#I hate when people see him as a saint from the beginning

[mrsfrecklesmarauders]

James Potter hadn't always done reasonable things in life. He had made mistakes. He had hurt people. He wasn’t always nice. And he felt ashamed of it.

As a kid, James had everything he wanted. The coolest toys, the best parents he could ask for, money, a big house with a large garden and a pool, a dog to play with, delicious food to choose from and most importantly endless love. That's what made him a bit of an asshole.

It was James's need to make friends, to make kids his age like him that made him act like a selfish twat. He bragged without noticing how others might feel. He made jokes that sometimes could hurt people's feelings. He did pranks to others that sometimes got out of hand.

For James, these things weren't wrong. He found them innocent. Just to have fun. Just to be cool. James was just a kid who wanted to have friends, be liked and have as much fun as he could.

Then James grew up and things started changing around him. He started noticing that not every kid had the luck he had. For example, Sirius, his best friend, had money and everything he wanted but horrible parents. His other friend Peter lacked of confidence because his father disappeared the moment he was born. But yet, James made those two the same way he was. It was more about forgetting about their issues while pranking, breaking the rules and having fun than actually fixing anything.

There were three things that made James open his eyes.

The first one was Remus Lupin. When he arrived, James wasn't happy. He felt threatened by how close he was of Sirius. He got a bit jealous. So he was a bit cold, even mean with Remus. It was until he found out about his past life. Remus had been made fun of, pranked and bullied by other kids his entire life for being trans. And James wondered: "Haven't I done similar things to others?"

The second one was Lily Evans and the way she had called him an arrogant bully. The way she said it wasn't like the silly insults she repeated to him after he tried to flirt with her. This time she had yelled full of rage, leaving James speechless. It had been fair since he had tried to ask her out after her father had died (although he didn't know about it at the time). James understood that the girl he fancied really hated him.

The third and more important reason happened just now, the day before New Year's when James overheard a conversation between his parents he should have never heard.

"We should not tell James for now" his father was saying "You know him. He would act as if this is serious"

"But it is serious, Monty!" Hearing his mother cry had broken his heart "We are not going to pretend you are okay because you aren't."

"Is not that I am sick, Effie. My immune system is just a bit weaker"

"Weaker? Just with a tiny fever you can actually die, Fleamont. You can bloody die and leave me alone"

The way James knew it was something awful and serious was because Euphemia cried. She was sobbing into Fleamont's chest. And Euphemia wasn't a crier. She was always strong, hiding away her emotions. So what James felt in that moment was fear. It was more like panic. Like the one he used to feel when he was little and he was afraid of the dark. His hands shook. His heart raced. He felt his skin shiver in cold.

When James returned to his room, his mind was flooding with thoughts. Maybe he was dreaming. Maybe his hearing was as bad as his sight. Maybe his parents had been exaggerating. This couldn't be right. Fleamont was the strongest man he knew. Sporty and healthy. A bloody rock if you asked him. This couldn't be right.

"So, did you ask them?" Sirius asked as soon as James crossed the door.

In James's mind that question didn't make sense. It felt wrong that Sirius looked as happy as he did after those news.

"Ha?" It was all that came out of his mouth.

"Marlene confirmed she is going to some club with her brothers" Sirius said as he texted "I thought you were asking your parents if we can go"

"Not to be rude or anything but this grown up party is boring" Peter added "Plus you like the McKinnons"

"He workships them more like. Especially Adam" Sirius added with a chuckle "Wait until you see Prongs following Adam like a lost puppy, Moony"

James wasn't even listening. For the first time he wished his friends weren't around. Or any adult that was downstairs. He wanted it to be the three of them. His parents and him. So they could discuss this. And Fleamont would tell him everything would be okay.

"Are you okay, James?" Remus asked with concern when James didn't answer.

The others noticed his expression because they stopped smiling and waited to hear the bad news. But James wasn't ready to tell them. It would make it true. He didn't even know what was going on.

"I don't... I don't think... we should... go...out" James had never spoken as slowly and low as now.

"Why not?" Peter asked "You were the one to say you were bored as an oyster"

"Shut up, Wormtail!" Sirius snapped "Did something happen, James?"

James looked at Sirius. His second in command. His best friend in the world. His brother. How could he tell Sirius?.

"Yeah!" he cleared his throat before his voice broke "I mean they said no... Fleamont and Euphemia... They want us to stay"

"What? Why?" Peter pouted.

Remus kept looking at him as if he knew everything.

James shrugged, grabbing a football from the floor.

"I'm going to kick it for a while..."

"Now? It is almost midnight" Remus reasoned. James just shrugged.

"Want us to come with you?" Sirius asked with his eyebrow raised.

"No! You stay here and finish those beers" James faked a smile to calm them down. Even if he wanted to die in the inside "I'll be right back"

"Be back before midnight!" Peter yelled as James climbed down the stairs two at the time.

James unleashed his frustration with the poor ball kicking as hard as he could, tossing it to the other side of the property and hitting it like a punch ball.

All he could think about was that his father was sick, probably dying and James was so terrible, he wouldn't make him proud. Fleamont's son was arrogant, a brag, a rebel who had been into trouble several times and probably a bully. What was there to be proud of?

"Only you would play football on New Year's in this cold night"

Fleamont had been James's role model since he could remember. He had promise to grow just like him. But he was horrible. He wasn’t the man his father was. Why wasn't James sick instead of him?

"You shouldn't be outside, Dad" James sniffed rolling the ball between his feet, eyes locked on it "It is freezing"

"Dad, is it now? Weren't you too cool to call me that? You've been calling me Fleamont or Old Man for a while now. It actually sounded weird to hear that, you little brat"

James's eyes were burning with tears at this point.

"Do I have privileges now that I am a bit sick?"

James's head turned as quickly as possible. Fleamont Potter was smiling under the moonlight. His glasses reflected the light. His hands were on his pockets. He was dressed elegantly for the party looking casual. But James noticed the bags under his eyes. Sucked cheeks. More wrinkles. Whiter hair. Skinner complexion. James saw Fleamont's illness reflected on him.

"I know you heard my conversation with your mother, James. I saw you through the door"

"Are you dying?" James was surprised how small his voice sounded.

Fleamont took a deep breath "No..."

"DON'T LIE TO ME! YOU'RE FUCKING DYING, I KNOW IT! TELL ME THE TRUTH, YOU COWARD! TELL ME THE BLOODY TRUTH"

James had spit and pushed his father in the process. That made him ashamed. Jokes aside, he had always respected his father. Now he felt terrible. So he started crying.

James felt his father's arms wrapping around him. And James hugged him back, clenching from him as if he would disappear any moment. James didn’t want to lose him. He loved him. He loved him so much. And he needed him.

"It's okay, my son. Sh sh sh. It's okay" Fleamont sighed as he stroked his son's hair gently "I'm not going anywhere"

When James calmed down, they sat on a bench and they talked about what was happening. They missed midnight and the celebration inside but James didn't care.

Fleamont explained that years ago the family's fabric used other chemicals for their products. Poisonous ones. That many workers ended up dying. This changed with time and The Potters discovered other chemical-free ingredients to continue producing. But Fleamont had visited the fabric back then plenty of times when he was younger. And the exposure to those chemicals had damaged his blood and immune system.

"So, you're okay?"

"Doctors said I need to have a healthier life" Fleamont explained "That knowing your mother, she will follow rigorously..." he snorted "But I am not precisely sick. I need to slow down a bit. Take care of myself. Try not to get sick. Because any kind of problem would be dreadful to my organism"

James nodded, now feeling better "If you don't follow the doctor's orders, I'll kill you myself, Old Man"

Which made Fleamont laugh.

"No Dad anymore?"

"You bloody scared me, Fleamont"

The man just responded with a smile and a soft pat on James's shoulder. Though James was still sad and very very scared.

"Do Granpa and Nonna know?"

Fleamont shook his head "Not yet"

"Maikee? The guys from the fabric?"

"Only your mother besides you and me"

"But you didn't want to tell me"

"Because you're just as exaggerated as your mother. Even worse"

"Watch it! Old Man" James pointed a finger at him.

Fleamont let out a soft giggle.

"Should I tell Sirius?" James twisted his mouth thinking about Sirius’s reaction.

"I think we will find the right time to tell him. The three of us. Okay?"

James nodded in response. He was still restless. He was still scared of his father being so vulnerable and fragile.

"Dad..." James said carefully which made Fleamont smile "Are you proud of me?"

Fleamont opened his mouth but James continued before him.

"I'm... I'm not a good person" James said "I've been kind of a twat with a lot of people. I've been mean. I've been selfish. And I haven't been the most obedient son... I've driven you and mum mental many times" James shook his head "I am awful. You don't deserve me"

"I am very proud of you, James" Fleamont answered with a soft smile. James was surprised that he sounded genuine.

"Didn't you hear..."

"Yeah" Fleamont nodded "I am not proud because you are perfect. Because you are not... I am proud because you are an amazing person and a good human being. You've might have made mistakes or hurt people. James, you are so young, you are a kid. We are all a bit awful at that age. But I see you are maturing... You are becoming an incredible man. Even more than me"

James expected some scolding. Some sort of disappointment from his father.

"But I..."

"Have you ever wanted to truly hurt someone?" Fleamont asked.

James shook his head.

"Then it had only been silly mistakes of a kid. From now on, James, be a man. Start doing things right. Silly pranks, jokes and mischiefs are fun. But there comes a time in one's life when he needs to take care of serious matters. And I reckon you are doing an amazing job"

"So you don't think I am a bad person?" James's eyes filled with tears.

Fleamont shook his head "Of course not. You have the best of your mother and me. And we are very proud of you"

James wrapped his arms around the old man as tears ran down his eyes. He was willing to change and ammend his mistakes. It was time to grow up. Yes, he was only sixteen. He was still young and he could still have fun. But he was going to be better. He was going to stop making fun of others. He was going to stop bragging. He was going to make Remus feel welcome no matter who he was. He was going to take care of Sirius and Pete. He was going to stop showing off and asking Evans out like an idiot. She deserved better probably. He was going to be a good person. And make his parents proud. New Year, new James.

"I love you, Dad" James said as he squeezed his father tightly.

"Love you too, my son"

#Happy Birthday Prongs #I hate when people see him as a saint from the beginning #He was a good person but not perfect #What's interesting about this character is his arc #marauders #maraudersera #muggleau #james potter #jily #prongs #remus lupin #sirius black #peter pettigrew #lily evans #fleamont potter #euphemia potter

[holycryptid]

low honour!arthur morgan x virgin!reader

this is really just one long-winded fic idea that i need to speak into existence.

tags: literally save a horse ride a cowboy, afab!reader (feminine pronouns, descriptions, and names used), religious topics/imagery, obsessive!arthur, virginity kink, age gap relationship, loss of virginity, corruption kink

Reader is in her early 20s, privileged to come from a family with wealth from their heritage and inheritance in the oil industry.

The era of cowboys and outlaws has started to become a thing of the past from the shifts in climate and industry throughout the country. Reader has resided in Saint Denis her whole life, never needing to worry about gangs, outlaws, or even cowboys.

She has never even seen a cowboy before, but she’s heard stories; none of them particularly pretty. The presence of law enforcement throughout the streets and the sheer distance of Saint Denis from other towns is enough to deter most of them from causing trouble.

Functionally, she should never be compatible with a cowboy.

Her father has always preached about her waiting for a “good, proper man” that can marry her into another family with obscene wealth. And so, she protects her chastity and innocence just as she is expected to—just as her father expects her to.

Hell, she doesn’t even know how to ride a horse! Her father believes that riding horses is beneath them, so anywhere she wants to go is accommodated by a stagecoach.

Cut to: reader is accompanying her father on a trip to Annesburg to discuss potential investments in the mining industry. He hates leaving her alone. She knows he worries that she’ll get “up to no good”.

Her father has chosen one of their more comfortable, flashy stagecoaches for the longer ride, giving him more storage for his financial documents and whatnot. A perfect target for gangs.

And, inevitably, they get robbed.

The robbers’ faces are all concealed by hats and bandanas, and one of them ties her arms behind her back with careful hands before guiding her to her knees on the wet grass.

The man who tied her up stays close by her side, and she can see her father pleading for his life to another man who’s not listening.

“Are you a cowboy?” Are the first words she says to him, not a note of fear in her doll-like eyes that make her look so fuckable in this position with her on her knees next to him, dress billowing out around her form.

He looks down at her confused. “Uh, once, I suppose.” His voice is a little muffled by the black bandana hanging over his nose and mouth.

She can see that his hair is so long that it starts to curl up and out at the ends under his hat.

“Well, you got the hat. And the horse,” she reasons, wondering if she’s truly meeting a cowboy under circumstances she thought she’d never be in.

