#1.2k words

[clairenatural]

Dean doesn't like the word "boyfriend." He decides this the second time Cas says it–the first time it was new, shiny, exciting. The second time, he fights the urge to cringe.

It's not the "boy" part. It's not. It would have been, for a long time, but he's dug all that shit up and unpacked all the suitcases. They hold hands in public. They kiss goodbye in front of his coworkers at the garage.

It's just–not enough. Not nearly. Jack comes home from hanging out with his friends and fills Dean on the gossip and his boyfriend and her girlfriend and–that's not them. "Boyfriend" feels like a cheap mockery. Like how demons used to tease.

He's heard "partner." He's heard it from Sam, to Eileen, but he doesn't know how he can stomach it. He's said that word too many times. I'm Agent Tyler and this is my partner, Agent Perry. This is my partner, Agent Page. My partner, Agent Stills. All lies. Sam says he likes it, that he's making it mean something real. Besides, Eileen loves it.

Good for them, Dean thinks. It makes his skin crawl.

So he sticks with “boyfriend” and he shrugs off the funny urge to protest every time Cas says it. It makes him happy, and honestly, it’s not like he has an alternative.

It’s a Sunday when he realizes that somehow, Cas does. They’re at the farmer’s market, like Cas is every weekend, but Dean had picked up weekend shifts and missed the past few. Cas is excited the whole way there, telling Dean about how he’d manage to befriend the local honey vendor in his absence, how she’d invited him to a beginner’s apiarist group she helps run. They beeline (heh) to the honey booth as soon as they get there, and the woman--Judith? Janice?--smiles up at them both, hands Cas a jar of honey like she’d been expecting him, and says “Oh, this must be the husband! I’ve heard so much about you.”

Dean stares at Cas. Cas stares at the honey. Judith/Janice stares at both of them, smile fading as the silence goes on a beat too long. 

Dean clears his throat. “Uh, yeah. The husband, that’s me! Ha ha.” Beside him, Cas relaxes, just barely. In front of him, the woman breathes an audible sigh of relief. “Sorry,” Dean shifts. “Just didn’t, um. Realize I was such a hot topic.” 

The smile he gets is almost sympathetic. “Oh, only good things. Here,” she hands him a business card. “You should also come out to our meeting on Wednesday. Lots of people bring their partners.” She leans in, almost conspiratorial. “Beekeeping can be wonderful for couples.”

It’s at this point that Cas clears his throat and finally looks up from the honey in his hand, evidently giving up hope on escaping this conversation. “Thank you, Janet.” (oh. Janet.) “Dean works late on Wednesdays, but I’m very excited to see you all.” He’s pulling out money as he says this, apparently deciding to just go ahead and end the entire interaction. He hands her the bills, grabs Dean’s hand, and is already moving away from the booth by the time Janet calls “See you Wednesday!” after them.

Cas drags him all the way back to the car without stopping for tomatoes, or Sam's carrots, or the free-range eggs that are way too expensive but Cas buys anyway because you can taste when the hen is well cared-for, Dean (whatever that means). They slide into the car, still not talking, and sit in silence for several long seconds. Dean stares at Cas, who stares out the windshield at the parking lot.

"I can explain," Cas speaks, finally, right as Dean was about to open his mouth and say anything to break the silence.

Dean pauses. Can you? Cause I feel like I missed a few chapters, he thinks.

"I don't work late on Wednesdays," he says instead.

"Oh." Now it's Cas staring at Dean, and Dean staring out at the asphalt.

He turns the keys. He drives them home.

Later, making dinner, Dean rolls the word around in his head. Husband. He's making his husband pasta (It's missing the tomatoes. He's made more with less).

Husband doesn't feel like a costume, like an ill-fitting suit and scratchy tie. It doesn't feel like high school gossip, or a monster trying to hit him where it hurts. It settles in warm in his chest.

It's just the two of them that night, and they're eating in the comfortable silence of the bunker until Dean clears his throat and brings it up. "Why does Janet at the farmer's market think we're married?"

Cas pauses, fork of pasta halfway to his mouth. He puts the fork down and takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not mad," Dean hurries to clarify. "It's just that there's usually, uh. Steps, you know. Like a whole....thing."

"I'm aware." Cas sighs. "She assumed, seeing us around - the first time I spoke to her without you, she asked where my husband was. And I..."

"You didn't correct her?"

"...No. I, um." Cas is looking down at his plate again. He picks up the fork, still half-full of pasta, then puts it back down again. "I didn't want to?" He says the end of the sentence like a question but looks back up at Dean and squints just a bit, and Dean knows he's watching for a reaction.

"Uh huh."

"It felt trivial."

"To tell her we're not married?"

"To call you my boyfriend." For the first time, he stumbles over the word.

Dean blinks. "You--" he stops, brain processing too much information to finish that sentence. "Okay." He leans back in his chair. Sighs. Rubs a hand across his eyes and lets it drag down his face. "Okay, listen. I don't like boyfriend either, but we gotta...talk about it."

"We are talking about it. You don't like it either?" Cas leans forward as Dean slumps back, following him across the table.

Dean snorts. "No, man." He shakes his head. "It's been a decade. I've seen you die." Six times. But who's counting.

"I agree." Cas pauses, and then, as if it's the most natural conclusion in the world, "Will you marry me?"

Dean actually laughs at this. "You're asking me that now?"

Cas quirks an eyebrow at him. "I've grown quite fond of calling you my husband at the farmer's market. I'd like to continue."

Dean stares at him in disbelief. It's not how he'd pictured it going, but he also can't think of it going any other way. Slowly, he nods. "Yeah, okay. Let's be husbands."

Across the table, Cas grins at him.

"But we're getting rings," Dean points a finger at him, because something about this is going to be normal.

"If you'd like. Although I already told Janet that you can't wear a ring because of your work at the garage, and I don't wear mine in solidarity."

"Rings," Dean insists, and decides to overlook the rest of that sentence. For now. He stabs his fork into a pile of the pasta. "And let me stop for the damn tomatoes next time."

They get rings and wear them on chains around their necks. Cas puts a beehive on the hill, and there's a small ceremony in the summer - a "vow renewal" to Cas' beekeeping group, who all receive invites attached to little jars of honey. Janet gets the nicest one.

#mae clairenatural writing fic in the year 2023...... #go easy on me im rusty #i started this a year ago and decided to finish it and that was PAINFUL #destiel #deancas #destiel fic #1.2k words #my words

[kod-lyoko]

Rating: Mature Relationships: Mac McDonald/Dennis Reynolds Summary:

It's 1998, and the gang just bought the pub. To celebrate such a great occasion, Mac got a tattoo. It's another tribal one, now Mac's third, and Dennis despises it.

#here's my first ever fanfic #macdennis #1.2k words #it's not a lot but it's an honest work

[pbaintthetb]

Maya & Phoenix post 1-2 fic

Phoenix and Maya have escaped prison sentences, proven the guilt of Mia's real killer. Phoenix has managed to get some closure with his dead boss saving his arse, and Edgeworth is finally back in his life. Gumshoe the weird police officer has even thrown some confetti down from the ceiling to celebrate Phoenix's innocence- or Phoenix's win? Or Redd's guilt- Phoenix doesn't actually know and he's not going to interrogate that too much.

But the point is that it all feels like some kind of fairytale ending and everything is finally going right-

except

Except Edgeworth hates him, Mia's still dead and Phoenix doesn't want justice, he wants Mia alive. And Maya... Maya's standing holding her bag, not looking at Phoenix but into the depth of the street, lit only by the street lamps, the moon hidden by the clouds.

Neither of them say anything, Phoenix feels like he should but he can't find it within him. All the pain he's feeling must be tenfold for Maya, so he just stands awkwardly next to her, waiting to see what she'll do. He feels like a lost child-

And then Phoenix remembers, for all Maya is a Fey, for all she'd channeled Mia earlier it's Maya, not him, who is the child in this situation. His days of trailing behind are over.

So,

Phoenix clears his throat.

"Do you need..." he starts before trailing off aimlessly, he'd meant to ask if Maya needed help getting home- but where was home? And how much use would he be? Did she even want his help? It's not like Phoenix could give her a lift, and his wallet is straining, but considering everything he could probably fork out for a taxi.

"The last train to Kurain leaves in twenty minutes," Maya tells him with a cracking grin that makes his smiles in court look positively glowing.

Phoenix doesn't say what he's sure they both know. The station is a twenty minute drive away, it's gone 11pm at night and they're standing in the street free, but at what cost?

"And Mia's keys are still in evidence," Maya continues voice getting higher, "Why didn't I ask that Gummy guy? I'm so stupid!" She breaks off with a sob and Phoenix has drawn her into a hug before he's actually thought about it and wondered if he should or not.

He lets go almost immediately; Maya stiffens and he starts to regret it.

"Come back to mine," he offers, then corrects, "If you want I mean. I've just done laundry so you can take the bed..." Phoenix rubs the back of his head smiling awkwardly, "It's the least I owe you."

If pressed Phoenix might struggle to name exactly what he owes Maya for, but he's sure that he does. For something, for not being enough.

Maya gasps, sounding scandalised.

"You're an old man Nick, you can't sleep on your sofa! What about your back?!"

Phoenix gapes, too taken aback to even splutter for a few  moments.

