what I would have done if you and I were having that conversation. To me S- Hopeful Paragon wasn’t my best friend. She was an acquaintance that I liked and respected, but who crossed boundaries that weren’t hers to cross...’

Lena paused, but only for a moment. Her heart was pounding erratically and she couldn’t quite believe any of this was really happening, but after what Kara had just told her anything but the truth would just hurt both of them, now and later.

‘-They were yours, Kara. James, and even Jack… you never had anything to worry about. If I’d thought you were an option, it would always have been you.’

Kara’s expression flickered through a dozen different emotions ranging from shock, anguish, disbelief, incredulity, and finally, as she glanced between Lena’s face and the hand around hers, settled on a fragile, tentative hope.

‘ Really ?’

‘Really.’

She swallowed thickly.

‘So... if I had just told you…’

‘Or if I’d told you, instead of trying to get you to notice me flirting with flowers and low cut shirts and, ah, media companies.’

‘You- oh. Oh. I’m such a dummy.’

Lena surprised herself with a chuckle, because, yeah she kind of was. Apparently they both were.

‘Maybe, but you’re a very cute dummy.’

She watched Kara’s still-wet cheeks going pink again at the compliment, felt her tentatively turn her hand in Lena’s so she could lace their fingers together, and was hit with a wave of such tender fondness that it was almost too much to bear.

‘So… will you come and stay with me? Let me help you until you’re well enough to live alone again?’

‘I- yeah. Yes. I would love that. Thank you Lena.’

‘Always.’

She still couldn’t quite take in the fact that Kara had actually just confessed having feelings for her, and that she had confessed right back. She had always imagined that if they ever got to that moment, their declarations would be made into the diminishing space between their lips as they met for a kiss that could be held back no longer. She had fantasised about it a dozen different ways, from light and sweet to hungry and desperate. She had kissed Kara in every way and every place she could think of in her imagination and was certain that none of them would live up to the reality of even the softest brush against the unbroken skin of her top lip, but as it was, neither of them moved to make it a reality.

Kara let her head settle onto Lena’s shoulder, and Lena moved so that her cheek rested lightly against the familiar softness of Kara’s hair, their hands remaining clasped together in the small space between them on the bed. It wasn’t the right time for anything more than that, not for either of them. Lena’s silent promise not to have this conversation yet might be lying shattered at her feet, but she could at least make sure that things didn’t go any further until she could be sure that Kara knew what she was choosing, and that this wasn’t just an effect of her false memories.

And if this was all they could have, even if it was all they ever had, it was enough for Lena.

Kara was enough.

#supercorp #kara danvers #lena luthor #supercorp fanfic #my fic #kara x lena #supergirl fanfiction #multi chapter fic #Forgotten Not Forgiven

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