He looks to her again, left hand causally hooked in the leather of his belt as he waits for the rest of his gang to finish up. “I guess you’re right.” He tips his head to her in agreement.

“Leave them! These people are leeches. Let the wolves decide their fate.” A man with a deep, booming voice announces atop his white horse.

Now she starts to panic.

She pulls against the rope around her wrists, looking up to the man who tied her as he begins to walk toward his horse. “Wait! Mister, please! Please don’t. Please,” she yells to him.

He looks back to her, then his horse, then back to her again. “Hold on.” He signals to the man on the white horse before walking back over to her.

“Take me home. Please just take me home, mister. I won’t say nothing, I promise, but just take me home and I’ll give you anything you want,” she begs to him.

He sighs, but not out of annoyance or hesitation for her request. He sighs because he has no idea what she has just done to herself.

He places his bandana over her eyes and leads her to his horse. He unties her hands and lets her blindly climb into the saddle, legs shaking from unfamiliarity.

When she settles, she blindly grips onto the saddle horn for dear life, wishing her father let her ride at least once in her life so she wouldn’t appear so delicate in this situation. The man chuckles off to the side before mounting up behind her. She notices the saddle is not quite meant for two as he pushes in tightly against her ass, seemingly not even concerned about it.

This is probably the closest she’s ever been to a man.

“Where to, miss?” The man leans forward against her back to grab the reigns, caging her in with his arms.

She tells him in a quiet voice, and he kicks against his horse, setting them into motion.

When they arrive at her French two-story home on the outskirts of Saint Denis, the man dismounts swiftly, hand circling her wrist before saying, “Swing your right leg over and I’ll help you down.”

She slowly brings herself around, feeling the man lock his hands around her waist to guide her to the ground.

He tugs at the knot holding the bandana around her eyes, and she doesn’t let herself turn around until she feels he’s had enough time to tie it back around his face.

“Thank you, mister,” she whispers.

He tips his hat and leaves without another word.

In the following week, the man watches her after the sun sets. He watches her pray before bed and change into her silk nightgown, waiting for the night he can maybe finally see the more explicit side of her. But it never comes.

She’s perfect.

Eventually they cross paths again one day. The man purposefully chooses to ditch the bandana, too.

“I don’t think my daddy would appreciate me talking to someone like you,” she admits slyly as she continues her trek into Saint Denis.

The man follows beside her on his horse, left arm lazily hanging down by his side. “Someone like me? And who’s that?” he asks, a slight smile also on his lips.

“A cowboy. An outlaw,” she says, sneaking a glance up to him as his horse steps in time with her down the path.

“Well your daddy ain’t here.”

“No, mister.”

“Come for a ride then.”

And that’s how it’s starts for them. He introduces himself as they ride to his gangs camp, and she complains about how sore her legs are when they arrive.

“You don’t ride?” Arthur asks, intending for it to be a joke.

“That was my second time. Ever,” she laughs.

And that’s when he understands what type of lady he’s dealing with, so he goes for it.

“Maybe you should practice on me sometime,” he remarks, untacking his horse.

She wonders if she heard him right. “Uh, mister—”

“Arthur,” he corrects.

In that moment, she realizes he can teach her everything her father has kept from her, show her everything he had protected her from. Throw away the innocence and chastity and truly experience what life should be. But Arthur doesn’t know the entirety of her sheltered life. He needs someone like him.

“Arthur…I don’t think I’m what you’re looking for,” she admits. “I…I’ve never been with no one. Ever.”

“You’re untouched, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir. Just as my daddy said I should be. Until marriage.”

And Arthur makes it his mission to make her experience her own sexuality in its completeness, so he starts off slow.

He would always touch, never breaching her or letting her do anything to him. The focus was always on her.

Her virginity and pureness made him conflicted: he wanted to ruin her in all the ways she has never been, but he wants to tease and rile her up and watch her experience all the sexual frustrations for the first time.

It was cute. The more bold he got with his touches, the more bold she got in trying to take what she wanted. He would take her behind a tree and slowly lift up the dainty material of her summer dress, gathering it in his left hand as he used his right to rub her clit through her underwear while he licked and sucked along her neck, careful not to leave marks.

She would get weak so fast, Arthur could barely handle how virgin her body truly was. She would grip onto the leather straps of the rifles hanging down his back, trying to force his hand harder and faster.

However, the first time he made her cum was an accident.

He confidently placed a gentle kiss on her lips while they were alone in his tent—he just wanted to see how she would react.

She leaned in and returned it, snaking her hands around his neck and pulling him down to her. He pulled her into his lap, laying them down on his cot as they started making out like a long-distance high-school couple.

Arthur mindlessly starts grinding against her, ignoring the clothing separating them. She doesn’t realize what she’s feeling as Arthur’s hard cock slides against her clothed pussy.

Her orgasm just kind of happens.

Arthur watches her shake and twitch under him as he pulls away to see what happened. The wet spot on her underwear is all the evidence he needs.

Ever since, she’s been insatiable. She wants Arthur to show her everything. Teach her everything. She wants to feel everything if that means she can cum like that again.

Around the campfire she’d sit on his lap, tightly circling her hips against him until he’d grow hard before stopping. Then she’d do it again.

Arthur would mostly ignore her teasing. He didn’t want her to know how much she was driving him up the wall, so he’d retaliate in a way that was ten times worse then whatever she did just to prove a point about her innocence, how she knows so little compared to him.

The first time they fuck, he makes the horse riding joke again: “I’m sure this’ll be good practice for you, sweetheart.”

She huffs a laugh, rubbing his cock through her folds as she straddles him. He’s built up her confidence so much, it’s all been leading to this.

He’d guide her up and down, back and forth, testing her body to see what she likes. Seeing what spot makes her tremble.

He finds it. “Fuck, there it is,” Arthur groans.

She can’t even think. She doesn’t know what to think. She’s doing everything her father told her not to.

Premarital sex.

Premarital sex with a cowboy.

“Oh, Lord, forgive me,” she prays, her pussy sliding so perfectly along him as he grips her hips harder.

Eventually, he’d eat her out in her childhood bedroom. Her father sleeping in the room above her own, separated by the thin wood of the floor. She arches against the bed, and her eyes meet the iron cross hung above her bed frame.

She’d often ask him to leave the hat on, and he’d laugh, pleased that she is slowly adopting sexual preferences and interests.

She was his perfect, sophisticated woman that he was free to defile and poison with his desires.

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan fic #arthur morgan one shot #arthur morgan oneshot #arthur morgan imagine #rdr2 smut #rdr2 imagine #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan fanfic #arthur morgan fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 smut #red dead redemption 2 fanfic

[ethereal-night-fairy]

A Lick and a Promise

Chapter 2

Outlaw!Ghost x Female Reader x Outlaw!Soap

You let devils into your home. But why were they kinder than the saints in your town?

Warnings: MDNI, Arson, crude historical language (not by Ghoap), objectification (not by Ghoap), religious themes, small bit of fluff, period typical misogyny, kidnapping, implied physical abuse, sad backstory, implied theft, sorry if I missed any.

A Lick and a Promise Masterlist

Masterlist

Words: 2.5k

Fire…there was fire engulfing the town you were meant to call home. Flames erupted from the trees like the gates of hell had been opened. From where you are, you see the flames lick and dance around the wooden buildings as the horses race away from the chaos that was unfolding. The smell of fiery damnation was cementing itself into your mind, it engraved itself onto your skin like a branding. Everything hurt…

Hot air whipped against your bruised and beaten flesh while you continued to struggle on the horse you were forced on. The smoke stings. You hear their screams in the growing distance as the mayor's home is surrounded by dark clouds of smoke. Why? Why was this happening? Why did they take it so far?

You keep twisting your head back to watch from you were forced to ride with the men you foolishly helped the week prior. You continue watching as tears stream down your face. His arms are as tight as a vice despite you pounding your hands back on his thighs. He doesn't let go, he doesn't even flinch no matter how many times you scream, beg or hit him. Your small home grows further away by the second. The little life you built for yourself shattered in the time it takes to saddle a horse with stolen goods. The fast movements of the horse jerks you uncomfortably as you clench onto whatever you can to steady yourself. Everything was becoming too much, the screams, the fire, the smell of burning, the pain, your pain. Your eyes burn into the back of the man with the skull face. Never in your life have you seen a man beat another bloody like he had. The worst part was you felt relieved when it had happened. You felt safe with them even if that feeling only lasted briefly. But why did they want to protect you? Why did they care?

You had let devils enter your home. But these devils were kinder than the saints in town, yet you were deceived by their kindness. They took you without remorse. You don't know why you thought just because these two men were soft to each other that perhaps they'd be good people, perhaps they wouldn't hurt you like everyone else did. You should never have helped them. You should have told them to leave the second they had awoken. Look at where your kindness has gotten you. Kidnapped and probably on the road to your demise. You've become an outlaw by association. What were they going to do with you? Whore you out for money? Sell you to a ranch? Have their fun with you only to leave you drowned in a stream? Was their kindness just a ruse so you'd agree to help them in return for safety?

But in the back of your mind you wanted to believe they had your best interest at heart, that they weren't going to hurt you. That they were too kind to do that. Yet you'd be foolish to trust outlaws on the run again. They had dragged you to damnation with them. Now the whole town hates you even more than before. It won't be long until your face begins being printed on wanted posters…

-The week prior

The blazing sun was gradually making its way further up from the horizon. The sunshine beamed down on the river, making the blue water glitter and gleam on the surface as you watched on. The birds chirped as you enjoyed the warmth of the weather bestowed upon you.

Cold water prickles your hands as you tug the rope to gather the fish traps you had laid in the river yesterday. Thankfully it seemed heavy this time around. You’ll be able to make something for the poor men burning with fevers on your mattress. You hadn't wanted to leave them alone but you had work to do. You needed to gather water for their horses and collect your traps. The small vegetable patch also needed watering so you'd probably have to make another trip round to the river.

Once the dripping basket is in your hands you haul it to the riverbed, struggling as the fish jump around in the woven material. It takes a couple minutes for the movement to finally stop. You deposit all of your catch which consists of a handful of freshwater prawn, three haddock and some anchovies. You gut the fish using the river water to clean off the blood. You hated doing this part but it wasn't like you had anyone to help you anymore.

You missed your parents dearly. Well your mother was dead there's no bringing her back but you wished your daddy would find his way back home to clear his name. That he’ll explain that everything was a misunderstanding and he didn't take anyone's money. He wasn't that kind of man you knew that. He always taught you how to work for an honest living. He lived like that for as long as you can remember. There was no way he ran off with the mayor's money. Yet you had no way to prove his innocence since he disappeared.

Once you're done you place everything in a bucket and carry both the fish and the water back to your little home. You've been struggling to gather game for a couple weeks now, the majority of the traps you'd set were often tampered with or stolen by the time you got back to them. You've resorted to fishing for the time being. You wished the townspeople wouldn't hate you so much. They had already kicked you out of your town home. And returning to your old town was out of the question. It was miles away and you didn't trust anyone in town to take you there, you also didn't have the money to pay them. And you were still hopeful your daddy would return one day.

You're deep in thought on how you're going to prepare for the coming winter when two horses race by you. You halt in fear as you try to make sense of what was happening while trying to clear your vision of dirt. When the dust finally settles your met with two piercing eyes of what looks to be a sheriff of a different town. His uniform is pristine, his bright badge gleams in the morning sun almost blinding you. He has a stern look to him. By the looks of his white hair you'd think he's much older than he is.

“Little lady you shouldn't be out so far out of town by yourself! There's two outlaws on the loose, haven't you heard!?” You take in his stern tone, your mind racing with the information he's just given you. But before you can answer the older gentleman the person beside him speaks up. The voice is jarring as it cuts through your eardrums, bringing back awful memories. It belonged to a man you so unfortunately recognised.

“Don't bother with her sheriff, she's a twofer (loose women). You couldn't make an honest woman out of her even if you tried. She's better off dealing with outlaws by her own self,” all you can do is glare as you take in the hardened face of the mayor's brother. You hadn't realised that he had become a deputy. It's been so long since he's come bothering you, you'd hope he had died of dysentery. You feel bad for the woman in his town. He's probably already abusing the authority he's been given. The sheriff is stunned into silence but before you can defend yourself from the now balding Calvin, he opens his big mouth again.

“I wouldn't be surprised if she was stealing from the town again, just like her old man eh. Did he ever come back darlin’ or is he still on the run? Have ye resorted to selling your backside for some extra dollars? I wouldn't be surprised if you did,” he lets out a boastful laugh eyeing your patched up dress.