"I- what-"

////////

they walk back to Phoenix's, he's too tired to try and organise a cab right now. Maya doesn't complain so Phoenix tries not to feel bad.

There's someone pissing outside his building when they arrive, because when is there not? He barely notices, but Maya shifts behind him a little.

Phoenix carefully guides Maya forwards with his hand on her back and takes care to lock the door behind him again.

"Bathroom, bedroom, kitchen," Phoenix lists off in quick succession, pointing to the respective door. Technically the kitchen doesn't have a door but it has a doorway so Phoenix likes to be fancy and consider it a separate room.

Phoenix is a functional adult, but barely, so he doesn't have spare sheets. Instead he grabs one of the pillows off his bed  and the blanket Larry gave him in uni (or left him in uni more accurately) from the top of his wardrobe.

A bit of rummaging in his sock drawer reveals the spare towel which he promptly gives to Maya. Maya who is sitting, knees drawn up, in his corridor eyes drooping.

"Here," he tells Maya, the girl he barely knows but who saved him from going to jail and who he saved in turn and is the sister of his dead boss. Or is he the employee of her dead sister? Whose story does Mia’s death belong to?

Maya looks at him in confusion for a moment, before understanding sparks and she takes the towel. God can Phoenix sympathise, he wants nothing more than to sleep right now, his limbs feel heavy and his eyes feel dry.

He watches Maya slowly pull herself up and he’s torn between hovering in case she needs something (like instructions on how to turn on Phoenix’s slightly temperamental shower) or to give her some privacy in her grief.

He settles for mumbling “oh shit, spare clothes,” and heading back into his room to get her his largest t-shirt and smallest shorts. They’re probably still too big for her but at least she has the option.

He dumps them in her arms, and then feels bad for the dumping but he’s pretty sure both of them just want to lie down right now, Phoenix’s couch and old blanket have never felt so appealing and-

And Phoenix had just done his laundry but then- then the past few days had happened so it’s still all sitting in the dryer which means Phoenix has to make the bed- and he could sob. He really could.

But he can do this for Maya, he can do this much, so he drags his sheets out and tries not to think about how much he wants to go to sleep wake up.

Maya’s hair is damp, but it’s with water, not blood, and she doesn’t really look that much like her sister. So Phoenix tells the wall above her head that Maya’s welcome to anything in the kitchen before collapsing on the couch. He has enough sense to take his jacket and tie off, but he’s still in his suit pants and shirt, blanket up to his waist and pillow under his head.

His feet hang off the arm of the couch but Phoenix could sleep anywhere at this point.

////////////

Or perhaps he could sleep nowhere, because while he’s exhausted and while he can barely keep his eyes open, it’s still dark hours later and Phoenix feels just as empty as he did before.

He hasn’t even started to cry yet and he still feels empty, is that bad? He’d cried about Edgeworth when he’d left at age eight. His boss, his mentor, his friend, Mia, is dead and his eyes are dry.

Phoenix isn’t eight anymore, and he’s not crying about Edgeworth anymore (he refuses) it’s just…

He’s too tired to do anything but sleep, and he’s too melancholic to be able to close his eyes. He doesn’t like what he sees behind his lids.

He could turn the TV on but he doesn’t want to wake Maya up. It’s not like he’d actually watch it anyway.

////////////

He hears the soft pad of Maya’s feet before he sees her, for her part, Maya doesn’t seem to notice him until she’s standing in the doorway between his kitchen and living area, holding a glass of water.

He notices this because he hears a small intake of breath.

Maya sits by the floor on his legs, shoulder brushing his blanketed knees, drinking water.

Phoenix adjusts the blanket slightly, neither of them say anything. They watch the blank television until morning.

#1.2k words #fic #ace attorney

[laffy-taffy-creations]

Human x Demon Snippet #5 - Home

Type: 1st-Person Description

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Finally free from the temporary hell that is work, I turned the key in the door to my apartment. Nothing like the sweet escape from daily life that is returning home after dealing with annoying coworkers and even more annoying customers. Opening the door, I almost immediately could tell someone else was inside. Not like it'd be difficult to hide when they're sitting on the end of the couch in full view of the front door to the small apartment. I sighed as I recognized the person, talking to them while taking off my shoes with the door almost-but-not-quite closed behind me.

"Alright this has got to stop. You can't just appear here whenever you like," I told them. I set down my keys on the TV stand while fully shutting the door, not taking my eyes off the creature in front of me. Something was… off though…

"S-sorry I just…" they stammered, making a small sniffling noise while doing so and seeming to hug their knees tighter to their chest. At least they'd taken their shoes off, but that was far from my main concern.

"Are you-... are you crying?" I asked. 

They shifted slightly, trying to speak but not getting any farther than "I-..." a few times. Their tail wrapped around them a little tighter, the heart on the end defined but the edges a little too dull to do any damage if they were to brush it against someone else.

Something happened. And they teleported here again out of distress, so whatever it was clearly had importance.

I practically slammed my hands into the doorknob out of urgency, locking it, and the deadbolt too just to make sure no one would be coming in. "Alright, what's wrong." I basically demanded an explanation as I walked over and sat down on the other end of the couch, sitting criss-cross facing the demon in distress.

At first the answer just came out as stutters, ramblings, trying to form sentences but failing as their breathing quickened from being forced to think about whatever had happened again. "I cant- I dont-.... are demons really that bad?" they finally got out through more obvious tears and sobs.

I got confused. "Wait, have you never met another demon?"

More stutters and a mostly formed thought spilled from their mouth, breathing slowing ever so slightly as they focused on something different, "I-I might've but I don't specifically remember any…" they said, shrinking in on themselves a little more.

I began to think back to my past interactions with them.

"You've never met a demon, you didn't know you can teleport, and actually I don't think you told me you know what type of demon you are… have you been living under a rock?" I said in a slightly accusing tone before I was able to think about what exactly I was saying.

The answer was silence. Silence and small uncomfortable shifts, accompanied by one or two sniffles.

"..."

I mentally cursed myself before coming up with a new question to help the situation a little bit, "What made you teleport this time?"

A bit of silence and shifting as they calmed themselves, and they gave me an answer.

"I… I don't know…I was out and about trying to go to the library so I might be able to find a book on demons, and maybe figure some stuff out? But instead the desk person called someone once they saw me, and these people showed up trying to restrain me or hurt me or something, and I panicked and ended up here…"

A small sigh escaped. One of frustration. Frustration for the people who saw a rather harmless demon and panicked, frustration of what the hunters did despite potentially clear signs this demon wasn't a threat, frustration over the whole situation in general. "You have to be careful. Not many people know about demons, I'd say half to a quarter actually know about them but usually they're taught how to recognize one and there are several local numbers for demon hunters and trappers."

Something similar to curiosity crossed over the demon's face. "How often do they actually get calls?" they asked.

"Hard to say, but I'd bet you they get a few each week, enough probably to stay in business."

"Oh…"

That was all. A small little 'oh' as they came to the realization that things probably weren't as nice as they might have been taught, or were worse than what they'd thought.

"You don't know any of the ropes around here, do you?" I asked.

A small confused look from them. "I don't think I do…not if I don't know what that means…" they answered with a small laugh.

"Basically know your way around. You can't quite understand the human world can you?" I said.

They shook their head.

"No… I've only been exposed to it and the fact I'm a demon for a few weeks."

That left me with more questions than I'd planned on asking. "You've only known you're a demon for a few weeks? Where are you even staying?" I blurted out. Once again I cursed myself internally for being semi-condescending when the situation really didn't call for it.

"...nowhere currently…" they mumbled quietly.

"...I'm not usually one to trust when it comes to policing behaviours, but I'm pretty sure that's not right," I told them. 

They quickly answered, "I know, but I can't find anywhere that'll take a demon, much less any type of job or way to conceal myself so I might get those things…"

I thought for a minute. They're harmless. They keep coming back to me. Then I had an idea.

"Okay, remember what I said when I first walked in?" I asked, trying to be somewhat gentle and slow.

"'You cant appear here whenever you like'?"

I nodded.

"Yeah. Take what I said. And throw it in the garbage."

Their eyes almost instantly lit up.

"Really?" They asked excitedly, changing positions so they were less tucked in on themselves, but still a little wary.

"Yep. You cant just live nowhere, and if that's been your arrangement, it's time that changed. You're a demon who barely knows you're a demon or anything that entails, you're harmless, and the only thing being harmless in a world filled with demon hunters is gonna do is get you killed. So, from now on, you can live here. You've already designated this place as your safety net, so why not home as well?" I explained. "Just, be careful when I have guests over. They'll probably freak out and throw something at you."

My back suddenly hit the arm of the couch as the demon had jumped on me, arms wrapped around me in a hug, and practically shouted in my ear, "Thank you so much!"

I semi-reluctantly returned the embrace, not quite used to physical affection but knowing they needed it as they shed a few happy tears into my shoulder.

I gave a slightly awkward laugh. "Eh. Not much else I could've offered you. Not much else I should've offered you. But I'll take it. Humans are jerks sometimes, so I get it."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#writeblr #writing #writers on tumblr #writers #creative writing #demon x human #human x demon #human x demon snippet #my writing #1.2k words

[shelfthe-reader]

New Fic!!!

