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#I am so loved it’s the best thing in the world
ozzgin · 3 days
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Yandere! Bad Guy x Reader
I am currently in my Natural Born Killers nostalgia, and so I'm borrowing its vibes and bringing you this: a bad-to-the-bone, rock-and-roll attitude yandere who constantly makes you question your own morality. Featuring an old OC!
Content: gender neutral reader, violence, murder, male yandere
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He fell in love with you at first sight. A goody two shoes, quiet and obedient. Shy. Oh, terribly shy. You couldn't even meet his eyes. He knew you were the kind others would step on, take advantage of. But there was more to it, much more to uncover.
Who was it? A relative, a friend, a coworker? You know, that person holding you back, keeping you in your place. The one who'd always make you feel small and insignificant. The one who would always find something to criticize. How did it feel when you found them on the ground, bashed in and bloodied up? He was standing above the lifeless body, catching his breath, a cocky smile plastered on his face. His way of courting you.
He looked so tall in that moment, towering above your hesitant self, his gaze of a confidence and intensity you'd never known before. "Well? What are you waiting for? Get in", he said, gesturing towards a convertible he most likely stole earlier that day. What possessed you in that moment to join him without delay? Was it his charisma? Or did you know in the depth of your soul that he wouldn't take no for an answer?
You see, he's known it from the beginning. Someone like you needs someone like him. You’re a sweet little lamb lost among the wolves. The world would eat you right up if you were left by yourself. But now you have him. And he won't let his precious prey get away. Oh, dear, no. If he wants something, he gets it. And he's never wanted anything more than you.
"You didn't...even tell me your name", you sheepishly spoke up from the passenger seat, trying to keep your mind away from the crime you'd just witnessed. "Just call me Tig", he said casually with a yawn, speeding away. "Won't you be in trouble, Tig? Why would you even kill-" you tried to reason. "What kinda question is that? They treated you like shit and it pissed me off." He glanced at you with a frown, taking another drag off his cigarette. "You're mine now, so whatever happens to you is my business. Got it?" You just stared. Was that his way of asking you out?
Tig lives by his own rules, as you quickly learned from becoming his companion. Always on the run, indifferent to the world. For the most part, to your surprise, he's well-behaved. If people don't mess with him, he doesn't mess with them. Simple as that.
Anything involving you, however, sets him off terribly. Like a rabid, ferocious guard dog, he's ready to pounce on whoever approaches you the wrong way. Last week you stopped at a highway diner for coffee, and on your way back to your table, you jokingly pulled a clumsy dance move to the song playing from the speakers. Tig observed you with an amused smile, sipping from his cup. A passerby joined you, resting his arm on your waist flirtatiously. Tig's smile dropped in an instant, and next thing you knew, the whole place was splattered in blood. No one made it out.
"I didn't even finish my coffee", you whined, already used to the occasional massacre. The man hopped behind the counter and threw on a bloodied cap. "What will it be, sir/ma'am?" he pretended, dangling a takeaway cup and starting the espresso machine. "I never told you, but I used to be a barista", he declared proudly. An entirely different person from the unhinged killer you witnessed minutes ago. "What? You said you were a mechanic", you questioned with raised brows. "That's also true. I'm a jack of all trades, I suppose. You know what I'm best at, though?" He lowered himself until his forehead touched yours. "Pleasing you."
The man is romantic in his own way. He twists the key, and the engine stops. You follow him out of the car in confusion. "Why did we stop here?" He briefly lifts himself up onto the tall fence securing the bridge, and inhales deeply. "Isn't it a nice view?" he says, nodding ahead. It is a scenic sight, sure. The river slithers along the lush valley, and the setting sun gives everything a dramatic tint. "Give me your hand", he suddenly demands as he goes to grab it himself. Before you can ask for an explanation, he quickly drags a blade across your palm, and you wince in pain. He repeats the gesture with his own hand, locking his fingers with yours over the rail. You watch as fresh blood trails along your skin, eventually falling into droplets and vanishing into the river. "Now we're going to be everywhere", he remarks playfully. "Okay, but what was the point?" you insist, a little baffled.
"Isn't it obvious? Maybe this will help", he continues, procuring a ring from his pocket. "I'm saying I want to marry you, (Y/N)."
You open your mouth to answer, but he already slides it up your finger, eyes glimmering in excitement.
"You're never getting away from me, love."
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fernandopiastri28 · 2 days
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sickly sweet ~ lando norris x reader
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warnings: drinking, smut, pwp, angst 😬 mdni!
Lando Norris- known manwhore. When he's not in his car going 350 km/h, he chases that thrill in other things in life. Designer items, drinks, parties- women. But there's only one thing that he really wants, he craves her love- his bestfriend.
She felt a pair of sturdy arms wrap around her waist, almost suffocatingly tight. It made it hard to breathe, the paining sensation only increased by the already constricted airflow inside the crowded club. “Lan?” She murmured, her head turning each way in the hopes of catching a glimpse of her best friend. She felt woozy due to the alcohol seeping through her system and she really didn’t need to deal with an over insistent man who believed he had the privilege to her body in her current state.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Lando’s chin rested against her shoulder, his hot breath tickling her neck. Those were his arms around her, holding her body closer to him then anything surrounding the pair. “I’m here,” One of his hands travelled up to her hair, his fingers gliding through her frizzing hair. “Don’t worry,”
Sure, Lando was a naturally affectionate person, often insisting on hugging as a greeting and goodbye, or resting his head on the shoulder of absolutely anyone who was near him. He liked touch, saw it as the easiest way he could express his caring and love for others. But drunk him was another level- hands anywhere he could get them, face buried into their shoulder or neck. 
“Lan, you’re really drunk,” She giggled, pushing her slight anxiety down to her stomach as his lips started moving aimlessly against her neck. He wasn’t quite kissing there, but only because he was moving too quickly to be able to actually press his lips to a single spot. 
He grumbled, dissatisfied with her comment. “So? You are too,” Lando was sounding pissy already which only usually happened later into the night. By this point, he was usually going to go seek off some other girl to spend the night with who would fawn over his every move and beg for more.
Her head tilted back, resting against his chest slightly, “I am,” A grin played across her lips, forcing his grimace to transition into a smirk, his eyes full of pure adrenaline without a single thought behind them. “Not as much as you though,”
A nod of agreeance came from him, his hands idly moving up and down on her waist, settling on her hips for a few seconds as her body continued to aimlessly sway along with the music. “It’s difficult to be more drunk than I am- especially since you’re such a heavy weight,”
It was true, and something that Lando was incredibly envious of. He wanted her ability to pour endless drinks down her mouth, consuming absolutely anything she wanted at once and manage to feel perfectly fine the next morning, while he would find himself with a throbbing headache, next to a girl he couldn’t remember the name of. Maybe he’d never asked her though.
“Or maybe you’ve just drunk more,” She dragged a finger along his cheek. Even if she didn’t show it as much, she was certainly feeling very drunk. For once, she wanted to be like Lando, feel like him. She craved his complete confidence and how he would feel as if he was on top of the world each time a drop of alcohol entered his system.
Maybe tonight she’d finally score a man to bring home, be the one to tell Lando all about her most recent hookup instead of always being on the receiving end of hearing it from him.
But at least for right now, all of his attention was on her. He looked at her like she was one of the girls he’d want for even just a night, instead of the one he left behind each time they’d planned to go out together.
She knew full well that the way Lando treated his one night stands was far from something that she should be dreaming about almost nightly, to be the girl that woke up to the sight of Lando’s peaceful sleepy face, his dark lashes fluttering over his cheeks and his unruly curls- but she knew a different side of him. The one that was loving, that cared. The side of him that would talk in the highest of praise about the girls he did really like, and how he never once spoke ill of someone to her.  
He was different then how he came across, she knew that.
He held a bottle of some blue liquid, the spout of it resting against his bottom lip. She ogled up at him, her eyes wide and pupils huge. “Hello,” He grinned, laughing at her dopey upside down expression as she leaned against him. “You’re smiley tonight,” He teased, his hand wrapping tighter around her stomach to keep her up.
“I am smiley,” A deep sigh left her chest, her cheeks beginning to hurt from how wide her smile was stretching out. “I like your face,” She mumbled out, each syllable oozing into the next. “It’s a good face- a true one at that,” Her body wasn’t used to this much alcohol, and she was feeling any kind of shame melting away and just a desperate need to be completely honest. 
A rosy flush was almost definitely covering her face at this point, given how hot it felt to the touch. “I like your face too,” He smiled, his nose nudging against her forehead. It felt unexplainable, like a thousand bolts of lightning crashing into her all at once. “It’s pretty cute,” His thumb swiped along her chin, nudging it open so he could place the finish of his bottle inside her mouth, the glass heavy on her bottom teeth.
He tilted it up, letting it run over her tongue and pool up inside her mouth. It was near sickening sweet, likely what his mouth tasted like given how much he’d already drunk the majority of it. “Good,” Two of his fingers tapped her chin again, his other fingers clasping the neck of the bottle so it didn’t drop. She shut her mouth, swallowing awkwardly due to the angle her head was at. 
Once her mouth was empty again, her lips parted, her eyes moving up further to where the whites underneath her iris’ were even more visible. “More?’ She mumbled, her back shifting back unconsciously to steady herself against him. He granted her wish, keeping her mouth open as he hooked his two fingers over her bottom teeth as more alcohol spilt into her mouth.
“Fucking hell,” He hissed, his pink tongue darting out between his teeth in concentration. Their eyes refused to move and break contact, tension just building the longer the moment lasted. “You’re so fucking hot doing that,”
Her body got hotter at the praise, her mind short circuiting and essentially spilling out of her ears. “You’re sexy,” Her lips wrapped around the bottle, suckling on it gently as the final few drops spilt onto her tongue. 
He went silent, his eyes darting across her face as a way to memorise each curvature and feature complete. He wanted to engrave this moment into his mind for the rest of time. The bottle slid down her mouth further, her lips pursing and stretching thinner around the thickness. His mouth dropped open ever so slightly, his eyes near bulging out of his head at the erotic sight.
