#I want all my ideas to be done and that means I have to write them but I'd rather have them written for me

[ckret2]

Chapter 51 of human Bill Cipher is once more the Mystery Shack's prisoner: Dipper and Mabel try to figure out what the Axolotl's poem means; Dipper gets the hang of astral projection; and... whatever's going on up there happens.

####

Ford and Dipper came back into the shack through the gift shop; Ford didn't want to risk crossing paths with Bill. While Dipper went into the house, Ford went down—returning to the safety of his subterranean study.

Once Ford had put on the old black trench coat he'd worn during his multiversal travels and gotten comfortable at his desk, he pulled out Journal 5 to document the events of the last few days. In a cheap ballpoint pen, he wrote, I've lost my #1 Grunkle pen (and favorite coat) to the waters of Lake Gravity Falls. And then, deciding this didn't adequately express his feelings, he drew a small frown. That coat had served him well for decades, and he'd really liked that pen. It did write excellently, and it had reminded him of his gniece and gnephew.

He spent three pages documenting the eclipse—what happened, what readings he'd taken, what he and Dipper observed—and then another four pages talking about Bill. What he'd told them, why Ford had dismissed it; his claims about a trans-dimensional axolotl distorting gravity with its migration; the statue, the rescue, the breakdown.

The act of writing always helped Ford clarify his thoughts and untangle mysteries; it wasn't until he was writing that he realized the limbs Bill had said he couldn't feel were the ones that had broken off the statue.

He listed the rules of the chess variants he could remember Bill inventing. He drew Bill huddled in front of the board, grim, tear-streaked, exhausted; and then scratched out his face, embarrassed at the thought of immortalizing such a raw moment for his private viewing.

He wrote, There's still a slim possibility that the entire "eclipse," start to finish, was Bill's masterfully-orchestrated scheme to make us pity and trust him; but it's unlikely. Although Bill is fiendish enough, he isn't currently powerful enough, and his lies certainly aren't elaborate enough. If he could pull off such a byzantine ruse, then he could just as easily escape—and if he can escape, why hasn't he? Bill may be insane, but he's never been THAT irrational.

And so, even as twisted as Bill's idea of "friendship" is... for the very first time, I'm convinced that he was telling the truth all along when he said he wants me as his friend. It's not an act. He risked his life to save someone who's an active threat to him.

And at the end of it all—though I'm grateful to be alive in spite of my own stubbornness—do I like him any better for it?

Ford leaned back and shut his eyes, sifting through the inner tumult of anger and old hurt that defined most of his memories of Bill, looking to see if anything had changed.

There was a sore, tender spot in his emotions, a place beginning to rot with remorse; when he prodded at those emotions, he found that it was shame over his own harsh conduct of the last couple of days. But he was only ashamed of how cruelly he'd acted; he wasn't ashamed that Bill was the one he'd done it to.

Outside of that tender spot—regret over his own behavior—nothing else had changed.

No. I still hate him. I'm grateful to be alive, but I hate him. He hasn't undone anything he did to my family and me, and he never will. Forgiveness can't be purchased with favors.

I'm only relieved at the certainty of it. Bill has committed an act that can't possibly be a lie. I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he's shown me the truth; and the truth is he'd rather see me alive than dead. Whatever other lies he may tell, I can hold on to that fact.

Bill's miserable eyes peered out at Ford between the scribbles he'd drawn across his face. It was truly a pity that Ford had to hate him. Pity that Bill hadn't been somebody better. He could have been better.

Ford couldn't find it in himself to be embarrassed that he'd filled four pages talking about the monster he'd already wasted so many more on. Bill had been right about him: You might hate me to my face, but behind my back you're as obsessed with me as ever. The only thing Bill didn't understand was that hatred and obsession weren't mutually incompatible.

####

"Hey, Dipper," Mabel said, unfolding the living room sofa bed. 

"Hey, Mabel," Dipper said, passing through living room on his way to the stairs. He climbed up to the attic.

He came back down from the attic. "Mabel. Why's Bill asleep in your bed."

"He really needed a nap," Mabel said.

"Okay but why on your bed?"

Mabel pouted. "Dipper, do you realize he's never slept on a real bed? Ever?"

Dipper tried to imagine sleeping on a couple couch cushions on the floor every night. "Yeah, okay, that does kinda suck." Even if it was Bill's own fault he wouldn't sleep in the living room.

By unspoken mutual agreement, having a Bill in the bedroom followed the same law as finding a centipede in the bathroom. The law was "that's the centipede's bathroom now." So once the folding bed was set up, they sat on it to serve as their hang-out spot for the evening and caught each other up on what they'd done the last couple of days.

After Dipper & Co. had left, Grenda had come over to take advantage of the low gravity to retrieve the kite that had been stuck in a tree near the Mystery Shack since last summer (it was, tragically, too tattered to salvage), and then they'd gone over to Candy's house to photograph each other performing feats of impossible strength. (Mabel would be sending some pictures to their parents to confuse them, and adding the rest to her summer scrapbook.) She'd spent the next day breaking the trampoline world record until Soos came outside and said gravity was probably too low for it to be safe to be up in the air anymore, if Bill's warnings about being off the ground when gravity hit zero were true; at which point Mabel had hung around inside air-swimming until she suddenly slammed against the ceiling, and then the ground. She was fine. She just had a couple of bruises. She showed Dipper her bruises.

In return, Dipper told Mabel about how their quest had gone: the checks for micro-rips, Bill's increasingly frantic warnings, the lake—

("You got to see a bajillion magical axolotls and I didn't?!")

—the cliff, the Axolotl, Dipper's near-death experience, and what he now knew about his out-of-body dreams.

"Seriously?" Mabel hissed, eyes bugging out. "And he had us looking up lucid dreaming books! What a jerk!"

"I know! He could have just ignored the whole thing, we didn't even think it was anything but dreams."

"And I'd thought he was being so helpful, too! Like he was really trying to make up for giving you 'nightmares'!" Mabel laughed in disbelief and flopped down on the flimsy mattress. "All that because he just didn't want us to know how it was really his fault? Biiill, ugh."

His fault. Dipper hesitated, wondering whether he should tell Mabel what Bill had said about Mabel's Fault; then decided against it. Bill had probably been telling the truth when he'd said he only wanted all the credit for Weirdmageddon.

But—Dipper did tell her about Bill saving their lives. He would have felt like a liar if he hadn't—like he was trying to trick his sister into thinking Bill was worse than he already was. He hoped Ford wouldn't mind; but how could he not tell Mabel?

"He could have just let you die and didn't?" Mabel turned that over in her head, processing this sudden shift in Bill's behavior. "Wow. I'm impressed."

He also told her about their previous encounter with the Axolotl. Considering the other lies Bill had told recently, anything he said about them meeting the Axolotl was dubious at best; but Dipper could remember the Axolotl, so maybe some of it was true, even if Bill had twisted as much as he could. ("The Axolotl said hi, by the way." "Aww. Tell him hi back!" "Yeah, I... don't know how to do that.")

Dipper laid out his journal between them on the folding bed, and Mabel read over the couplet a few times. "'Sixty degrees that come in threes, watches from within birch trees'..."

"It's got to be talking about Bill," Dipper said. "Equilateral triangles have three sixty-degree angles. I just don't know why the Axolotl wanted to talk to us about him."

Mabel frowned at the lines. "I think... I remember meeting him too," she said.

"You do?"

"Kinda. Like in a dream," she said. "We were in some kind of futury space race car. And he had a really comfortable beanbag chair."

"Yes! I remembered the beanbag chair, too!" And he hadn't mentioned it in his journal. "This is great! Talking about it must... must cause us to remember, somehow. Maybe since the universe where we met the Axolotl doesn't exist anymore, our memories of it are... detached or something? Psychically floating around between dimensions until we try to remember them?" He took in Mabel's skeptical frown and shrugged. "I don't know!"

She scrunched up her face. "Ugh. Last summer's first-grader time travel was complicated enough. This is like college-level time travel. Maybe we can ask Bill how it works?"

She said it so easily, like she thought it was actually a good idea. Right after she'd heard about the lucid dreaming thing, too. "I don't think he'd help." Dipper lowered his voice. "He really didn't want Grunkle Ford and me to find out about the Axolotl—and he kept telling me not to think about what the Axolotl told me. He's trying to cover something up."

"Oo-oo-ooh." Voice dropped to a whisper, Mabel said, "Do you think it's some kind of Space Axolotl conspiracy?"

"It could be," Dipper said. "All I know is he was trying to tell us something important about Bill. Some kind of prophecy, or... maybe a warning...?"

He trailed off. Mabel had stopped listening to Dipper. She was rereading the couplet Dipper had written, moving her lips like she was murmuring under her breath—but whatever she was saying, it was much longer than the couplet Dipper had written down. Distractedly, she said, "Do you have a pen?"

"Yeah, here." Dipper quickly handed over the pen he kept in his vest.

Mabel clicked it, went to the bottom of the page, and wrote: A different form, a different time.

Dipper sucked in a sharp breath as the words snapped into place in his mind. "That's it! That was the last line! What else do you remember?"

"That's it," Mabel said. "It was free form poetry with a bunch of rhyme pairs."

"I don't think free form poetry rhymes."

"Pbbbt." Mabel blew a raspberry and shoved Dipper's face. "Whatever! You know what I mean." She pointed at the last line. "Do you think the poem's about why Bill's here? He time traveled to the Mystery Shack in a new body..."

"Exactly! Bill must be back here for a reason. He's got all those powers—or, used to, anyway—and he knows more about the multiverse than anybody on Earth... Maybe there's some kind of big threat coming, and Bill's the only one who can stop it, and—and the Axolotl wanted us to know...?"

"I like the sound of that," Mabel said. "That'd basically make him a hero, right?"

Dipper grimaced. "I mean. I guess? But we're talking about Bill. If he does help us stop a threat, it'd be like if a serial killer picked up a hitchhiker and killed him, and then it turned out the hitchhiker was an even worse serial killer."

"That still sounds kinda heroic to me."

"Pfff, okay." He looked at his journal. "But... what is he here to do?"

Mabel considered what they'd already written. "Maybe we can use him to spy on our enemies through birch trees!"

"Thaaat's probably not it."

"No, I think I'm on to something. I can feel it."

There was a lot of empty space between his couplet and Mabel's line. "There's more we're missing, though. Maybe the rest of the poem describes the threat? Or what we need to get Bill to do?"

"I can't remember anything else, though."

"Me neither."

They stared at the page together, waiting for something to come to their blank minds. Mabel looked at the fish tank. "Hey, Primrose! Do you know anything?"

The pet axolotl in the tank ignored her serenely.

Dipper said, "'Primrose'?"

"Yeah, last summer Grunkle Stan said her name is Freakface, but I thought she deserved a cuter name. She's primrose color!"

"Ford says he originally named him Nikola."

Mabel gasped. "Nikki..."

Dipper twisted around to look at the axolotl. "Do you know anything? Do you... get messages from the Axolotl's heralds, or anything...?"

Nikola slowly opened his mouth, and slowly closed it.

Mabel said, "Hey. The Axolotl's one of those dimension-crossy time-travely guys, right? He probably wouldn't have given us a prophecy in the wrong timeline and then made us forget it unless he knew we'd remember it in time in the rightdimension!"

"I guess," Dipper said uncertainly.

"So we don't need to worry about it! We'll remember it when we need to."

"Unless this timeline's going to branch, and the only one where we survive is the one where we put all our effort into trying to remembering—"

"Shhh!" Mabel put a finger over Dipper's mouth. "Uh-uh. No college time travel. We'll be fine!"