“I told you you'll regret rejecting my marriage proposal. Wouldn't marrying me have been better than trying to become my brothers left handed wife (mistress) eh? What? I didn't have enough money to satisfy you? You're no better than a trug (low class prostitute). Won't be long until I see you working at the bed-house. I might even take pity on you and try you out for night,” he smirks down at you from his horse as you try to avoid his leering gaze.

Tears obstruct your vision but you try to keep them at bay. You wanted to call him every name in the book for saying all these baseless accusations about you. But he was a beef headed ten cent man who enjoyed tormenting women, especially those who reject his advances. You weren't the first and you wouldn't be the last to deal with his god awful lecherous behaviour.

“Pull in your horns Calvin! That's no way to talk to a lady!”, the sheriff buts in.

“She's no lady sheriff, a trat (pretty girl) maybe but she's a filthy con. One that likes to toll (to entice) men for money,” Calvin continues his rant in spite.

“Stop airin’ your lungs. Excuse us ma’am we'll be on our way then,” though the sheriff was polite you could see the look of what seemed to be distaste in his eyes as he took in your figure and worn out clothing before leaving. They quickly turn their horses in the direction of the town with Calvin mirthfully laughing along the way.

You're left standing there as you try to collect yourself before returning home.

-at the house

"urgh!...", Simon woke in a fright, sweat was pooling from every pore in his body. He frantically looked around the room trying to figure out where he was. It took a while for his memories of the night before to return. His muscles screamed in pain as he fought to try to move them but they weren't cooperating. His body felt hot and sweaty, like his skin was sunburnt. The sun was setting, his eyes squinted as the dwindling sunshine streamed down from the only window. Damn they were meant to leave before dawn. A whole day had gone by. He feels around his face making sure his bandana was still on before looking over at Johnny. His bandana was still on too. You hadn't tried taking it off. The only difference was that two wet cloths were placed on both of their foreheads and a chipped bowl full of water next to the mattress on the floor. Had you nursed them all day? Where were you now?

"Johnny?... Johnny wake up....," Simon sat up with difficulty calling out Johnny's name but he stayed asleep. Simon felt his forehead before ringing out the cloth and dipping it in the water to reapply. This wasn't good. He's burning up… He needed to get up to look for some yarrow Simon thought to himself. It'll help reduce their fever and then they'll be able to leave as soon as possible. The sheriff might have already made it into town. Simon prayed you hadn't met him. This puts them in a very dangerous situation. Simon sits up with great difficulty as the wound on his arm flairs up with pain. But before he can attempt to stand the door opens gingerly. He freezes when he sees you.

Your eyes meet each other and Simon is too stunned to speak. Your eyes are swollen and red, like you've been crying for some time now. He watches you try to hide the tears by looking away and wiping them hastily. A sudden surge of worry and anger fills his body. Who? Who made you cry? Who dared to hurt you?

Yet when he opens his mouth to demand a name the smell of something delicious wafts through the air making his stomach growl unintentionally. You speak up in a whisper before he can, now fully facing him again with a small smile.

“Food is almost ready, I found some yarrow to help with the fever too. I hope your okay with some fish and vegetable soup. I'm sorry I know it isn't much. But it was the best I could do. I'll make you some tea with the yarrow after you finish eating.” Simon hadn't noticed but you carried a small bundle of yarrow in your fidgety hands as you continued whispering trying to not to wake Johnny or possibly trying to prevent him from asking about why you were crying. He'll find out anyway even if it wasn't going to be from your mouth. Why would anyone hurt someone as sweet as you? You almost seemed too good to be true.

“Yes, thank you. Any food is much appreciated, we aren't picky eaters. This is way more than we deserve,” Simon watches you smile so genuinely at his response that it baffles him. All he did was speak politely to you yet you smile like he had plucked stars from the sky. The thing he didn't know was that no one in town has spoken kindly to you in a very long time. So anyone talking to you even if it was normally was something you cherished greatly.

“It'll be done soon. I just needed to grab some salt. Oh.. and I gave your horses some water I hope you don’t mind that I went near them.”

“That's offly kind of you. I'm more surprised they let you near,” Simon grunts as he watches you grab what you need. That being some salt and another pot probably to boil the tea for later. Your dress had patches all over it, probably from you fixing it with whatever fabric you had laying around. The more he looked at you the more he realised how much you were struggling to obtain the bare necessities for living. Yet you remained so kind and generous. Why?...

“Ah it's no trouble at all, they let me pet them so I'm happy with that…Oh! we'll have to patch your wounds again. Let me go get some sterilised water for you!”, you say gazing at his now bloody arm. The stitches must have opened up while he was trying to move. You smile at him on your way out. You could definitely use some more meat on your bones. You really weren't living a good life out here. Yet you were so kind to feed them and their horses. They'd make sure to leave you behind enough money to sustain you for a couple years. It's the least they could do after all you've done for them.

That reminds Simon he needs to do a parameter check on your house. He'll have to ask you about the sheriff too. But it looked like you were isolated from the town. It was either this or that you rarely went into town for your own reasons. News travels fast, especially in frontier towns. Though it seemed like this was one of the bigger ones. He was glad you would probably be the last person to receive the news. That just meant they could spend a couple days with you without you being afraid of them. And they could leave before you were even given a chance to report them to the sheriff.

Copyright © by ethereal-night-fairy. 2024. All Rights Reserved. Writing not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or to use with AI technologies.

#wildwest!au #wild west #outlaw!ghost #outlaw!soap #ghoap au #ghoap x reader #ghoap #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #call of duty #cod x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #simon riley x john mactavish #ghost x soap #ghost x soap x reader #soap x ghost x reader #soap x ghost #x reader #cod #simon 'ghost' riley #john 'soap' mactavish #cowboy!soap #cowboy!ghost #cowboy au #cowboy 141 #A Lick and a Promise #a lick and a promise

[fungifanart]

Deserted

Characters: Leona Kingscholar, male reader, yuu!reader

CW: Heavy angst/whump, slight suicidal ideation

Word count: 1K

Notes: Did you guys know that Leona is my favorite character? (Also, @oleilaa got mad at me when I didn't tag them in my last Leona-related fic)

-------------------------------------------------------

Somehow, Leona knew that this is how it would all end for him.

Trudging alone across a barren desert, the hot sand slowly burning the bottoms of his bare feet beyond repair, his once proud and well-maintained mane now a rat's nest caked with more sand.

He turns his dry eyes up towards the horizon, hoping to see even a mirage of an oasis just to revel in the illusion of hope, but his mind won't even grant him that much. So he lowers his gaze back to the ground, he doesn't have a destination in mind anyway.

Should he go back to his home? What home? His "home" is nothing more than a large building full of people who hate him and reminders of all of his failures and shortcomings. In that sense, his home is just one big prison.

And he'd rather die than go back there.

So he keeps walking. In no definite direction. All while his hunger and thirst eat away at his insides and the harsh sunlight beats down on him from above.

This must be punishment for the Spelldrive tournament. The karma for his scheming, sabotage and lashing out has finally caught up. And it's going to be the death of him.

After what feels like hours of painful walking with no end in sight, Leona's legs finally give out. Leaving him no other option but to use his hands to drag himself across the sand on his stomach.

This is unequivocally the lowest Leona's ever felt: Aimlessly dragging himself across a desert he feels no greater than a grain of sand in.

However, just as Leona's arms are beginning to give out as well, he hears the sound of light footsteps approaching and looks up to see a familiar-looking face crouching down in front of him and extending a helping hand. Though, his eyes are too dry and tired to recognize who it is.

A few seconds of blinking later, his eyes finally adjust enough to fully make out the person's face, recognizing him as the prefect of Ramshackle dorm who's smiling like nothing is wrong as he holds out his hand.

Leona's eyes go unfocused again as he questions how he came to be here and, more importantly, why he's reaching out to him now.

Why is the Prefect reaching out to Leona: The man who put him through so much, almost taking his life in the process, and used him as a simple pawn on a chessboard before leaving him by the wayside?

Does he...really forgive him despite everything?

One more look at the Prefect's comforting smile and still outstretched hand gives him his answer: The sun positioned perfectly behind the other man's head to create a halo around it, giving him the look of a saint.

And that's what he is to Leona.

A saint.

A savior.

An angel.

His angel.

Leona finally musters the strength to reach out and take the Prefect’s hand...only for cracks in his skin and the color of sand to quickly spread all over the Prefect’s body, starting from where Leona had taken his hand.

Leona frantically lets go of the Prefect, but it's already too late. In the Prefect’s place stands a sand sculpture of him, still holding out its hand with a no longer comforting smile, which then crumbles into another pile of sand, indistinguishable from the rest surrounding him.

His body forces out whatever water it has left in the form of tears as the realization hits him.

He was a fool to have hope.

This is who he is.

Destroying things, reducing them to sand no matter what or who they are, is all that he's good for.

Who's to say that this entire desert isn't his handiwork as well?

His despairing cries echo over the area as the wind picks up, sweeping up the Prefect’s remains into a sandstorm that swirls around him almost mockingly.

Leona's body curls itself into a ball as his cries continue, growing more labored as sand invades his mouth and throat, drying them out and causing him to cough more than cry, wishing that his signature spell worked on himself as well.

The wind howls in his ears as this happens and he swears he can almost make out the sound of malicious laughter at such a pitiful display.

This new torture goes on for what may well be hours or even days for all Leona knows. He has to keep his eyes closed to shield from the sand and the sandstorm is blocking his view of the sun regardless.

This is truly his personal hell.

However, an unknown amount of time later, the laughter dies down before completely disappearing, taking the sandstorm with it with what sounds like a defeated sigh.

Leona opens his eyes, blinking the sand out of them as a more grounded set of footsteps than before approaches and he feels a hand take his and lift him up onto his feet, which suddenly feel normal again. In fact, everything about him feels normal again!

Looking at his savior, Leona is shocked to see the Prefect once again. However, his face bears much more mixed emotions than before, the forefront of which being...pity.

"I can't stay mad at you." He says with a sigh while turning away, "So I'm giving you one chance to wake up and get out of my sight."

Leona doesn't move or say anything, still too surprised over this development to even attempt waking up from this apparent dream.

A few seconds pass and the Prefect looks back at him with an incredibly frustrated expression, "Didn’t you hear me?!" He says before winding up to slap him.

"WAKE UP!!!"

The moment the Prefect’s hand connects with Leona's face is when he jolts awake, sitting up in his bed in Savannaclaw, with the only remnants of what he'd experienced being a dry feeling in his throat and a dull pain on his cheek.

#why is this mushroom writing fanfics? #twisted wonderland #twst leona #twst #leona kingscholar #twst mc #twst yuu #angst #heavy angst #tw sui ideation #twst x reader #twst x male reader #leona x reader

[depressed-cookie-dough]

Amm hii my first ever public brain thought i have these often but yee i didn't see much of lyney so i took it out to try and write something about him ^^...

What would people say now, when the the representative of Inazuma is being so drunk

How did you get here you you don't know ether you really wanted to see him and plus he said you can come to see him anytime you want so no harm is done here right, at least that is what you tell yourself.

As you opened tent he was in you slowly walked to his sleeping form it would be be shame to wake him.. And you jumped on him.As he jolts awake he panics a bit but sees its you and instinctively hugs you back "well hello mon chérie";"hii, and i told you to not call me that if you don't tell what it means" he only giggles at that of course you could ask someone in city or court what it meant but you afraid someone is going to make fun of you after all you were one of most respected person in city of Fontane and that that is why you shouldn't be here even worse drunk as you are now, honestly you just wanted a little escape from your thoughts thinking of him all day so it was better idea to get drunk and actually see him great life choices, "soo ~ why did you come here to see me not that i mind". "honestly idk i just want to see you"

L:ou is that so, soo what do you want to do

Y:honestly i don't know i just want to spend time with you so anything is fine

L: wanna go around the festival ground i think i can turn merry go round for a little bit

Your eyes sparked as you tug him out tent

Y:What are we wait for lets goo

He only watched you amused honestly you are such different person out of court house so lively and energetic noting like that reserved figure. He got his hat and cape which looked really funny on his pj but he still looked good god he always does dose he. After walking a bit you got there at first it was nothing special but once he got it light up it was beautiful you quickly rushed to it sitting on one of horses, lyney slowly got to your side holding one of support bars for his safety. You laugh and giggled whole time

L:you know i prefer you like this happy with honest laughter

You turned your head to look at him but because of amount of alcohol you had your head spined and start falling forword he rushed to catch you

L:hey carful we don't want you to get hurt

You crashed your head on his chest as he try to keep you on the house

L"See i told you to be careful you could gotten hu.. "

" you smell nice" your drunk ass said would you hate yourself for it if sober YES, are you now proud of it also yes. He stares for a second as you wrap your arms around his neck and nuzzle further it his neck

L "hey hey slow down there that pa it sensitive"

"is it now" you kissed it congratulations you might fucked up your friend.. And he moaned never mind you don't care

"OUU that much sensitive ~" as you smirked and looked at him you could swear his eyes were beginning for more

L"i don't know how much you drink but you are not acting like your self maybe i should take you home "

And ou boy did you not like the idea you wanted to stay with him so as any saint person you hugd him with your legs too

" no, home is lonely, here with you better "

He soften his eyes at your wish but still wanted to do right thig after all you had a couple of drinks so your not thinking straight and he didn't want to use that

L "i can stay with you in your room until you fell asleep"

As soon as that left his mouth your was back in his neck this time tho you took small bite enough tho for lyney to grabs your hair and yeests it backwards.Now he did want to scold you but look in your eyes that begged him to continue just a bit more made him question his decisions.. But too late for that now because he was slowly closeing distance between you

As his lips touched yours there was feeling of addiction right behind he want to be slow with you to give you chance to back away, ou but you had other plans as you made him physically not able to get closer to you as he is now and it surely didn't help how you grinded on him. He groaned softly this is not okay he needs to stop you before he can't himself

L"Cheri you really need to stop and get your head clear "

But you didn't like that idea and wanted to continue but this time he read you and firmly grabbed your chin and spoke in most serious voice he ever used

L" salope now i believe i told stop now be good little bitch and stay still "

And boy you did was that all that can make you stay put just one degrading word and you are done you wanted to smack your self but before you got chance you felt fingertips on your cheek and mouth

L" I would love to continue this will you one you are more sober butt until then this must satisfi your hunger "

He watched as you look at him ou and boy did he want to ruin you image just how much his pride would be.