#jason grace #i made him sad #he’ll be happy eventually i promise #and gay #heroes of olympus #rick riordan #ao3 #oneshot #1.2k words #shelfthewriter

[t1oui]

@jegulus-microfic | april 27th | diplomacy | 296 words | cw: mentions of walburga black's a+ parenting, internalized transphobia

When Regulus was little, he and Sirius were always told to be on their best behavior around guests.

It never mattered who the guests were. As long as there was company at their house, the boys were expected to be stoic, perfect, the utmost example of diplomacy. For Sirius, this meant putting away his smirk. Doing his hair so it looked groomed even when he refused a haircut. Putting on his best dress robes. For Regulus, it meant hiding his whole identity.

He remembers screaming as his mother forced him into a dress when he was five, and he remembers knowing not to make a noise of protest by the age of seven. He remembers seeing Sirius watching him from the doorway, trying to figure out what was so wrong with looking nice for tea with their cousins.

Now, as James pulls him through the department store, Regulus can't help the way his eyes dart around. Can't help his confusion when James keeps pulling him towards the back. He stops, and James turns to him.

"Reg? You alright?"

Regulus shuffles his feet. He most definitely is not alright, and he knows that James is very aware of that fact. "The dresses are back here," he says quietly, looking towards the ground.

"I didn't think you wanted a dress," James says, sounding a bit surprised. "But if you want to look back here, we can -"

"Want?" Regulus asks, eyes flashing up to James as if he's never heard the word before. James stares at him, concern evident in his features before his expression shifts into a soft smile.

"Yeah, love," he says, sliding his fingers between Regulus's again. "You can get whatever you want."

Regulus practically runs towards the suits, James laughing as he trails behind him.

#hp fandom #harry potter fandom #hp #marauders era #james potter #regulus black #jegulus #another subpar microfic but oh well #i wrote these all in 1 evening #1.2k words and i forgot how to write apparently #james x regulus #sunseeker #starchaser #jegulus microfic

[eldritch-nightmare]

possible tw: blood, murder, ritual sacrifice, alcohol, many mentions of drunk people, brief mention of vomit though there isn't actually any in the story

idk man i'm just thinking about how the spot where jack got sacrificed is probably considered a 'party spot' by both high schoolers and college students so every party that matters always takes place there because people love to be cool and edgy and don't care about the fact that it was a spot of ritual sacrifice and that the cult members performing the sacrifice were all brutally murdered by some unknown killer.

and i'm thinking of you being dragged to a raging party there by your friends. you didn't want to go, you had like multiple papers to write and your professor was giving you absolute shit for not meeting the deadline like everyone else but your friends don't care.

"you need to relax! have some fun! live a little!"

that's their reasoning, and it's not like you can just ditch now. you were the designated driver, and you're far too nice to just abandon your friends at a party while they're all getting shitfaced.

anyways, the party is filled with other students from your college. most of them are drunk, and the place is honestly starting to feel like a scene out of a shitty slasher. you're half expecting jason voorhees to walk out of the forest and murder everyone here.

that doesn't happen, thankfully.

no, instead, over the blaring music blasting through the bluetooth speakers, the host/DJ of the party announces that in memory of the many that were sacrificed at the altar everyone was partying around, an offering should be made.

an offering of blood, that is.

which... that's a fucked up thing to suggest, you think. people died. people were killed here. it's fucked up enough that there was a party going on here in the first place, but to make light of something so tragic in such a way just feels disrespectful to the people that died.

and maybe it's because of the alcohol almost everyone here was drinking, or maybe it's some form of peer pressure but everyone, including your friends, seemed to dig the idea.

maybe this is a low-budget cult classic slasher...

you honestly weren't even paying attention to what was being said anymore, instead going over to one of your friends to tell them you were just gonna wait in the car until they were ready to leave.

but when you were stepping away from them to do just that, they were suddenly grabbing your hand and holding it up while excitedly pointing at you.

"they'll do it!"

"excuse me?"

because you're not even sure what the hell your friend just signed you up for, and you didn't even have a chance to do anything before you were being pushed forward and then dragged towards the altar.

you resisted, of course, because you did not want to take part in whatever it was they had planned. you're quite content with your blood staying inside of your body. where it belongs.

it's harder to fight against multiple drunk people than you thought it would be.

"guys, this isn't fucking funny, stop it-"

a blindfold is being forced on you, robbing you of your sight as you're forced down onto the altar. then your hands were bound together, which was only putting you further on edge because it honestly felt like they were actually going to 'sacrifice' you.

your demands for this to stop were ignored as the host of the party went on and on about the tragic murders that took place here and how your blood would appease the angry spirits of the 'poor lambs' that were slaughtered. the guy was starting to sound like a member of a cult, honestly.

which... considering the location, coupled with the sudden demand for sacrifice... well. you're really hoping this was a joke, honestly.

this was starting to go on for far too long to feel like a joke anymore, so your annoyance began to bleed away to genuine fear, "guys, seriously. this isn't funny."

and when you felt the sharpness of an actual blade press up against your neck, you began to realize that this situation was actually dangerous.

"let the sacrifice commence!"

and the blade against your neck pressed down hard enough to draw blood, but before any real damage could be done, the screaming started.

you're... not sure if this was part of the sudden impromptu ritual you found yourself in.

it sounded genuine. one person started screaming, and then another. until everyone at the party was seemingly screaming. the blindfold over your eyes prevented you from seeing what was happening around you, but the blade pressed against your throat was suddenly gone and you could hear it clanging as it was dropped on the altar.

"run!"

"oh my god, what is that?!"

"h-hey man! it was just a joke!"

"don't hurt me! please don't hurt me!"

and then everything went silent. too silent. even the air was still. you were far too afraid to move, even more scared to speak.

but that's when footsteps filled the silence, and you could hear as they approached you.

you couldn't help but flinch when you felt a hand grab your bound wrists. you tensed up, waiting for the worst. instead, you felt the rope binding your hands together come undone.

another hand pulled your blindfold down, and your blood ran cold at the scene surrounding you. there were bodies everywhere. some were still twitching. all of them were gruesomely murdered, their throats ripped out.

you had to force yourself not to vomit, especially when you recognized a few of the bodies to be your friends.

but the carnage around you seemed to pale in comparison to the man that stood in front of you. he was... very much not human. he wore a mask, so the only feature of his face that you could see was his eyes. or... lack thereof.

he didn't say a word, and for a moment, you didn't either. but the silence was too loud.

"are you going to kill me?"

and he tilts his head slightly at the question. the mask he wore hid away his expression, so you weren't sure if your question confused him or amused him.

he doesn't speak, but he does step away from you. that was enough to tell you that no, he did not plan on killing you. you don't say anything else after that, and you don't take your eyes off of him until he leaves you alone on the altar, surrounded by numerous bodies.

the drive back to your dingy little apartment was deathly silent. you were alone, but you didn't feel alone. and when the morning came, news broke about the massacre. every body there had its organs missing, and the police had no leads on who the killer was.

the blade that had your blood on it was gone, so there was no evidence that you were ever even at that party.

and after that night, every night to follow it was... different. even when inside the safety of your own home, you felt as if you weren't alone. something was watching you. you knew who it was, you just chose not to acknowledge it.

the glimpses of blue that you caught outside your window every other night was enough to confirm your suspicions.

you aren't sure why he was watching you. maybe it was to make sure you didn't go to the police, though you sincerely doubt they'd believe a word you said if you tried. or maybe it was something else.

you don't know. but you caught his attention.

you can only hope that nothing bad comes from that.

#archived mind of v: rambles and blurbs. #1.2k words of. something. #this got away from me i wont lie. idk what it is. #anyways im the friend btw /j #signing u up for ritualistic sacrifice so u can meet the demon of ur dreams #anyways there isn't a lot of romance but trust me #trust me there is #i was originally gonna have him lick your blood off the cut on your neck but #i withheld. #eyeless jack x reader #eyeless jack x you #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x you

[pettyprocrastination]

Reluctant Bride

Pairing: Ellaria Sand x Baratheon!Fem! Reader (background Oberyn Martell x baratheon!fem!reader)

warnings: description of war, derogatory description of women, forced marriage, oberyn talks lowly of the reader’s appearance and status because he’s angry he has to marry in the first place, Oberyn is a dick but he gets better, (this makes it sound worse than it is lol. Just lore building with angst and sapphic yearning lmao. 

Summary: Just months after the rebellion has ended, Ellaria Sand meets her lover’s betrothed.

word count: 1k 

_____

Ellaria was dressed in finer clothes than you on your own wedding day. 

Orange silk embroidered with golden serpents hugged her curves and fine jewels were weaved into her hair that your betrothed seemed content to twirl with his finger as he leaned in to whisper in her ear. 

You didn’t need to be told who she was. The beautiful woman by your husband’s side, you saw it plainly in his eyes. Love and devotion that could never be found in a marriage under the sept’s roof, but rather one made by affection and passion. 

Ellaria Sand was more of Oberyn’s wife than you ever thought you would be. 

But bless the poor woman’s heart, she was frightened. 

She didn’t want to come to his wedding at first. But Oberyn has all but begged her to, laying gentle kisses up her arm until he was mumbling his plea into the crook of her neck. 

“If I will be forced to wed against my will, the least you can allow me is the pleasure of having my true love by side when I am chained to another.” 

He always has a flair for dramatics, her sweet prince. 