Dipper pushed her over. "Okay, but we should at least try a little to remember what the Axolotl told us."

"What if we work on it separately?" Mabel propped herself up on an elbow. "Instead of just sitting around thinking about it. And whenever we remember a line, we can tell each other and see if it makes anything click."

"That might be faster," Dipper said, stroking his chin. "We're already remembering different lines."

"Yeah! And that lucid dreaming book said something about focusing on a problem before you sleep so you can figure it out in your dreams! We can just work on it in our sleep and we'll remember it all in no time!"

Dipper laughed. "What? No way, I think lucid dreaming is just one of those made up pop psychology things. I didn't get it to work at all." Either it didn't work or Bill had deliberately recommended a terrible book.

"I did! I can remember like... eighty percent more dreams. And I can tell when I'm dreaming a lot more often!"

"Huh." Or, maybe Dipper just wasn't doing it right. "Maybe I need to start over from step one. Do you know where the book we were using went?"

"Over here!" Mabel had set a couple library books on the end table next to the sofa bed; she pulled out the second one, which had a glittery pink bookmark with a cat on it stuck two-thirds of the way through. "Just don't lose my bookmark."

"Thanks." He'd reread the first step before bed. "We should probably be getting ready for bed anyway, huh?"

"Seriously?! It's barely bedtime!" And when the adults weren't watching, official bedtime was an hour and a half before Actual Bedtime.

"I'm exhausted. I just hiked up and down a mountain and faced down death."

Mabel pointed at Nikola. "You faced down a big salamander."

"Close enough."

They went upstairs, brushed their teeth, went to their bedroom...

And stopped in the door. Bill was still asleep. "Oh. Right," Dipper said.

He was curled into a ball on his left side, facing the wall, covered with only the zodiac blanket and his borrowed/stolen top hat sitting on the side of his head. He didn't use a pillow; he'd pushed Mabel's pillows and dolls behind himself to form a squishy makeshift fortress.

"Please don't wake him up," Mabel whispered. (She'd already set up the folding bed for herself; she'd clearly planned on this.) "He's had a really really hard time the last couple of days, and I think he needs as much sleep in a real bed as he can get, and it's just for one night, and I'm sure he'd rather sleep than do anything evil—"

"He said something, didn't he?"

Mabel paused. "Yeah. I think seeing his body really messed him up."

Dipper sighed. "We were trying to keep him away from it." He didn't want Mabel to think they'd forced him to stare his own death in the face. "But he did that... eye thing and looked through the trees, and..."

Mabel nodded.

Well. Dipper couldn't kick him out now. For Mabel's sake.

As children, occasionally when they got hotel rooms with a bed too few, their parents would stick them in one bed with a barrier of pillows in between them. At age thirteen and without two crabby parents trying to get them to just go to bed after a long plane flight, they unanimously vetoed that plan. Dipper decided against asking Stan if he could sleep in Ford's unoccupied bed, both because he suspected Stan would just go upstairs and drag Bill out of the room and because he didn't want Stan to think he was scared of Bill. He wasn't scared of Bill. Not anymore. He could handle one measly night in the same room as him. Anyway, somebody had to make sure he wasn't unsupervised in their bedroom all night, right?

Dipper and Mabel quietly set a floor mirror and old lamp next to Mabel's bed, draped a sheet between them, taped on a pink poster that said "WARNING! TRIANGLE ZONE!" and was covered in stickers of triangular objects, and decided Dipper was adequately shielded. If Bill did get up during the night, he'd probably trip through the sheet and wake half the house before he got anywhere near Dipper.

Dipper went to sleep with a baseball bat in his hands.

####

"Okay," Bill said, hands on his sides, "what am I looking at here?"

The feral band members of Sev'ral Timez turned toward Bill, eyes reflecting in the dim light. They were squatting around Bill's petrified corpse like a pack of apes examining a sleek black monolith.

"Hey girl," Creggy G. said.

"Hey," Bill said. He looked down at himself. His onyx black feet hovered over the ground and the yellow glow from his exoskeleton illuminated the clearing. "Lemme cut to the chase, is this gonna turn into a raunchy dream? My corporeal love life is about as cold and dry as Antarctica, I keep hoping one of my dreams will get a little hotter and wetter—"

"Nah, G," Deep Chris said. "Mr. Bratsman got us fixed."

"Aw."

"We're here to pay you reverence for freeing our minds from the chains of the conventional," Greggy C said, gesturing to Bill's corpse. Leggy P was kneeling and bowing to it and Chubby Z was posing for it. "We want to help free you like you tried to help free humanity."

Bill's eye narrowed. He tapped a finger against the edge of one brick as he considered this offer. Finally, skeptically, he said, "Fine. I'll bite. Why should I think you can help me?"

"Because we can give you the understanding your heart's been missing, girl. You're just like us," Chubby Z said. "A horror never meant to exist, born of a dream to construct the perfect golden idol, forced to dwell within an unnaturally-fabricated human shell."

Bill tilted his head thoughtfully. "I'm with you so far."

"We want you to join us," Deep Chris said. "Cavort with us in the silvan night, G. Shun the harsh light of the spotlight for the healing salve of moonbeams. We'll get drunk on the sweet fermented summer berries, uncaring of how the brambles prick our flesh. We'll dance in a frenzy of ecstasy and only sleep when the morning sun lifts the dew from the flowers and the sweat from our skin. It'll be straight Dionysian, boo."

"We can kiss the hot trees," Creggy G said.

Bill grabbed his shoulder. "Oh, you're the human that keeps making out with birch trees! I knew your face was familiar!" He paused. "So... are there any eligible ones around here?"

"Sure, girl, just downstream."

"If I'd known, I would've polished myself first."

"Say you'll join us, Bill girl," Deep Chris said. The band crowded around Bill to either side, posing around him—the backup dancers for the star singer. "You'd be one of us."

"We're already exactly the same," Creggy G said, holding up a mirror so that it reflected his and Bill's faces beside each other. In Bill's human face were two empty white eyes with pinprick pupils and pale blue irises, exactly the same as the eyes of the Sev'ral Timez boys.

He sat up with a gasp, hands flying to his face. There were still green boughs at the edges of his dreaming vision, blending into the wooden boards of the Mystery Shack's attic. Before sleep had fully fled his mind, he seized up the zodiac blanket draped over his body and stared into his embroidered eye.

The eye stared back at him. Through it, he could see his horrified sleepy face, and his normal slitted yellow eyes. His connection to the blanket's eye disappeared as he finished waking up.

He heaved a sigh of relief and flopped back down. He'd been lucid, but he hadn't been in control of that dream. He still needed practice.

He rolled toward the light of the window, groped around beneath it until he found his journal, grabbed up his crayons, and flipped pages blearily until he found the first blank one. He started writing down his dream, pausing only briefly as he tried to figure out how to translate "Sev'ral Timez" before settling on a sufficiently goofy way to misspell "several times" in Plaintext.

He made it halfway down the page before he stopped. Hold on. This wasn't his beautiful journal. These were not his beautiful crayons. He checked the cover and grimaced in displeasure when he saw a pine tree rather than a hand. Dipper's journal. Bill ripped out the page, ate it, and set the journal and Mabel's crayons back on the table  under the bedroom window.

"What was that," Dipper asked, "some kind of Morse code?"

Bill yelped and twisted around. Dipper's soul was hovering above Mabel's headboard, watching over Bill's shoulder.

"Hey! Back, foul ghost!" Bill snatched up Mabel's pillow and swung it at Dipper.

"Ow—Hey! How did you hit me, I'm in the mindscape—"

"I said back!" Bill swung again, chasing Dipper off the bed. "Back into your fleshy tomb!" He climbed off the bed, stumbled into Dipper and Mabel's trap, tripped through the sheet and probably woke up half the house.

He yanked the sheet off and flung the pillow at Dipper by its corner. "Now get back in your body, go to sleep, and leave me alone."

"I don't know how to get back in it. I just wait until it happens by itself," Dipper said, floating irritably over his sleeping body, arms crossed. "Why do you think I just wander around every time I have this dream?" He paused. "Right—it's not a dream, is it."

Bill sighed heavily. "Try putting your body on like..." He almost said like an exoskeleton, remembered his audience, and amended himself: "Like it's clothing. I usually start with the hands. Just like putting on gloves!"

Dipper looked at the cold fingers wrapped tightly around the baseball bat. "How do I put hands on like gloves? There's no opening or—"

"Just try it, would you?" Bill sat tiredly on the edge of Mabel's bed.

Dipper shot him an irritated look, but pressed his ghostly hands against his fleshly ones, passing through the skin until one set of fingers rested inside the other. A fingertip twitched. 

Bill gestured with one hand, continue. "Now the sleeves."

"I know how to get dressed." Dipper laid down in his body, forearm into forearm, shoulder into shoulder—until he was wholly back inside. He sat up, awake. "Huh."

"There, see?" Bill said. "And if you want to take it back off, just do the same thing in reverse. Like degloving your body from your soul!"

"Did you have to phrase it like that?" Still, Dipper tried it, peeling out of his body from the fingertips up. He left his body sitting upright as he hovered over it.

Bill chuckled tiredly. "Lookit your face, staring at nothing. Stupid looking."

"Shut up." He slid back into his body, more quickly now that he knew what he was doing.

"Great," Bill said. "Now that you know how to get back in your body, never do that again." He flopped back onto Mabel's bed and rolled over to face the wall. "It's a pain in my base having you wander around all night."

"Then you should've thought of that before you ripped my soul out of my body," Dipper grumbled. "Can you reattach me to my body?"

"Sure, easy." He lifted a hand to point down at his regrettably human form. "Not like this, though. Wanna help reattach me to my body?"

"Never in a million years."

"Then come back in a million years. There's nothing I can do for you until then." Bill dragged Mabel's zodiac blanket back over himself. "So sorry. Go to sleep. Leave me alone."

Dipper bet Bill could do it and was only saying he couldn't to try to trick Dipper into helping him. But he lay back down—clutching his bat again—and shut his eyes.

After a moment, Bill asked, "Where's Mabel? Sleepover?"

"Sofa bed in the living room."

"Right."

And then there was silence.

Several minutes passed. Dipper nearly fell back asleep. He heard Bill climbing out of bed and creeping across the room; but the footsteps didn't approach Dipper's bed, so he didn't open his eyes.

A few minutes after that, Dipper heard him come back, walking more heavily. He cracked open an eye to see what Bill was up to.

He was carrying Mabel, who was still asleep; his arms were trembling from her weight, but even at that Dipper hadn't known Bill was that strong. With a quiet grunt, he set her on her bed, then haphazardly tossed her sheet and zodiac blanket over her. He picked up his top hat from the bed and put it on; and then he wandered off, footsteps quiet as a ghost, and Dipper heard the creak of the door as he left the bedroom.

That was a lot nicer than Dipper had expected from Bill. Maybe he did care about Mabel in his own way.

Mabel rolled over and latched on to one of her dolls. Dipper shut his eye and fell back asleep.

####

(My favorite part of writing this was Bill dreaming about Sev'ral Timez saying the most absurdly flowery things imaginable. Anyway, let me know what y'all think about this week's chapter! And reminder that I MIGHT skip next week or the week after because the next couple chapters need heavier editing than usual.)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #sev'ral timez #(a tag i have never used before and will probably never use again.) #gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanart #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

[exhaslo]

Helloo! Can i request about moth reader and yandere miguel?.. I really appreciate all your writing! I hope you had a good day!