He was hard, undoubtedly. His arousal pressed against her ass where her dress clung tightly around. He grinded against her, desperate for some sense of contact and pressure against his ache. “ Baby ,” He whined into her neck, pulling the bottle away from her mouth to rest it against some table.  
Her heart pounded harder in her chest, feeling like it could explode at any given moment. The mix of the nickname, the desperation in his voice, the way his crotch was rubbing straight against her. “ Lan ,” She moaned, turning around so her chest was pressed against his, the silk fabric of his button up gliding against her exposed skin. “Please,��� Her voice cracked with straight need.
“Please what ?” His hand settled into place against her jawline, his palm flush with the front of her neck, the slightest pressure against it. He knew what she wanted, both of their intentions so crystal clear, but he wanted to hear her say it- needed it.
“Kiss me,” Her voice was so fucking weak at that point, her expression completely wanton and eager for him. His eyes went straight to her lips where a glossy whine of the remaining alcohol coated them, making them even more red and wetter. The grip his hand had on her jaw tightened, putting her head into the perfect position for him.
His mouth moved against hers quickly, her bottom lip slotting in between hers in an almost practised manner. Her mouth parted, his tongue slipping inside the warm emptiness within seconds. Moans from her spilt into his mouth, the vibrating sensation going straight to his dick, somehow getting even harder with each movement she made against him.
One of her hands trailed up to his hair, tugging on his curls. They were so delicate in between her fingers, perfect coils wrapping around each digit. Her other hand snuck up under his shirt, the back of her hand brushing against the soft silk while her palm and finger tips explored his hardened abs. 
“More,” She begged, her nose nudging against his as their lips finally broke away. His breathing was heavy, laboured almost. Their bodies were still resting flush against each other as his left hand sat heavily on her ass, squeezing it, while his other remained cupping her face. 
“What do you want, gorgeous?” His voice was lower, breathless from making out for so long. He’d tipped his head down, his mouth close to her ear. There were so many things she wanted- she wanted to kiss more, she wanted to feel his tongue all around her mouth, she wanted to taste him, she really wanted to fix the ache in between her legs.
So with not even half her brain working to put together a proper cohesive sentence, she mumbled out the first thing that came to mind, “ Hotel ,”. Whether it was her hotel or his wasn’t important, all that mattered was for them to have a private room to stay up all night together in private. Because despite how at this point she could probably be convinced to drop down onto her knees and suck his cock right then and there without much effort from the brit- it wouldn’t look too good for an f1 driver to be receiving a blowjob in a random club in Singapore. 
Maybe his one would be nicer on the other hand, a Formula one driver would likely have been supplied a higher star hotel then some girl in law school using her own money to pay.
With one swift move, each of her legs were on either side of his waist, her thighs bracketing his hips to keep herself up. One of his arms snaked around her waist for stability as he navigated his way out of the club, avoiding anyone who was clearly trying to approach him for either a photo or an autograph. 
She buried her face in the collar of his shirt, one of her hands trying to cover her face in a last chance attempt to conceal her identity in case anyone had been filming. It was something she should’ve considered before they started making out, but she couldn’t change the past now.
The humid Singaporean air struck them the second they pushed past the entrance doors. A thin sheen of sweat collected on the back of Lando’s neck, but she was unaffected. Singapore was a consistent visit of hers so she’d become accustomed to the near unbearable heat. 
A taxi rolled up right to where they were standing and before she even had the chance to ask when he managed to book one, Lando’s mouth was on hers again. She didn’t even notice the taxi door being opened until he was arranging her on his lap in the backseat, his eyes going directly down to her breasts. He placed a soft kiss to one where some cleavage was exposed from the dress’s style, while his hand worked at kneading the flesh.
A whimper of satisfaction passed by her lips, earning a shit-eating grin from the man. He continued his ministrations, tugging down some of the fabric over her breast to kiss further down her chest. Her head tipped back, hitting against the headrest of the passenger seat. As she ground her hips harder into his, each bump of the road that the car hit just pushed his boner further against her drenched cunt through her panties, a wet patch forming on his trousers.
“Pretty thing,” He trailed his lips up her neck, her jaw, then suckling on just her bottom lip. “So fucking wet for me,” He growled, pulling her body impossibly closer to him. Part of her wished she’d been sober for this- to be able to enjoy this moment with complete clarity and be sure to remember each and every event the next morning.
The drive seemed excruciatingly long, but had only been a mere few minutes in reality. Her body had essentially moulded into his by the end of it, her legs unable to work to take her to the elevator up to his room. They didn’t need to work though, he was more than excited at the opportunity to carry her as long as he could.
And she sure as hell wouldn’t be able to walk by the end of the evening. 
The second the elevator doors drew to a close, Lando’s hand was tugging her panties to the side, allowing a finger to slide along her clit, “Good?” He nuzzled his head into her neck, kissing the smooth skin there over and over. The touch was met with a string of pleasured moans, all more beautiful than the last.
He got prepared before the doors reopened, grabbing his phone out with his keycard secured in the back of it, ready to open the door the second they arrived so he could be on top of her as quickly as possible. The grazing of his finger stopped long enough for him to unlock the door, and resumed as soon as it clicked shut.
“Lando, fuck, please,” She begged, overstimulated by all the drawn out teasing of the night. “Just finger me already,” She was at her wits end, completely ready to just touch herself if he wouldn’t take it a step further right then.
She didn’t have to do that though as he answered her prayers, sliding a thick finger into her aching cunt. A sigh of relief left her lips, her hole clenched around his finger in reflex. He carried her into the bedroom, settling her down on the bed as he hovered over her, his knees on either side of her hips as he covered her face in chaste open mouthed kisses.
The pleasure turned to a quick flash of dull pain when he removed his finger, pulling her underwear down and tossing them across the room in a drunken hurry. His green eyes widened as he stared directly at her pussy, his pupils shooting wide in lust. “Fuckk,” He sighed, “Can I.. taste?” He wasn’t sure exactly how to word the request but she granted him permission regardless. 
He shuffled down, his massive hands grasping her thighs to position them over his shoulders. She lifted her hips off the mattress so as to allow him to push the bottom of her dress higher up before his head dipped down, his nose nudging at her clit. The sensation sends a rush of slick straight to where his mouth was readily waiting.
Tentatively, the tip of his tongue licked alongside her hole to her clit, emitting a shudder and a groan from the girl. He squeezed down on her thighs, rubbing the right one with his thumb to help her calm down. “What colour?” He murmured, looking up at her from between her legs. 
“Green,” Her head tilted back, hitting against the pillow as she moaned into it. With the go ahead, his tongue repeated the motion, pulling more noises out of her throat. He began to eagerly lap at her wetness, the taste coating over his tongue as he grew more desperate to make her cum.
He had become increasingly more aware of the pain in his trousers, his neglected erection tenting uncomfortable in his too tight boxers. Squeezing one of her thighs tighter to make up for the loss of his hand, he reached his hand down to his crotch and began palming at the spot. He tilted his head down, his tongue fucking her while his nose buried into her bundle of nerves.
She was feeling so much. The way his tongue was buried deep inside her, how his nose was expertly rubbing her clit, his hands stroking the insides of her thighs where goosebumps prickled, and most of all- the way his deep emerald eyes remained staring into her soul. He lapped at her wetness like he’d been deprived of sex for years- in reality it couldn’t have been more than a month. 
He had a one track mind, always did. His only goal in life was win, win, win. And today’s prize was making the beautiful girl laying on his bed, his best friend, cum with his mouth. Determined to make that happen, and make it happen right then, his teeth grazed against her slit gently to overstimulate her. 
Sure enough, the action got her legs shaking and her back arching. “Fuck, Lando,” Her hand yanked on his hair, effectively pulling him away slightly. His eyes went wide in shock, it certainly hadn’t been the reaction he’d expected. 
“I’m sorry,” He kissed the inside of her left thigh, his hand idly tenderly rubbing her knee. “Did it hurt?” She shook her head, having to crane her neck to look down at him. His cheek rubbed against her leg, another kiss to the bend of her knee. That time he suckled the spot, hollowing his cheeks to leave a small red spot when he pulled away.
“No, no- just.. sensitive,” She had to take a few moments to breathe, her chest raising and dropping with forced effort. “You- you can go again,” It’s more of a request than a suggestion, and he took it seriously. 
His mouth returned to her heat, his tongue swiping up in a practised motion, each one met with more noises of delight and pleasure. A hand yanking his hair again signalled her orgasm, spilling into his mouth. He drew to a halt, going slower as she came down from her high so it wouldn’t ache from the abrupt ending.
He scooted up so his face was just mere inches above hers. He couldn’t even try to force back the smile that played on his face upon seeing how absolutely fucked out she was. Her half lidded eyes, bitten lips, sweaty skin- it was truly a sight. He kissed her, over and over, wanting nothing more than to experience the pressure of her mouth on his.
As he kept his lips on hers, he began tugging down the top of her dress to reveal her strapless bra, one of his hands moved underneath her back, his fingers toying with the clasp of her bra before snapping it open. His fingers inched the thick fabric away, the pads of his fingers grazing along her bare chest. “I’m surprised it took you so long to get that off,” She snickered, “Thought you’d wanna see my boobs first thing,” Lando felt a wave of shame rush over him, drowning in embarrassment of her comment. 
He puffed hot air up onto his top lip, a slight snarl twisting his lips. “Is that how I make you feel? Like all I want from you is your body?” His tone was harsh, piercing her skin and leaving a mark. Her expression shifted from her drunken daze to somewhat more alert. The sting behind his tone was solely just a cover for his genuine hurt, unbeknownst to her.
“No, no, Lans..” Her hand cupped his cheek, her voice softening as she said it. “I’m sorry baby, I didn’t mean it like that at all,” She angled for a kiss, receiving one almost immediately as he was an absolute sucker for an apology kiss. “If anything that’s more me, I was the one begging for you earlier,” That soothed his nerves, his mood switching back to aiming for pleasure.
He sat back on his heels as she shuffled her legs closer to her, her knees bending up towards the ceiling while still straightened enough to allow them to keep their eye contact. Lando bit his bottom lip, a cheeky grin sneaking out through it. “Sex?” He finally asked, watching her expression turn to match his. 