But Ellaria felt it, as she entered Storm’s End by his side, the judgemental stares and hushed whispers when his hand did not release hers. She knew exactly what they thought of her without ever heaving to hear their voices grind against her ears. 

“He brought his whore?”

“To his own wedding, the gal!” 

“She’s a bastard too, I heard.” 

“That’s the dornish for you, debauched dogs, every single one of them.” 

But she would not flinch at their words, she knew she was a bastard since birth, Dorne may have welcomed it but the rest of Westeros had no issue reminding her and every other sand in the world of their place. She learned it well and wore it with pride. She was the lover of the Red Viper, a child of house Uller, the gossip of tittering lords and ladies did not frighten her. 

However, the Baratheons did. 

She would be a fool not to, truly. They were the ones that started the war, plunging the realm into a year of bloodshed and horror that their eldest son charged headfirst into without a second thought. 

Strong, dutiful, dangerous. 

As she entered Storm’s End, thunder echoing against its stone walls that made their grand home resemble a shadowed cave rather than a castle, she is reminded of their words. 

Ours is the fury. 

It had been the third child, who greeted them. Dressed in all black and face somber, he looked well past his age, like a soldier returning from war rather than the young man just coming to age as he was.

“It’s a great honor to have you, my prince.”

But Stannis Baratheon had suffered a siege while his brother commanded from the battlefield, he had seen the war just the same. 

His eyes, dark and cutting like a hidden blade, fell onto Ellaria, for a moment she felt as if she had come to an execution, rather than a wedding. Stannis looked at her like an intrusion, before bowing his head. 

“My sister is eager to join our houses with this union. As are you, I am sure.” 

Oberyn’s agreeance was slick with mockery, teeth flashed in a grin that made the young man’s face go sour. 

“There is nothing I look forward to more.” 

He had yet to let go of Ellaria’s hand. 

The pair did not separate until they reached the sept, a grand building covered in tapestries of every dead saint and alive with hymns that speak of love and devotion. 

Two things seldom found between husband and wife. 

Oberyn walked to the altar alone, but his eyes caught hers  in the crowd and he smiled. Even from afar, she knew him well enough to catch the twitch of his thumb at his side. That despite his anger and dismissive arrogance he loves to wrap himself in like a silken robe, he was at a disadvantage. This was not his home and nor were these were not his people.  He was in the house of the family responsible for the death of his sister with no plan for vengeance, but a wedding he was forced into, just like his Elia.

Ellaria’s gaze is pulled from her lover as the grand door creaks open over the singing, where their king enters, face still laden with scars of the rebellion, of his conquest, escorting the bride by hand. 

Robert Baratheon was large in every way possible. His presence commanded respect. Even in his formal wear the bulk of his muscle was seen through as he walked. The hymns dulled to a soft hum at his entrance, head turning as his eyes cut into the crowd before they landed on Ellaria and she froze in her spot. 

For a moment, fear clenched her heart. 

Robert had unleashed a war upon the realm when Rhaegar took his betrothed, he plunged his siblings into starvation and rode against countless noble families that now bend the knee to him. He caved in the chest of the silver-haired dragon prince himself, severing the three headed dragon with his war hammer until there was nothing left of it’s legacy than two eggs, lost to the wind. 

And here she stood at his sister’s wedding, the proud lover of her betrothed. 

There’s a brief moment where she wondered if he was going to say something. Shout an order for her to be escorted out for being so bold to be at the union, but then a hand squeezed his and he pulled away from her gaze to yours. 

“Don’t.” Barely a whisper that only he could hear. No question nor plea, but an order. 

One the Usurper obeys without resistance. 

Ellaria had never seen you in person before. But Oberyn had painted a foul picture of you the moment your betrothal was confirmed to still be held after the rebellion. He spoke of your sneer and the way your lips puckered into a sour pout each time somebody spoke to you, your eyes were flat and empty of any emotion. 

“If it weren’t for her skirt I wouldn’t know which one I was marrying.” Oberyn jested as he lifted a goblet of wine to his lips. “Her or Stannis.” 

Ellaria watched you walk down the aisle to her lover, struck by your beauty. 

A hood sat atop your head that fell to embroidered lace covering your shoulders, her eyes found a stray curl that dangled by your face and wondered what it would feel like under her finger tips. Dark eyes flick over to her own if only for a second and she felt herself stopped once more, not with fear. 

But desire. 

You continued forward and she watched you walk down the aisle to the awaiting prince. 

A strong nose frames the soft line of your features, shoulders drawn back and head held high like a queen to be worshiped or a painting to be admired. 

You were regal. Looking more like a crowned ruler than the king by your side.

Your voice did not waver during your vows, she wondered if you were frightened. Any woman would be. To marry a man who loathed her family for a death you had no part in. 

But you didn’t let it show. Instead the promise to be a loyal wife echoed through the sept before you leaned forward and pressed your lips to Oberyn’s, who was just as stiff as you. 

As she watched the first kiss of an unwanted marriage, Ellaria’s chest filled with envy of her beloved prince. 

#ellaria sand x reader #ellaria sand x you #baratheon wife tag #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell x you #teehee #id like to say my fantasy/medival fics have gotten some inspiration from my poetry of desire class last semester <3 thanks professor #those annotations were torture but the poetry slapped frfr #i think i still have my book actually #one of my favorites was the vine #i just. *clenches fist* love lore and WOMEN #im proud of this but also embarassed it took me like. four hours to write 1.2k words jfc man #i like putting oberyns wife in pretty hoods and gowns hehe #also i listented to tamino like the entire time i wrote this i hope it shows #anyways its..three am now. woof

[i-write-hurt-not-comfort]

in the defence of Ruki Mukami - why Ruki's trauma has just as much influence on his actions as everyone else

i am sitting in the chemistry library at uni right now and am going to spend my time on the most useless task ever to avoid doing anything impactful. please don't take this too serious because i can't write meaningful character analyses.

so i've seen a ton of stuff around, because i know Ruki's not one of the best loved characters in the western fandom. well, of all the characters, i see nearly the most Ruki hate. and obviously everyone is entitled to their opinions, whatever. but what DOES bother me is the reason.

a lot of people say that Ruki's trauma doesn't correlate to his actions, or explain abusive behaviour in the same way that the other characters' do. and i would die for Ruki and we know this, but i've thought about it a lot and i have a Theory as for why some people seem to view his character this way. (i have also studied neuroscience at degree level and learnt about trauma and synaptic plasticity)

to summarise for those who perhaps haven't read all the games (my sources for all this is basically Ruki's MB, DF, and LE), Ruki was born as an only-child in Romania to a rich family, and his father was revealed to be a politician during the Ceaușescu period in Romania. they had a lot of servants, all of whom Ruki learnt from a young age to abuse. he admired his father very much and looked up to him, and his mother was good to him and was close to his father. it would seem like a very good, perfect family - although i'll briefly discuss later why this wasn't necessarily the case.

unfortunately, in the DL universe lore, Karlheinz and Ceaușescu were buddy-buddy politicians, and Ruki's father was eventually chased out of his position. during his downfall, Ruki's father became an alcoholic and began abusing Ruki's mother, verbally and physically. Ruki saw a lot of this as well: somebody he looked up to, admired and trusted, becoming an abusive monster in a very short period of time. i think that's part of why Ruki overlooks Karlheinz's crimes and sees him as a good father anyway.

not only that, Ruki's mother - once again somebody who nurtured and cared for him - turned out to be having an affair. and shortly after that, his father committed suicide: something Ruki actually walked out on.

that in itself is a lot more traumatic than i think people consider. a lot of the DL characters have long-term trauma, but intense sudden trauma, such as your "perfect" life falling apart due to an alcoholic, abusive father killing himself and his mother having an affair, has similar psychological impact. remember, these are people who were supposed to care and nurture him, he trusted them a lot, and they both abandoned him abruptly in very extreme ways. that's the number 1 root of Ruki's trust issues. he's been seen to cut Yui off entirely because he's scared of becoming his abusive father.

similarly, living in a "perfect" household as a spoiled only child can be inherently traumatic. i don't know about you guys, but i've met some (only some, not the majority) of very, very emotionally constipated spoiled only-children. a lot of children showered with materialistic affection are missing key emotional maturity developments. their outlook on life is very narrow and they lack the emotional components of attachment; this is part of why Ruki is quite emotionally immature.

not only that, but growing up as an abusive sociopath to "lower" members of society such as servants is a form of abusive on his parents' behalf. they did not teach him proper world awareness. some children are born as psychopaths etc, true, but the majority of "sociopaths" (diagnosed as ASPD) are that way because they were not taught remorse as a child. Ruki would've learnt to treat his servants that way because that was how his parents did (and we see his father being a dick to the servants in LE too i think), and that in itself is inherently traumatic too.

imagine then, with very little capacity for remorse or a concept of societal hierarchy, being thrown into an orphanage. Ruki is a dick to everyone, yes, but the shock of having everything you know challenged suddenly and without explanation or support is going to cause further trauma. i think people just don't like to consider the fact that a lot of "sociopaths" (again, ASPD is the correct label there) were victims too. he went from being the "master" to being "livestock" and that's going to very rapidly alter your young brain chemistry, entering a "master" mindset as a defensive mechanism. that's why he gets angry/upset/confused when it's challenged.