Tbh I'm not sure if you actually mean "moth" or if you meant "goth" but you know what...

Why not both? Haha, I think I have an interesting idea for it.

Warning: Possessiveness, experimentation, fluff, mentions of sex, manipulation

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

This was NOT how your experiment was supposed to go.

This was NOT how you expected your life to turn out.

This was NOT how you wanted Miguel O'Hara to see you.

You had always been the oddball at your job. Most told you that it was rare to find such a 'creature' like yourself. It was always frustrating to explain to those ingrates that you were just expressing yourself the way as many did during the Great Hero Age.

You were a proud goth. Not many committed to this life style anymore as they focused more on the future. Hell, you had spent a good amount of money trying to find old CDs and Vinyl's from back in the day. There were many things that had disappeared within the last hundred years.

All you wanted to do was bring back an old culture to the year 2099!

The only person who did not mind your lifestyle was one of your regulars...

Miguel O'Hara

The man was the definition of fine. He was tall, hot and oh so perfect. He had wanted to get to know you at your little coffee shop and quickly became your regular.

Miguel was understanding. He enjoyed listening to you talk and even took your suggestions. You knew someone as perfect as him would not join in your lifestyle, but you were just happy that he bothered to give you the time to explain.

However...

How would Miguel react to you now?

You were desperate for money, so you decided to take an offer from Alchemax-the biggest company in the city...If not, the world. The only problem was that you didn't expect for the turnout. This was not what you were expecting at all!

It felt like a nightmare! You felt different already compared to your futurist coworkers, but now...to your fellow humans? Alchemax turned you into a freak! Who would bother to look at you now? What were you going to do now?!

"Ah, my dear (Y/N), how beautiful,"

---------

From the moment he laid eyes on you, Miguel knew that you were special. Call it fate, but Miguel just knew that you were meant to belong to him.

Miguel knew that he had to control himself. He didn't want to scare you after all. So, he started by stopping by your work. Bringing up small chat, getting to know you. Loving everything about you. Loving to find out new things about you.

When you weren't working, Miguel would follow you home as Spider-Man. He needed to protect you. Such a fragile human like yourself knew not of how to protect themselves. You were a target for people to pick on.

And who better to protect you than Miguel?

Miguel made sure that no man got near you. Every guy who even dared smile or tried to flirt with you disappeared. Everyone who dared give you a hard time, Miguel made sure they were taught a lesson.

The more Miguel got to know you, the more he became obsessed with you. You were perfect for him. His lovely little doll. Miguel made a special room for you in his place. Put everything you would like and even started to take some of your stuff.

This room was going to be yours very soon. That bed would be where Miguel will show you his love. Where you will conceive his child and become his wife. Your body and soul will belong to him.

Miguel knew you were short for cash. He knew that no one wanted to help a freak like you. It was a shame. Only Miguel knew how wonderful and kind you were. How amazing your lifestyle was and how this world was too naïve to embrace you.

So, Miguel thought of a plan. He watched as you accepted the offer from Alchemax and went to get your blood done. It made Miguel shudder as he watched you undress for the doctor, wanting to make sure that you were healthy for the test.

That body was only for Miguel to see, but he will let this slide since it was a woman doctor.

Once the experiment began, Miguel watched from the sidelines. He waited for his moment to swoop in and change the procedure. Why? Because Miguel was going to give you a reason to stay with him.

"What have you done?!" You cried out, sobbing at your new form.

The doctors and scientists panicked and fled to find some information and excuse for what went wrong. While Miguel stood in awe at your beautiful new form.

Your DNA was now mixed with that of a moth. You had large gorgeous wings and your hair had streaks of white. You were crotched down on the floor, sobbing as you tried to cover yourself from the bright lights.

"Ah, my dear (Y/N), how beautiful," Miguel couldn't help but say cheerfully as he approached you, "Don't cry (Y/N), it's going to be okay."

"M-Miguel? W-What are you doing here?" You sobbed quietly, covering your eyes, "I-It's so bright...I'm getting dizzy."

"Shh, I know. I know,"

Miguel was careful with your wings as he wrapped his arms around you. Your warmth was comforting. Your scent, better than he could ever imagine. Who better than to love you now than him?

"I know you're confused, but come with me. I'll take care of you."

---------

Miguel was true to his word. You had followed the man whom you had a crush on, scared for your new form. Miguel gently explained what happened, saying that it was an error on the scientists he watched over. Since it was under his watch, Miguel claimed to take responsibility for you.

You wanted to find it strange that Miguel already had a room for you, but you were too stressed to care. Your mind was all over the place and your body felt strange. The room was dark and cool. Much to your liking.

"(Y/N), I brought you some food." Miguel called out.

As he entered, he held up a small lantern, to which you felt drawn too. You pressed yourself against Miguel, wanting to reach for the light, but Miguel chuckled and brought you back to the bed. His hand stroked your cheek, placing the food on your dresser,

"You are so cute, (Y/N)," Miguel whispered, kissing your head. You hummed lowly,

"Why...are you so kind to me?"

"Ah," Miguel chuckled lowly as he held your hand, "Because I love you. We were meant for each other."

That sounded nice. Honestly, who would love you now as you were? Hell, who would even want anything to do with you now? You were part moth. At least now your gothic lifestyle matched your new look. Hell, it made your wings pop out more.

"Miguel...I...I um, I like you too."

-------

Yes.

YES!

Miguel could hardly control his laughter as you fell into the palm of his hand. Of course you loved him. You had no one else to turn too. No one else to help you.

Miguel made sure to keep you believing that you needed him. From helping you figure out your powers, to fucking you senselessly during the night and day.

Miguel gave you everything you wanted.

Just as long as you behaved and listen to everything he did and said. Miguel smiled as you approached him in the living room, showing off the new gothic attire he had bought for you. Doing a little spin, Miguel groaned softly as you let your wings spread.

"So beautiful." He hummed. You smiled, sitting on his lap,

"Miguel...could we go out? I want to fly for a bit," You begged.

Miguel just smiled as you waited for his response. You knew of his secret and made sure to not do anything he wouldn't like.

"Of course, baby, but I have to give you a good reminder on what to do and what not to do,"

You just nodded, smiling as Miguel pressed you against the couch. Your back to him as your wings were on full display. Miguel groaned softly as he held your waist, ready to give you some good reminders about going outside.

After all...

You were Miguel's.

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

Def unique and different, so I hope you enjoyed!!!

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderverse #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #spiderman 2099 #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse #miguel x you

[strang3lov3]

Holy fuck! Not one, but TWO milestones to celebrate!

Sometime in April I hit 5000 followers and I was gonna celebrate then, but with my one year fic anniversary gbu899i (< my cat Gizmo typed this, we're leaving it here. Everyone wave to him) and mostly because the end of the semester right around the corner, I decided to wait until May in order to give this the attention it deserves. Here we are! May 10th marks one year of me writing fic here on tumblr, and I want to celebrate both achievements.

Your support has played such a vital role in making writing such a gratifying hobby of mine. Whether you’ve been here since I started writing a year ago or just recently stumbled across my blog, it means the world to me. Having people read, like, reblog, comment, and engage with my fics is beyond fucking incredible. You keep me inspired to keep writing.

It’s not easy for me to stick to a hobby for a year. Ask the 20% finished afgan I started knitting two years ago that hasn’t been touched in months!! It’s beyond cool to have both a date on the calendar and such a pretty number to reflect how hard I’ve worked, and neither the date nor the number would be possible without you. Thank you 🩷

So we’re gonna celebrate. I haven’t done one of these before, unless you count the time I hit 2000 followers and said “send me requests!” and then did just one of them and zero others because I was so overwhelmed. So we’re taking a slightly different approach this time…

I’m thinking an extended sleepover, lol. Depending on how many participate, for a week or so you can send me asks from the prompts below and we’ll have some fun with them.

@noxturnalpascal and @beefrobeefcal heavily inspired these choices with their recent follower celebrations 🩵

🐈‍⬛ Show and tell - send me pics of your pets, or Pedro if you don’t have any pets, brownie points for Kieran Culkin pics, or anything else that you love. And tell me all about it, and I’ll show you something I love! 👯‍♀️ I want to get to know each other better, so tell something about yourself or ask something about me. If you want, you can use this and this (⬅️ two send an emoji posts) for prompts 🏞️ Request a Moodboard (my favorite) I love doing moodboards, just tell me what you wanna see and I’ll do my best. 🗳️Send me a poll that you wanna see! Ask any question, let us all decide the answer. 🍆 Send me your dirty horny old man headcanons. I’m a horndog for some old men and I can’t change who I am. 📖 Send me your own writing (or another’s work that you love) I actually have a summer reading project where I’ve tagged each and every one of my mutuals to send me their own works for me to read all summer. So consider this just an extension of that- please send me the links to works you’ve written and/or works you’ve read and enjoyed so that I can enjoy them too and support fellow writers ✍️ 🩷 I enjoy just about anything, but I have a soft spot for dark/dub-con, masturbation, uhhhh anything hot and dirty like that. 👩‍💻Request some writing. I can do Joel, Roman Roy, and I’m maaaybe feeling brave about Frankie. @beefrobeefcal has dibs on my first Frankie fic anyway. Horny and debauched thots encouraged, dare I suggest dark as well? Fluff too, though I think I suck balls at writing it. I’ve been told I should do drabbles,,, that’s not really how I roll with my writing but I’m willing to try. It’s entirely possible and actually likely you’ll get a full length fic, in which case, it’ll take some time to get those done so bear with me. Depending on how many requests for writing I get, I may cut off requests at a certain point too. *It’s also possible I won’t jive with your idea, in which case please don’t feel bad. I only want to write something I feel I can do well, and if I can’t, that’s not on you.

GOD I am a rambler. I could have said so much less. But I hope to hear from some of you all and have some fun! Love you love you love you.

Tagging some friends, readers, and mutuals who’ve made writing what it is for me 🩷 I love you all @ievutebebe @pinkypromisepascal @yazsos @heartfairy @magpiepills @medellintangerine @merz-8 @bitchesuntitled @theweedisasterxoxo @covetyou @theywhowriteandknowthings @futuraa-free @smok3r7 @toxicanonymity @atticrissfinch @xdaddysprincessxx @whatsnewalycat @addictedtotlou @littlevenicebitch69 @marisferasiop @joelsgreys @just-some-random-blogger @ghostlovesbaguettes @sweetenerobert @swiftiegirliepop @joeloverture @dorims @munsonhoneybaby @umnitsa @nostalxgic @yazsos @rainbowcosmicchaos @rav3n-pascal22 @604to647 @starry-eyes-love @paleidiot @bluecookies-and-ink @beardedjoel @aestheticisinq @corazondebeskar @axshadows @kyloispunk @survivingandenduring @pedroswife69 @bean-is-reading @pedroshotwifey @casa-boiardi @knittingandfanfics @molt3ngold @worhols @iknowisoundcrazy @nostalxgic @pattwtf @cerridwen007 @corozondebeskar @blackmetalamazon @jazzysnazzys @sheepdogchick3 @alltheseperfectimperfections @mermaidgirl30

#````erdstrang3lov3 #<<another thing my cat typed #he loves apostrophes #strang3lov3 celebration #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #roman roy x reader #roman roy smut #frankie morales smut #frankie morales x reader

[thattimdrakeguy]

I HAVE BEEN READING ZDARSKY BATMAN, AND I HAVE DECLARED: I FREAKING LOVE IT!!