She leaned forward, hands tangling up in the fabric of his button up. Within seconds it had joined her panties somewhere flung mindlessly across the floor. Her fingers massaged into the groves of his back muscles, relishing in how each one ripples with each sudden movement he makes.
His fingers clasped around the zip of her dress, pulling it down tantalisingly slowly. With each bit of skin that was further revealed, his lips peppered kisses down her body. Her eyes fluttered shut, lost in the pleasure and an overwhelming feeling of ‘ oh god, finally’. As she felt the last of her dress removed and likely joined the other discarded clothes, Lando let out a short breath of exhilaration.
His nose nudged her neck, lips focused on her collarbones. “Open your eyes,” He grumbled, his thumbs kneading into her waist. “Want you to see this, pretty thing,” Her eyelids were heavier than ever so opening them felt like a chore. 
A flush of wetness streamed straight to her core as she felt him rocking his hips against her cunt. With a flurry of hands and mouths on eachother, she tucked her fingers into his boxer’s waistband and shoved them down, his hardened cock smacking up to hit his stomach.
Her eyes practically turned black as her pupils grew beyond a size Lando deemed possible. “Happy?” A finger slid back inside her like it had been before, moving in and out before realising she’s definitely ready enough for a second one. 
“Horny,” His free hand tightened in place over her hips, lifting up to help his digits reach further into her. He ignored her clit, wanting her to finish for a second time when he was actually inside her.
The head of his cock was reddened and had drops of pre-cum lining all over it. He removed his fingers from inside of her, met with a groan of discomfort, and moved that hand to wrap around his aching shaft. “I needa fuck you right now,” Lando grumbled, his hand stroking his throbbing cock a few times before meeting her eyes, seeing only pure lust and want.
His hands gripped her legs, pulling them apart and locking them to wrap around his waist. One hand returned back to his dick, guiding it into her dripping hole. A gasp was punched from her throat as he got close to bottoming out. She was full, insanely full, as if he was to leave right then she wouldn’t have been a complete woman without him inside her.
Admittedly, there was definitely a fair amount of pain that accompanies the intrusion, but it doesn’t come close to the overwhelming pleasure. “Colour?” His voice was thick as he moved in and out of her with renewed energy.
“Green,” 
Lando went faster and deeper. 
“Greener,” Her expression was dazed and dopey as she looked up at him, her lips lax as she tried to express that she wanted kisses while he ruined her.
He didn’t get the hint, just pushed her legs further up and went quicker.
He finished first and she followed quickly after. He collapsed on top of her in an exhausted pile of a mess, his breathing heavy and manual. “That was so fucking good,” Her eyes trailed up to the ceiling, a sort of emptiness filling the void. She wished he would shut up as he kept rambling on about how pretty she was and how perfect tonight had been. Post sex clarity set in, and hit hard.
Because not only did she just hook up with an f1 driver in a random country, that driver was the man that had been her best friend for years and was a known manwhore. “I love you,” He mumbled, his hand playing with her hair. “Always have, for fucking years I’ve loved you” She didn’t hear him though, his mouth muffled with a blanket in front of it and her ears covered by her pillow.
He fell asleep with his body half on top of her, his arm draped across her chest. Of course he wasn’t the type to practise aftercare. She wiggled out from underneath him, her eyes rimmed with exhaustion and the desperate need for sleep. As soon as her feet hit the plush cushioning of the carpet and the city lights of Singapore nightlife illuminated her face, she realised the grim mistake she’d made.
So with that, she picked her bra and underwear up off the floor, nicking a pair of his smallest shorts and an oversized McLaren hoodie, wrapped herself up in those clothes and headed downstairs to the lobby, calling a taxi to her own account despite how the receptionist said the charge could go to the room she’d stayed in- to Lando.
Even though he had plenty of money to his name and on his card, and how a fifteen dollar taxi would hardly be noticed- she didn’t want to feel an obligation to him to pay him back for this. She needed clarity and space, and feeling like she owed him wouldn’t allow that. 
With a quick text sent to him, ‘ thanks for tonight, don’t think we should do it again,’ she stepped into her taxi and headed to her own hotel, showering his touch off under scalding water.
The next morning when he woke up tangled in a heap of blankets and pillow, he noticed how cold and empty the bed was. “Love?” His voice thick with sleep, his arms aimlessly reaching for her. They hit nothing though, he was alone in his bed. 
He sat up in a panic, every single moment from the night before remembered exactly. Dancing at the club, his drink in her mouth, the look in her eyes. Back at the hotel, his hands undressing her, their mouths attached to each other’s with undoubtable passion. Him buried inside her, how she’d sounded, how gorgeous she’d looked underneath him.
He’d fucking told her he loved her. And now she was gone. 
The now cold bed sheets wound tighter around his body, the false feeling of an embrace not nearly enough to heal the hurt.
~ part 2 ~
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QUARTER-FINALS MATCH 2
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Elliott propaganda:
“Just look at him. Pure hunk energy.”
“I will punch anyone who dislikes him. He’s like a fire emblem character in the modern day. He’s so flamboyant and handsome, he can play the piano and he’s best friends with the old fishing man!”
“dramatic writer man with sexy hair”
"Since I like elliott. I will state some reasons why I like him
Imagine if Mr. Darcy didn’t insult your family first time you met him, that’s Elliott. The man who’s basically the hallmark romance love interest. He’s a writer who moves to the small town in the country side to find inspiration for his writing. Then he finds the farmer.
He has a crab living in his pocket
He can play the piano (hopefully it isn’t the river flows in you however)
His fans sometimes hc him as a merman and that’s just a major plus IMO
He genre of the book he writes is dependent on what genre you say you like.
He also sends letters to you if you marry him
Okay and also some things I dislike
His liked gifts, the easiest one is pomegranates, which cost like 6000g to grow a tree if you don’t pick the fruit cave. I AM NOT GETTING SQUID INK IN YEAR ONE FOR YOU.
he might be British /j
The fact he has no kitchen but still likes food like lobster, like he is just a mystery. Lives in a cabin, with no kitchen, no washroom (okay no character has a washroom), but still likes the most fancy food out there and has luscious hair worthy of a L’Oréal ad.
Gifting him on rainy days when you don’t have two hearts"
Asra propaganda:
“He GIVES AWAY HALF HIS HEART TO REVIVE YOU okay but like. He's the MCs roommate and they were together for a few years before the MC caught a plague and died and he obsesses over a way to bring them back before succeeding by making a deal with a god to trade half his heart for MC and betraying the emperor. And then when MC comes back but without any of their memories, he takes care of them and teaches them how to live all over again and he never asks for anything in return. On all the routes where you don't choose him he's really supportive and helps you out despite your history and overall he's just really nice and supportive of the MC and is their rock no matter what route you go down. Also he has a pet snake named Faust and I love her she's so <33 
Idk I just appreciate him so much”
"He gave you half his HEART!! He would literally go to hell and back for you!! He wants to take you on adventures all around the world—doesn’t matter where, as long as he’s by your side!! AND he’s nonbinary!!!"
"He is so caring!! Anyone who says he is boring or his 'route' was boring is a LIAR or didn't really understand his character! He is such a sweet person
Asra propaganda on this poll doesn't even do him any justice!! He makes friends wherever he travels to , likes knitting for his familiar snake , is a sweetheart, WILL take care of you even in the lowest point of your life"
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roo-bastmoon · 2 days
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Off My Chest
Rant about Hybe under the cut. I give you my word I will try to post a majority of positive content, because the world (and my mental health) doesn't need more negativity, but sometimes you just gotta vent.
Folks, if you've known me for a hot second, you've realized I am a Jimin-biased Jikooker... but I am OT7, and I sincerely love and support BTS.
I believe Jimin is a grown man who can advocate for himself and I believe Jungkook absolutely supports and adores him, whatever their relationship status is.
I always try to accentuate the positive and avoid online drama and negativity as much as possible, but I need to get this off my chest.
I will never be gas-lit into believing that the way Jimin was treated in solo era was fair, or equitable, or even made any kind of business-sense. I've genuinely tried to entertain other people's points of view and listen to people who claim to have industry expertise, but...
I will never forget his mail being tampered with four times, his leaked insurance information, denial of more music videos, overlapped solo release, only 9 days of promotion, split title tracks, no radio or play-listing, no bio for his Spotify for months, no restock of his single CD for months, hundreds of thousands of frozen and deleted sales, millions of culled streams, shady articles in WeVerse and Billboard, insulting dialogue in In the Seom, failure to submit to RIAA certification for months, only a paywall documentary on WeVerse, zero official acknowledgement of his Hot 100 #1, 1 billion streams on Spotify, or wins for The Fact, MAMA, and two Webbys, plus broken in-ears, anemic little balloons and a sad background tarp as decorations for his fan events… and the company telling him how doing more would just be impossible.
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I compare all that to the push that other members and other groups got, and I know it just isn't true. It wasn't impossible.
Hell, Jeon Jungkook put in more effort to promote Jimin’s work and showed more respect for Jimin as an artist during his at-home lives than that whole company did, which honestly makes no sense from a profit standpoint.
I will never forget it, and I will not entertain arguments that say I’m a solo or an anti or jealous about it. I have eyes.
I am not out to shade any other members nor put forth any conspiracy theories. I simply want all our boys to get everything they justly deserve.
And yes, other members have suffered mishaps and neglect, but nothing of this scale, this consistently. It baffles me, I cannot understand it, and I'm done trying. Something strange was going on behind the scenes and we may never be privy to the details.
In trying to put this awful feeling behind me, I will say I am elated that Jikook are serving together and can support each other. I am glad there will be a Jikook travel show. I'm continually impressed with all of Jimin's success (in the military and professionally) despite all odds. I will always love and support all of BTS with my full heart.
And I sincerely hope the company has been taking notes and course-corrects for PJM2, even if it rubs some higher ups the wrong way if they had a different vision. Considering Jimin’s unique talents and his amazing star power—even his ability to bring Paris and New York to a screaming standstill just for the opportunity to see him exit a car—I would hope the company will “do their best to promote all labels and artists without discrimination” going forward.
But what happened truly sucked, and I needed to get that off my chest. I am not interested in further discussion or debate. I am now going to do my best to shift my focus and energy on to the things I want to manifest, instead of the things that enrage me.