He slowly picked you up and you did feel kinda dizzy he was saying something but you were falling and didn't hear what.

As you opened your eyes you instantly got pictures in your head that by the way hurted like bitch.

You want to cry because of stress why did it had to be dream, as you tried to lay on your back you here mumbling behind you. Fastly turning around to see who and to your luck he was there now slowly opening his eyes

L"morning cheri did you sleep well "

"i think i told you not to call me that "

L"ou but you didn't mind yesterday did you now " he said with grinnin. He is not going to let that one go until you retire that is for sure, as he slightly moved to get closer to you he whispered

L" if you don't mind helping me fix that problem you made yesterday "

#genshin impact smut #lyney and lynette #genshin lyney #albedo #genshin impact #lyney x reader #lime

[here-for-thelols]

Rant

Getou suguru is a complex character who has done horrible horrible things and you shouldn't blame his actions on anyone.

A lot of the posts I see are people blaming either yuki for "telling him to kill non sorcerers" or gojo "for not noticing his spiral" he was the one who choose to kill non sorcerers after his talk with yuki and he was the one who didn't want gojo to help him.

getou wasn't the only one traumatized by what happened in Hidden inventory people keep forgetting that gojo literally DIED and came back to life that must have been traumatizing but they both have different ways to deal with it , getou started questioning his ideology ( which was flawed to begin with ) while gojo became obsessed with being the strongest.

Getou isn't a nice and gentle man he killed a lot of people including children and he didn't regret it even when he was dying his last words were literally "I hate those monkeys" yet fans will have you believe he was this gentle saint who would never hurt a fly.

Gojo isn't arrogant and selfish and he sure as hell doesn't have a god complex, he's just confident he knows he's the strongest I mean not only was he raised to believe that , he is literally untouchable and he died and came back to life of course he's gonna go around saying I am the strongest,he cares about his students, he prevented yuta and yujii from being excuted , he took in megumi "but he was okay with killing him" he had to if he didn't kill megumi, sukuna would cause even more harm and idk about you but I think one person dying is better than an entire population dying.

Sorry if I went overboard it's just that I love both getou and gojo and seeing there characters being watered down to "nice gentle unstable guy" and "arrogant selfish heartless guy" is making me loose it.

#jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #geto suguru #satosugu #sugusato #yuki tsukumo #hidden inventory arc

[wifegideonnav]

do you think Pyrrha gets gender dysphoria from being in G1deon's body

What would that feel like when G1deon was someone she loved and who loved her, but she's inside him now and it's Wrong and Not Her

oh yeah i mean what a question. personally i feel like it's probably very complicated bc as you said its not just gender – its the fact that she's in a body that is Literally not hers, and in fact used to belong to the most important person in the world to her. the most straightforward answer i've got is yeah, i'm sure she hates being in her/g1deon's body at least some of the time, and i'm sure that there's a pervasive sense of wrongness based on both the sex and the pre-used condition of the body she's in.

on the other hand, there's the fact that she's had 10,000 years (not that she was conscious the whole time, but still, we literally have no idea what was going on when she wasn't awake in g1deons body) to adjust. if you think about it, she's been in g1deon's body far far longer than she was ever in her own. certainly in nona she seemed very comfortable in g1deon's/her body. and finally, even though pyrrha never properly lived in nine houses society, the current iteration of her never went through growing up on earth either. personally, i think she probably has very different ideas about gender and bodies than her pre-resurrection self or any of us. we have no idea how she would think about or define dysphoria, or whether that's even really a consideration for her.

and then, in a way, i wonder if it was almost a comfort at times. i'm thinking about my best friend, and if i couldn't be in my own body any more, i'd definitely rather be in theirs than anyone else's. there's definitely something to the idea of knowing that body's history – not like you know your own, sure, but more than you know other people's. g1deon and pyrrha were necro and cav, they spent their entire post-resurrection lives together until g1deon's ascension. so pyrrha would know what this scar was from, why that finger is crooked, the fact that these joints hurt when it rains. and now that g1deon's gone as far as we know and pyrrha is just left with his body, despite the immense grief that must cause, she can also hold up a mirror and see his smile again, hear him laugh.

so in conclusion, and i mean this is kinda a non-answer but, i think that we can never really understand the way that pyrrha feels about being in g1deon's body, especially when she's not the pov/we're not seeing inside her head. the most fascinating aspect of the og squad to me by far is the concept of how normal human trauma responses and grief processes get warped by the fact that the lyctors are living on a time scale that we cannot begin to fathom. and i think that's very much part of their identity as saints, as religious figures – they look like us, maybe they once were like us, but the things they've seen and done and been through have made them so alien that all we can do is theorize about what it might like to be them.

#asks #pyrrha dve

[m3nt4llyr4v3d]

Gabriel vs Chloe/Lila

I used to frequent the Miraculous subreddit (biggest mistake of my life) to see others opinions on Seasons 4 and 5. One question I would see pop up usually is as follows:

Why do people think Chloe/Lila is worse than Gabriel?

The common answer I’ve seen is that bullying and isolation are issues that the audience can relate to, something that’s more down to earth and closer to a viewer’s potential issues. Gabriel, meanwhile, is a supervillain who makes other ridiculously costumed supervillains when they feel bad, his situation was farther out, less relatable, so hammed up at times (cartoon and all) that people would take it less seriously.

And honestly? I completely understood this answer: many viewers’ overwhelming hatred of Chloe and Lila, from what I’ve seen, stemmed from personal relation to their victims, and their own experiences with bullies. It’s completely understandable why people would feel this way.

But then I thought about it for a second, and while I still understand that reasoning, I don’t understand it in any other context.

I mean, I’ve seen people on there genuinely say that Gabriel had more redeeming qualities than them, which confuses me. Lila I kind of understand, I mean we know literally nothing about this character, and the fandom reason of “she lies for attention because her mother is barely home”, which would give her sympathy, was a little… muddled, when it’s revealed she has 3 moms that she’s somehow lying to about being their daughter (what on earth) and has multiple identities. But Chloe? Season 2-3 was showing that she did have redeeming qualities, that she cared about people (few but regardless), she was even able to suck up her own pride when being a hero! Gabriel… He’s an odd case in which the story goes back and forth on whether he’s an awful irredeemable monster, or flawed but sympathetic dad trying his best, while also flip flopping on when exactly they want you to believe as much. Right now? He’s horrible, but the narrative want you to believe he’s just “trying his best” and thinks that he somehow has the room to ask Marinette to “tell Adrien to remember all the times I was a good father” (Marinette should’ve spat on his statue ngl)

Also, Gabriel is a neglectful, dare I say abusive father! Literally mind controls his son and is trying to control him to have the “destiny” that HE wants, not caring about his son at all. He literally pretends to bond with him at one point in Season 5 just so he could give him an alliance ring and walk off smirking, planning on akumatizing him (never brought up again btw). Like, I get that Hawkmoth is more of a hammy cartoon villain, and a lot of those aspect spill into Gabriel (I mean he had a silly stupid number near the beginning of season 5 that I hate to love). But the Gabriel half is genuinely horrible, and those aspects spill into Hawkmoth. Akumatizing, physically abusing your son, and ruining his relationship to akumatize his girlfriend in Chat Blanc, emotionally manipulating him with his dead mother in both Chat Blanc and Ephemeral, literally any time he causes an akuma on purpose by ruining the life of someone he used to be close with or personally knows (the comedian, Andre, anyone working under him), emotionally manipulating his son AGAIN just so he could plan to akumatize him later, locking him up in a white room and emotionally depriving him of everything, literally everything he does in season 5 actually. I understand that some of his more atrocious actions are supervillain things, and that could be more difficult to relate to real life problems. But come on, “neglectful, abusive, controlling parent” is absolutely a real life issue that people have, and it’s a bit strange I haven’t seen that brought up more often

I’m not saying that Chloe and Lila are saints by any means at all! But I am just saying that’s it’s kind of funny that people will say, with their whole chest, that vindictive bullying is actually worse than terrorism and abusing your child, and the idea that the narrative could agree with this scares me

#ml salt #ml writing critical #ml writing salt #ml fandom salt #not much though it’s just crazy to me #gabriel salt #ml chloe #ml lila

[skeleton-mischief]

Dust "Serrif"

Shhhh shhh shh, it's all just a bad dream. It's just a bad d r e a m... But when you wake, remember that it is all your fault.

*Dust Sans cannot escape his fate

To Note: I keep the Bad Sanses and the Roommate Universes separate. So if I mention Killer, for example, it is in the Bad Sanses universe. Mostly, both versions are quite similar to one another, but the interactions he has with others influences slight changes of how he grows. If you have further questions, don't be afraid to ask! (I'll go crazy/pos)

- Official height is 5'5

- He/Him

- Nihilist

- Drinks Ketchup, but rarely nowadays

- Intuitive, pessimistic, cynical, overthinker, observant, responsible, sarcastic, serious, assertive, quiet, dedicated, untrusting, overprotective, secretly jealous, cunning, ruthless, manipulative, reserved, blunt, and bitter

- His brother's dust fused with his soul when he killed him, and that is why he can see his dead brother and talk to him, so he can see him almost constantly

- Almost always the only one who sees his brother. Very rarely, however, if the magic is strong enough, a faint and hazy outline of Pap can be seen

- He reads as a hobby, usually involving old literature. When everyone was dusted, the Library was somewhere he frequented out of boredom

- He would have horrible dissociative issues, zoning out worse than most even without provocation. He struggles identifying what is real, where he is, who he's around, and what place he's at. He can be catatonic

- He cares for every papyrus he comes across, and he ends up the most gentle to them and the most patient. After all, even if he killed his brother, that doesn't mean he wants to kill others. When he's disassociated, however, he can sometimes be a danger to Cyperus and often tries to stay away from him as a result since he can forget that he's not his Papyrus

- Good friends with Powder and Saint

- He used to resent Vanilla specifically, as he envies him in so many ways

- strangely, he is friends with Red, and while the dynamic is similar to Vanilla and Red, the dynamic is tilted and often enough Red can be a little off put by him

- He can be outright nasty to others, apathetic to them, but as time goes on he's just exhausted and reserved

- He is willing to let things happen without involving himself, unless he deems it necessary to do so

- He's picky with those he's friends with, he doesn't get close to other Sanses easily and in fact tries to actively avoid making close friendships

- He won't admit it, but he sometimes argues with his brother and he looks crazy. He could be muttering at the wall and next thing you see his him strangling the air while angrily muttering

- The most hateful to Frisk, he refuses to be around any au of Frisk or Chara. Even if he got the help he needed, it just isn't possible for him to forgive them

- (This would be if we go by the Bad Guy Sanses rather than the Skeletons in one universe/house) He would despise Killer Sans specifically in the beginning of their work relationship, but as time went on they became close friends

- He wears a hood and hat since he does not want other people to see his face. It wasn't just to keep his identity stifled, he just also doesn't like to see his own face and associate it with himself. Mostly shrouded in shadow except for his eyelight or teeth sparingly, I like to think that once he starts to heal you can see more and more of his face as he starts to either forgive himself or at least can associate his face with who he is

- He can mimic Vanilla practically in every way, but he only does this to hide his identity in public or if someone confuses the two somehow. The only issue is that something just seems...off when this happens

- An erratic and violent fighting style, he's unpredictable and doesn't follow a pattern like Vanilla does

- He's jittery and when stressed he is more snappish and anxious as a result, constantly paranoid and on high alert

- He struggles with fight or flight responses when confronted or even in situations that don't require a large response. however, this usually ends with fights

- He enjoys cooking from anybody, complimenting them and eating all of it. He doesn't waste food, and he is always appreciative of someone making something. He especially loves it from the Papyri

- Talks to himself sometimes (it's actually Papyrus)

- An angry crier, but he becomes unresponsive or too frustrated to calm down easily when he's really distressed

- He picked up smoking when in the Junkyard area, finding a hat there and a mostly empty pack of cigarettes. He finally lights one when he just finishes dusting Papyrus

- Because the food supply at some point dropped, Dust ended up crossing Grillby's side of the counter and found hidden stashes of alcohol. He ends up drinking and often pretending that everyone in the bar is present when shit faced, but it ends up with him usually breaking down

- There are little times Papyrus is not with Dust since they share a soul in some ways, but it's possible

- He would call his lover Angel

- His brother had always nagged him to wear glasses, but he was always too lazy to do it. Nowadays, he can be seen wearing them when reading

- He finds comfort in forests when above ground, as it helps him clear his thoughts. Rarely though, he can't stand being around them when he starts to hallucinate the voices of those he once loved in the absence of Papyrus. If he's in the forest, he tries to at least have someone to talk to, even if it's just Pap. He hates silence.