I'm reading the Batman Zdarsky run in reverse. That way if I see any bull I can back out at anytime: and to be honest--besides a few things. I really enjoy it

LIKE YO, THAT IS JUST STRAIGHT UP TIM DRAKE RIGHT THERE. It knows who he is as a character. his motives, it's great.

Screw the people complaining "oh why is tim still robin :((", THIS IS WHY HE IS STILL ROBIN. Because this is when he's at his BEST. When he gets to hit his character purpose, WHEN HE GETS TO BE HIM AT HIS MOST HIM. It's FANTASTIC.

Reading in reverse because I know I hated the first story, it was so contrived and ridiculous.

But this--this is some good shit.

Tim being an underdog fighter, having to use his wits to win the fight? MY DAWG, MY DUDE, MY GUYS, MY GALS, MY THEMS, MY THEYS, THIS IS SO TIMMY DRAKE. This is so damn Tim Drake, guys. Oh, my gosh, I am loving this so far.

Dick has his temper back? And trust me, he isn't normally like this. But he's hitting a limit AND IT'S SOMETHING NEW, NOT JUST A REFERENCE. HE'S ACTUALLY DOING SOMETHING HE'D DO, 'CAUSE HE'S AT HIS LIMIT. That's wonderful, man. That is so wonderful.

Plus Tim is the heart of the Bat-Family again? This feels like someone actually went back to read these characters before writing it. I'm not saying everything is perfect of course, but these high marks are exceeding all my expectations. And I STOPPED reading comics because of how the beginning of this run destroyed any hope I had.

You guys have no idea how much I'm enjoying the few issues I've read. Besides the cussing (I remember after a bit they decided Tim was someone who used funny words instead of proper cusses), this feels like the Tim I know and love during the era I especially loved him.

Tim comparing himself to his predecessors? Tim not being a natural? A WRITER REMEMBERING THAT?? It's been so long since I've seen that! Most writers treat him like he was another prodigy when he wasn't. AND THIS GUY REMEMBERED THAT!

I shouldn't be so happy at just seeing Tim do Tim things, and serving his character purpose. BUT YOU GUYS HAVE NO IDEA HOW LONG IT'S BEEN SINCE A WRITER KNEW WHAT TIM WAS SUPPOSED TO BE LIKE.

Only complaints I have is that Jason feels like a typical Bat-Family member, and not the sketchy outsider that he is. Making him so close makes his character more bland in my opinion. And Steph is--also generic af unless she's wacky quirky...which is a characterization I hate for her, because she started off so damn interesting, but they made her a freaking trope instead, which is such a disservice to her, but she barely does anything so far, so whatever I guess. Doesn't mean much.

--

This is the first honest thing I've seen that I hated.

No

Not this

This isn't the Bat-Family

This is a sitcom world the fandom wants to be the Bat-Family and some comply with

They're not a sitcom. The conflicts, and uniqueness of the characters is what makes things feel alive and well.

This stuff is cheap fanservice for the fanon demographic that doesn't buy comics to begin with.

Fanon doesn't belong in canon.

--

I mean sure Tim could be drawn smaller, the gag of him looking 12 when he's nearly 18 doesn't work when he's bigger than Damian who is 15 (and contrary to some bullshit comics isn't meant to be small. that was a random thing added for writers who aren't clever to write better humor. it actually contradicts things that were already established).

Don't see the big deal though for most of this.

Can't wait to find it, though. Oh boy.

This whole obsession with Zur Batman, is way over done though. So--I wouldn't be shocked if that was the problem, because my golly does that plot point not seem to be stopping--and it was there from the start and part of the reason why I didn't read it 'til now.

Good Tim tho, at least. So heehee, yey for that--I think--I guess.

Oh, well.

It let me peak at a pseudo-version of an AU I made up years ago. So that's pretty freaking cool.

Always a plus.

And redoing Red Robin story beats but better? Normally I'd hate references to Red Robin, 'cause that changed the perception of so many characters for the worst, but ayy, a bit of redemption isn't bad.

Man, just seeing simple stuff like Tim and Bruce being good ol' classic Batman and Robin warms my heart. It's been so long since Batman and Robin has acted like a proper classic Batman and Robin. It's dynamic that's been sorely missed by many.

OH, MY GOSH, WHY DID THE FIRST STORY HAVE TO STINK SO BAD. THIS STUFF IS GREAT.

Like, DUDE, this is such a Tim thing for him to do!!

And he's showing emotion?? He's crying like how he does?? Because he's not a typical Bat-Family member who just angsts his way through?? THEY'RE MAKING HIM STAND-OUT AGAIN BY MAKING HIM, HIM??

WHY DID THE FIRST STORY HAVE TO SUCK SO BAD?? THIS IS GOOD SHIT.

Like this part is why I originally stopped reading, not because Bruce should think Tim is his soldier, and not his son, THE FREAKING OPPOSITE.

But because the original story has Bruce acting weird when unneeded, just to say this was so unneeded, and adding in all these stupid corny Bat-Family moments was so groan worthy.

This run started off with a story that was a total turn off for me.

To end up being a run that could've kept me enjoying DC, rather than running away from it from as far as I have.

Chip Zdarsky started off awful, but really, he ended up great.

And I've seen people complain about his run, and TRUST ME, there's stuff to complain about. But I have only ever seen the stuff worth complaining about, or stuff I WOULD complain about.

WHEN MOST OF THE RUN IS GOOD

At least when Tim is around.

Go figure.

Maybe I should've paid sole attention to how he wrote Tim and nothing else at the very least for that first story.

'Cause even in the first story, Tim was well-written--it's how cheap the rest of the story telling was in that first story that turned me off--and the weird knew about the movie plans that I am still fully judging harshly. (Love the new Superman film suit, though)

#Tim Drake #Robin #Bruce Wayne #Batman #Dick Grayson #Nightwing #Chip Zdarsky

[eastbubble]

Was wondering if maybe we could get something with ghost x reader who’s outrageously terrified of thunderstorms and calls him sniffling and holding back tears asking if he can come over and then screaming as a very loud bang of thunder booms ? If not that’s okay! I love your work anyway🩷🫵

hello anon, i’m not sure if you wanted me to write this in a smutty way or just a fluffy one but i tried my best >_< i changed the story up a tad if that’s okay. thanks for the request ! <3 and sorry for disappearing ! school and sports r taking up my time. ><

you never really thought that a relationship had any benefits besides having someone to come home to, but when your relationship with simon began you had to realize that this whole idea in your head was completely wrong. he wasn’t just a person to come home to.

maybe because you two still didn’t live together. so you technically couldn’t come home to him.. but you almost lived at his place by now. he was for sure so tired of you calling him in the middle of the night, asking him to come over because of something so silly, something so stupid. spiders in the corner, ants infesting the house, no wifi, bad tv signal, or the worst (in your case); a thunderstorm.

you were listening to the sounds your phone made as you called simon with shaky hands, your finger on the red circle as you were sure he won’t pick up this time. you’ve annoyed him like this so many times before, there was no way he would be willing to help you after all of these — or so you thought. you kept a tissue to soak your tears up with close to your eyes, your vision already blurry from the crying you had done earlier.

“baby? what’s up?” his voice was tired and grumpy, it sounded like he just woke up, but you knew that couldn’t be because he never really slept before 4 am. he never did. “everything okay over there?” slight concern. the only thing you could make out of his words was some worry and that’s it. thank God that he didn’t sound like he was mad.

“si. ‘m scared.”

“huh? what is it? ‘s someone there?” he spoke through the phone. “talk to me, baby.” his voice was a little gentler once he heard your silence on the other end of the line.

you sighed almost silently, making sure he didn’t hear the sniffle that you just let out. you felt like a dumb little kid for crying over something like this, but when you heard the faint sound of a thunder bang you immediately knew that you had to speak up. you actually had someone that was worried for you, waiting for you to say something. “just this.. fucking rain and the whole, um.. the whole thing that comes with it.”

“the thunderstorm, you mean?” his feeling of relief was louder than the wind outside. it was like some kind of weight had been pushed off his shoulders. “don’t tell me it’s that again or-“

“it is. i’m sorry to disturb you.. especially at this hour, but..” you sighed softly again, feeling slightly threatened by his last sentence. you knew you had no reason to be worried or scared but the way he worded what he wanted to say sometimes sounded like he was mad at you (you were so wrong!). “could you please come over. please.” it didn’t sound like a question, just a request.

he audibly sighed. oh, he was annoyed!

“i’ll be there in 10. i suppose you’re in bed so.. stay under the blankets, okay?” what a rhetorical question. you wouldn’t survive climbing out of bed when it sounds like the world in ending outside. you couldn’t even roll the blinds down to make the thunders less visible, there was absolutely no way you would step foot outside your bed at a time like this.

and just like he promised, ten minutes later he was already entering your home with his own keys, making his way towards your bedroom as he immediately lay on top of you like a weighted blanket that was alive. he wrapped his arms tightly around you, holding you close to his chest while you still lay under him, completely motionless as he was practically squeezing every last breath out of you. “si..!”

“i’m here, ‘s okay luv..” he mumbled, his voice raspy as he finally let you go. he rolled onto his back and gently scooped you up into his arms, making you fight back a bit and you two ended up in such a position where you were just laying flat on top of him. he chuckled lightly as he felt like he already succeeded — it seemed like you immediately forgot about the thunderstorm outside as soon as he arrived and grabbed you.

the rest of the night was basically the same thing on repeat. soft little movements, your bodies moving in unison everytime either you or him made the silent suggestion to shift positions. he always kept his large palms close to your ears in case a loud thunder were to interrupt the long cuddle-session. the whole thing was just about holding each other close through the whole night and not letting go.

soft little murmurs of how sleepy you are were the only things to be heard now, alongside the loud sounds of the icy rain hitting your window. well, summerime weather is weird.

#call of duty #cod #simon riley x you #simon riley #ghost cod #ghost #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost mw2 #ghost fluff #ghost comfort #simon riley fluff #simon ghost riley fluff #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader

[fuck-customers]

I am so fucking pissed off and I don't know wtf to do to solve this situation, because I've talked to my manager several times and she just Doesn't fucking listen. And HR is offsite, so I'd have to email them and they probably won't do anything, because this just specifically fucks me personally over, but doesn't harm the company.

My manager repeatedly keeps fucking up my schedule and scheduling me outside of my availability. In different ways each time, but still outside of my availability. I think I've had maybe 3 weeks where she didn't fuck it up. She either schedules me smack in the middle shift on days I'm completely unavailable to work all day for, and then when I call her out on it, she schedules me properly for a bit and then schedules me half an hour or an hour past my available time or half an hour to an hour before my available time.

I've talked to her several times and confirmed that yes, she IS aware of what my availability is. I resubmitted the availability form. Every time I'm scheduled outside of my availability, I either call out, switch shifts or leave when my availability ends. And she still keeps fucking doing it! Why? She wants me to quit or something? That's a brilliant idea. In the last 3 months alone, 20 people have quit and we're running on less than a skeleton crew. Good idea.

I'll only quit when I have another job lined up...which is not working out so well. Or when I can fuck over my boss and the company as much as they've fucked me over.

From the way you described it I would think that she is trying to do an end run around your availability.

What I mean by that is if she can get you to work one of those shifts outside your availability she can then schedule you any time she wants and if you refuse she can discipline you because "you've done it before". Don't give her an inch. It may be a pain in the ass but keep reminding her even if you have to write out a note with your availability and copy it 1000 times and hand her one every time you see her.