So let me end on a positive and hopeful note: I put all my trust in Jimin, who signed a new contract with Hybe and who unfailingly adores all his members. There can be no love without trust. I will always do my best to trust BTS.
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But I'm watching carefully. For Jimin and all our boys.
Love, Roo
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theminecraftbee · 2 days
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Just out of curiosity, do you know any alternative ways of showing types of relationships that could be used on ao3? I find the & and / method to be very constraining, especially with ambiguous or multi-dimensional relationships. & for platonic and / for romantic does not allow for a proper representation of nonstandard relationships, for example an enemy/loathing or polyamorous relationship. (Homestuck quadrants are their own thing and are not what I am asking for/about.)
answer that answers your question:
yes and no. if you just want another category of markers to exist, i know you said no homestuck quadrants, but those are probably most commonly used, although they're all synned to the / tag. i've seen some exchanges that want to differentiate use /& together, i've seen ? be used, and i've seen some invent their own tag (largely exchanges use these for matching purposes and it's rare but i HAVE seen it). however, there's no unifying convention, and ao3 will eventually syn all of these to either the / or & tag (usually the / unless the wranglers have a very good reason to think it's the & tbh). so know that even if you use your own symbol, it will show up in the relationship tag it ends up synned to.
one of the most common solutions to this is to use the symbol closest to what you want--personally i tend to just use the & unless there's fic content i think gen fans would really hate, since & is the tag that covers the much wider spectrum of relationships in my head, although some people will differ--and use freeform tags to disambiguate. for example, last days has the & tag for joe and cleo, along with a "queerplatonic relationships" tag! i believe "ambiguous relationships" is also a canonical tag, and you don't have to use canonicals if you can't find the one you like! the world is your oyster.
(here i'll also note: the & doesn't require them be like... friends. it just requires the fic be about their relationship in some way, and for this relationship to not be romantic or sexual. enemies is absolutely covered here, as is like, weird coworkers, or even tags like "hero & the public".)
(similarly, the / tag doesn't require they like each other, it just requires it to be a "ship"; enemies who have a ton of sexual tension goes under this, as do things like abusive romantic or sexual relationships; just make sure you're using your warnings and additional tags appropriately!)
the other most common solution is to tag both the / and & tag and use a tag like the "ambiguous relationships" or "this can be read as either" or "queerplatonic relationships" or whatever other disambiguating tag you think it needs. this is less common in the mcyt fandom because of the mcyt fandom's history of being SUPER WEIRD about shipping, but it's often the most common solution in fandoms that aren't this one.
"i want ao3 to have a ship tag that is neither & nor /, and is not considered synonymous with either" unfortunately this doesn't exist and isn't going to. like i'd love to say there's a way to make it exist but it Won't because of how ao3 was designed to work on a backend level and also ao3 does NOT change quickly, for better or for worse. you're going to have to pick between "make up a symbol and it will probably be synned to /", "use the tag you think you like best", or "use both". i wish there was another option too, if it helps, but the additional tags are really useful here!
"use no relationship tag" is also always an option; the relationship tag is not a required tag!
answer that answers your two examples, neither of which really fit the question as i understand it, hence me separating them out:
a fic about the relationship between two enemies is either the & tag if you just want the one that is actually meant to be used or the / tag if you mean for it to be like, the kind of enemies that have sexual tension. use additional tags to additionally disambiguate (example: just put in the tags the canonical tag "enemies" and you're good to go). the & tag is for ANY kind of platonic relationship, it does not require the two characters like each other, only that the fic is about their relationship! you can use the homestuck <3< if you REALLY wanna make it clear but that's synned to /, so like, up to you. if you're super worried someone will misunderstand the & tag you can also just not tag a relationship, relationships aren't mandatory tags.
i have no idea why you're asking about polyamory because that has a solution that's entirely unrelated to the problem you propose: you just tag the ship. ship tags with more than two names in them are legal tags, as long as it doesn't go over ao3's tag character limit you're good. if you do hit the limit, just use more than one tag! this is totally fine and follows ao3 conventions, don't worry. if it's the kind of polyamorous relationship with metamours, where not everyone is dating everyone, this is where more than one overlapping relationship tag REALLY helps. plus: you can mix / and & tags! not all of them will be canonical yet, but that's true of ANY ship tag you're originating! i have seen the form of "character/character & character" in many fandoms before, it's totally valid and will disambiguate! (also, the ensemble tags may help you here if you're doing like, a polyhermits thing; "hermitcraft ensemble/hermitcraft ensemble" is a legal tag and i think what polyhermits is probably synned to.)
so yeah, hopefully this helps some! good luck out there!
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catmask · 16 hours
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do you ever find it hard to just....Keep Drawing? what keeps you motivated? what keeps you inspired? i've been finding it hard to pick up a pen lately despite loving drawing and wanting to do it more than anything, how do you do it? also, i hope you have a nice day!!
oh i absolutely do. i think like.. last night i was having a bit of a rough one. and talking to my boyfriend about it.
sometimes motivation for anything (not just art) feels like if i stop moving, ill fall flat on my face. its difficult for me to get going, especially if i get interrupted or get suddenly thrown into a social situation.
on one hand, drawing has always been my stim/self soothing activity of choice (as im autistic). but 'work drawing' can sometimes be difficult when im scared i might be interrupted in the middle of the day, or if someone might need me to like 'be a person' suddenly.
all this to say, i try my best to stay motivated by taking care of my body and my brain, because if those things go out of whack then i know for sure i wont be able to draw well. and then, in terms of artistic motivation... i look at other people's art, and i go on walks a lot.. and i spend a lot of time alone with my brain/feelings.
art sort of is just like... an engine through which i am taking the outside world, processing it and pulling it through to show everyone how i feel about it. sometimes its as simple as 'this thing was beautiful, i want to show you' 'this thing was cute, i want to show you' but sometimes its also 'this is something i learned, let me teach you' 'this is something that hurt me, let me heal it with you'
... in a lot of ways if i dont keep drawing, i dont know how id communicate with other people, really. so i guess, i have to keep drawing because id get very lonely otherwise.
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etz-ashashiyot · 1 day
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I'm bored and stuck waiting and happened to remember that on my old blog I had made this statement:
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Since I have a minute, I figured I'd finally drop the list with some brief explanations:
1. By Way Of Sorrow - Coyote Grace version
This song and its lyrics, especially as sung by a queer/trans bluegrass band, could not be more Jew-ish in vibe. I am aware this is a cover, but I have only ever heard their version and that's the one that matters to me. I love love love this song, so much, and it perfectly captures how I feel about having been welcomed into the Jewish people after years of exclusion and othering from numerous other quarters. Am Yisrael has taken me in, treated me like family, connected me to the Divine, healed my wounds, and helped me feel as whole as one can in a broken and unredeemed world - while giving me the tools to join the work of tikkun olam myself.
2. The Farthest Field - The Lumber Jills version
This is the best version I could find; the original I was shown I can't find but will link if I do. This song was actually introduced to me by one of my orthodox rabbis, and I agree with him that it can be understood as a beautiful image of geulah.
3. Hallelujah - Coyote Grace & Girlyman
This one just makes me happy, and the words, message, and themes are very on-brand for Jewish vibes as well in my opinion.
4. Be Thou My Vision - old Irish Hymn (this version and this version are my favorites)
This one is very obviously a hymn and therefore decidedly Not Jewish. On the other hand, the words aren't so explicitly Christian that it rules out use by Jews (in my opinion) and especially if you translate the words into Hebrew, it sounds just like a traditional piyyut. (@springstarfangirl if you want to add your beautiful translation, please feel free!)
5. Down to the River to Pray - Alison Krauss
This is one where I do think the lyrics are a lot closer to being Christian specific, but it makes the list for a couple reasons: first, I've encountered it in Jewish-specific contexts without modification (one of our rabbis actually had us sing it like a regular song during zemirot), and second, there's a modified version by Nefesh Mountain that's quite enjoyable.
6. Whither Thou Goest - traditional
Yes, this one is a hymn too, but the words are directly quoting the Book of Ruth - her famous vows to Naomi, and to the Jewish people - and so it's already practically a Jewish song. It also has a special place of pride for me as a ger, and also because I used it as my wedding song in both the English (as heard in this version) and I also transliterated the Hebrew for our singer to do as well. It works nicely in both languages!
7. Roll the Ol' Chariot - David Coffin
This one I think is a little less direct, but I love it and included it for two reasons: first, it's a song of getting through it and surviving and thriving under tough circumstances, and second, you could very easily put liturgy to this melody instead.
8. For the Autumn Sky - traditional
Ignoring the last verse, this hymn could be very easily adapted into a beautiful Sukkot melody. For the last verse, I'd either simply leave it out, or one could write a Sukkot or Tu Bishvat themed verse to distinguish it. Incidentally, this was one of my favorite hymns growing up.
9. Sanctuary - Shaker melody
The video for this one is obviously mega-Christian, but it's on the list because we actually sing it all the time in shul and it has a special place in my memory from going to camp as a kid. Our shul is definitely not the only one who uses it in a Jewish context, either: this version by Cantor Julia Cadrain is really lovely.
10. Genesis 3:23 - The Mountain Goats
Where are my fellow Mountain Goats fans?? I know you're out there, lol. Look, I know that John Darnielle is coming at this from a Christian perspective, but two things: first of all, TMG has a number of Jewish fans I think at least in part because the lyrics speak deeply to the specific feelings around life (and other people) being horrible to you, surviving, and thriving even in the wake of deep trauma. Second of all, I think this one in particular brings up a number of interesting ideas about the meaning of home, of homecoming, of returning to a home that no longer really exists in the same way, and of exile and redemption. What would it look like to return to Gan Eden? Is this what geulah is supposed to look like, at least in some interpretations? What does it mean if not?
Anyway, this is it for now, but I may add to this list later, because there are definitely a few more! Please also feel free to add your own in the notes!
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marchsfreakshow · 2 days
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How Dangerously Beautiful [Peter Maximoff]
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Fluff
You like collecting knives, and the first time Peter comes over, he's interested in the love you have for the maybe weapons.