Ruki has a fuck ton of PTSD as well - he's the only character who i've seen literally throw up MULTIPLE TIMES when experiencing flashbacks.

but i think people generally know that, perhaps not thinking about it as deeply. my Theory as to why people don't seem to see this as being as "extreme" as the other boys' trauma goes further than that.

diabolik lovers follows this dynamic between the Sakamaki's vs Mukami's, whereby Yuma, Kou and Azusa (Yuma and Kou more strongly) have this mindset of "the Sakamaki's can't have trauma because they were rich" and obviously as readers, we're supposed to be like "um, no, the Sakamaki's can have trauma too" because they do.

with that said, Kou and Yuma do successfully get to Subaru/Laito and Shu's heads respectively with this narrative. especially Subaru and Shu who get really fixated with this "i was a spoiled, privileged kid" and because of that, naturally we, as readers, lean towards feeling sorry for the Mukami's especially.

obviously, Ruki is the odd one out when it comes to the Mukami's. he had a sheltered upbringing whereas the other brothers were fighting for their lives in poverty/on the streets, victims and witnesses of the civil war and orphan crisis. Yuma particularly pushes this "Ruki had it easy" notion too, and i've definitely noticed that a lot of people who don't particularly like Ruki tend to fall towards that.

this idea of "not enough" trauma has enough to unpack as it is and we won't do that to, but personally i think that all of Ruki's abusive actions are justified. no, they are not an excuse. none of the diaboys' behaviour is excusable, but i think Rejet did quite a good job of giving them enough fucked up backstory to make us as readers at least understand why that might be how they act.

and from what i see, it seems to be Ruki who people think is the exception to this the most, because his trauma isn't in the same vein as the rest of the Mukami's. the "rich people can't have trauma" narrative gets pushed so hard that i think people forget 1) it isn't true and 2) Ruki went through a ton of fucked shit as a kid, and i don't think any of his actions made me feel any differently than the other diaboys' awful behaviour towards Yui.

you can find Ruki boring, not interesting, or just not your type. but he very, very much has "sufficient" trauma to explain his toxic and dominating actions. thank u for coming to my TedTalk.

#diabolik lovers #ruki mukami #this is over 1.2k words btw this is insane

[adudelolwriting]

oooo for the ask game, "lovers to enemies" with either Brian and Tim or Jay and Tim? <:)