-Rodney

[writingquestionsanswered]

Hi, do you have any advice for indecisive writers? <3 Anything in general would help, I'd love something specifically for autistic people (whose brains shut down the "decising-making centre") too if possible <3

Tips for Indecisive Writers

My number one tip for indecisive writers is to not be afraid to go "old school" and literally pick something out of a hat or roll some dice. For example, if you're deciding between three different plot ideas, you can write each one on a few folded up pieces of paper, throw them all into a bowl, mix it up, and whatever you draw is the one you go with. Or, you could say 1 and 2 are idea #1, 3 and 4 are idea #2, and 5 and six are idea #3, then roll dice. And, actually, if you type "roll dice" into Google, you can roll digital dice and you can choose up to 20-sided dice or customize your own number of sides. This is particularly helpful if you have a list of items, such as several names you're trying to decide between.

If you Google "online decision maker" you come up with a bunch of different online tools. Easy Decision Maker lets you type in a question... for example, "What should I name my character?" Then you can enter up to 26 options. When you click the "answer" button, it chooses one for you. Picker Wheel lets you put in the various options, then spin a wheel to decide.

The trouble I tend to have is sticking with whatever "fate" decides at that point, but one thing I've learned is that sometimes when my brain plays that game... where I roll a 4 meaning I go with plot idea #2, and then I'm disappointed, I know that is because some part of me knows I want to do either idea #1 or idea #3. So, even though it isn't working exactly as planned, I've still accomplished something... I've eliminated a choice. Now I can roll again, with 1 -3 being idea #1 and 4 - 6 being idea #2, and I know if I'm disappointed again with whatever I get, then the remaining choice is the one I wanted all along. For whatever reason, though, my brain can't just make that decision. It needed to go through that process to get there, and that's okay!

Now, as helpful as decision making tools can be, they're not always helpful in the moment, when you're writing and you're not really stuck between particular choices, but rather you're facing an empty void and aren't sure where to take the story next. For me, this is where pre-writing comes in really handy. I always go into a story with a beginning to end summary at the very least so I know where things are going. There's still often some decision making to be done, but I find it easier to do before I write rather than during.

When it comes to finding things to even decide between... like when you're planning your story and you come up empty on something, I find inspiration sources to be extremely helpful. For example, let's say I want to write a romantasy, and I have no idea what I want the setting to be like. That's the worst kind of indecision, because it's not like I can just type four or five locations into a decision maker and let it pick for me. I don't have a list to even pick from. So, looking at inspiration sources helps. Maybe I saw a travel show about Bavaria which really intrigued me... that could be a great inspiration location for my setting. Or, let's say I'm not sure what I want my character to look like. I might scroll through a list of up and coming actors, through the cast of a random TV show or movie, or think about actors in TV shows or movies I've recently seen. As I scan past thumbnails of head shots, when I see someone who looks like my character, I can stop and note down the name or save the photo. And with any inspiration source, if I find myself unable to decide between multiple inspiration sources... it's back to the ol' decision maker!

I hope that helps!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

#wqaadvice

[heavenlymorals]

The Vampire and the Stag: A Look Into the Symbolic significance of Dutch Van Dir Linde and High Honor Arthur Morgan

Warning: This post has spoilers for Red dead 2

Symbolism is one of the most important visual and literary elements used to push the narrative of Red Dead Redemption 2. The game is chock full of biblical references, animal symbolism, and references to other famous works. Hell, I might've even found a Blood Meridian reference via that Judge Meredith Holden letter, but that might be a reach. In any case, this game uses symbolism to push the story further and I want to do a short little retrospective on my two favorite characters of this game and what they represent in the literary sense.

Let's start with Dutch.

Dutch Van Dir Linde is many things. He's a violent idealist, a romantic, a gang leader, a notorious outlaw, and a legendary gunslinger in his own right.

He's also an allegory for the vampire, and by vampire, I mean the European literary symbolism of the creature.

Let's start off with looks. Right from the get go, Dutch is differentiatued from the rest of the gang members by his luxurious and eccentric appearance, something that the vampire usually has. He had gold chains, personalized gold rings, one with a D and another with a lion. His jacket seems to be velvet, he smokes cigars rather than cigarettes, and his hair is done up in ringlets as we know his actual hair texture is straight rather than curly (Guarma, epilogue, RDR1).

His color scheme is also very stereotypical of the more modern vampire. While other characters usually have a more diverse color scheme, Dutch is suited in reds and blacks the entire main game.

The nature of the undead is also with Dutch via his horse, the Count. First of all, there is just the name the Count that gives off vampire energy (Count Dracula) but there is also the fact that Dutch's horse shouldn't exist. Foals born with albinism, which is the coat the Count is said to have, die because of lethal white syndrome. The Count should have died long ago but it's still alive somehow- he cheated death like a vampire. That's also not mentioning death in the sense that death comes riding on a pale horse.

Vampires in classic literature are never just about vampires as these charming blood sucking creatures almost always exist to convey a deeper meaning of consumption. In the 1800s, this idea of consumption, with the most famous visualization of it being the older vampire man sucking the blood of young, usually virginal women, is often an allegory for selfish sex and defilement. Vampires in old media could very well be a criticism of wealthy men taking advantage of younger women, taking their virginity, and then tossing them aside and being virtually fine while the women lose everything from respect to family to even lives, which can also be the case with Dutch and Molly, but overtime, the vampire became less an allegory to write sex without outwardly writing sex in the 1800s, and became more a symbol of personal consumption at the expense of others.

The wonderful Professor Thomas C. Foster puts it best: "That's what this figure (the vampire) really comes down to, whether in Elizabethan, Victorian, or more modern incarnations: exploitation in its many forms. Using other people to get what we want. Denying someone else's right to live in the face of our overwhelming demands. Placing our desires, particularly our uglier ones, above the needs of another. That's pretty much what the vampire does, after all." - "How to Read Literature Like a Professor"

Dutch is basically that. He consumes people for the sake of his own goals, his own dreams, and his own delusions of grandeur. He will believe in people as long as those people believe in him, but their belief in him is more important to him than his belief in them.

Dutch seems like a Messiah to the disenfranchised, a Jesus figure of sorts. He seems charming, empathetic, cultured, and different from other men, like the vampire. People are enthralled by him, become obsessed or loyal to him, like the vampire's victims. However, these people, like Arthur, John, Molly, Bill, Javier, etc., are used and Dutch, the vampire, doesn't return the favor as he only consumes for his own favor.

And in the end? People suffer or they die and Dutch moves on to his next victims, even if he did love these people.

Dutch is the embodiment of the vampire in every possible way except in the most literal way, which is the blood sucking.

Now let's move on to Arthur Morgan.

Arthur and the stag are one in the same when it comes to Red Dead's symbolism. If one were to mention a stag in the Red Dead universe, more likely than not, people would think of high honor Arthur Morgan. The Stag is Arthur's symbolism, but let us dig a little deeper into what the stag could symbolize beyond just high honor.

When it comes to animal symbolism, stags are almost as iconic as male lions with what they are meant to represent. All throughout various cultures, the stag usually represents a noble creature. It can represent honor (duh), strength, virility, grace, and regeneration, amongst other things, but I want to focus on interpretations of the stag from a few cultures and how they ultimately relate back to Arthur Morgan.

Considering that Arthur has Welsh heritage, or so we assume, let us start with the interpretation of the stag in Welsh culture and mythology. The stag has a huge presence in Welsh culture and mythology, with even some gods and higher beings taking the image of a stag. However, I would like to focus on the stag as a messenger, a messenger between worlds, which is what Arthur becomes in a sense to John Marston.

John's world for such a huge part of his life as the gang. The gang raised him, fed him, taught him to read, taught him morals, taught him many skills, and gave him a purpose. The gang is his world and for such a huge chunk of his life, it was the only world he knew. Sure, Abigail gets pregnant because of him, but she was a part of that world too.

Arthur was able to see other worlds. Mary wasn't a girl who was downtrodden like Abigail and thus would take on well to the life they lived. She was a normal girl and he was not a normal man. Eliza wasn't part of his gang life either, and neither was Issac. They lived in a different world, in a world of civilization, in a world where they didn't or shouldn't have had to keep one eye open to stay alive. Arthur would jump over to their worlds, even if just for a short amount of time, and then back to the gang- he has seen and experienced both of those worlds.

Arthur then gives John the message that he should leave and be a man and provide for his wife and protect his child by leaving the gang life that destroyed the both of them. Arthur becomes a messenger from one world to another- from gang life to normalcy. And with that message, John experiences a change- a change of character and motives.

The Stag is a messenger and Arthur is a messenger. A messenger to not only John, but to everyone else he tried to get out of there for he experienced two worlds and one is better than the other.

Another interpretation of the stag is the selflessness of sacrifice, which can be shown through the Greek culture of story and mythology and explained perfectly in the story "Iphigenia at Aulis" by Euripides. Iphigenia goes to her father and tells him that she will offer herself as a sacrifice to the goddess Artemis. Sacrifices must be made to keep the gods happy and the people alive and happy. Iphigenia offering such a thing shows her selflessness, her want of wanting others to be safe and sound, even at the expense of herself.

Sound familiar?

Reminds me of a certain dark romantic cowboy.

By the end of the story, Iphigenia's selflessness was rewarded by the goddess, and as Iphigenia's father was about to slit her throat, the girl got replaced by a stag while Iphigenia was escorted to live amongst the gods for her selflessness.

The deer becomes the sacrifice and in a way, Iphigenia and the deer become one and the same. The deer is sacrificed for the sake of others- the stag becomes a symbol of noble selflessness, much like Arthur. Arthur sacrifices himself in order to save John, Abigail, and Jack- a noble cause, a noble sacrifice.

The stag being a noble sacrifice is also associated with certain Native American cultures (I cannot for the life of me think of which tribes they were exactly, but once I find them, I will edit this post). The stag must be killed for people to eat, thus the deer is a noble creature. The consumption of the stag is an allegory of people living better lives or having better days because of the sacrifice of a person. Because of that, the stag is a heavily respected creature.

And given that Dutch's vampire is all about consumption, Arthur's symbolism of being a stag is perfect for their dynamic since the deer is all about sacrifice and nobility and the vampire is all about selfishness and despair.

In any case, the deer represents many things across many cultures, from being a messenger to being a sacrifice, but one thing for certain is that the stag is synonymous with honor and nobility- the person that Arthur tried to be in the end.

Yapyapyapyapyapgodifuckinglovesymbolism-

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #dutch van der linde #symbolism #literature #vampires #stags #yall did i cook? #i had so much fun with this #also #that how to read like a professor book is godlike

[moodymisty]

I mean you got anything sweet for Blood Angels...

Though my brain keeps jumping to Flesh Tearers but I feel like that's just me trying to get myself to write for Flesh Tearers (and Lamenters)

(Rambling idea below)

I mean lets be honest Blood Angels are ultimate predators for humans... being so handsome I mean Sanguinius was often called ethereal and other worldly with his beauty. So of course his sons are handsome and all so well bred for the arts... easy to lure in many humans to just listen to their prose or see their paintings.

Just don't show up during your period because suddenly a lot of the poetry is about blood or blood adjacent... they can't seem to find the right red paint... and why do so many of them look at you like they are dying of thirst?

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author’s note: Do I have something for Blood Angels- BOY DO I! Enjoy! I didn't exactly do your idea but I've had this plot in my head for weeks and wanted to use it and you're ask was the only one that let me /sob Not my best work by far, but I hope you enjoy.