Yet another Maximoff fic I'm not sorry. I am love Maximoff :3
No one's perspective
⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷
"We literally just got off the phone Maximoff!" You squealed as the front door was flung open. Nothing could ever make you used to the speedster's mutant powers. No matter how many times he sped himself over to you; outside, at his house, in your garden, at work... it always freaked you out a little. But a grin appeared as Maximoff stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind him.
"well, you asked me to come over. And here I am, over." He breathed out, looking around, then speeding up the stairs. It made a sigh escape your tired body and rushed behind the speedster.
As Maximoff stood by a closed door, he pointed at it, almost quizzically. "Is this your room?"
"Well, do you see another closed doors that have a sign saying my name?"
"ah, yeah." He then just grinned at you and stepped in, immediately taking in the decorations and everything almost cluttering the walls. No mess Maximoff wasn't used to, but still looked around in slight confusion. "And here I thought you were the cleaner one in the relationship." A small chuckle escaped him as you just shrugged and stepped past the speedster.
Your eyes focused on the knife collection you owned with nerves. Sure people around the world liked making different things, selling and buying. But yours was an odd one, and it was the first thing on your mind while your silver-haired boyfriend explored your room. "Well...you know, I try to be." A deep breath when you started your sentence.
Just as soon as you let out a sigh, Peter noticed what you were staring at. He was entranced by the different coloured metals shining in the mid-day light. Entranced by the little details on the handles, and how they seemed to be crafted. "Woah man. These are...fuckin rad..." He whispered, fingernails lightly tracing one of the knives.
A gargled "no!" escaped you as you ran to stand in front of Maximoff. It was useless, he always stood taller than you. "Don't. Don't, touch them." Your voice came out as a shaky whisper rather than a loud and confident command.
"why not?"
"they're precious!!"
"You're precious but I touch you all the time all over."
"oh shut up." Gritted teeth but a blush at his off-handed flirt. Something you were used to, but in a situation like this it overrided your mind. "Just...be careful. Please?"
"Always am babe don't sweat." Another little grin as Maximoff picked up your favourite knife, by complete coincidence. It was a wine red on the handle, covered with little black designs. A spider on the end, a cliché broken heart on the same middle spot on both sides. Little lines and dots around here, there, over and around. Sharpened recently by the looks of it. The blade was dusty looking; the wine red covered in a deep dusk top, perhaps to save the sharpened edge that was new and shiny.
Peter was in love with it. He looked at it like he looked at you whilst you were on top, eyes full of stars...wonder, and just pure amazement. "This is... beautiful.." a small voice coming out of the usually loud and energetic man. As a response you kissed his cheek, staring at your most priceless collectable with the same wonder.
"It's my favourite one, and custom-made. My cousin had it made for me last year on my birthday." It was a bit of random information but probably the only good response you had at that minute. Another little kiss on his cheek as Maximoff placed the knife back in its holder.
"All of these are so pretty. Just like you." Grabbing you by the side and pulling you before him, admiring the small collection. Reds, greens, blues, all shades and colours. They almost sparkled in Peter's eyes as you looked up to him as best you could. "I mean, why knives though babe? They're dangeroussss!" A little singsongy voice, knowing you knew the dangers of having potential weapons such as these.
Small shrug as you wrapped your hands around Maximoff's arms. "I know they're dangerous. But I just, look at them. They're wonderful..."
A small chuckle as kisses were placed around the sides of your face. "Again, beautiful like you. They suit you and I think, you should get a full silver one. Just pure silver."
"what for you?"
"Absolutely!" Both of you laughed to yourselves, just admiring the wall of coloured metal in front of you.
"not a totally stupid idea...I'll think about it."
"you should." Another little laugh as another little set of kisses were peppered over your face.
⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷
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Tag: @silverzoomies @babygorewhore @taintandviolent @coentinim @nahoyasboyfriend @newwavesylviaplath @fear-is-truth @slutforgarlogan @slvt4jamesmarch @bluerthanvelvet444 @briaroftheroses
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uponthefantasy · 1 day
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°○ Missing | Hashira x platonic! Tsuguko! Reader Headcanon| ○°
How the hashiras react to having to fight you as a demon.
Description: It's been weeks since they had last seen you, and they were already worried over their minds. When it is officially declared that you're missing, they look all over for you, only to find you as one of the enemies.
Genre: Angst.
Characters: Giyuu Tomioka and Kyojuro Rengoku.
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°○ Giyuu Tomioka ○°
Giyuu already had a bad feeling about you leaving for that mission, and seeing your condition now had proved his suspicions.
You're usually tan body was now as pale as snow, those innocent eyes with round pupils that gave your face just a bit more charm and cuteness were now paled in comparison of the color before, and your rounded pupils were now slits. Fangs had protruding from your gums, giving you the look of a monster. You had become a demon. It hurt him to see you in such a way, knowing that your cheery, sweet soul was dead, replaced with something cold and heartless.
It was his fault anyway.
If he hadn't let you go on the damn mission in the first place, none of this would've happened. Instead, he was now standing in front of a shell of who you truly were, something that was no longer the sweet, cheerful tsuguko that Giyuu had promised to protect, just like he promised for every other person who he still failed to protect in his life. He couldn't protect his sister. He couldn't protect his best friend. And now he failed to protect the last person he was truly able to care and love for, his tsuguko.
He watched as you charged forward, aming for him with nothing but pure, animalistic hunger in your eyes. He had to accept that you were no longer human. No longer the person who had changed his life for the better. Instead of enjoying a peaceful day of your return, he was standing here, getting into a stance and slicing the delicate head off your shoulders, his ocean eyes turning glossy while doing so.
Giyuu stared at your withering body with no emotion. You were gone. For good. He slowly turned around and walked away, his eyes glossy and his heart broken.
"I'm sorry, Y/n.... I couldn't protect you..." He whispered.
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°○ Kyojuro Rengoku ○°
For one of the very few times in his life, Rengoku had failed to smile. His usual heart filled with warmth was now full with a mix of shock, guilt, and sorrow. He felt like he couldn't even move when his bright, firey eyes stopped upon your demonic frame. The snow-white skin, sharp claws, and weird markings all over your body told him exactly everything he needed to know.
You were a demon.
Despite the feeling of anguish in his heart, he charged forward, taking a swift slice of his bright red sword towards your pale, delicate neck. Though it hurt him to have to do such a thing to someone so dear to him, he knew it was for the great or good.
He watched as you slowly faded away, his eyes filled with sorrow as you ever so slightly disappeared from the world.
"Goodbye, Y/n. I'll see you again soon." He spoke, his eyes widening once he heard soft words emitting from the remainder of your mouth.
"Goo....dbye....juro..."
Before he could blink, you were gone. Leaving him alone to face the world once again.
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Text
A Slice Of Life (Waitress AU) part 6
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Doctor!Steve Harrington x Waitress!Reader
<- Previous part
Word Count:2,208
*dividers by @saradika-graphics
Masterlist // Steve Harrington Masterlist
“Steve, what on earth are you doing here?” you whisper-shout as you round his table.
“I heard this was a great place to get some pie.” he says with a smile. “Plus I came to see you, I can’t stop thinking about you, Y/N”
“You can’t be visiting me at work like this, doesn’t this go against our keeping things low-profile agreement.”
“I don’t care about that, I know how I feel about you, and I’m not ashamed of that. I like you a lot, Y/N, and sometimes I think you think like me too, and I want to be the one to make you happy.” he says sincerely.
“It’s not that simple, Steve. Yes I like you, of course I do, but all of it doesn’t matter when I’ve got Billy breathing down my neck and watching my every move. He’d wring my neck if he even saw us talking together right now.”
“I know this whole situation is completely crazy, and not ideal, and hell, I’ve only known you a few short months, but you’ve worked your way into my heart.”
“Steve..”
“I’ll wait for you, however long that may be, I’ll wait for you. You’re worth waiting for.”
You fight against the tears welling up in your eyes at how patiently sweet and loving that this man was to you, your heart pounding against your chest.
You wipe your tears with the back of your hand quickly, turning away, before turning to Robin on your way.
“Uh, Rob, can you serve table 7 for me please, I need to run to the back for something.”
“Sure, is everything okay?” she asks, laying a reassuring hand on your shoulder.
“I’m fine, honest I am, thanks” and with that you were rushing to the bathroom, slamming the door behind you with a shaky breath and tears bubbling in your eyes.
Why was nothing simple?
You dry your eyes, and pull yourself together in the bathroom mirror enough to go back out into the diner, and when you look out you find the seat in which Steve was sitting bare. Robin tidying away after him.
“Hey, Y/n, that customer I just served, he sure did leave a generous tip.” she smiled as she wiped down the table with a cloth.
“That’s-uh- that’s really good, Rob, you deserve it.” 
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The day had felt long and tiring as you sit down with a sigh next to Nancy on the bench outside the diner.
“You waiting on Billy to pick you up?” 
“Yeah” you say quietly.
There’s a beat of silence between you two before Nancy speaks again.
“You know, you’re a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for. That’s the thing that I have always admired about you, you come into work every day with a bright smile on your face, even though that terrible man is waiting for you at home.”
“I guess being here, making pies and making people happy with the pies that I make is the only time I get to escape from being Billy’s wife. We were so young we got together, and I was too dumb to realise that being Mrs. Hargrove wasn’t all that I thought it was going to be. I've been with him for so long that somewhere down the line I forgot what it was like to just be myself.” you huff, wringing your hands together in your lap. “Not Billy’s wife, not Mrs. Hargrove, just Y/n.”
“Well, you know what? Just Y/N happens to be one of my best friends, and I’m so glad that I get to exist in a world with you in it.” she smiles. “And I’m sure as hell this baby is going to have one of the best mothers that they could ever want for.”
Just as you were settling into the warmth of Nancy’s kind words you’re brought out of it by the blaring horn coming from Billy’s car as it cruised to a stop in front of you.
“Alright, well I’ll see you on Friday Nance, I love you.” you give her a final hug before getting up.
“I love you too darling, take care of yourself.”
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 You close your eyes as best you can, desperately trying to fall asleep and ignore Billy’s presence in the bed beside you, but that proved to be an impossibility as his form leered over your shoulder, placing a trail of kisses to your shoulder.