so uh . i went a bit overboard with this. heres 1.2k words, hopefully you enjoy !! (ask game here)

~~~~~~~~~~

Brian and Tim had been friends.

They had met in college, and the two quickly got along. It was strange, for Tim. He had just met the taller man, and it was clear Brian was always going to be there for him. They even shared the same living space during college.

Brian didn't have a car, and so Tim drove him a lot. That's how he met Alex, through Brian. Tim had never been interested in acting before, but Brian insisted he at least tried out, and Tim got the part.

The start was… fun. There were a lot of jokes, goofing off, and just hanging around. But as the weeks went, Alex changed before stopping production completely and never being seen again. Okay, sure. Whatever.

Brian left.

He still kept contact with Tim, but now it was only through calls and texts after he finished college. The house they shared seemed emptier. 

Brian doesn't keep in contact with Tim anymore. He knew the day would come eventually, but Tim's heart still squeezed with grief. Maybe he had convinced himself that Brian would be different, his first friend out in the real world. (Tim shakes his head. He doesn't need to think about this.)

Tim is losing time. He's blacking out, waking up in the middle of the woods or street or field, hours, days, weeks from what he last remembered. He always wakes up with a shitty plastic mask, and he throws it out but somehow it's always back.

This goes on for years. The medication starts to help.

Tim still misses Brian, as he finishes moving out of this house. Tim misses him a lot, seeing everything that still reminded him of Brian. He shakes his head, taking one last look at the house, holding the last box of his things. It felt like a goodbye, a real, proper one. "I miss you, Brian," Tim mutters under his breath before turning away for the last time.

Tim gets a random call one day. It's Jay, who's asking about Marble Hornets. It brings back to many memories, but Tim still says he can help where he can. They line up a time to meet, and Jay seems very insistent on knowing information about Alex, but, whatever. The two weren't that close in college, but Tim supposes he was around enough. He answers Jay's questions, and soon enough Tim's left with a "I'll call you later and let you know."

Something's wrong.

Tim's blacking out again. It's been harder to keep stable jobs. It feels like his life is falling apart again. 

Tim's being stalked by someone. They wear a yellow hoodie, and have something covering their face. They're pretty good at hiding — Tim's only seen them once or twice. (Who knows how many times they've been here?)

The hooded figure is fast. Tim can never hope to catch up to them. 

Tim contacted Jay, this time. He found some old tapes from back when Marble Hornets was being filmed, and figured the other would enjoy having some. Tim can't remember what's on them, but hopefully it'll be something useful for Jay.

Jay lied.

Tim can be a very angry person. He knows this — that's why he tries to keep it under wraps. But when he sees Jay again, he couldn't hold himself and he punches Jay. He lied. He lied. He never wanted to continue Marble Hornets. He just wants information and wanted to play hero.

Tim was doing fine. He was doing better. Then Jay came around, pointing his stupid camera everywhere, and suddenly everything went down the drain! Tim's whole life was coming undone because someone wants to play detective, someone wants to try and help people who can't be helped!

He never wants to see Jay again after this. He never wants to hear the words Marble Hornets, or tapes, or cameras or anything. 

Tim missed Brian. He's been thinking of him recently, with the film on his mind more than normal. Brian was sweet, kind, caring, patient. Everything Tim wasn't. 

Tim… god, Tim missed him.

His medication is going missing.

He knows this — he knows he had some earlier. He saw it. But then it just wasn't there when Tim needed it, when Tim's coughing fits lead to seizures. Which leads to blacking out, and waking up face down in the dirt.

With the last person he wanted to see, apparently. Jay had also been taken out here, that damned camera left with him and letting him record everything as if it has no effect on anyone else. 

Tim wouldn't say he was depressed. But god, days like these? It made Tim feel like nothing was worth it. But he had to keep going. Even if he always throws away this mask, but it always ends up back in his hands, or his house, or car. 

Tim wasn't as angry as he was before with Jay, but he still didn't want to be walking through Rosswood with the man.

Tim and Jay started working together. It seems the universe wanted them to stick together. 

Jay tried to attack Tim. Tim hid one tape from Jay, because it was about Jessica, and Tim knew he would react badly. But bringing a knife? Did Jay really think that was going to be okay? 

Tim tied Jay up, took his camera and knife, and left. Jay would be fine at his own house while Tim left to look around Benedict Hall. 

Jay escaped. Jay went to Benedict Hall. Jay was shot. Jay was dead.

Jay was dead.

Jay was dead.

Tim went home. Everyone he knows is dead or missing or left him.

Tim goes back to the college. He's going to find Alex. 

He finds the hooded figure. (Why do they seem familiar?)

He chases them. (Tim needs to take revenge.)

Up a flight of stairs. The figure is hanging over the balcony. 

Anger fills Tim's veins, and then the body drops. 

Silence.

Tim looks over the edge, and the body is unmoving. Tim makes his way back down, and they're not breathing. (Ignore that.) Tim searches their pockets, pulling out a tape and some of his medication. He's been out for a while now. Tim downs two pills. 

The tall creature shows up before Tim could unmask the hooded figure. Tim runs back home. 

He watches the tape.

…

It…

……

It was Brian.

The yellow hoodie. It was Brian.

Another person Alex took from him. Tim's best friend, his first one. Alex took him. 

(And now Brian's dead because of you.)

No, no — it was Alex.

Seth, Sarah, Amy, Jessica, Jay, Brian. Alex killed them all. Alex killed them. Tim needed to stop him. He led Alex to his house, and Alex burned it down. 

Tim had nothing now. 

He had nothing to lose.

He found Alex again in Benedict Hall, hiding behind the screen of that demonic creature. Tim found him. That thing kept teleporting them around, but Tim held on and fought. He had nothing else left. 

Tim kills Alex. He goes home.

God, Brian was dead. Tim hated the hooded figure, and he wanted it dead, but… he was Brian. 

Tim felt hallowed out. He went to sleep, nightmares plaguing his mind. 

Brian was dead.

Tim didn't have anyone or anything left.

Brian was dead.

#adude.writes #adude.requests #marble hornets #brian thomas #tim wright #hoodie #jay merrick #RAAAAAAAAAAH OMG THANK YOU FOR THE ASK #i found ur alex-centric fic and WAA i became a fan ever since.... ur so cool this ask jumpscared me soso bad #ty for the ask aaa !!!! #this was meant to be around 500 words #it is 1.2k LMAO

[miabrown007]

why does a fic have to have "plot", is it not enough to [insert blorbos]

#i got 1.2k on the one-shot i'm supposed to be writing but by god is it illegible #one of the sentences is 80 words long #i'm sure it wouldn't fit in a tumblr tag #also literally nothing happens (<- lie) but it's a stupid house party fic what do I want to happen #i just really don't feel like i have a firm grasp on this or that it is anything. the characters run away between my fingers like sand. why #I mean yeah I'll go back and can add a bunch and edit it more later but I'm just eh eh eh #it's been so long since i written a proper one-shot where did my skills for rapid fire exposition go #miaing

[theferal-possum]

hey so nobody knows this blog but i got out of control while telling my friend about a writing a prompt i thought of and so now im giving it to you fire emoji (below the clip)

au where lance had his schoolbag for some reason (he doesnt know why he grabbed it, he likes to think it was the universe letting him have things from home to remind him that yes, he will make it back) and as they reach the edge of the solar system, his bag starts to ring, his familiar ringtone playing throughout the lion.

he's not quite sure why he decided to go on a hunt to find a charger to get it's battery up, maybe fate playing with the strings a bit to get it to happen, he's not sure.

it's what the paladins have deemed as "night-time," around 9pm back on earth. he was nearly asleep but is now clambering for his bag, worn from the years he's spent using it in space. he rips the phone from it, staring in disbelief that he was able to get a signal from all the way out here.

the words are clear on his screen, though his eyes are blurring them, tears threatening to fall.

MAMÁ

his hands are shaky as he clicks the accept button. the heart threatening to beat out of his chest the only thing assuring him that it isnt a dream.

it's quiet for a moment, before his mother's quiet words ring through his ears.

"..mijo?"

she sounds as if she's aged 10 years in only 5, but her voice was still heavy with that slight spanish accent, worn from years of english, that used to scold him and tell lance how much she loves him. but it's everything he's missed. and he can't helps the way his voice breaks when he says,

"mamá. oh mamá we're coming home."

----

lance doesn't know why, after the call with his mother ends, he calls keith. sure they're friends now but he hasn't been sure if theyre that close yet.

but he does anyways.

it only rings for a second, the image of keith appearing on his screen. pajamas on, and kosmo laying their head in his lap, with his comm pad held lazily in one hand. the screen lit up with one of the crosswords allura had given them to help with their altean.

"hey man, what's up? you alright? you look like you've been crying."

he leans forward in the chair, much to kosmos dislike, his eyes squinting and brow furrowed in concern.

lance suddenly feels concious of how he looks, eyes red and puffy, but just wipes at his eyes, looking at the side of his controls rather than the screen.

"yeah, it's just uh. i got a call from my mom, from my old phone. and i just, i don't know."

keith sits up fully in his seat, although knocking kosmo's head off fully, and clicks his comm pad off and setting it onto the floor.

"dude, really?! i'm surprised you got signal all the way out here. but i'm glad for you! how was she doing?"

keith looks genuinely happy for him, not something lance often had the privilege to see.

"she's uhm."

he takes a moment to steel himself. taking a deep breath as he reminds himself that he won't have to talk about only memories of her the next day. it won't hurt to talk about her.

"she's doing good, she was uh. really happy to hear from me. says she called me every week just to see if i would maybe pick up."

and lance's heart can't help but break, as he thinks about his mamá, face creased with worry, sat with her phone in hand, hoping her son would pick up. hoping that he would come back. that he would come home.

"she uh, only starting calling once or twice per month after the first year, so i guess i got lucky. it was really nice to hear her voice again. i almost forgot."

(his face falls, as he thinks of the countless nights that he'd try. try to hard to remember what she sounded like. how she rolled her r's, how she sounded as she yelled at him to do his chores faster, how she said i love you. he could never get it just right.)

"it's funny honestly, i used to hope for the day that i wouldn't have to hear it as much. i'd mock her voice from behind my door after an argument. but now i can't even imagine that. i guess, you don't know how much you'd miss something until you lose it.

and i know it seems silly to miss her this much considering we were gone only 2 years. but for her it was five. and at some points i wasn't–"

his voice begins to crack, his hand gripping the edge of his seat so hard that his fingers were white. the tears in his eyes threatening to fall.

"–i wasn't sure if i'd ever see her again. if i'd be able to tell her that i was coming home."

lance gives a watery laugh, rubbing his hand on the back of his head as he realises that he just dumped that all on keith.

“sorry that was, kind of a ramble.”

he finally looks back up at the screen, tears pricking the back of his eyes as he tries not to cry again. keith is staring at seemingly nothing just behind the screen, face drawn up in an expression lance can't decipher. thoughtfulness? he's not quite sure. but he doesn't have time to figure it out before keith speaks again, his gaze falling down to the floor as he starts to fidget with the string on his sweatpants.

"i understand what you mean. and im not trying to make this about me but, after spending two years on a space whale, i learned theres a lot of things you don't realise you'll miss."

he looks up, his face almost determined as he looks at lance directly now.

"but hey, you'll get to see her tomorrow, you won't have to miss her for much longer."

lance nods, smiling as a warmth spreading through his chest. he feels a renewed hope for the next day. he was going to go home.

(little note but the idea that theres a big group that surrounds the lions after they land, which the paladins get lost in immediately

and so lance is desperately searching through the crowd trying to find his family, before seeing keith waving and pointing almost frantically, but a smile on his face.

and as the crowd moves his mamá comes into view, standing next to keith

she calls out to lance, and he immediately runs over, engulfing her in a hug that lasts, definitely more than 20 seconds, and once he pulls away she starts tearfully rambling about how much she missed him, how she always knew in her heart that he'd come back, etc. etc.