Relationships: Unnamed Blood Angel/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Oral, Period blood kink/menstrual kink that type of stuff, Is this too weird? maybe I dunno you guys all seem like freaks so hopefully this will go over well? If not I can just return to my dungeon

"Why are we going this way?"

This is a long way around, though some of the Red Tear's maintenance areas. He doesn't answer you however, and with disgruntlement you let the question lie as you return to more civilized parts of the Red Tear.

This whole interaction has been odd, since he had picked you up to escort you back from your duties. Normally he doesn’t act like this; He's stoic and lacks a good bit of emotion yes, but you almost feel as if now he’s taking you to your execution.

"I thought you were missing,"

You had jokingly said, walking closer to him. This planet had been pleasant enough after the Blood Angels brought it under the Imperium, but you're quite eager to return to Terra. Or at least the Red Tear.

He ignored your little comment and stepped closer, but you noticed his face change when he got close enough to touch you. His body became more rigid, and you furrowed your brow as you looked up at him.

"Are you ok?" You say as he clears his throat and nods stiffly. "Yes. We should return to the Red Tear. Our work here is done."

You look up at him again try and get any sort of hint as to how he's feeling, but he only has that same, stiff expression; Though slightly more irritated than usual.

You round yet another corner to see a group of freshly armored Blood Angels leaving one of the armoring rooms. They all perk up at the sight of you, staring at you like something fierce. You get more than a bit uncomfortable under their gaze, until your supposed guardian grabs your arm and swiftly pulls you down the hall past them. He glares at them to keep their distance, and you grab at his gauntlet to try and relieve some of the pressure. You're arm is in pain from how tight he's pulling you along, until you stop in front of a room he opens.

It's not your own, so you presume it's his. He shoves you inside.

"Stay here."

As a diplomat you technically reside outside the command structure of the Blood Angels, but no one in their right mind would disobey an astartes. Especially one that is looking at you with such fire in his eyes. He turns to leave, but your sudden question makes him turn towards you again.

"What is all this? Why are you-" He grabs you tight at the shoulder, and you gasp in pain as the force of it pins you to the wall.

"Why do you smell like blood?"

You pull at his hand and grimace in pain, and at his oddly specific question.

"What? It's just normal, It's that time of the-" He lightly shakes your shoulder and despite speaking relatively quiet, his voice still hits you in the chest with out seething it sounds.

"Every one of my brothers on this ship can smell you. You're lucky I got to you before one of them did."

Even if they did, why does he speak of it like something would happen? Like he avoided it for a reason? He's talking as if you would be in danger if they found you, for something seemingly so simple.

“What would happen if they did?”

You quietly question, watching the expression on his face instantly change. He looks conflicted, like he’s nearly lost in thought. For awhile you think you may not even get an answer from him, until you finally see his lips shift.

“I, assume you’ve heard mutterings of a curse in your time here.”

You have vaguely- even he had cursed it once. At the time you'd assumed it some sort of unfamiliar swear or perhaps just an odd phase adopted by Blood Angels, and so you'd paid it little mind other than the initial confusion. When you hesitantly nod, he continues.

“The curse is real. It has changed our legion. And,” You figure he’s about to speak a secret he shouldn’t to someone like you, so you stay quiet.

“It makes the smell of blood, tempting.” He continues. “It sates a hunger only we Blood Angels possess, and keeps us from going raving mad.”

He quiets, and you feels his gauntlets shift on your shoulders. He changes the subject to something adjacent; You assume he probably feels guilt for confessing a chapter secret to you.

“You’re not hurt?” He says confusedly. You aren’t particularly surprised he knows little about such things, though explaining it to him in this state would take far too long and be far too unfruitful.

“No. I'm fine.” He hums. You think you hear him mumble about hearing such a thing from somewhere, a woman's illness, and the comment would make you laugh if he wasn't looming down on you so intensely.

“Very well.” He shifts his jaw a bit, the scars along it shifting. He seems to have run out of things to say, though it also seems like he can't pull himself away from you. His throat and jaw are tightly wound, like he's holding something back.

“You want some… Don’t you?”

He seems surprised oddly enough; Perhaps by your bluntness and stupidity. Many legions would not take kindly to you assuming things about them, but Blood Angels are remarkably kinder. He is remarkably kinder.

“I," He grimaces. "I would owe you a great deal. Our superiors look at those with the Red Thirst as little more than a danger.”

The Blood Angels have been nothing but kind to you, in their own way. To even just be on the Red Tear is a safety and security you couldn’t repay.

It helps that it's him; You haven't ventured far around the Blood Angels ship alone, and you shamefully feel yourself beginning to get attached. If this curse can be sated by something so seemingly menial to you, then you have no reason to refuse.

“Ok.”

You move to take off your pants hands shaking just barely in nervousness, as he drops to his knee with one heavy thud. The sound startles you, just as your pants fall to the floor.

Once they’re off, and just your underwear remains, you hesitate for a moment. His stare is so intense, and you don't know how to describe it other than hungry. Given what he's told you, it makes perfect sense.

After what feels like and eternity of you being frozen, you finally manage to regain enough control to peel your underwear away. He viscerally reacts to the presumably iron filled scent, and the sight of blood against your now bare skin.

You see the way the knot in his throat bobs just above the black skinsuit beneath his armor.

With a speed that has you almost letting out a scream he grips your hips pulls them forward enough that the angle feels precarious, but he has a solid enough grip that leaves no chance of you falling. He throws your right leg over his shoulder next to open your thighs, your foot pressing against the front of his jetpack.

He hesitates for a moment, and you look away from the sheer intensity of his expression before you feel his hot breath on your skin.

You feel the moment he finally takes a taste and you can barely hold in a whimper, it coming out a tiny squeak as you feel the way his hands shift and tighten against your hips. Any hesitation he had is gone near instantly, as he presses his mouth against your cunt.

His armored hands grip at your hips with a strength that makes you ache and fear bruises, easily keeping your legs spread with minimal effort as his tongue laps at your folds. You can see the blood smear across his face, though he pays no mind. He acts as if this is the first meal he's had in ages, or the last he'll ever have.

But while perhaps your pleasure might not be at the forefront of his mind in his quite literal bloodlust, the way his tongue slips between your folds and teases you still makes shivers go up your spine. Your hands grip his hair and attempt to steady yourself, as his strength pushes you around. It's impossible to stop the way your hips push forward trying to get closer to him, gasping as he briefly brushes around your clit.

Suddenly however he pulls himself away, mouth stained much the same as your cunt and upper thighs are. You can see his eyes are glassy his throat bobs.

"I should stop."

He mumbles something to himself about loosing himself further to the Thirst, as if he's treading a line between sating his hunger or falling victim to it. You, perhaps stupidly, encourage him to do the exact opposite.

"No, no just, just a bit more,"

You breathlessly whisper and attempt to pull him closer. He silently resists for a moment, before the knot in his throat bobs and he returns his mouth to between your legs. You can't stop the loud moan you let out into the barren room, damning the consequences of anyone hearing you.

You're so close to that peak you only need a bit more, and the way his teeth scrape against your skin and nose presses against your clit gets you there. Your hands tighter in his hair and you inhale, trying not to cry out. But even after you start to come down he continues, his mouth overstimulating so many little nerves you feel on the edge of tears. Your face is hot as your fingers grip at his armor, desperately whining for him to simultaneously stop, and never stop.

He pulls away again, and gently emoves your leg from his shoulder to let you stand and wobbly attempt to yourself. Your knees feel weak and so many of your muscles are sore, even though he was exceedingly gentle with you.

Realizing his face is a mess, he uses the fabric of his cape to wipe it; How fortuitous the fabric is red.

"You should still keep clear of my brothers until this, passes. You never know how close one of them is to loosing themselves and hurting you." You'll heed the warning. If they're anything more than what gusto he already displayed, you wouldn't be surprised angels more lost to the thirst would be dangerous to you. He displayed a remarkable degree of restraint, you could tell.

Though, a curious part of your mind wonders what he'd be like if he hadn't.

"Do you at least feel better? I don't know how the Thirst works but," He nods.

"Yes. It is nice to not have my head so clouded. I... Thank you."

You smile, before accidentally letting more words tumble out of your lips that you should've allowed. It seems his presence always seems to makes you accidentally forget how to not act a fool.

"Always happy to help." He takes your phase at face value, though you suppose you wouldn't refuse him if he asked again. It wasn't as if this ended badly for you.

"You are kind, offering yourself to a Blood Angel. Not many would."

Beyond their sophisticated veneer they are still dangerous predators more than capable of killing you with the slightest motion, you understand why any few who learn about their supposed defect would fear them.

Maybe something is clouding your judgement, but you don't fear him; At least not yet.

Adjusting your clothing you watch as he rises to his full height, his cape flowing behind him. You grip your own fingers nervously and look around.

"But, would you mind bringing my back to my own quarters? I'll admit I have no idea where on the ship you brought me, and I'm still a bit woozy." He offers a gentle but stoic smile.

"Of course."

#space marine x reader #warhammer 40k x reader #reader insert #reader #mywriting

[squid789]

Squid's Trigun Fanfic Recs

Hey, so I'm done with self promos so its time appreciate a bunch of you guys in line with @trigunfanfic appreciation week! A lot of this is gonna be straight up vashmeryl, heads up. Although we all know what I'm about, so I guess have fun! :3

Gonna start with one of my best friends and also my beta, @eomma-jpeg. You may know her from her millynai epic, In the Meadow. But right now she's working on a vashmeryl college au fic called What a Shame! By far one of my favorite writers! She also wrote a companion millywood oneshot for Sea Foam as well called Refuge from the Storm that I want to get printed for myself.

@scoundrels-in-love is another prolific writer I usually look forward to! Man, they sort of write a little bit of everything in regards to ship and canon. I mostly know them for mashwood, but my all time favorite fics of theirs is If this is communication, I disconnect. its everything I could ever want from a post max vashmeryl fic. Absolute gold!!

Okay, here's the thing. I am a slut for vashmeryl, but @ladymaliwan's writing is so good to convince me to branch out. Their stryfewood fics are to die for and imaginative and thank you for sharing so much of your snippets with me!!! They mean the world to meee ;3;

Next up is @eezybree's Bluebells. Man, ngl, Sav you give me a lot of writer's envy with this fic. AHHHH it's so fucking goooooood. I know I'm a chapter or two behind but man they get emotions across so well and that fluff is to die for. Comletely wonderful post max vashmeryl

Another one I am woefully behind on. But I remember way back last year when @faindri was still doing a lot of the concept art for EBS. I'm not usually one for aus but who can resist a space opera? And the amount of detail and worldbuilding in this fic is astonishing and actually super inspiring!

Okay I feel like @wandererriha's Get Help series is criminally underrated. Again, usually not a fan of aus, but this modern au is charming as all hell and I find myself coming back to it whenever I feel down.