- He's extremely patient, almost to a concerning extent. He is willing to play the long game, and so a hobby he interestingly tuned in on is chess

- He is one of the best Sanses when it comes to playing poker, you would have to be careful when making bet with him

- Is a fantastic liar when he chooses to, something about his voice is....trustworthy. If you have wonderful intuition, however, you can just pick up that odd tone he has

- No one is allowed to wake him up early, he stays up late as it is and ends up sleeping the most out of all the Sanses as a result. He is extremely grumpy otherwise. Of course, this would be if he trusts those around him. He actually ends up avoiding sleep and doesn't trust others enough when he first interacts with them. Powder or Red will fight others on waking him up once they pick up this fact

- Does crosswords when possible. He loves to do Junior Jumble because Pap used to love them. He can be seen muttering to himself and even...at ease, when he does them.

- Loves thunderstorms, he's reminded of when Pap used to need comfort as a babybones. He often can be seen watching outside a window or even standing in the rain to get those memories to be fresher in his mind

- Extremely touch starved, but often feels that he doesn't deserve to ask for it. In fact, if he really trusts someone, he leans into them if they initiate touch. If he doesn't like someone however, he'll forcefully remove them. The presence of those he cares about is enough most of the time though. Rarely, he actually will initiate touch. This is reserved for those he's extremely close with though

- Frequently has night terrors, Saint has them too and sometimes they need each other since only both can calm the other. In truth, it was something both ended up being useful for, and it was one of the things that really strengthened their bond. If we talk about the Bad Sanses, he actually was surprised to find Killer sitting beside him and even stroking his skull when he's freaking out one night. Killer knows what it feels like, and even if he knows that Dust was going to be mad, Saint wasn't present and he oddly felt that he had to take initiative. Dust ended up not complaining and actually laid his skull against Killers lap that night

- He can't sleep without hugging something. Pillow, blanket, stuffie, person? Doesn't matter, he has to have something at any point. Even if he ends up sleeping in a laundry basket, he can be seen cuddling something such as a scarf or shirt

- He buries his face in his brother's scarf when cold, or when he wants to breathe in his scent as a soothing and comforting coping mechanism

- Doesn't trust anyone with Pap's scarf, and only washes it sparingly or if he allows it since he wants to remember the scent of his brother. He uses the same soap that Papyrus used

- Will let any Papyrus clean his room, but no one else, not even Powder

- He likes photography, he ended up being closer to Stretch when he was gifted a camera from him

- He doesn't care too much for his health mentally or physically, but works on himself overtime if he's in a safe environment

- Usually doesn't speak unless someone else prompts him to, but he'll sometimes do it unprompted on rare occasion

- Magic smells of leather and slight tobacco, magic tastes of vanilla

- Due to starving underground after the genocide, he now has ash tinted bone and is in fact quite scrawny. Similar to Saint, he has chipped bone and sometimes dust can be seen flaking off. His situation was different though, so he didn't physically change too much like Saint did

- He doesn't seem like it, but he actually enjoys certain puns even after everything. He's a hard skeleton to crack, but with the right joke he can ease up around someone almost as in approval. Depending on who he's connecting with, the joke can be a lame pun, or seeing someone make a fool of themselves

- He is not prone to listen a lot of the time, more spiteful and petty. Like Vanilla, he won't do something well or at all if he doesn't like someone, but he's less subtle about it than him. He won't enjoy scoldings either, since he's used to being scolded a lot more anyways from Pap

- He likes to provoke people at times, and can even actively be passive aggressive or nasty to them as a result. He won't apologize either, and only will apologize if he really deems that person worthy of it

- He's really secretive, and in fact if he's in the roommate timeline it would take awhile for others to REALLY know what happened. Even then he doesn't like talking about it

- His clothes are covered in dust, so that's what he often smells like if he's not using magic. It faintly can remind someone of a dusty attic or library, but for a monster it's very unpleasant and disorienting

- He will threaten someone in a rather calm manner, not bothering to raise his voice. He detaches himself, and if he's really angry he can become what he was like with Frisk: manic and unhinged

- He has a high pain tolerance, so he can have someone smash his face with an object and he'll stumble sure, but he won't react to it much

Closing Notes: oh my STARS bro he's one of my favorites to work with, I actually have a lot of fun when talking about him and exploring his character. I didn't care much for him when I was younger, but that's because I was crazy or something🤭

Anyways, I hope you guys enjoyed reading! I feel weird when people interact but I appreciate when you guys do. Thank you for reading🫶🫶

#headcanon #undertale au #alternate universe #sans #dusttale #dust sans #he is bbg #i love him #i want to kiss him #i'd smooch him frfr #hes so silly #he's just a little guy #oh i could fix him

[atinylittlepain]

Of Saints and Sinners - Chapter 3

Joel Miller x f!reader/f!oc

masterlist

warnings | 18+ angst, canon-typical violence

a/n | I was inspired by the Linda Ronstadt song in episode 3 so that makes an appearance in this chapter :) otherwise, it's a longer one.

Things have been a bit different since Joel talked to her that night. For starters, his attempts at conversation don’t always go ignored. She’ll shut down if he pokes too far, but she's willing to talk about things not so close to the bone.

He learns that she was a freshman in college when this all started. She was going to study psychology, wanted to be a therapist. He keeps this to himself, but he thinks that he couldn’t imagine a reality in which she had the disposition for such a career, so changed by this new world.

She never asks him anything, only opening up when prompted. Their shifts together continue, and Joel hates to admit it but part of him is still watching, waiting for her to turn, for her immunity to be a lie like so many before you. But then, his mind goes back to all those scars, and he knows she's the real thing.

Spring has finally unfurled its greenery, the sun coating the landscape in a tentative warmth. People start putting away their jackets, sitting on their porches in the evening. It’s on a particularly warm day that Joel catches a glimpse of her at the childcare center.​​ They had converted an old elementary school into the center, keeping the playground as a space for the kids to play outside safely. The kids are out for what Joel guesses could be called recess, the people who run the center standing idly, chatting while keeping an eye on their brood. And then there’s her, chasing around a giggling little boy. She's in a t-shirt and cut-off jean shorts, duct-taped converse on your feet. He’s never seen her dressed so casually, usually in stiff canvas pants and work boots. She's smiling so wide, fully enrapt with this kid. She scoops him up with one arm, spinning him around as he shrieks out laughter. Setting him back down, he immediately wraps his arms around her neck, burying his face into her shirt. She picks him up, both hands under his legs that wrap around her torso, clinging to her tight. He can’t be older than six, small shoes digging into her low back and small hands balled around her neck. She sways a bit, side to side, and Joel can see that she's murmuring something into the top of the boy’s head before letting her lips land there in a kiss. 

And then, she sees him from across the playground. Joel feels like he’s been caught with his pants down. He freezes, she frowns, squinting her eyes at him over the top of the boy’s head. Just then, the adults begin calling the kids to come back inside for lunch. She breaks her gaze first, turning to bring the boy back to his carers. Joel is still stuck where he stands, watching as she bends down at the waist, letting the boy unravel from her before setting him back on his feet. She kneels, holding the boy’s hands, sharing some quiet words with him. The boy suddenly looks sullen, looking down at the ground until she dips down to meet his gaze, drawing a small giggle out of him. She hugs him one more time before a woman comes and takes his hand, leading him back inside. Joel watches as she stays there, kneeling, for a moment, watches something shift in you, something steely shuttering back into place as she stands. She doesn't look Joel’s way again, walking off hurriedly in the other direction.

Their patrols get quiet again after that. Joel feels like an idiot. He saw something he shouldn’t have, he should’ve kept walking that day. But he replays that scene over and over in his head. He was so shocked by how different she was, all he could do was keep watching. Meanwhile, she won’t even make eye contact with him anymore.

After another icy day shift with her, Joel heads to the bar that night, mostly at Tommy’s behest. It’s Friday, and plenty of people are filling the space, murmuring conversation filling the dimly lit room along with a Linda Ronstadt vinyl. 

Caught in my fears

Blinking back the tears

I can’t say you hurt me when you never let me near…

Joel’s sitting at the bar, elbows leaning back on the counter as he discusses new security measures with Tommy. He catches sight of her, sitting at a table nestled in the back. Her and Steve have maneuvered two chairs next to each other, up against the back wall. Steve’s got his arm slung over the back of her chair, fingers skimming side to side along your arm. He’s murmuring something right into her ear, forehead grazing her temple as her eyes keep skimming the room tiredly. 

Wait for the day

You’ll go away

Knowing that you warned me of the price I’d have to pay…

She sees Joel, just a flicker of her eyes over his before she shakes Steve’s arm off, muttering something to him as she stands. She's shouldering her way through the crowd towards the exit and before Joel knows it he’s pressing off the bar, following behind her.

A hand comes up to Joel’s shoulder, turning him around. “Hey, Miller. I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” It’s Steve. Joel turns his head back, but she's already gone. Steve leads him back to the table they had been sitting at. Joel eyes him wearily. He guesses he’s around her age, weathered like her, guarded like her. There’s a splicing scar across his cheek, a silver white line that dances as he grinds his teeth.

When he talks again, it’s barely a rasping whisper, “she told me what happened. That you know about her now.” Joel opens his mouth to speak, to assure, but Steve beats him to it, “I told her she should’ve just killed you up there. The more people that know, the more danger she’s in. And I’ve worked real hard to keep that danger away from her.”

“Seems a bit ironic, you keeping her safe. Considering you’re going out on raids with her every week.”

“Yeah well, it’s not the clickers I’m worried about.”

“Look, kid. I’m not gonna tell anyone. Don’t have anyone to tell. I get it, after transporting Ellie–”

“See, that’s exactly what I’m worried about. You know something about this, about how valuable a person like this could be to the wrong folks. What’s to say you don’t try to make a little trade with those scientists still looking for your kid? It’d keep Ellie safe, just give up another in her place, right?”

“I would never–”

“Don’t say never to me. I’ve heard stories about you, Miller. How when push comes to shove, you’re willing to do some dark shit to save you and yours.” Joel’s starting to get just as pissed as Steve looks, both men staring each other down.

At that moment, Tommy walks up to the table. “Gentlemen, we having a good night?” He looks pointedly at the pair.

Steve clears his throat, not taking his eyes off Joel, “We’re doing alright, Tommy. Was just about to tell Joel here that his patrol shifts were being changed.” Joel furrows his brow at that, looks to Tommy.

“That’s right, I meant to tell you before, man. You’re gonna be partnered with Roger now, one of our newbies, show him how it’s done.” 

“Who’s –”

“She’s going back to patrol shifts with Alex. I’m sure a relief to you both.” With that, Tommy nods to both men, turning back to the crowd to look for his wife. Joel refocuses on Steve.

“Listen to me. You stay away from her, you understand? If I find out you’re following her around, watching her again, we’re gonna be having more than a conversation the next time.”

“I would watch yourself, son. Your talk is big, but you don’t even know what you’re saying. I haven’t been following her around, the only time I see her is on our shifts, and it looks like that’s coming to an end.” Joel stands up, getting ready to get out of here before he does something he’ll regret.

“That’s not what she told me. Said she saw you a while ago over at the school, staring.” Joel feels a bit sick at that, because technically it’s not untrue. 