but after a moment wipes the tears from her eyes and cheerfully exclaims that she was struggling to find him before keith had helped her, saying how nice he is, mother stuff yk

and keith is looking away blushing slightly from the compliments, and lance just looks at him and thanks him with such a genuine tone that keith cant help but smile fondly at him)

#i went insane and wrote all 1.2k words of this in under 40 minutes #might continue it/flesh it out more in the future #i have a couple more ideas that would work really well with it #who knows! #keith kogane #lance mcclain #klance #voltron

[vynegar]

Analysis: Which other NXX member it would be most painful for them to see Rosa choose instead of them

Tl;dr

Luke → Artem

Artem → Marius

Vyn → Marius

Marius → Artem

(it was actually an artemsweep until the last minute but we’ll get there)

I really wanted to be able to answer this question with a perfect 1:1 assignment where each member shows up once as the worst option for another, but I just couldn't get it to work. Mostly because of Luke; I don't think he'd be the most painful option for any of the members to see, since there's really no way you can compete with the childhood-friend-reunion AND he's a secret agent who's dying. I feel like the others would have to accept that, since they'd have no chance. He’s also the person who would stay the most aloof during the early (i.e. first year of the game) squabbles among NXX for Rosa’s attention, which separates him out as seeming more secure in his relationship with Rosa because everyone knows how important they are to each other.

Luke → Artem

The same feeling of separation that makes him an impossible choice for the others also made it a bit difficult to decide who it’d be hardest for him to see Rosa with. He’s very much his own biggest obstacle when it comes to them getting together, and the way he’s been concealing his feelings for about a decade makes it feel like he’d already be halfway resigned to Rosa being with someone else. His struggles when it comes to Rosa are so internalized that the pain of seeing the other NXX members just pales in comparison.

Vyn and Marius might worry him because of the danger that their status brings (where is the Luke reaction to hearing Rosa got kidnapped in Unconcealable!!), but sticking with the prompt of what would hurt the most to see, I would go with Artem. Since Artem was also someone who hid his feelings for a long time and tried to care for her from a distance, I think seeing Artem and Rosa together might make Luke think what could have been possible for him, and regret that he hadn't tried confessing. The game generally uses parallels between relationship dynamics to strike an emotional chord, so I think it’s fitting to choose the most similar relationship as the one that would hurt Luke the most.

Marius → Artem

As much as it pains me to not pick his ultimate petty-frenemy-teacher for Marius, I kept forcing myself to stick with the prompt and go from there. The important thing was what would “hurt” the most, so I decided to reason out who would strike the insecurities of each character the hardest. I also tried to think about any recurring themes in the storyline of each character, and that led me to Artem for Marius.

One of Marius’s biggest struggles is balancing the many facets of his life and personality. In Rosa, he’s found someone who not only accepts every face that he has, but also gives him space to take off the masks and truly be himself. Rosa was even instrumental in preventing him from sacrificing his artistic identity Z, so her support for him seems even more powerful and unique. If Rosa ended up with Artem, Marius would be losing that special presence in his life to someone who’s as straightforward and uncomplicated as they come. I think seeing that happen could make Marius question once again how feasible it is for him to keep every aspect of his identity, or at least whether he could find a partner who could handle it.

Another reason why Rosa is important to Marius is that he’s always longed for someone brave enough to face every adventure head-on with him. Marius is the one who most readily accepts Rosa taking the lead on things, their interactions and investigations feel the most like they’re on equal footing, and over and over Marius sees that she can hold her own in each part of his life, business, artistic, or personal. If Rosa were to be with Artem though, they would be partners in an even truer sense because of their shared profession in upholding the law, and that’s a connection that Marius could never have with her.

Artem → Marius

When I started thinking about this question, Artem was the only one I was certain of, and even when I was stumped on the others, I didn't want to give up on this post because I HAD to speak my truth re: Artem → Marius.

I know Artem and Vyn's prickly relationship is so memorable, but since I defined the question as "which person would it hurt to see the most", I had to pick Marius. Yes, Vyn would probably annoy Artem the most, but seeing Rosa with Marius would bring up all those doubts about him not being romantic, exciting, interesting enough for her. Marius is charming and trendy and youthful and perfect for hitting Artem’s insecurity of being awkward and inexperienced.

Vyn → Marius

Up until a few days ago, I actually had Artem down for Vyn (ARTEMSWEEP!!). Then when I decided I really wanted to consider this a meta and try to base it on analysis of canon, I thought over it, once again focusing on insecurities and any recurring themes in the card stories, and went back to Marius.

There are many similarities between Vyn and Marius, but many of the major struggles Vyn might have in the relationship are things that Marius doesn’t have to deal with or is too well-adjusted to be troubled by.

Marius enjoys a high social status on par with Vyn's, but he's free of the kinds of oppressive traditions and customs that caused Vyn to leave his home country. Despite the tragedy and difficulties they've experienced, Marius also has a genuinely loving and supportive family, who also have/had loving and committed relationships. Maybe partially as a result from these factors, Marius is still a relatively optimistic and idealistic person, even while being steeped in the cutthroat world of business. Vyn on the other hand has an extremely strained relationship with his family to the point that he struggles with the idea of it, has mostly seen romance in how it ruined his father, and has become cynical after growing up amongst cruelty and ridicule.

In addition, a major theme of Vyn's second year of cards has been the building desire that he has for Rosa, and his fear of it overwhelming him. Marius is similarly proactive in his romantic pursuit of Rosa, and one of the more forward LIs when it comes to seduction, but fearing that that desire might consume and destroy them isn’t one of the obstacles in Marius’s stories. This could be seen as another issue of Vyn’s that Marius is able to effortlessly keep in check. (I consider this more of a secondary point though, since it could just as easily be a point for Artem and his glacially-paced relationship of two dense bricks. (My other reason for picking Artem would have been too OOC, which is why we couldn’t have the Artemsweep, rip.))

--

Anyway thanks for reading and feel free to let me know if there are any choices you really agree or disagree with! There’s such a gap in canon with the way we never see other the other NXX members when we’re on a certain LI’s route, so things like this are interesting to think about.

*Bonus: if the question was “who would it piss them off the most to see Rosa with?”, it would ABSOLUTELY be a vynsweep with vyn → artem. no there is no reasoning for this it’s just something you feel with your gut

#tears of themis #artem wing #marius von hagen #vyn richter #luke pearce #tot artem #tot marius #tot luke #tot vyn #tears of themis analysis #tears of themis meta #1.2k words the clown makeup just gets heavier and heavier #thoughts of themis

[delta-orionis]

i wanna hear about the simon aroace beam pls

(Tumblr is apparently trying to silence me because this is the second time I'm writing out this answer. Anyway.)

I already made a post about my aroace Simon headcanons several years ago, but I'm more than happy to talk about it again. (Also I'm not sure if you specifically ever beat SOMA, so you're probably unfamiliar with some of the points I made in the aforementioned post. I'll do my best to explain.)

(Continued under the cut)

Simon is an interesting character because he's an everyman. I often joke about how he's Just Some Guy who's having the worst day ever. He's had a pretty average life (aside from the recent loss of his friend and traumatic brain injury), and it doesn't come up often in the text of the game. He brings it up sometimes, but it isn't the focus of his dialogue. He was thrust from an unremarkable life in 2015 into Undersea Robot Hell and is forced to make some serious decisions about the fate of the human race, so he has other priorities.

His characterization as an everyman combined with the fact that we don't actually know a lot about his life before the events of SOMA make Simon a very easy character to project your own experiences onto. This makes him a good fit for a video game protagonist because it makes it easy for the player to relate to him. It also means that it's easy to fill in the blanks of his characterization with your own ideas. I've personally seen lots of different interpretations of his gender and sexuality; I've seen people headcanon him as straight, gay, bisexual, etc etc. His gender is also an entire can of worms; I've seen people make compelling arguments that he's a trans man, a trans woman, and even nonbinary and agender.

Anyway... this was all preface for my thesis that Simon is aroace. The easy explanation is that I, an aroace person, find it easy to project my own experiences on to him in a way that makes sense to me. I've talked to a few other aroace SOMA fans about this, and they've agreed. (This is what I mean by the aroace beam. I simply enjoy headcanoning characters I like as aroace, because I, too, am aroace. I'm hitting them with my beam attack. Metaphorically. I've now rendered the joke unfunny by explaining it.)

(Side note- there's a running joke in the SOMA server I run that many SOMA fans are asexual. There certainly are a number of them in that specific server, however this also might be confirmation bias, because I haven't done a fandom-wide survey or anything like that. It also might be because I promote the server heavily on my blog, and as an openly aroace person, I probably have a statistically significant amount of aspec followers who are then compelled to join the server I help run. More research is required, I guess.)

The longer explanation for this headcanon is that, within the text of the game, Simon doesnt' appear to be very concerned with sex or romance.

In the dream sequence at the beginning of the game, Simon tells Ashley he wants to tell her something, and she responds with "please don't make this weird". A lot of people tend to interpret this as Simon working up the courage to tell Ashley he has a crush on her. The scene ends abruptly before this can be confirmed. However, there are a few unused voice lines in the game files that extend the scene a bit. Simon was originally supposed to say "I'm sorry" to Ashley before the dream ended. This implies that he wanted to apologize to her for involving her in the car accident that ended her life, not confess a crush.

There is another dream sequence later in the game, the context being that Simon is under the influence of the WAU and is being shown an idealized version of his life. He sees Ashley, alive and standing in his apartment, where she declares that the two of them are in love. Simon seems confused about this and wakes up shortly after.

I will admit that this scene implies he has romantic feelings for her. However, in the post I made a few years ago, I talked about how a common experience for a lot of aroace people is not being able to distinguish between different types of attraction and how this can lead to aces convincing themselves that they have a crush on someone when what they really desire is a platonic relationship:

I think what sells it the most for me is that, during the dream sequence with Ashley, when Ashley tells him that they’re a couple, he sounds confused. You could interpret this as general confusion (he doesn’t know how Ashley is suddenly alive again or why they’re suddenly in a relationship), but I like to think that he’s conflicted about his feelings for her. He knows he wants to be close to her, but he’s not sure if being a romantic couple is exactly what he wants. If the dream sequence is supposed to be an idealized scenario, then why is he conflicted about the thing he supposedly wants?

Simon strikes me as the type of guy who isn’t super informed about LGBT stuff. He probably knows a little bit about general LGBT stuff, but maybe hasn’t learned about asexuality, or he doubts that it could apply to him. He might think that, because he wants to be close with Ashley, that the next logical step would be a romantic relationship, even if his feelings are actually just platonic. (I know from personal experience growing up asexual that I would sometimes invent crushes on people, when in reality my feelings were just platonic and I actually just wanted to be their friend. From what I’ve heard, this is a common experience for a lot of aro and ace people from before they learned about asexuality/aromanticism.)

I recognize that this interpretation might be bending canon a bit. Occam's razor would imply that he simply has a romantic crush on Ashley, but that's no fun.