Also shoutout to the folks who I have no idea have a tumblr account or not or just plain too scared to say hi too but also highly recommend Birds do it, bees do it, plants can do it by RambleFox, Condensed Trigun by SugarPill, Horticulture Blues by dweeblet, The End by ginger_mosaic, Reporter's Notes by @museqmeg, No Reason by @eilwen, this is our body (come out of the bath) by @spacebeyonce, and Arcaronar by JackelJamboree. All of these are on AO3! Also on ff.net, I recommend looking at Their Life by cmr2014. It's a super short post 98 vashmeryl oneshot that makes me super giggly when I read it! My FINAL rec is After the Fall by Girl.Interpreted, also on ff.net. If any of you have known me for a while, you'll know that this fic has some sentimental value to me personally. To start, its an unfinished post 98 vashmeryl fic with a healthy does of adventure and A LOT of trimax references. Way baaaack about a decade ago, I had just trimax for the first time after rediscovery of trigun, which was first introduced to me as a kid by my weird, weird dad. And man was I craving more trigun. So I went on ff.net for the first time ever at like one in the morning and this was the fic that got me into fanfcition just as concept and a hobby. I wouldn't be writing fic until early college, but man this story STUCK with me in ways I couldn't begin to imagine. But the writing and the story and just everything... AHHHHHHHH Anyways go read After the Fall!!!! I doubt it will ever be finished, but I can dream But literally, GO READ ALL OF THESE FICS! GO ENJOY THEM!!!!!!! IM BEGGING YOU!!! Happy Trigun Fanfic Appreciation Week!!!!

#trigun #trigun fanfiction #trigun fanfic #trimax #tristamp #vashmeryl #millynai #stryfewood #trigunfanficappreciation

[serickswrites]

Okay here's another one!

Team Leader finding their team captured, and when they try to save them, Whumper comes out, and threatens the team if Team Leader doesn't surrender themself. Naturally, Team Leader does.

(Love your writing as always!)

-- @whumperofworlds

Hello friend! This is a fun idea. Happy to write it for you.

Warnings: captivity, restraint, rescue attempt, threat of torture, self sacrifice, forced to watch

Team Leader kicked open the door that was sure to lead to where Whumper was holding the team. All of Team Leader's intel pointed to here. And that Whumper would be away.

They tried not to let hope carry them away as they entered the room. They had to clear the room first. But their team was there. Tied to chairs all lined up in a row. They were there. Team Leader had found them.

"Team Leader!" a chorus of voices greeted Team Leader. Even though Team Leader knew they should finish clearing the room, they had to acknowledge their team.

"Hey gang," Team Leader smiled. Their team was ok. The team looked shook up, but unharmed. They had found the team in time.

"Hey, Team Leader," Whumper's voice came from the shadows, "fancy seeing you here."

Team Leader was instantly on high alert, ready to attack Whumper. Until they saw Whumper holding Smallest Teammate close, hands delicately on Smallest Teammate's throat. "Please, don't hurt them."

"But I want to, Team Leader. I want to hurt them." Whumper smiled down at Smallest Teammate.

"Why? They mean nothing to you." Team Leader took a step forward.

"That may be true, but they mean the world to you. And so that makes them special. All of your team are special, Team Leader. They're my weapons against you." Whumper raked their hand through Smallest Teammate's hair.

"I'll give you anything you want. Anything! Just don't hurt them. Please don't hurt them." Team Leader couldn't believe they had fucked up this badly and failed to clear the room. It was a rookie mistake and now the team was paying for it.

"Anything?" Whumper cocked a brow.

"Anything. Please."

Smallest Teammate shook their head violently as Whumper opened their mouth and said, "You will surrender to me. You will surrender yourself to me and I won't harm a head on any of their heads."

"Done." Team Leader replied without thinking. They dropped to their knees. "I surrender. Now please, let them go."

Whumper tossed Smallest Teammate aside and stalked towards Team Leader. They cuffed Team Leader tightly. "No, I don't think I'll be doing that just yet."

"You said you'd let them go! WHUMPER!" Team Leader roared as they tried to pull their arms free.

"I never said I'd let them go. I said I wouldn't hurt them. There's a big difference, Team Leader. You should have been more careful with your words." Whumper smirked. "Besides, I want them all to witness your suffering. I want them to see you become undone. I want them to see you beg me to end it all. And once you've begged me for it to be over, I want them to see the light leaves your eyes as your life drains away to nothing."

#serickswrites #whump #whumpblr #whump writing #whump community #tw captivity #tw restraints #tw rescue attempt #tw threat of torture #tw self sacrifice #tw forced to watch #team whump #team leader whump #requests #queue

[linguenuvolose]

I do a lot of translation in my job and I've started enjoying it so much more since I started letting myself be a bit more free in my translations. Communicating the message and the vibe is more important than the phrase structure or wording being exactly the same.

#it also improves the quality of the texts because they actually make sense #sometimes these Italians love to put 40000 words that mean nothing and the same thing in a sentence and it's like #girl we don't have to do all that #in the sense that Italian and Swedish text conventions are different and what sounds fine in Italian risks sounding v formal in Swedish #also sometimes I sit there with an Italian origin text that I first have to edit and it's like do I not understand what this says because #1. my Italian isn't good enough in this field #2. this is a complicated field #3. these people don't know how to write #and sometimes when I'm done editing the Italian text and go to do the translation I'm like oh I have no idea what they're trying to say #and think to myself hmm maybe I should've done more editing but oh well eccoci qua #I mean this is like translation 101 but I have done exactly one very bad translation course 5 years ago #that made me go I never want to do this for a job #but my increased freedom now is just I don't care as much about it being exactly the way my boss envisioned #like everything we publish has to go by him first which puts a certain pressure on the text #so when I first arrived at this job I was like uuh the Swedish has to be as similar as possible #but now I'm like man it's more important that it sounds Swedish and not Italian than it being exactly the same #and my boss also doesn't speak Swedish in any case so what does he know #snicksnack #comunque sì queste le riflessioni della serata #domani ho preso il giorno libero perché i miei colleghi mi hanno un po' rotto er cazzo sinceramente so :))

[whysamwhy123]

I'm writing AGAAAAAAIN

And it's TRRAAAAAAASH

But I don't CAAAAAAARE

Because it's FUUUUUUNN

#What is wrong with you Sam you should not be allowed to write #I guess sometimes you just have to resign yourself to writing extremely trashy rarepair AUs that will only appeal to like three people #It is The Way #Y'all motherfuckers don't care about Chricky?! WELL GUESS WHAT after I'm done with this...you will continue to not care about Chricky!! #But I'll be happy! 😀 #On a more serious note I am dubious about the quality of this writing #Methinks this second chapter is going to expose how out of my depth I am with this AU 😬 #But I've wanted to write a proper multi-chapter fic for a long time now since it's been forever #And against all odds it's *this* idea that I've thought about the most and have something resembling a story taking shape in my mind #And it's FUUUUUUUUN for me at least so maybe that's all that matters? #Still need to actually complete that outline though #And perhaps a separate doc just to catalogue all of the superfluous smut ideas I have in mind for this fic #When I say I've thought about this AU too much and have an embarrassing amount of ideas for it I mean it baybeeeeee #And at this point it's like...I almost don't care if it's bad? Like what'll happen if it sucks - am I gonna get sued LOL #So perhaps I should just Do The Thing and not worry about whether The Thing is Good or not #IDK these tags are out of control STFU Sam JEEEEEZ

[onedemoniclilly]

Inspired by prompts by corvase

(TW: mentions of Hiromi’s child abuse, canon-type injuries/violence (kinda) (no big deep details, it’s a ramble after all), Karma’s arc is also mentioned (cliff thingy) and although its not a big big spotlight on it ig its a trigger???)

They’re in high school but it's not like they (class 3E) never talk to each other - none of them would dare not to. Not after everything they went through together. But things are getting busy, university entrance exams are approaching and they’re throwing their everything into this cause the whole point of a second knife (and a third, a fourth, a fifth…) is not to use it - it’s to push forwards with your absolute best until you break every single barrier in your way and you succeed. It’s to keep going forwards, keep striving up what seems like an endless uphill path cause you are the only one who can keep his memory and life for him.

Some of them are dating, the obvious couples got together at the beginning - some splitting because although the initial spark was there, they quickly realised it was built on the painfully sharp memory of their sensei and not any substantial feelings. Kanzaki actually asked Sugino out first, but unlike Chiba and Hayami nothing tangible actually came out of it. There was definitely something between Isogai and Maehara but neither of them had officially announced it however others could speculate whatever closer relationship they had needed to be shoved between the cracks of time between work, school and family.

Nagisa and Karma… well the less said about those two the better. In the beginning, there was the whole mess with Nagisa and Kayano - as much as Kayano wanted Nagisa, no one could tell if he was too dense, not interested or busy mooning over Karma. And then there was another entire thing going on between Gakushuu and Karma. People swore up and down the walls that they were dating: “Nothing going between the two- pshh, I swear they were practically sitting on top of each other- I don’t care that they were having a go at each other you can’t deny that there’s something!” And there were always rumours going about over the friendly ‘chat’ the boys had during their Kyoto trip and if Karma was really pulling one over them or not.

One could argue that, unlike Isogai and Maehara, neither of them had a part-time job, nor the pressures of their family disapproving of any single relationship they had. They just had university to worry about and although many couples had agreed to take a break or give each other more space during this time, with the foundation Koro-Sensei had given them and their previous experiences with working to the point of exhaustion despite their results, they weren’t as stressed nor lagging behind in their work. Nagisa’s mother… well their father had caught wind of the whole situation and in a surprising ownership of backbone, had driven from Nagoya back to Tokyo. The anime can say all they want but drugging your son because he won’t listen is not alright and the unnamed father at least can recognise this is blatant child abuse (even looking past the obvious physical, emotional and psychological abuse towards Nagisa).

Hiromi dodged a mental facility but is mandated with a restraining order and obligatory therapy sessions and Nagisa lives with his father now. And although it was a result of some incredibly stressful and terrifying events, Nagisa can’t deny that he does like the freedom his father’s guilt gives him.

Does he care about his appearance? Yes, he cut his hair the moment he got out of his mother's clutches and despite the crawling feeling over his skin every time he feels the ghostly swish of airy fabric over his thighs, he does appreciate the confidence and power a pair of well-fitted jeans, blouse and wig give him when he can turn around and talk back to whatever stuck-up egoistical person decided to hit on him for the night and not worry about the learnt fear a woman has or the fact that they would recognise him next time he walks by with his school friends.

Karma’s parents just don’t turn up ever. There’s the occasional postcard and good job sent via email in response to his latest report card but those are rarer than a successful purchase during the Sunday markets or a cool day during the hot humid days in August.

But there was a wedge driven between the two. Nagisa attends the Keisetsu Daigaku Fuzoku High School whilst Karma returns to his stomping ground at Kunugigaoka High School, having fun antagonising Gakushuu and the school staff because, honestly, who didn’t know about the massive highlighter-yellow sentient octopus up the hill.

But that doesn’t matter right now. All that matters is Nagisa was walking back at 3 am to Karma’s and not his dad’s place. He had been drinking with friends cause who doesn’t try it at high school - especially with his friend group at the high school with his newfound confidence in both his own skills (academically and physically - come on they all must excel at gym class now) and his appearance. He’s dressed in a pair of black jeans, the straight leg hanging over a pair of well-worn boots and a graphic t-shirt tucked into the waistband. It would be a well-put-together look for a casual get-together with friends to destress before the final month in the run-up to their exams but a bruise was starting to bloom on his upper shoulder and the back of his jeans was sticking to the back of his calf. His dad would freak at the sight of his injuries and that’s why he was walking the slightly longer trek to Karma’s despite the fact that the only form of communication they’d had in three weeks was over text.

He finally walks up the apartment stairs, sweat beading on his forehead at the exertion and pain he’s in. He considered calling the other boy at some point but ‘why make him wake up just to help him up a couple steps’ he thinks. He stands outside the door, the white paint matching every other apartment along the block debating his options before he lets his head fall forward, a loud and long triiiiiiiiing ring out from the doorbell.