“Babe, I know you’re awake, why don’t you come a little closer and treat me how a good wife treats her husband, huh?” He says in that way he does when he’s trying to get what he wants from you. It makes your skin crawl.
“I don’t feel like it.” you mutter, burying yourself deeper under the covers of the duvet in the hopes that somehow the world would just disappear around you.
“What makes you think you have that option, hmm?” his hand traces up your arm, and it’s all you can do to close your eyes as he leans close, his voice in  your ear. “I feed you, I pay for the roof over our heads, I put clothes on your back, c’mon all you gotta do is reach behind and give me a little hand-job or something? I ain’t askin’ for the world, sweetcheeks,”
“Billy, please, I’m really tired. I just want to sleep.”
“Fine, if you’re not going to look after me, I guess I’m just going to have to take matters into my own hands.” he grumbles, before getting out of bed and making his way to the bathroom. “I’m gonna go have a shower and jerk off since you wanna be a bitch about it.” 
The bathroom door closes behind him and you suddenly let go of a breath that you didn’t even know you were holding on to. A relief washes over you, finally a chance at peace. You snuggle down into the sheets, laying a protective hand settling around your growing bump.
Dear Baby, I hope someday someone wants to hold you for twenty minutes straight, and that’s all they do. Without any expectations, hope or agenda, and they don’t pull away. All they do is wrap you up in their arms and hold on to you tight without an ounce of selfishness to it.
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Steve had texted you, apologising for showing up to the diner unannounced, asking you for the chance to make it up to you. You told him that it was fine, that his apology wasn’t necessary but he still insisted so, you told him to come to your house at 8.00 am sharp, but to stay behind the cover of the trees on the opposite street, watching out for Billy as he took off for work for the day.
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Pregnant, affair with your doctor, lying to your husband pie. Chopped walnuts and pecans, lumpy oatmeal with raisins instead of chocolate chips thrown in for good measure, flambé, of course..
At 8 am sharp there’s a knock on your door, and you can’t help the excited buzz you feel settling its place in your heart. You pad your way towards your front door, waddling slightly as you walk, the past few weeks in your pregnancy had suddenly made the easy, everyday things very difficult and tiresome. Your belly was now rounding out in front of you very prominently, there was certainly no hiding the fact that you were pregnant now.
“Hey, I just wanted to apologise for upsetting you last week, I didn’t mean to just show up to the diner unannounced like that, but I was driving past and before I knew it I was pulling up just to come and see you.”
He’s dressed in a simple and soft navy henley shirt, and pair of light-wash denim jeans, his hair flounces in a perfectly messy style that on anyone else would have looked unkempt, but he carries it off so effortlessly. As you bring him in for a hug, his warm and woodsy scent fills your senses, wishing he would hold you for just a bit longer, if only to be surrounded in his welcoming warmth.
“That’s really sweet of you, Steve. Why don’t you come in?” you say, standing back and opening the door for him to come through. “Billy’s gone for the day, and I’m off work, so I was going to spend my day trial-running a couple of new pie flavours, you wanna join me?”
“I would love nothing more.” he smiles in that glorious way that he always does, pink lips curving into rose-tinted cheeks.
You set out all your ingredients and mixing bowls on the kitchen’s work table, before reaching for your apron that hangs on the hook of the kitchen’s door.
“Here, let me.” Steve says as he takes the apron from your hands, and pulls it over your head. The material clinging to your belly. “Turn around for me.” and as you turn around, you feel his strong hands tying off the strings of the apron in a neat little bow at your back.
You bring out the pastry you had already made from the fridge before handing it over to Steve.
“Here, do me a favour, sprinkle some flour down and roll this out for me please.”
He does as you ask, dusting the worktop in flour before placing down the pastry and rolling the rolling pin over it.
“How’s this?” he smiles looking at you from over his shoulder where you are mixing together the filling for the pie on the stovetop. A slowly stewing mixture of pink rhubarb, green apples and red cherries, bubbling together in a sugary sweet-syrupy mixture.
“Looks good, now all we’ve got to is blind bake the pie shell for a couple of minutes whilst this comes together.” 
“Mmhmm” he hums gently, the pie shell in its tin ready to go, left out on the worktop for a moment as he turns his attention to you, brushing your hair away from your neck as gently kisses your soft skin. 
“Y’know, it was my mom who taught me how to bake a pie. I would sit on the kitchen counters every time and just watch her as she worked. She was always so happy in what she was doing, not once did I ever see her in the kitchen without a smile on her face. She’d come up with all these different flavours and combinations and it was delicious every single time. She’d always tell me that the secret ingredient was love, and I don’t know if I ever fully believed her until I started baking for myself. She’d always give the pies the strangest names too, like ‘Bed-Time Story pie’ or ‘Summer Vacation pie’, my favourite one was ‘Pretty Baby pie’, she told me that that was the pie she made when she found out she was pregnant with me.”
“And what’s this one called?” he asks, nodding towards the mixture of fruit bubbling away on the stove.
“Well let’s just call it, hidden lover’s pie” you smile, turning the stovetop off and turning to look at him and as he looks back at you he cups your face in his hands and kisses your lips so sweetly. Pulling back from your lips he smiles at you so warmly.
“You're so beautiful.”
“I’m fat.” you laugh softly, resting a hand on your baby bump.
“You’re pregnant, there’s nothing in the world more beautiful than that.”
“Well I sure as hell don’t feel beautiful. I’m tired and cranky, totally not prepared and have no idea what I’m even doing. Just thinking about having this baby makes me scared as hell. I don’t know how to be a mother.”
“Nobody knows what they’re doing the first time they have a baby. I mean, my friend, Eddie and his wife had a baby not too long ago, and that man was the most nervous, terrified, panicked father-to-be that I had ever seen, but as soon as I delivered that little baby girl and he got to hold her in his arms for the first time? It was like a switch flipped in his brain and it all suddenly clicked into place.” 
“You delivered her?”
“Yeah, little Lydia Munson, I’m her god-father too. She’s a sweet kid, and her parents love her so much, she makes them very happy.”
You give a short hum as Steve takes your hands and pulls you close to his body, wrapping his arms around you in a safe, loving hug.
“..She makes them happy, just like being right here, with you in my arms, makes me happy.” he says, and with that he wastes no time in kissing his lips against yours once more, one hand tangled in your hair, the other hand is a steady presence on the curve your hip as he leans into you more to deepen the kiss.
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You make me happy too, Steve, more than you could ever know.
You allow yourself this moment of quiet and blissful peace in Steve’s arms. A chance to let yourself just be taken as you are, not as Billy’s wife, not as the waitress from the diner, just as Y/N, nothing more, nothing less.
@keerygal @penguinsandpotterheads @mrsjellymunson @paybacksawitch @seatnights @ali-r3n @potatobeanpies
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reyzxzc · 2 days
Text
The Proposal
summary: nico proposes to riley.
contains: cussing (it’s in all of my writings), fluff, crying, instagram.
————
december 20, 2023.
riley sat with her family and nico at the lake house in michigan. nico didn’t get a flight out to switzerland for christmas this year.
the hughes family was being quiet, like they knew something. everyone but riley. riley felt at a loss, not knowing why everyone was being weird around her.
“okay, someone tell me why everyone is acting so strange.” riley said. nico kissed her head. “no one’s acting strange, my love.”
riley rolled her eyes. “shut up.” riley placed her finger over his lips. “i don’t know what your talking about, my dear sister.” luke shrugged.
jack leaned over the counter, he was the only one who couldn’t keep a secret in their family. “jack.” nico mouthed to him.
jack groaned. “riley, can you um.. come skate with me?” jack asked. this was apart of nico’s plan to propose. “why can’t you just do it with luke or quinn?” riley asked.
“because i miss my sister, is that a problem?” jack asked. “okay.” riley said. jack smiled. riley kissed nico on the cheek and grabbed her coat.
jack opened the door and they walked out to the outdoor rink and put on their skates.
jack and riley got on the ice. “why’d you wanna skate, jack?” riley asked. “i love my big sister, what’s the problem with that?” jack asked, grabbing her hand.
riley hummed. “so no surprise?” riley asked. “no.” jack shook his head. riley hugged jack, kissing his head. jack hugged her back. he was loosing his sister more and more everyday. nico was proposing today.
jack didn’t ever wanna let go. he loves nico, yes. but he doesn’t love loosing his sister. jack has always been an older sisters boy. he would always go to riley when he needed something.
he can’t do that anymore. she’s gonna get married.
“jack?” riley said. jack hummed in response. “you getting tears on my shirt.” riley whispered. “what?” jack wasn’t even aware he was crying.
“sorry. must’ve just got lost in my thought.” jack wiped his tears. “no it’s okay.”
————
riley and jack walked back inside. “i’ll make some hot coco.” riley said, walking to the kitchen. “okay.” jack nodded, sitting on the couch in front of the tv, turning on a christmas movie.
riley made two cups of hot coco and handed one to jack. jack leaned into his sister. “i’m happy for you. i want you to know that, ry. i know i wasn’t at first but i am know.” jack said.
“i know buddy. never in my entire life would i thing you aren’t happy for me.” riley said. jack smiled. “what are we watching?” riley asked. “polar express.” jack smiled.
————
later that day, the table was set and everyone was eating. “um riley.” nico said. “yea?” riley asked, putting her fork down.
nico cleared his throat, which made riley cringe. nico got down one knee. riley gave him a look. nico pulled a ring out of his pocket.
“riley dakota hughes, the past year and a half has been the best off my life. it may seem a little early but i love you, more than anything else in this world. riley, would you do the honors and marry me?” nico asked.
riley nodded. “yes.” riley said. nico let out a sigh, and placed the ring on her finger. nico stood up, riley doing the same. riley hugged him, tightly.
nice kissed her when she pulled away from the hug.
“let’s pop some champagne!” ellen cheered. riley laughed and wiped her eyes. “none for you luke.” riley said. “not even an exception?” luke pouted. riley shook her head.