“I guess I was surprised, didn’t take her for the motherly love type.” Steve’s up, getting ready to push past Joel, “she’s not. At least not to most.” He puts his hand back on Joel’s shoulder, leaning into his ear.

“You just keep to your own business, Miller, and we won’t have to talk again,” and with that he’s pushing his way out of the bar.

That little scene in the bar happened about a month ago now, and Joel’s done well to “keep to his own business.” He’s been covering patrol shifts with Roger, an admittedly naive young man that’s a bit too skittish for the job. He hasn’t seen her, at all. Though Ellie still comes home on Thursdays with a new gift. He wonders if she's been giving her books from her own stash. It’s always better to keep his head down than to let some sort of frivolous curiosity get the better of him, and that’s exactly what he’s done with her.

It’s a Friday when he can no longer keep his head down. Him and Roger are getting ready to go out on evening patrol when Alex comes riding back into town, alone. Blood is matted in his hair, a trickle drying down his temple. He looks frantic as he dismounts, stumbling over his feet. Joel grabs him by the shoulders, holding him up, searching his face as the young man starts to speak.

“We thought they were just bandits, a quick job. But one of the men, she recognized him, and he recognized her.” Alex swallows hard, “I saw the WLF patches on their jackets.” Joel looks at Alex questioningly. "The Washington Liberation Front, they're from Seattle, where she's from."

Steve is running towards the men, shoving beside Joel to hold onto Alex’s face, they’re both trembling, “what the fuck happened, man? You gotta tell me what happened.”

“W-we could’ve taken them easily, but she was shocked, frozen. They knocked us both out, and then – then when I came to, they were gone and so was she. They fucking took her, Steve, they took her.” Steve lets out something like a warbled groan, pressing his forehead close to Alex’s. “We’re not gonna let them get far, ok? We’re gonna bring her home. We’re gonna bring her home.” 

Joel is bearing witness to this all, his mind racing with the news, “they’ll be heading back to Seattle, through the mountain pass, the sooner we head back out the sooner we get to them.”

Steve whips his head towards Joel, “we? I didn’t ask for your help, Miller. Alex and I can handle this, we’re gonna go just as soon as you’re done throwing your two cents around.”

“Your partner is hurt. I don’t take you to be a stupid man, Steve. But it’d be downright idiotic of you to go out there guns ablazing just the two of you. You’re gonna need help, so quit being proud and take it.”

“He’s right, Steve. More people means more safety, we’re gonna need it.” Steve’s looking between Joel and Alex, finally muttering his assent. The men break away in an understood blur of preparation, going to grab packs and weapons. Joel goes to tell Tommy what’s happened, and while he isn’t pleased about the situation, he helps his brother pack up what he needs. 

Ellie however, is a different story. “You’re sure as hell not leaving me here! I can help, I want to help! If for no other reason than that chick is the coolest person I know and I’d like for her to keep being the coolest person I know.” 

“Ellie, it’s not happening. Look, it wasn’t a question. I’m telling you that you’re staying put and that I’ll be back soon.” The other two men are already mounted, Joel hikes his pack up a little higher, reins in hand.

“They need you here, kid. Keep the younger ones in line, teach them a thing or two,” Ellie rolls her eyes at that, turning heel and stomping off muttering “yeah, sure, old man.” Joel sighs, hoisting himself up onto his horse as the trio get ready to head out.

“They could be anywhere along that route, they’ll be keeping her knocked out, drugged if they have the resources with them. The minute we’re up in those mountains, we gotta be ready.” Steve sniffs after his words, turning and kicking off at a gallop. As this journey begins, Joel is suddenly trying to figure out just why he volunteered himself for the job. What Steve had said to him at the bar had some truth. Joel Miller was selfish, he looked out for himself and his own, not one to play hero. So why was he dropping everything to go after her? There’s no answer his mind can come up with, that damn Linda Ronstadt song still stuck in his head.

'Cause I've done everything I know to try and change your mind

And I think I'm gonna miss you for a long long time

'Cause I've done everything I know to try and make you mine 

And I think I'm gonna love you for a long long time…

#joel miller angst #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller #tlou fanfiction #tlou #the last of us #fanfic #joel miller x oc

[kriture]

Steve Harrington gets stabbed with a kitchen knife (he loves though dw) (he would totally die in real life though)

Summary: The people of Hawkins were sure that if anybodys parent(s) turned out to be a murderer, it would be Eddie Munson's father, Al. Al was a thief whose son would begin selling drugs and actually be accused for murder. Nobody would expect golden boy Steve Harrington's dad to be as short-tempered as he was.

Ships: Steddie and mention of Jancy

Warnings: graphic violence, low key child abuse, verbal abuse, physical abuse, very innacurate treatment of wounds, even less accurate healing rates, brief mention of suicide, hospitals, and descriptions of blood,

Note: No, I don't actually think Steve's dad is like this in canon. I just watched a tiktok of Vanessa and William from the fnaf movie with Love the Way You Lie by Rihanna and got inspired. Also, I refuse to not write like a soap opera. This isn't realistic at all. Also, pushing Greek/Italian!Steve agenda.

***

7:27 PM

When asked who would be capable of murder, Hawkins citizens always said, "Al Munson or his kid."

It was the obvious answer. Al had a criminal record and was arrested for murdering his wife. It was almost named a suicide, until police found the cause of death wasn't overdose but strangulation. The night police came to arrest Eddie's dad was the last time he ever saw him.

Eddie didn't feel for his dad; he hated him. He believed every word the police told him about his father, but be still visited.

"I saw you two arguing, dad. You threatened her!"

"Listen, kid. I'm telling you, I loved your mother. If anybody killed her, it was Miguel Harrington."

"Why would he kill mom?"

"He hated me."

"You didn't know the Harrington's back then. They moved here after mom died."

"You don't know anything. Just be careful of them. I'll bet you his son is even worse."

"It's you who doesn't know anything. Steve's nice, so is his dad. They're why I'm not in here with you right now."

"Don't say I didn't warn you."

"I won't."

Eddie dropped the phone and walked out of the room. When he got back to his trailer, he was greeted by Wayne and Steve watching football.

"Theres no fucking chance he made that- Oh. Hey Eddie." Steve's voice changed from frustration to love in a second. "How'd the talk with your dad go?"

"Alright, or as well as talking to a psycho can go." Eddie sat down next to Steve on the couch. "What's your dad like?"

"Why?”

"Just asking. You never talk about him."

"Well, he's loud, bossy, and... He's kinda just a rich asshole, you know?"

"No, I don't know. Like the ones on TV?"

"Yeah, actually."

Eddie leaned into Steve's chest.

"Who are we rooting for, Stevie?"

"Neither, we hate both of these teams. They both suck ass."

"Who do we hate?"

"Who do we hate less?"

"Well, I like the Chiefs, but Wayne likes the Falcons. This game isn't really that important though because 49ers are definitely gonna win."

"No, the Saints are gonna win."

"We'll see about that, Wayne."

The conversation was cut off by the phone ringing.

"I got it. Tell me who wins?"

Steve reminded Eddie that the game just started.

"Eddie?" The voice on the phone asked.

"Yes?"

"Great, is Steve there? He wasn't at his house."

"Robin?

"Yeah."

"Yes, Steve is here. He's watching football with Wayne."

"Can I come?"

"Yeah!"

The phone hung up from the other line.

"Robins coming over?" Steve asked.

"Mhm"

A few minutes later Robin came in, dropped off by Nancy who didn't stay sue to a date with Johnathan. They were all laughing and having fun. Eddie and Robin didn't really know what was going on, but they had fun badly commentating on what was going on. Life was good. When Robins curfew came (8:30), Steve drove Robin home and went back to his house. To his surprise, and slight dismay, his parents were waiting for him.

"Hey, papá"

"What are you hiding?"

"Nothing."

"You're my son; I can tell when you're hiding something."

"I'm not, dad."

"Tell me!" Miguel's voice roared through the otherwise silent house.

"Okay okay I have a boyfriend and I didn't want to tell you because I didn't want to be kicked out I'm so sorry."

"Why would we kick you out? Just don't get that new virus going around. Who is this mysterious boy?"

"His name's Eddie."

"Munson?" Steve's mother, Cora, chimed in.

"Yeah. I know he doesn't have the best reputation, but he's nice-"

"Stop seeing him." Miguel ordered.

"Why?"

"Because I said so!" Steve would swear the walls shook.

"Papá, can you just tell me why? I'm getting tired of not feeling like I have a say in what I do in my life."

Miguel grabbed a knife from the kitchen and began walking towards his son.

"Dad, please put the knife down."

"I'll give you a reason. His mother was a bitch. She would've stolen everything had I not done something-"

"What? Did you kill her or something?"

"And now I have to kill you. I'm sorry, son."

"Miguel! Put down the knife. Lets talk like a family. It's time we tell him our sins. They're old enough to know."

"No. No, they can never know."

"MIGUEL!"

Steve looked up at his dad with a knife shoved above his right chest, more towards his collarbone if anything.

Miguel looked at his son with a mix of horror and numbness on his face.

"We should go, Cora."

"Okay.”

"Mamá, please.”

Cora looked at her husband, then at her son.

"I'm sorry, my boy."

The last things Steve heard were a door slamming and the car engine of his parents convertible starting. His breath shook before his eyes closed. He laid on the floor, hopeless.

***

8:38 PM

Eddie had realized that Steve left his watch in his trailer. He got into his van and left for Steve's house. Eddie knocked on the door.

"Steve, you left your watch!...... Steve?" He knocked again.

He peered through the window and saw a pool of blood on the floor. Eddie hastily opened the door.

"NO"

His voice could be heard from Türkiye. Tommy opened the door to his house and ran towards the house.

"Is everything okay- Holy shit! Um, Munson, do you think you can call an ambulance?"

Eddie nodded, tears falling like a raging waterfall. Tommy went to check on his pulse, slow but there.

"Yeah, it's a knife wound near the chest...They'll, um, be here soon."

"Okay, good news is that he's alive. Bad news is that I don't know how long he'll stay alive."

"He'll be okay. He's always been okay."

"I don't know...get some bandages. We have to stop the bleeding."

Tommy took Steve's shirt off and took the knife out of his chest before applying pressure to the wound.

"Other good news, it's only about a 2 or 3 inch cut."

"ANY CUT IS A BAD CUT!" Eddie ran in with towels and bandages.

"I'm trying to stay positive here! Put his head on your lap or just get his back off the ground. Now when I say 3, as soon as it leaves my mouth, put the bandages on his chest. 1..2..3 okay wrap it."

"I'm trying!"

"Try harder!"

Sirens interrupted the bickering

"Keep applying pressure to the wound. I'll carry him outside."

"Okay."

***

9:00

Nancy, Robin, Johnathan, and the kids arrived at the hospital. Police questioned Tommy about what he heard that night, not much, he was watching football. A nurse walked up to the party.

"Is it looking alright? Is he alive?" Robin asked.

"He is alive, stable. He's still unconscious, but it looks promising. He's already healing quickly."

"Do the cops think it was attemptee homicide?"

"You'll have to ask the cops for that."

"When will he wake up?" Lucas questioned.

"We don't know. It could be some time tonight, tomorrow, a few days, weeks, maybe a month. However, it would probably range from 4 days to 2 weeks."

"Okay."

"It's a good thing you found him when you did-"

The nurse was interrupted by a scream of bloody murder. She hurried to the room.

"So much for 4 days."

Hopper walked to them. "The police don't think this was an accident, but now they can ask Steve once he's ready."

The scream stopped a few seconds after it started.

"Steve, I need you take deep breaths for me. Can you do that?"

"Yeah."

***

9:45 PM

"Can you tell us what happened?"

"Like I told the nurses when they checked my memory, I got curious and stabbed myself. It wasn't attempted homicide."

"Have you had thoughts of suicide before?"

"It wasn't like that. I just wanted to see what would happen... Look, it really isn't something to investigate.

"If you don't want to press charges, then there isn't anything we will do."

"There isn't anybody to press charges against."

The officer walked out, and Robin and Eddie walked in.

"Did you really do it to yourself?" Eddie grabbed Steve's hand and rubbed circles on his palm.

Steve shook his head no. "I'll tell you later... I'm sorry."

"Do you feel okay?" Robin asked him.

"Yeah."

"You were just laying there. Covered in blood. It made me realize how much I love you."

"I love you too, Eds."

Tommy walked through the door.

"What's he doing here?" Robin said.

"Okay, 1. Me and Steve may not be friends, but I don't want him to die, 2. I helped save his life."

"Thank you."

"I just wanted to make sure you're okay."

"I am." Steve jumped as the door shut following Tommy.

"Steve what really happened?" Robin asked.