He stays like that for a moment, having managed to shift away from the doorbell and onto the spyhole by the door - unconsciously hoping his blue hair gave him away.

On Karma’s side of things, he’s awake but close to drifting off to sleep. As much as their time in 3E had given them good study habits and he was confident enough in his own abilities to pass the upcoming exams, the amount of revision material his teacher provided that he had to slog through, otherwise prompting an unnecessary video call between his parents and teachers, was a stupidly large amount. And so he was here, a Saturday night, hoping to work early into the morning before passing out for 6 hours, waking for a quick dinner and then sleeping straight to a Monday morning he knew there was a high likelihood he’d skip anyway.

Well, he had let his eyes shut for another moment, enjoying the rocking motion and sweet bliss of nothingness sleep deprivation gave him before his incredibly unexpected doorbell went off.

Now Karma could be your average Joe and go “Now who could that be?” but this is Karma we’re talking about and he goes something more along the lines of “Ughhhsahdhsaarghhhh” cause not only does he have to actually stand up but he has to walk to the door, open it and engage in some random socialisation at…. 3 am????

Now does he spot Nagisa’s strikingly bright hair colour in the spy hole? No. Cause who goes and checks that first before actually opening the door? Instead, he opens the door and gets a tumbling Nagisa tripping over the doorframe into his hallway and himself too.

At first, he’s really really confused cause why is Nagisa here, why at this time, why did he not make the excellent decision to sleep earlier and why- Why Is There Blood Soaking His Jeans.

“Why is there blood soaking your jeans?” He says, admittedly softer (no less concerned) than his inside thoughts. He doesn't receive the answer he really wants but he does get a frustrated huff against his neck (‘So fucking warm- omg Akabane Karma no you should not be thinking about this’) and a “My jeans?” from the smaller boy now in his arms.

They somehow make it to his living space, Nagisa on his sofa (wow it’s used for more than the gaming nights he has with his friends) now half jean-less and Karma inspecting the wound. They haven’t talked yet, just the sound of clothes rustling and the occasional huff of pain as the disinfectant is applied and the injury dressed filling the empty presence of the early morning silence as the sky starts to shift in preparation for the 4 am dawn.

In the end, it’s one of Karma’s intrusive thoughts that managed to make its way to his voicebox and into the living room audio. He doesn’t realise it at first, but he does find out pretty quick that it probably wasn’t something for this moment and time when Nagisa looks up with a quick “What.”

It’s cold, and exactly like the jagged edge of a serrated knife and Karma starts to backpedal (which is pretty hard when you don’t actually know what you’ve said)

“I uh- take that back? Just an intrusive thought, didn’t mean to say it out loud-” And he realises he sounds absolutely delirious but that doesn’t matter all too much to Nagisa right now and here.

“You think… You think I can’t handle myself? Karma you know-”

‘Ah fuck’ Is all Karma could think. And yet, his mouth kept on running stupid stupid words.

“No you can’t! You can’t say that not when you’re on my couch with bloody tissues over in a pile and a bruise over your arm and shoulder.”

“And what gives you the right to lecture me about my choices and my skills and my abilities” cause damn Nagisa spent so long shackled to his own worries and anxieties eating away at him over Was He Good Enough, Would She Be Mad, What Do I Do, to stand being accused of this. “What about you, and how you came in with bruises and cuts, how you got sent down the ladder because you-” and now he’s pouring salt into old wounds and attacking it with a scrubbing brush now, “-because you basically Fucking Asked For It!” And he’s sitting up, one leg still in his jeans, the other he’s trying to keep still and relaxed ‘less the dressing loses its hold and his wound reopens.

“And if I’m a hypocrite, then what about you?” The logical side of Karma’s brain starts to just Go and the more emotional side (maybe its cause wow the guy I’ve been pining over for years is injured and I don’t like that, or maybe it's just can’t he just know that I’m concerned - but there’s zero worry for his own choices Nagisa is accusing him of (he’s accepted his own consequences a long time ago)) takes over.

“You just keep coming back to these things, you’re worse- it’s been going on for Years.” The azure-headed gestures to his own injuries, “It’s not just that- it’s…”

“It’s what?”

“The cliff.”

And the two words start Karma spiralling. But he doesn’t spiral in silence, Karma just keeps talking and talking and the emotions keep building up underneath the rushing memories of falling and darkness and the crashing relief of Alive.

“No fuck you, I know about the bomb - you stupid martyr - I know you are capable; I saw you take down Takaoka fucking twice now but it doesn’t take away from the fact that you were ready to fight the Reaper just for an opening for us to attack” His voice just kept getting louder and louder- he hopes the neighbours aren’t awake.

“Why do you care about me? Why not care about yourself just a bit more?”

“Because I do” and that’s true, he just does. It’s a fact of life - he doesn't know why-

“But why?!”

“Because I love you!” Oh.

Oh.

They return to the silence they had held before sans the sounds of movement. The words registered in Nagisa’s brain before they did in Karma’s but both of them left the confession hanging in the air.

“...you should probably change into something else.” Karma got out, mind making the decision to escape this instead of confronting the words.

“I- yes. I’ll take a shower first.” Nagisa leaves the room, knowing his way around Karma’s apartment, one leg still in his jeans.

Unbeknownst to Karma, currently still standing in his living room, Nagisa practically crumbles; clinging to the wall as he makes his way towards Karma’s bathroom. His mind is reeling, thoughts going absolutely crazy as he peels off his other jeans leg and t-shirt and starts up the shower. The water jets out cold, the hum of the generator leading into a warm spray as he lathers up soap - avoiding his calf as much as he can - before rinsing off and stealing a towel from Karma’s cupboard.

He wanders into Karma’s room, holding his towel up in some form of privacy despite their many onsen trips, and raids his closet and drawers; pulling on a soft pair of joggers that he either has to roll up or risk looking like a penguin and a well-worn t-shirt. Despite the warm summer weather, the apartment is cold and looking at Karma’s study materials on his desk tells Nagisa that he wasn’t asleep when he came ringing his doorbell.

Before he steps into the living room, Karma’s words finally hit him. He stands in front of the bedroom door, contemplating if he’s willing to bypass the etiquette drilled into his very nature and simply just fall asleep in Karma’s bed and deal with everything tomorrow. But no, it’s Nagisa we’re talking about and so he steps into the living room and tentatively asks:

“Do you… do you want to talk about it? Or should I just take the sofa and we can talk in the morning?”

And Karma is just standing there, in the same position as Nagisa left him in and now he’s worried “...Karma?”

The single word tinged with enough concern worry, sadness??? To get his attention and Karma just sits on the couch and Nagisa pads over to sit next to him.

“I just- If you just want to forget everything and stay friends then we can just sleep and wake up in the morning and continue and ignore this-”

Nagisa just nudges Karma and it shuts up his ramble. The boys just sit there for a bit longer, before Nagisa continues, “I don’t know if it’s love for me. But it does feel very natural for me just to flow into… Something closer”

And it isn’t love yet for Nagisa, and maybe not for Karma either because Nagisa still carries the hurt when Karma drifted that one school year and Karma carries the guilt of being scared. And yes, they’ve talked about this but it's still a significant part of their lives. They’ll work things out, they’ve already talked about it once and now the topic is less hard to breach but right now Karma will let Nagisa have the option of the sofa and the bed and Nagisa will shoot a “Well the bed’s big enough for two enough, might as well make the most of your parent’s money” and they do sleep in the same bed, backs together but hearts going slightly faster before their breathing evens out.

They don’t sleep long enough to complete Karma’s plans to wake up just for dinner but Nagisa does start lunch which in turn wakes Karma. And they eat a simple lunch of rice, veg and meat then spend time looking over Karma’s revision sheets cause even though Nagisa plans to go into education in university, he’ll never turn down free knowledge cause that’s not what Koro-Sensei would have done nor wanted.

And maybe Karma struggles writing a text a few weeks later with the simple “Cafe for Lunch - Sun?” On a Saturday evening but Nagisa beats him to it with a “Sunday - Lunch/dinner???” And it's a horrid affair cause both of them are menaces to society when paired together but they leave the premise laughing and go back to Karma’s for dinner and when Nagisa leaves to head back home Karma leans against the doorway and asks “After exams, wanna go camping?”

And Nagisa knows deep down that this will all work out.

2023/10/27

#ansatsu kyoushitsu #assassination classroom #akabane karma #shioita nagisa #Karma x Nagisa #drabble #prompt #romance #odl writes #tenses? whats that??? #im meant to be writing anything else but this #my october pieces are Not Done and i did this in less than 3 hours please save me #i have stories to write and this is where my muse went #all i did was browse pinterest for fit ideas for tmmrw and this happen #Not me making dialogue very very vague cause i like cannot think of anything in character for either of them to say #Did i mean to make it this long? No. #do i regret it? My sleep schedule does and also my plans to go out tonight does (plus flu jab) but I don’t :) #I dont want to write dialogue i’m sick and tired of it but thats like the whole point of this piece whyyyyyyy #writblr #writing on tumblr

[violet-moonstone]

i would very much like to read/write about dagur comforting a partner who has painful or otherwise physically taxing periods (like nausea, light hotheadedness, chills, etc)

making them tea, rubbing their abdomen and back, singing softly to them

#are these all things i wish could be done to me every month? #yes #but my partner and i do not live together yet #:( #also when i say things like “would like to read/write about” it means i want to write but i have no time an or no time management skills at #so im kinda just manifesting #dagur the deranged #dagur #fanfic idea

[fnafawoundleftbleedingau]

Gonna be a while before I think I'll be drawing much beyond some planned doodles I said I'd do to a couple close friends, but... I'm curious, what FNaF AU drawings types from me sound more interesting..?

A random poll yes, but I'm curious, and ngl, I think I'm approaching one of those not so great "Spells" where I'm losing confidence in the things I'm well, supposed to be doing for fun. ^^;

#insomniac hyena rambles #fnaf: a wound left bleeding au #I'm still gonna do my best to finish AWLB #just having some anxiety/depression type feels again #not feeling confident cuz my brain likes to say if I'm not making “professional level” content I'm doing bad #+ Lost like. near all ability to work on OC type things without anxiety semi recently. so sorta. having a lot of anxiety over Stardrop and- #another OC-type character I had planned for part 2 #sorry for rambling in the tags. still writing part 2 when I have time/motivation #around 160ish pages in now. so that's pretty nice I think #chapters are a lot longer than early part 1 chapters so far too. kinda neat #to any creatives out there. i know easier said than done #but please. do what you can not to let the world rip your confidence in your work away from you #dont rewire your characters and stories just to please others #(I mean this within reason though. this is the internet so I feel the need to clarify. if your work is genuinely made to be offensive. then #yea. reconsider.) #but generally speaking! if your story wasn't meant to have x themes/characters/etc #or a character or thing wasn't meant to go x-way or do x-thing. and you don't want them to. don't cave just cuz someone else out there want #it to be that way. don't sell your own ideas and thoughts short just to be a people pleaser #it wears you down a lot eventually and saps confidence #Idk im ramblin. point is! Enjoy what you do. if it makes you happy. then hold onto it! Goodness knows everyone needs those bits of happines #Uhhh I think that's all my tired morning thoughts lol #oh ! this isn't me saying yall cant still yeet ideas or theories or such at me! #just that unless I really like the idea. and can fit it into what I've already planned #chances are. im gonna try real hard not to cave and add it just cuz i was asked to #trying. real hard to stop being an overly people pleasing person. its caused me more harm than good in life I think #I can be nice without destroying myself lol