————
riley_hughes just posted
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riley_hughes:
caption: and we’re engaged. i’ve spent countless hours trying to figure out the way to word this. but the only thing that comes to mind is i love you. because that’s all i know. i love you nico. here’s to forever.
tagged// nicohischier
comments:
comments are limited
jackhughes: riley’s all grown up :,)
- riley_hughes: i’m older then you, jack.
lhughes_06: okay wtf, where’s the ‘luke took this photo’??
- riley_hughes: you didn’t tho…
nicohischier: 🫶🏻
- riley_hughes: 🌷
_quinnhughes: that should he me 😔 getting married 😔 that should be me marrying nico😔
- riley_hughes: .
————
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cripplecharacters · 2 days
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Hello! Want to double check that I've done a decent job of avoiding disfiguremisia, and try to turn it into great counter to hatred instead of just an okay one.
Preface: I have a form of memory loss and likely brain damage so I cannot always phrase things clearly although I will try my best.
Personally I do not feel happy reading escapist stories as that happy ending is not achievable for real people. We don't get to live in a place that's completely safe and free from judgement. I'd like to write people in a hostile world who find love and safety and community, however this does necessite writing hostility. I want to make sure I'm doing so with care.
I would like to make sure that the hostility written as tension does not tar how I write how one of the main characters. He should be written with dignity and respect even when he is not being treated well by those around him.
One of my characters is blind and develops severe burn scars. He wears a blindfold to help with photophobia and sensory overwhelm, but takes it off when its dim. (CVI plus autism.)
While he does wear a cloth coverings in public due to ugly laws, he views it as a ridiculous requirement and happily removes this mask when with friends. He also enjoys that being visibly strange or somewhat unnerving to most people means that shallow people who judge by appearances avoid him.
Question: what other things might I be able to employ to counter disfiguremisia? I have him being content with his face as it tells a story of his life and he's a blunt, forward person, not covering his face for most of the story despite laws necessitating that he do so, and a few other things too (and many side characters with facial differences and deformities also).
Also none of the central plotlines centre around facial difference. He's joining a servant rebellion, befriending a bitter exile intent on status at all costs, and discovering the truth of history. (Also a mind controlling octopus being is involved and a semi sentient moon amalgam thing but don't worry about it everything's fine.)
I think later books will be a more effective counter due to lack of ugly laws and him finding a lovely interest. I will also do my best to make the counters feel real and feasible - I want it to feel like an achievable option for those who deal with prejudice in the real world. I want his happy ending to feel real.
I respect the hell out of escapist fantasies it's just that they do nothing for me personally. I really want to write someone dealing with a lot - more than I ever have - and coming out the other end happy. Yes this world is hostile and will judge me but I can find joy despite it all. Some say the world is universally cruel but I have not found this to be the case. It is wise to be wary but myself and friends can create small sections of time and space where no precautions are necessary. Am I not part of the world? Are not they? The world is not universally cruel as long as I and those I treasure live in and we are not extraordinary, simply uncommon, and what is uncommon is still a great bounty. (Something to that effect.)
I'm set on what I want to write but the specifics I'm more than happy to change in order to bring joy. Do you have ideas on how I can do this full idea full justice?
Hello,
before getting to your actual ask, I have a "few" questions about the premise of the story itself.
You mention that you don't like escapist fantasies - that's fair. Taste differs; you can write whatever and that's great. But I do find the insistence to write a story about a specific type of discrimination as an outsider rather strange. If you want to have facial difference representation, I assume you want to have readers with facial differences, correct? I mean, I don't think that many able-bodied people would be too interested in it specifically considering most don't know what it is. So okay, this is supposed to be a story of characters with facial differences overcoming centuries worth of hatred and all that. Arguably more, considering that disfiguremisia and ableism go all the way back to Biblical times.
Why are you the person who needs to tell this story?
Just as people with facial differences are readers, we can be authors as well. We tell our stories. I will take an #OwnVoices book over a one that isn't that any day, and this fact will influence the rest of this answer. I'm a firm believer in #NothingAboutUsWithoutUs and all when it comes to this stuff.
Have you talked to people with facial differences who would be interested in the kind of story you want to tell? Do you know what they want to see from an author that's not taking it from their own experience? I don't count here, because as I made clear before, I'm not and won't be interested in it. I also don't know anyone in the community who has ever said "I wish more people without our experiences wrote about how hard it is to be us!". You need to make sure there are people who want this.
So, have, or will you, reach out to those that could like it? Sensitivity readers, random people online who like to read about disfiguremisia in their free time, advocates who work on media-centric problems? Anyone who would enjoy it is automatically a better candidate to help than me. I'm too jaded, I suppose.
If you want to talk about people with facial differences in such detail and setting, you need to get to know us. One guy with a specific set of opinions from a blog on Tumblr isn't that (thank god), but I guess I can serve as a reminder that not everyone will be excited to read a book that represents them in some way. We still have preferences.
To write it, you need to involve yourself in the community, start actually spreading activism about our issues. Preach about Face Equality and celebrate when our once-a-year week happens in May. See what disfiguremisia causes. Share our efforts to get all the problematic garbage off the big screen. Read our stories. Understand us as people who are incredibly diverse, and that not all of us like to be described as strange or unnerving.
If you only want to talk about our suffering as some quota to fill on a "types of discrimination" list, it will always be flat and inauthentic, and if you don't put in the effort it's pointless. We don't want tragedy porn, and we don't need to be included in every story about struggles that just wants some brand-new type of bigotry in it. We want authors who care about us, the living and breathing people. And sometimes it might mean respecting our opinions on writing disfiguremisia.
Here is a great post by @writingwithcolor explaining the effects of tragedy exploitation. Not everything there applies, but I would consider it a very valuable read.
If you think about all this, and decide that you are ready to write such a heavy, community-based story, go ahead to...
Actual Answers! Hooray
what other things might I be able to employ to counter disfiguremisia?
Sympathize with him. Disfiguremisia is a tragedy, it's brutal and it hurts. It's traumatic and impossible to forget, even if it wasn't happening constantly just to remind us that it's still there. On this note, I would recommend you research writing characters with PTSD.
Have him think about it. Sometimes I get home after getting stared down on the street and just want to yell. You don't forget a microaggression or a hate crime after five minutes. Let him vent and let him be upset. He can have flashbacks or recall similar situations that happened in the past.
I'm glad that he's aware of disfiguremisia unlike a ton of characters who are somehow always unable to figure out that it's a problem. If the ableism he's facing is so systemic and severe, individual people will be even more extreme. You can have him remember that the shop owner was a slur-spitting bigot, or that his neighbors avoid even talking to him. I want him to call them out - in retrospective, at the moment, in his head, whatever - on what they're doing. Throw a "not this fucking thing again" or something in there.
The minimum is to make him feel like a human with an internal thought process, who is able to actually experience what's happening to him, and for it to have long-term effects.
Also, outside of the whole disfiguremisia thing and me being overdramatic, check out our #blindness tag, and research burn scar care. If you don't show the boring and mundane, it will only feel closer to tragedy porn; just a sad thing one after another.
I will also do my best to make the counters feel real and feasible - I want it to feel like an achievable option for those who deal with prejudice in the real world.
This I think is the part of the ask that made me the saddest, and not because of what you wrote. I tried to think of achievable ways; ways that we did it, tried to do it, and are doing it, and one-by-one I crossed them out as "didn't work", "no one cared enough" or "kinda worked but honestly, it didn't". Face Equality is basically non-existent, not matter how much it hurts me to admit it! We are trying our best, and it doesn't work. It's just plain hard for me to come up with suggestions for this.
In fiction, I suppose that personal resistance is the way when it comes to this. I don't think there are feasible systemic changes that could happen that don't border on magical thinking or get into the "singular glorious revolution that somehow fixes everything and everyone lived happy ever after. We fixed racism, yay!". This just sucks.He could try to educate the people who are willing to listen - that's somewhat what I'm trying to pull off here on this blog, I guess. Sometimes it works, often it doesn't, but in his situation it wouldn't hurt to try.
The fundamental part here will be whether your character is able to find a way to make the ordinary person care in the end. To me, society who still hates us just as much, with a small group that thinks we're okay isn't a happy ending. The opposite, rather. It's cold and isolating to know only your friends could value you as a human being, and downright sad to imply that we should be happy for that. I don't mean that everyone should love us in every story, but there's a difference between The Ableism being represented by an antagonist or two versus the entire world except for the main characters.
If you decide to go forward with this story, I do hope your other readers with facial differences enjoy it!
mod Sasza
[This ask was submitted before my announcement of not taking questions regarding this subject matter. As of publishing this, it still applies.]
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modernsapphicism · 3 days
Text
Pancakes for Dinner
inspired by the song of the same name by lizzie mcalpine. a fetchen story as told by karen's letter to gretchen.
warning: light angst, possibly unrequited love
Gretch,
Hey. I know I haven't been in contact for weeks since I came home in India, and I'm really sorry for that. I thought I needed some space after graduation to figure things out for myself for a while especially now that high school is really over.
It kinda sucks, doesn't it? I thought life would be all good after Spring Fling in junior year, but somehow everything became different. Some are good different, others are bad different. Mostly good, though. At least we all graduated, and thanks to everyone, I didn't have to fall back a year to catch up with my grades.
Gretchie, I'm in the airport right now, waiting for my flight back to the US.
Funny how I've been riding airplanes since I was small and it still makes me nervous. I mean, it shouldn't be logical for a machine that heavy to be able to fly, right? It has no feathers like a bird, and its wings doesn't even flap. It just doesn't make sense, Gretch.
I am coming home. I plan to, at least. And I will be there by your side the next thing you know.
But in the rare case that I don't make it home, I want you to know something.
The truth is, all these years being by your side has been the best years of my life.
Sure, there are ups and downs especially when Regina gets cranky and lashes out on us, or when school sucks so hard that it's stressing us out. It was always you who held my hands though it all and made things better.
I love the days when it would just be the two of us hanging out. When we go to the mall and shop for clothes, when we go salons and have our nails done, when we go to festivals and carnivals and try on all the rides that we can go to, and take photos for our scrapbook.