SOMA is a game that is, overall, pretty uninterested in exploring romantic or sexual relationships. It also features two main characters of different genders (Simon and Catherine) who develop a strong platonic relationship over the course of the game. I, personally, find it a breath of fresh air, especially when a lot of science fiction and cyberpunk stories have a heavy emphasis on sex. (I'm definitely not bitter about all the weird sexism present in cyberpunk novels like Neuromancer, for example...)

I suppose it makes sense, then, that the game would have a sizeable amount of aroace fans. I personally think there is something inherently queer about the game- although not explicit in the text, transhumanist stories like SOMA can be read as metaphors for queer experiences. Questioning one's identity and humanity is something that a lot of LGBT people do on a regular basis, so it makes perfect sense that they would relate to a character from a game exploring those topics, albeit through a science fiction lens.

Anyway. Very, very long story short, I hit Simon with my aroace beam attack because I think it's fun. He means a lot to me and I like thinking about him.

(Don't get me started on what I think about his gender. He's got so much going on in that department and absolutely no time to come to terms with it all. That's a post for another day.)

Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk, I hope you enjoyed reading, etc etc. I'm going to go back to rotating Simon in my brain now.

#asks #girlfriendsofthegalaxy #exploding tumblr with my mind because it deleted the original version of this post #anyway this is 1.2k words. enjoy #soma #soma game #simon jarrett

[starlitangels]

Crystal Stars

We never got to find out how Avior got Starlight from the Second Circle back to their little hovel. Enjoy! 2.1k words

CW: emotional turmoil, general Avior-story angst

—

“You have a scratch on your cheek. I can get it,” Avior said softly. He slid his hand around my head and brushed his thumb delicately across my cheekbone. The familiar sound and rush of healing magic swept over my skin. “There. Good as new.” The smile of reassurance he tried to give me was devastated.

I gestured to where his hand was. “I thought you said demons didn’t need physical contact.”

“Yeah. Demons don’t need to touch to heal. But this time…” He cleared his throat sharply. “Sorry.” He withdrew his hand from my face. The loss of his warmth made my skin cold, even in the blazing, acrid heat of the hellscape.

My eyelids dropped as I watched him.

He gave me a less emotionally shattered smile. “You look like you’re about to fall asleep. At risk of giving myself some modicum of credit, I suppose that means I did the job right,” he remarked. I managed a grimace that could almost pass as a smile. He took a breath and thumbed a stray hair off my forehead. “Sleep, starlight. I’ve got you.”

The fatigue of deep healing magic dragged me into unconsciousness before I could bother to fight it. I passed out before I finished my exhale.

—

The moment his starlight’s emotions faded into the placidity of sleep, Avior choked on a sob. He bent forward where he’d been kneeling on the black stone ground and balled his fists beside their body. Tears fell from his eyes and onto his jeans.

This was all his fault. His fault they’d been hurt like this. His fault they were back in this damn trap. He’d freed them—two years ago. And he’d been so weak and lonely that he’d dragged them back in. And now they were bruised and battered. He’d healed their broken bone but it was his fault it had broken.

The trap had broken him. And he had broken them. The one person he swore to keep safe, at any cost to himself.

Avior had always hated the bitter taste of failure. He still did. But he deserved it this time.

He swallowed thickly and looked up finally. Sniffing hard to stop his nose from running—he hated physical forms—he wiped his cheeks and eyes on his arms.

There was still pain on his starlight’s face. But he doubted they even noticed it when they were awake.

Another swallow. This time trying to suppress the tears. It didn’t work.

Demons tended to be physically strong in their humanoid forms. It helped that they weren’t always necessarily bound to the limit of muscle cells like humans.

He gently slid his arms under them and hoisted them up with ease.

He could have carried them back up to the First Circle with magic, sure. Psychokinesis might have even been easier.

But something in him needed them in his arms. Even if this might be the last time. He needed to feel their heartbeat pulsing in their side, pressed against his chest. He needed the contact to remind him that he was still present. And so were they. They’d always been a grounding force for him. And he desperately needed that now.

The walk back up to the First Circle was long. Maybe he took longer than normal because he wanted to keep holding them. Maybe his sense of time was just royally skewed. He knew which one it was. Even if he didn’t want to admit it.

The hovel was too sharp. Too hard for him to just set them on the ground. They deserved something gentler. Something better than what this place had.

Avior screwed up his face. The bed popped into existence and immediately started trying to vanish. Avior narrowed his eyes at it. “You stop that,” he snapped at it quietly. Biting his tongue, he practically tiptoed over to it in order to be as gentle as possible. Slowly, he rested their unconscious body on the mattress and drew the covers up over them. After magicking their shoes off.

Once they were carefully tucked in, Avior sat on the other side of the bed and looked around the room. Two years ago, from his perspective, he would have tucked them in then curled up right behind them. He would have pulled them close to his chest and held them protectively. Humans were so... fragile. For how incredibly hardy they were on their own plane, compared to him... their lives felt like glass teetering on the edge of a precipice sometimes.

Now... now he couldn’t hold them. They didn’t remember. They weren’t the same. He wasn’t either. Two years of Hell had broken him. He wasn’t the curious, hopeful demon he’d been. He was lonely. He was sad. Despairing. Hopeless. Exhausted.

He wanted to go home, but home wasn’t there anymore.

He couldn’t brush a stray piece of hair off their forehead without a curious, confused glance from those beautiful eyes. He barely even trusted himself not to touch them to heal them—and had failed on that front.

Sure, Aria was on one side or the other of this Hell, but home wasn’t there anymore.

The last time they’d been this close to him while lying down, they’d been curled up together on the floor of the cave that had become this hovel. The night before they tried to escape and he forced them out of the Meridian by expending all of his magic.

They were so close to him, but it felt like they’d never been farther away.

He took a deep, shaky breath. It shuddered out of his lungs. That night... the quartz... It’s beautiful, Avior, they’d said softly.

He raised a hand. Waved it at the ceiling. The strata of quartz in the stone bent and warped. Guided by his magic. He stood slowly off the bed and tilted up onto his tiptoes toward the crystal. Puckering his lips, he blew gently on the quartz. Scattered lights twinkled to life where his breath touched. When the ceiling looked like a haphazard but passable smattering of stars, he dropped back to be flat-footed on the ground.

He tried to be pleased at his work. He tried to smile. But he didn’t have it in him.

With deliberate, precise movements, he began contorting his hands and arms. To anyone not versed in demon magic, he probably looked strange. Waving his arms around pointlessly. But each twist and bend reshaped the reality around him. He’d never been the best at dreamwork magic, but he knew plenty enough to serve his purposes.

The walls moved. Bits and pieces peeling off the black stone and reshaping. Leaves and flowers twined and spiraled over the rock, made of the rock. 

They didn’t remember telling him they enjoyed the sight of flowers. 

They didn’t remember dozens of “nights” staying awake together, just talking about space. 

Avior had always loved the starlight of Elegy for feeling like Aria, but his starlight had taught him more. The planets that rained glass sideways or had hexagonal storms or cores made of solid diamond. They could ramble for hours about the birth and death of stars. Nebulae and supernovae. They used to gesticulate broadly while beaming broadly, talking about the Doppler Effect and Emission Spectrums and the Law of Conservation of Momentum being why planets orbited their star in the same direction. He’d learned about starquakes and nuclear fusion from them. Black holes and the fabric of spacetime.

Everything physical that impacted their whole reality. Things that were so different but so familiar to him.

At the thought of their ramblings about space, he blew on the crystal stars again, making the light a little brighter.

The leaves and flowered settled on the walls. The decoration was all rough, but it would suffice. Hopefully.

Feeling a bit wiped from using so much magic—and holding the bed in place so it wouldn’t just vanish—he sat on the edge of the bed and buried his face in his hands. Carefully, he wiped at his eyes. Tiny trails of magic followed his fingers, erasing the evidence of puffy, bloodshot eyes from tears.

He was cracking. Coming apart at the seams. He wouldn’t be able to keep this lie up for much longer and he knew it. But if he could just maintain it until they got out for real... maybe there was a chance...

A chance of what? That they’d fall in love with him again? He scoffed to himself. Even if they did, it would never be the same. They didn’t remember the first time they were here. He did. That would be disgustingly unfair to them. Loving the version of them they’d been, not necessarily the version they were now, while they were none the wiser. It would never work. They’d have to find out at some point. He couldn’t keep that lie up forever. And all the trust... it would be gone.

I still love you, I still love you, I still love you. He’d never expected to fall in love. Never thought he had the predisposition for it. Most of the other demons he knew seemed to agree with that assessment. So he maintained that opinion of himself.

Until he met them. He’d fallen hard and couldn’t escape that. He didn’t want to escape it. He wanted his starlight.

He couldn’t have them. Not like this.

He took several fortifying breaths. You can do this, Avior. You have to do this. You have to—

They shuffled, starting to rouse. It hadn’t been that long yet...

He situated himself to make sure his breakdown wasn’t visible and put the mask of the prickly, arrogant demon back on.

Slowly, their eyelids fluttered and blinked. Opening. Those beautiful eyes. He used to stare and fawn so freely over those eyes. Now he had to bite his tongue to keep the words to himself.

They stretched a little, moving to sit up.

—

“Ah,” Avior chided. I winced slightly at the sharp volume. “Hold on. Take it slow. You’re gonna give yourself a head rush.” His voice had dropped much quieter after the initial noise to catch my attention. “You’ve still probably got enough healing magic running through your veins to knock you out of commission for hours.”

“I feel fine. Like I could get up and walk around no problem,” I said.

He exhaled a short not-quite huff. “I know. I know you... feel energized. It’s... the adrenaline trying to catch up where it left off. It’ll fade in a bit. Just... stay in the bed, please.” He didn’t meet my eyes, instead looking at his knees. “You still need rest.”

I blinked and looked around. “This doesn’t look like the hovel. Are... are we somewhere else?”

“No. This is... well, it’s still the same room you’re used to. This little corner of the First Circle that we’ve claimed as a home base.” There was that not-quite huff that seemed like a laugh without humor again. “I just... I made some adjustments.” He looked around. “I can’t make very big changes to this place. It’s forever trying to reassert itself back to its original form. But I can slow it down by reusing what’s already here. Instead of creating new things. Seems to take more time that way. It probably isn’t much. I don’t know how much more comforting it really looks. But... I figured walls covered in onyx leaves and obsidian flowers are... at least a bit better than rough-hewn stone. I reworked the strata of quartz in the ceiling. Breathed some scattered light into them. A decided rough approximation of a sky of stars but... I thought you might prefer it.”

I managed a half-smile. “It’s nice, really. Thank you, Avior.”

He continued not to look at me. “Well, you’re welcome. But... it was nothing, really. I... I wish I could do more.”

I squirmed a little on the mattress. “And the bed?”

His eyes, those bright, gold eyes, snapped to mine as he actually chuckled. With real humor. “Yes, the bed is definitely a departure from the trap’s original design. And it’s certainly resisting harder.” Another slight chuckle. “But I’ll hold it in place.”

“You don’t have to. I’d be fine doing what I’ve been doing since I got here. I’m sure that’s a lot of magic going to waste just for a bed.”

He scoffed softly. “Hush. You need it. And it would take a lot more than that to push my limits.”

#Redacted ASMR #fic #Redacted Avior #Redacted Starlight #Avior #Starlight #Redacted Audio #Starlit Fic #I went full space nerd for a paragraph there and I Regret Nothing! #me: yeah this one will be like 1.2k words #apparently i was wrong #again

[talxns]

um just read Tenebrescence by @thesunkid

sorry ow? fuck oh my god ow? i hurt? i cry and i hurt?

#brudick #CRIMINALLY low kudos and hit count #this fic will punch through your chest cavity with less than 1.2k words #little vampire dick #really addressing the agony of age difference and or mortal/vampire relationships #i need a fluff IV stat #thesunkid hasn’t been active on ao3 or tumblr in over 10 years but i’ll still tag the blog i suppose #hope they are okay…