"I can't say it here. I also can't stay at my house anymore."

"You could stay with any of us. I'm sure Claudia would welcome you, youre practically Dustins brother, Wayne treats you like his son-in-law, and my parents love you.

"We could talk about it later, Robs."

"Okay"

***

7:00 AM

Steve woke up on the hospital bed.

"You spent the night with me, Eds?"

"Yeah, how are you feeling?"

"As good as somebody who just got stabbed can be."

"Please, tell me who did this to you."

Steve signaled for Eddie to lean in and whispered in his ear, "it was my dad."

Eddies eyes widened in realization.

----------------------------

This will probably get a second part. Maybe a third if you guys want it.

I apologize for not knowing anything about football or medicine.

This isn't proof read either.

I'm sorry for the soap opera ass plot and dialogue. Dynasty (2018) got me going fucking crazy.

#steddie fic #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #al munson #miguel harrington #cora harrington #steve harrington has bad parents #steve harrington wump #hurt/comfort #i think #platonic stobin #steve harrington's parents

[memestockpile]

the passion (1987) feel free to change as needed.

odd to be so governed by an appetite.

he liked me because i am short.

i can manage.

the others call me a dandy.

i'm telling you stories. trust me.

do it from the heart or not at all.

we're a lukewarm people for all our feast days and hard work.

will you kill people, [name]?

new to it, lad? don't be afraid.

what is luck but the ability to exploit accidents?

perhaps all romance is like that.

help me, you bitch.

what happened to your head?

you're like i was.

christ said he came not to bring peace but a sword, remember that.

i have a way with priests.

do you ever think of your childhood?

never talk happiness with a philosopher.

dinner's ready.

i like my anonymity.

time is a great deadener.

i don't care about the facts, [name], i care about how i feel.

i take what there is and i've stopped asking questions about where it comes from.

walking in the dark is like swimming underwater, except you can’t come up for air.

aristocrats are not relevant.

i'd never take a woman without giving her time to comb her hair.

then you'll come as my friend.

this year is slipping away and it will never return.

they say that every snowflake is different.

there is only the present and nothing to remember.

wherever love is, i want to be.

found it behind the altar. they always keep a good drop for themselves.

the body shuts down when it has too much to bear.

rumor has it that the inhabitants of this city walk on water.

with faith, all things are possible.

there's no knife can get through that.

i don't hate the french. i ignore them.

beware the dice and games of chance.

i come from a hairy family.

it suits you.

darkness and death are not the same. the one is temporary, the other is not.

you see, i am no stranger to love.

my heart is a reliable organ.

there are stranger things.

religion is somewhere between fear and sex.

bridges join but they also separate.

i never go to confession.

god doesn't want us to confess, he wants us to challenge him.

anything now to relieve the ache.

learn to look after yourself. don't rely on the good natures of others.

how intimate would you like to be with god?

lovers are not at their best when it matters.

i can't make love to you, but i can kiss you.

i'm surprised at myself talking in this way.

i never take off my boots away from home.

gambling is not a vice, it is an expression of our humanness.

in spite of what the monks say, you can meet god without getting up early.

you belonged. i envied you that.

i never tell a lie, but i don't tell the truth to everyone.

if you should leave me, my heart will turn to water and flood away.

there's no such thing as a limited victory.

watching my comrades die was not the worst thing about that war, it was watching them live.

not much touches us, but we long to be touched.

only then can you begin to survive.

not all men are as fortunate as ulysses.

what you risk reveals what you value.

i was bored.

such games are better not played at all.

the world is surely wide enough to walk without fear.

what are you running away from?

this is the price we agreed.

the women, they're always the clever ones.

love can survive.

death in battle seems glorious when you are not in battle.

beware of old enemies in new disguises.

you can stay with us.

men are violent. that’s all there is to it.

what's paris? just a few boulevards and some expensive shops.

don't tempt the spirits.

there are stories i could tell you that would make your hair stand on end.

i keep it for luck.

you can do that when you're dead.

i want to make my own mistakes. die in my own time.

greatness is hard to be sensible about.

saints love to be whipped.

i don't want anything to do with you.

it's none of your business.

it will be easier if you come with me now.

you must protect what you have won.

no sane man would live like that.

you must stay here until i am ready for you.

do you know what you're doing?

you've grown up.

will you stay?

i have heard that when a duckling opens its eyes, it will attach itself to whatever it first sees, duck or not.

i stay here by choice.

i find the air much the same in every country.

one battlefield is very like another.

you don't believe me? go and see for yourself.

#askbox meme #roleplay #inbox meme #ask meme #inbox rp meme #askbox #meme #roleplay meme #ask #rp meme #rp sentence meme #sentence starters #sentence meme #sentence starter meme #roleplay sentence meme #tumblr roleplay #historical roleplay #rp inbox meme #tumblr rp #rp #askbox rp

[ryus3i]

Model Ran x gn reader! Genre; A bit of Angst 2 Fluff

A/N; This is for @yeosatinyngz Lights Camera Action Collab. I had so much fun writing this!

“Shoot begins in 10 minutes, have Mr. Haitani ready before then” the voice of the director is heard from outside the door of your makeup room. Inside you were adding the final touches to Ran Haitani’s makeup, truthfully he didn’t need any of the powders or foundations you were tasked to put on him but nevertheless this was your job and you had to do it.

You’ve always had an interest in makeup, having found your mothers collection from an early age you would often play around with giving yourself different kinds of looks whilst doing your best to wash it all away before your mother caught on. 

This same interest had landed you a job at Yves Saint Laurent, a brand known for many things but primarily the face of their brand, Ran Haitani. Over the course of your career at YSL, which was  three years, you've been tasked to work on all kinds of beautiful models alike but none like Ran. 

Ran Haitani was a special case to say the least you’ve worked on him for multiple shoots, he isn’t  uncooperative but isn’t easy to work with or even be around. 

Ever since you had first met him, his fascination with you was apparent, he would constantly flirt and tease you to no end. He would even go as far as hiding makeup brushes and staring directly at you while you work on him.

Working with Ran Haitani did have its benefits, doing the makeup of a world famous model gave you recognition and allowed you to become an exclusive makeup artist at YSL. 

Another benefit was that top model Ran Haitani was also your boyfriend. Despite rejecting him multiple times, you finally gave in and allowed him to take you on a date. The two of you had your first date at a prominent restaurant where Ran had made a special reservation for you two. Truth be told you did have feelings for the Haitani but were afraid of what news of you two together could do to his career. People would expect him to date models or famous actresses, not a lowly makeup artist with average looks. 

Ran was persistent and was not going to give up, he reassured you multiple times that work was perfect and that he loved you for you. You believe him and the two of you agreed to have a private relationship to keep nosy people out of your lives.

Ran liked this idea of a secret relationship very much, the adrenaline he received when sneaking glances at you throughout shoots and small kisses behind closed doors was the best part. What boyfriend wouldn’t love messing with his s/o while he’s getting paid to look pretty? 

 “What’s that babe?” Ran asks, pointing towards his face through the mirror. 

“Just some loose powder, it helps to put everything together,” you say, closing the powder and looking across Ran’s face for any spot that needs touching up.

“And you’re  all done” you say proud of the work you had done.

“Thanks babe” your boyfriend thanks you just before placing a soft kiss on your cheek that earns him a glare from you.

“Ran how many times do I have to tell you, someone could see us”. Ran had this irresistible tendency to display his affections for you whilst you two are at work. You hate to scold him for showing his love for you but you have this constant fear that anyone could walk in on you at any time and then tell everyone about your relationship. 

“I’m sorry, you're just so cute baby” he says tugging on your cheek, something he knew you deeply hated.

Taking his hands off of you, you advise him to go to the set before the shoot starts. Not before you wish him good luck. 

As you begin to wash your makeup brushes, the set hairdresser walks into the room. Not paying much mind to her, you continue your task until she approaches you.

“That Ran Haitani is really good looking huh?” You hold back the urge to roll your eyes, every model she’s ever laid her eyes on is fine to her. She doesn’t have anyone else to tell this to, you think to yourself before responding. 

“Yeah he is, I guess that's why he’s one of the top models”.

“Imagine being with him, all the fame and money. I’d do anything for that” she confesses her desire to be with your boyfriend for his money and recognition. Walking out of the door was an option but would raise some suspicion. So a small hum in false agreement would suffice. 

“I’m gonna get it, all I have to do is play along. You know, flirting with him  and all that fun stuff. I mean you could try too but I wouldn’t bet on you getting very far, you’re nice and all but that’s really just it. I guess he’d just have fun messing with you”.

To this you had nothing to say, listening to what she had said about you was ridiculous but believing what she had to say about how Ran would supposedly treat you wasn't so much of a stretch.

Looking back on your relationship it did start off as Ran simply messing with you. Before you two started dating every little thing Ran did was to get a kick out of your reactions, you can’t say for sure if that’s still the case but it was a possibility.  It could be that the love Ran gave you was just a mask that hid his real intentions. It was wrong for you to doubt Ran’s intentions but the seed of doubt had already been planted and the planter was long out the door, looking for your boyfriend.

As soon as the shoot was over and you were no longer needed you immediately went home, there was no point in seeing Ran anyways. 

“Babe where were you, I thought we were going to wait for each other after the shoot?” Ran question as soon he walks through the door of your apartment and into the kitchen where you were making dinner.

“I just left, I was tired and wanted to go home” you explain. This raises some suspicion from Ran, normally you would always wait for him or if you had to leave you would always text him but you never just leave without telling him. Ran can’t help but ask what’s up. 

“Is everything alright, you seem upset”.

“I’m fine Ran”.

“You sure, did something happen? I saw that hairstylist going into your room, did she say something to you, cause she did try to flirt with me right after”.

Recalling what she had about Ran you start to tear up, why did you believe her? Ran was an amazing partner so why couldn’t you believe that he genuinely loved you?

Ran notices a single tear drop that slips from your eye and immediately pulls you into his arms. Ran’s comfort allows you to explain the reason for your change in behavior.

“Y/N i promise you that I genuinely love you with all my heart. I mess and tease you because I love you, it’s my way of loving you. A way that is special for you and you alone okay? Don’t listen to what anyone else has to say about us, they don’t know what it’s like to date thee Ran Haitani”. And just like that all your worries were soothed, he was yours and you were his and neither of you would let anyone get in the way of you two. 

#ran x reader #ran x y/n #ran headcanons #ran x you #ran haitani fluff #ran haitani x reader #tokyo revengers fanfiction #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev x you #☾mai works #LCA! Collab

[johaerys-writes]

I see people hating Achilles for what he did to Hector's body bc they love Hector and forgetting that…hmm checks notes Hector want to give Patroclus' body to the dogs? A considerable part of the Trojan army was happy to comply if it meant rewards and he didn't stop doing it because he benevolently changed his mind it was bc he didn't get the body 🤔🤔🤔

And then I see someone who sympathizes with Alexander complaining about Agamemnon bc of Kassandra but hmmm checks notes Alexander in certain versions literally kidnap Helen? And then they say like "lol Achilles and Agamemnon fighting over Briseis and Chryseis as if there were no other girls" and yeah…Alexander also didn't want to give Helen back even though his city was falling apart and the Trojans were asking him to give her back...and with him being a handsome prince I'm SURE there were other women for him imao

I've even seen people complain about versions where the Achaeans blame Helen and talk about how she should have stayed in Troy…guys did you skip the part where she says very obviously that only Hector and Priam were good to her? And the sources where the Trojans literally blame Helen? Or talking about infidelity as if they thought that all of Priam's children are Hekabe's (and that all of Hekabe's are always Priam's too) and Hector absolutely does NOT have concubines in ANY source of the myths (spoiler: he does)

And let's not even talk about characters from past generations (like... there are versions that the Trojan princess Hesione was almost sacrificed by the Trojans themselves lol)

Like guuuuuys neither the Achaeans nor the Trojans are saints 😭😭😭when did this narrative of dichotomy between good and evil begin for God's sake

My friend Baejax made a really good post explaining why and how Hector and the Trojans are constantly being portrayed as beacons of civilization and selflessness while Achilles has been hated on for centuries, and I think she says it much better than I could lol, but basically yeah I agree that the dichotomy that exists currently is a load of BS and not how Homer intended these two cultures to be perceived. If anything, their similarities are highlighted over and over in the epic, instead of their differences. The Iliad is NOT a story about good vs evil, nobility and selflessness vs barbarity. Exalting the Trojans and condemning the Greeks (or vice versa) completely misses the overarching tragedy of it all: that their lives and deaths, their love and pain and misery and struggle are nothing but a spectacle for the gods, and that their fates are something they have no control over. (Frankly, whoever reads it that way just isn't doing a very good job thinking critically about the text, and instead focuses on proving their own biases right by trying to bend the original text and its meaning to their will while thoroughly ignoring the context. Which is incredibly unfortunate, if you ask me)

What the Iliad is is a work that shows the gruesome reality and futility of war, and how there are no winners! None!! It begins with an argument between a shitty, incompetent leader and his best (albeit extremely tired and fed up) soldier, and it ends with not one, not two, but three funerals (Patroclus, Hector but also Achilles, whose funeral is heavily foreshadowed by Hector's). For me, the beauty and tragedy of the work is in realising that both the Achaeans and the Trojans are doomed no matter the war's outcome. And this is something that is confirmed by the Odyssey, where we learn that Troy was sacked and razed, and that the Achaeans, the victors, either returned to broken homes and broken people or got lost or died trying to get back. There is no glory to be had for literally anyone.