I especially love it even when we're chilling in your house when your parents aren't around, on the couch wearing our pajamas with popcorns and colas in the table in front of us, a cheesy movie playing in the TV. You would always snuggle next to me, hold my hand underneath the blanket, and lay your head on my shoulder. You would fall asleep on the middle of our third movie and I would always be too scared to move, not wanting to wake you up and ruin your peace so I just sit still until the credits roll.
Days when you would sleepover at mine and we would talk and talk about everything and anything until the sun rises. How we would sneak downstairs in the middle of the night and make the kitchen our own little bubble. You would always pretend that the spatulas were microphones and sing random tunes just to keep me company while I cook pancakes for dinner. I would always be in awe of your voice and how you carry yourself when you perform as if you were on a stage, spotlight set on you, and there were only the two of us in the whole world that existed in that very moment.
I know you still love her, Gretch. It shows in the way you look at her and the way you cling to her every word. It has been like that for years but you just don't realize it. You would always say that you were just doing everything because you're a great friend. It's not like that, though. It hasn't been since ninth grade.
I know I was too much of a coward to say something, even now, I'm still scared. I don't want to taint whatever we have right now and risk losing it all. I can't lose you, Gretchen.
I don't want to keep on pretending that seeing you pay attention to someone else doesn't hurt. I don't want to keep on telling you that I'm happy you're with someone else when I'm clearly not.
But you couldn't have known.
Gretch, I don't want to say something, not yet, but I hope by now you probably have an idea what I'm trying to tell you. I can't be too forward in case it all comes crashing down on me and I don't think I can handle this going south, at least not right now.
I'll see you when I see you, and hopefully I'll finally be brave by then.
Always yours,
Karen.
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pakunod-a · 1 day
Text
Abstained.
A/N: a repost from my old blog (@ayayabaroque) with a few tiny revisions, based on Kung 'Di Rin Lang Ikaw and Sa Ngalan Ng Pag-Ibig, both by December Avenue <3 Warnings: Sumeru Archon Quest spoilers, (Use of Scaramouche's real/given name) horrible English </3
If you aren’t the reason to love, would I stop my heart from getting hurt?
Kunikuzushi was beyond saving, he was impossible to love. His own creator abandoned him, his only friends left him, and being faced with his own immortality, he knows that you’ll leave him too.
You believe that though your flaws of mortality remain, you would do your best to stay by his side for eternity.
But as he drifts of into the company of another, a scholar by the name of Haypasia, you question if he is worth the trouble of loving.
“Scaramouche, it’s been only 2 days after your most recent visit to Haypasia, would it be possible to ask you of one thing?”
He merely scoffs, dismissing the idea of resting, if it meant showing affection to his most devoted follower.
It is a true wonder you haven’t left him yet, despite how inconsiderate he is towards your personal feelings.
If it isn’t you, then it won’t be at all, I won’t hope for us anymore.
The Doctor offered you revenge, wealth, and power, all you had to do was to betray Kunikuzushi.
But you couldn’t bring yourself to put him in a much more dire situation, thus you decline.
Yet do you truly feel this way about him?
“You never truly cared for me, Haypasia has been showing her dedication and devotion to me ever since she made contact with her new-found God.” 
Scaramouche seethes, venom spilling from his mouth
“If I were you, I’d do exactly as Haypasia, in hopes to win over my companion again.”
I’m shivering and I can’t move, my heart can’t force myself to love you anymore.
It proves true that the snow-ridden land of Snezhnaya is not suit to your tastes,
but if it means staying as far away as humanly possible from Scaramouche, you’d go through whatever length to ensure his happiness.
For Haypasia's happiness too, yet not yours.
If the frostbite and cold doesn’t take you, then may the fake god abrew in Sumeru take your life.
You once believed that you would take any step toward a brighter future for you and Kunikuzushi, but it seems near impossible to achieve that, if he is in the glory of another.
Do you truly love him now?
If it won’t be us in the end, I’ll stop myself from loving someone else.
“I vow to stay by your side for eternity, let the damned wake, and let the souls who mourn, do so with agony. I will shield you from the world and all it’s cruelty.” —yet you, who makes such sacrilegious promises, only to succumb to sheer cold, and a slight pang of jealousy toward his “first” follower.
If you couldn’t love another, you might as well die with the vows you’ve made to each other.
That way, when he succeeds in entering godhood, he won’t remember you anymore.
But if I don’t remember who we were, who’ll cry in the morn for us?
Before setting foot into Sumeru, you haven’t even heard of Irminsul.
Much less known that Irminsul contains the memories of everyone, which holds little to no regard from Scaramouche, until he caught wind of what recently happened after his downfall.
“They have been pronounced dead. I believe you have no use for them anyway, since Haypasia is your one and only follower, am I correct?”
Il Dottore, 2nd of the Harbingers, announcing your death to the former Harbinger has his mouth agape and speechless.
He descended into madness, believing that it was all his fault, his status, his arrogance, and his vile nature that caused your death.
Shortly after his defeat, he was assigned to carry out a task for Lesser Lord Kusanali and the Traveler.
Enter Irminsul and attempt to find more information on the Descenders of Teyvat. In his subconscious, his new-found information on the erasure of existence from the Traveler has his full attention. Perhaps, if he never met you, if he never tainted his self-image, you could live happily together with him in his next life. With the knowledge of Irminsul, he begins infiltrating its memories in hopes to have his soul reborn into your arms again. I’m letting go, since I can’t move anymore. But would I stop your heart to yearn for another? He succeeded in erasing The Balladeer’s existence of this world, but it was in vain. You couldn’t hang on to the tiny bit of life you have anymore, and withered away from his grasp. In all the years of his life, he has never experienced such grief in his life. His mind, though hazy, tries to cling on to what little memory he has of you in the back of his mind. Kunikuzushi was impressed to say the least, you really did love him, even if he wouldn’t love you anymore. At the cost of the recognition as a God, the price would be his only source of hope and warmth. “Until the end of our time,  until our hearts feel nothing anymore, even if forever ends, I’ll wait for you in the name of love.” - A/N: i wish that i too, can be erased by irminsul. that sucks. Stay safe, keep yourself hydrated, and continue on treading your path in life, with hopes of success. Believe in yourself, and stay positive. <3 -1, Yuan
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kaivenom · 18 hours
Note
I just found your blog looking for Spencer white fics and yours are so good! I was wondering if you’d be willing to write something between spider and a gn reader who finds it really attractive when he speaks French (cause that scene did something to me-)
Thank you for feeding the small amount of hbh fics🙏🙏
French cuisine
Summary: you go to Spencer's house and found him cooking, you decide to help him and you discover he can speak french.
Pairing: Spencer "Spider" White x gn!reader
A/N: Sorry that this had taken so long, college is starting the final section before exams an i am going crazy. Words on cursive are the translation from french.
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It was an ussual Friday, you were going to Spencer's house, see some movies and eat popcorn. When you entered the house with the keys you borrowed, a french song was playing on the background, that was strange you thought, it must be his mother. Following the song, you found Spencer in the kitchen with an apron full of flour and humming the song.
"Look what we have here, the perfect 50's housewife," you joked while you get to hugh him from behind.
"Bonjour." he asked with a smile.
"Bonjour."
"Comment allez-vous?" you didn't understand anything and that made you question things.
"Wait, don't tell me you know how to speak french?"
"Yeah, i know, but i don't have to do it everytime... it's awful when people ask me: can you say something in french? or things like that."
"But you could have told me, i am your girlfriend." you tightened your grip among his waist and made a pout.
"I don't like to brag about it, but now you know."
"Yeah, right. What you said to me before?"
"How are you?" he turned around and kissed your forehead.
"Good, you?"
"Bon." something on the form he said it, made you blush.
"I suppose that means good."
"Correct." he put a finger with fluor on your nose, painting it white.
"Can you say more to me?" you make puppy eyes and like always, he can't resist.
"Tu es très belle," your heart skipped a heartbeat, you didn't know what he said but hearing him talking in french was exciting you more every secon. "i said you are very beautiful."
"Yeah?" his hands went to your cheeks and kissed you.
"Tu es la meilleure personne du monde." his lips drain your soul with every word and every kiss in between. You are the best person in the world
"Tell me more, please."
"Je t'aime... tes lèvres... ton corps... tes sons." his kisses increased, in speed, in intensity and passion, he was starting to feel very aroused by your reaction. I love you... your lips... your body... your sounds.
"I don't know what you said but i do too." you both laughed inoccently, for a moment unaware from the steamy interaction you both were having.
"Je veux faire du sexe avec toi." a moan almost escaped your mouth, you only understood one word and that was enough.
Then you started to smell burnt but apparently Spider was so concentrated in kissing your lips and neck, that he had forgotten he was cooking and also that he had things on the pans... that now are burning.
"How do you say the kitchen is on fire?"
"La cuisine est en feu." only a second was needed before he understood your words.
You both had to run to turn off the fire and open the windows to vent the kitchen. Nothing was saved from the disaster so you decided to order some french food to honor the ocassion and finish what you both started.
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fbfh · 3 days
Note
you know what this fandom is lacking? will solace / reader content.
you know who can fix this? you.
(please i'm begging i am starving for crumbs here)
BABESSSSS you are so real for this.
no bc Will is literally the best boyfriend. saying he's the epitome of sunshine doesn't even begin to cut it. Will makes you feel warm. you feel so comfy and accepted around him. like yk when you're hanging out with someone and everything just feels right?? like you think this is what characters on tv who are literally written to be perfect for each other feel like. Will never has a shortage of bandaids and ibuprofen and songs to whip out on the guitar and your favorite candy (and of COURSE kisses and hugs and cuddles and "love you, lovebug"s for his favorite person in the whole world)
and like beyond that, even past all the sweet fluffy stuff, Will is such a stable fucking person. he always smells a little bit like lemonade and dandelions and that summery fresh cut grass clean warm air smell. he's not freaked out easily. Will has this way of making you feel seen and known and validating your feelings without escalating things or making you feel worse. no matter what is wrong you ALWAYS know you can go to Will, and thathe can come to you. you can both practically read each others minds, you're that close. and Will wields his power of knowing you responsibly, always keeping an eye on you. he checks up on you, checks in on you and makes sure that you're doing okay. and if you're not, never fear - your boyfriend can cure any ailment (even the ones in your heart)
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