#the iliad #homer's iliad #also if you're reading the iliad just so you can find a new blorbo to #protect and in the process forget all the dumb and/or unhinged shit they've done #you're also doing it wrong #like.... idec about the stupid af stuff hector or paris have done i still vibe with them #or i can still like odysseus while also acknowledging all the insane stuff he's done #it's not about 'proving' any one character guilty or blameless or better/worse than the others #it's about vibes man. just enjoy the vibes

[unrequitedloveletter]

The Fire That Burns Within- N.L x fem! reader Chapter One

Masterlist

Okay! this is the second part! I’m going to upload a chapter a day until this series is done with and the uploads will be a little random but should typically come out between 4:15 and 7:30 AST! I also have a playlist of songs I’m listening to while writing if anyone is interested in that, and thank you so much for the love on the prologue!! I’ve never written a Nikolai fic this long or with this many chapters, so I was a bit nervous and I’m really grateful that it was well recieved

Fic type- angst with a bit of fluff at the start

Warnings- mentions of what the king did to Genya, an allusion to the readers trauma, mentions/allusions to death

Genyas face split into a grin the moment she saw you. You took a moment to register her scars and the eye patch she wore, felt pity that she would hate you for register within. 

The minute the boat touched solid ground and a ladder was placed to help people get out of the boat, you were leaving. You climbed down the ladder and ran at your best friend, a happy laugh falling from your lips as you hugged her for the first time in what felt like ages.

She was laughing, too, and you were both laughing, and then you were thanking the saints, only to see Alina Starkov in your periphery.

“You’re not an ally of the Darkling, are you?” She asked as Genya let you go. “Not one of his spies?”

“She’s just arrived, Alina,” Genya said. “Allow her a day to rest before you start throwing out accusations.”

“I would be skeptical too, Genya. She’s fine,” you said, arm wrapping around Genyas waist as hers wrapped around yours. “And, though I doubt you’ll believe me, no. I am not one of his allies. I will never be an ally to him ever again. Not after everything that’s happened since the expansion of the Fold.” Not after everything he let happen to Genya, to me, to all those under his care. Not after all of the people he let die without blinking, you thought. 

“You were one of his allies before?”

“Before I learned the truth, I may very well have been. Weren’t we all?” 

“You make a valid point,” Alina said with a nod. “Well, I’ll let Genya show you to your accommodations. I would recommend the stairs, but the lift is a good alternative if you’re okay with a bit of a bumpy way up or if you’re tired.” 

You let Genya lead you off, some part of you wanting to find Zoya and spar for a bit like you used to. 

You needed a good, long nap after the whirlwind that was the experience of feeling the boat begin to fly and the sensation of oddness you’d felt when it kept up until you were at the Spinning Wheel. 

You needed a good, long cry. You needed a moment or several moments to process everything you’d gone through since the Fold was expanded, but you knew that moments to process things were a luxury, and they were likely a luxury ill afforded in the depths of the safe haven that had been carved from the side of a mountain. 

Your room in the Spinning Wheel was simple. A bed in one corner, a chest for clothes and other belongings beside it. A kefta had been hung on the wall, and the sight of it nearly made you sob. 

“I still have my other one,” you said. “From–from before–”

“It has black threading,” Genya said. “To denote your status as one of the Darklings charges. David and I found one while Alina was with the Apparat in the church–which is a whole other thing to explain–and when we left, we had to go through caves. There was a cave with red rubies. David took a few, extracted the pigment from them and put it in the threads of that one. He also took a bit of blue from a kefta that didn’t fit one of the Grisha on Sturmhonds crew. It was a fabrikators kefta before, and this one is meant for Spring, but David has gold that he can use to change the black on the kefta you brought with you.”

“For an alliance to the Sun Summoner,” you said. 

“Yes,” Genya nodded. “And to be rid of the Darkling after all he’s done.”

You grinned. “I cannot wait to be rid of him, then.”

Genya grinned back at you. “I’ll take the other kefta to David.”

Silence passed over you. Genya bit at a perfect nail before finally speaking up when a few moments had passed you both by.

“There are–there are rumors,” she said. “Of the presence of the King and Queen. I haven’t seen them yet.” 

“I have a flint. If I see her, I can burn the Queen alive?”

Genya laughed. “No,” she said. “You and your fire, Y/N. I’d let you if I weren’t so afraid that either of the Lantsovs would kill you for it. The King is weakened but his son? Rather charming, and rather spry.” 

“Vasily? He’s never–” you paused, searching for the right words. “I’ve never thought Vasily to be charming. I’ve thought him to be as much of a knobhead as his fath–Genya, dear, have you taken ill?” 

She laughed again. “No, not him,” she said. “Sobachka. Baghra used to call him–”

“The puppy prince, right?” You said. “I remember now. I fear what he’ll be like when he’s crowned.” 

Fear was an understatement, really. You didn’t want him to be crowned at all. If his fathers mistakes were of any indication of the kind of king he’d be, you might never have returned to Ravka again. You would’ve gone to Ketterdam, perhaps, maybe Novyi Zem, where the Grisha were considered the blessed. 

You would’ve found somewhere to live that was not the country you held dear. You would’ve forsaken the kefta you wore for the rest of your days if it meant you never had to hear a word of any Lantsov ever again after all you’d dealt with. 

“He’s good,” Genya said, knowing her reassurance would not stop your fear-driven hatred. She was putting her best foot forward anyway, trying her damndest though she knew it wouldn’t be worth much in the long run of things. “You can trust him, I think.”

“The ‘I think’ adage does not make me more confident,” you said. Genya nodded.

“Thats fair. I’ll leave you to it, come grab you for dinner in a few hours. Sleep, or think through everything. or just exist,” she said. “Do what you must, and try on the kefta. David and I think it’ll have a baggier fit, but it’ll work just as well. I’ll see to it that David can grab your other kefta from the ship and you’ll have it again by the time we’ve eaten, wrought in golden thread rather than obsidian.”

“I fear what it will be like if I have to face him again,” you said. “To be perfectly candor, I do not think I can manage it. Even thinking of the Darkling sets me on edge, thinking of the embroidery on my kefta–what if I am not strong enough to face this?”

“You are,” Genya said as she turned to go. “You survived the Darkling and his monsters, Y/N. You escaped them. Once you survive that, I think you become capable of surviving anything, even one of the Lantsov kings.” 

You watched Genya leave without saying anything more, took the kefta off it’s hook and pulled your arms through the sleeves. It was a size or two too big, but you didn’t much mind it. David would fix the threads in your other kefta and the other kefta wouldn’t be relevant until spring, when the weather lightened up and there was no need for a heavy kefta unless you went into battle. 

You took the kefta off, put it back onto it’s hook. You grabbed your flint, summoned a flame that glinted off of candles to your fingertips, and grinned. You had not summoned in weeks. You’d missed the comfort, the surety it brought you, and it turned out that you had missed it desperately. 

You let go of the flint and watched the flickering flames dissipate, climbing into your bed as you felt the aches in your joints and muscles return. Despite Genyas statements about Nikolai Lantsov, she was right. You were still tired and sleep was still necessary. You drifted off again, knew that you probably wouldn’t wake up until the following day, but decided you didn’t care. Sleep mattered more to you in that moment. 

#nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov x reader #shadow and bone #shadow and bone netflix

[curekibouka-writing]

hi!! can i please request headcanons for sebek jack and adeuce (together) revenging her s/o who was beaten up by bullies?? you can totally delete this if you’re uncomfy! have a good day!!

Ace Trappola:

“Daaang, I didn’t realise we were going to school with a bunch of kindergarteners,” Ace jeers at the bullies with the corner of his mouth pulled up in a mischievous visage, “Does someone need to go to the angry corner to chill out?” 

Ace is no fool, he knows better than to try fighting fire with fire, but he isn’t quite a saint enough to control his big mouth. He continues to make a fool out of those bullies, sometimes with remarks that sound almost childish, sometimes they are pretty on point, but either way, they were quite effective at blowing their fuse. 

Naturally, the bullies are more angry than they already were. Ace quickly grabs you and runs when they chase after you two, but not before he tauntingly shouts “Oh crap, they snapped just like my dorm leader. Speaking of which, I wonder how my dorm leader would snap if he learns of this~” (it’s a bluff. Actually bringing it up to Riddle would hurt Ace’s pride)

When it all settles down, he stammers and asks you to please watch over yourself better because he doesn’t have the power to shield you or punish the ones who hurt you. Still, you realise he was so worked up for you that he would risk provoking the bullies again just to put his agitation into words. You can feel that, in his own way, he’s standing up for you. 

Deuce Spade:

You can see the fury burning Deuce’s bright green eyes to ashes. His usually gentle eyes constrict angrily as he cracks his knuckles, spouting some of his delinquent vocabulary, stomping toward the bullies like a rampaging animal. 

He might get into a fight with them if they continue to mock you, threatening to make them as beaten up as you are right now. And he can’t really stop it unless you or someone else pull him away (physically). 

It’s like flipping a switch when he gets separated from the bullies and tries to calm down, his eyes return to normal, albeit filled with hints of regret. He grumbles that maybe he’s just the same as those bullies because he let his anger get to him and resorted to violence, maybe he’s not an honour student after all if the only thing he could do is be angry for you instead of protecting you when you needed him. 

At this, you would hold his tightened fists and tell him that while resorting to violence might not be the best option, you will face the consequences with him. Changing himself bit by bit is not the same as pushing all his anger down the drain, especially not when concerned for the people he loves. His past self that he himself hates bursted out uncontrollably just for you, what more could you ask of him?

Sebek Zigvolt:

As explosive as Sebek is, he does not immediately retaliate physically. He has been taught that his strength should be used for guarding and defending instead of causing more casualties. He is desperate to stay true to that, his fists gripped tightly as if his fury is inside them and would escape if he doesn’t lock it. 

But with his thunderous voice, he begins to reproach the bullies for their actions. He starts by saying that their finding satisfaction from hurting others is wrong, then gradually over-generalises it to “Good grief, why are there always humans like this? Humans who display such negligence towards people’s suffering is the exact reason why our Briar Valley had been suffering from conflicts with human nations for such long years in the past…” 

A lengthy oration like this is quite enough to annoy the bullies into leaving, but not before Sebek shouts that next time they scheme something like this, they will have to go through him and his years of magical training as a guard first. 

Just when you thought he was done, he whips his head to you sharply. With the same volume, he reproaches you for not seeking help from him when in danger. “I am a guard to Malleus-sama, I cannot mar my reputation by being unable to defend my own partner. I will be more vigilant and so should you! You cannot be harmed, not under my protection!” 

Jack Howl: 

A roar boils in Jack’s throat as he glares at the people who attacked you. How despicable of them to gang up against someone weaker and to beat you up knowing you don’t stand a chance to fight back. Nothing but a bunch of cowards. 

Revenge isn’t quite Jack’s thing. An eye for an eye is just stooping to the wrongdoers’ level if you ask him, but this is not to say he will let them off the hook. He’ll make them pay, but fair and square. 

He’s the type to walk the talk of “Hey, why don’t you pick on someone your own size?”. He challenges the bullies to a battle (of any athletic activity, really, he could even be generous enough to let them choose) under the condition that if he wins, they will apologise to you and never do such things again. 

Whether the bullies accept it or not, they’ll be leaving you two alone (the only difference is out of annoyance or out of shame). Jack clicks his tongues and growls that they are just chickens trying to come off as threatening, and that hurting you was a terrible display of power. 

“Not that I’m in the position to judge them,” Jack scratches his head and admits guiltily, “I wish I could say my power was enough to prevent you from suffering like this, but I couldn’t. How about you join me for training tomorrow? You should get stronger too, for your own sake.” 

#twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #twst writing #ace trappola #deuce spade #sebek zigvolt #jack howl #ace trappola x reader #deuce spade x reader #sebek zigvolt x reader #jack howl x reader #twst x reader #twst headcanons #twst requests