#ITS SO DIFFERENT. WILDLY DIFFERENT. I DID NOT REALIZE HOW DIFFERENT IT WOULD BE | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

welshoot · 8 months

Text

Talent and Overblots: An Interesting Relationship

So I read an analysis about Leona and his overblot and it has gotten me to thinking and, only just realizing that talent is a bit of a theme for Twisted Wonderland. Or rather, talent in a more negative lighting than it is often portrayed in.

Simply put, everyone who has overblotted is also talented and said talents (+ the side effects of being talented) really seem to be a large part of their trauma, stress, and varying issues that culminate in their overblot. I’m going to put the rest of the analysis under the cut for fear of any spoilers and due to length (and it is long), but this is something that is incredibly fascinating to me since this portrayal of talent is so wildly different from what is typically seen.

Starting with Overblot #1, Riddle is obviously talented. He became a housewarden in his first year, has an incredibly powerful signature spell, knows all the rules of Heartslabyul, and is a top student in a school filled to the brim with geniuses. We know from his overblot backstory that his mom held him to strict rules and pushed him too far, always demanding he be better than the best. Talented wasn’t enough. He had to be perfect. And that is, quite simply, what led to his overblot. He was holding others to that same horrifying strict regime. Talent isn’t enough, you must be perfect. But Riddle’s talent(s) is what made this drive for perfection truly frightening. That talent of his is what helped to lead to the pedestal that he (and others) placed himself on. And then his view was an incredibly simplistic, and even relatable one. If I can do it, so can they. But that viewpoint is what led to him pushing too far and breaking down when he realized exactly what he’d done. Ace quite possibly put it best when he informed Riddle that he was, “An extension of her”. Her, being Riddle’s mother. Realizing that he’d become that same tyrant, constantly pushing that talent wasn’t enough and you had to be perfect, was a big part of Riddle’s overblot. Because what is worse than becoming the very thing you’ve feared and toiled under since you were a child?

Leona is obviously talented. He is one of NRC’s geniuses, implied to be a very physically strong beastman, possesses an incredibly powerful signature spell, and has the cleverness to think his way out of any situation on top of the fact that he can power his way out of most problems due to his incredible persistence. But those talents were little more than weights around his neck when nothing he did mattered. He would never be king no matter what he did. But how much of Leona’s overblot was ever really being about king, when the crown that just the image that stuck with him? After all, the crown was the first thing that he was probably told he could never have no matter how talented he was. So kingship became a symbol of all he can never succeed in, despite his many talents. In the Savannaclaw chapter, story vignettes, and even in events people are constantly telling Leona that if he just tried he could do it. He is talented after all. And how much must that sting? You’re talented, and you have tried, but no matter what anyone tells you, it doesn’t seem to matter. The words of encouragement others give him are just like a slap in the face because failure keeps rearing its head. Thoughts like that can easily lead to or worsen depression and self-loathing. Especially when he gets his hope up once more that maybe he can do something, he keeps getting dragged back down, either by life’s machinations or his own occasionally self-destructive behavior. As a culmination of this, we find Leona exactly where he was in the Savannaclaw chapter. Failing once more and finally breaking apart as it occurs in front of those who have placed him as their head, the leader of their Pride. Not only has he failed himself, he has failed those who place their faith in him. To Leona, it no doubt looked like his greatest fears were true. Even with all of those talents, Leona feels worthless because he can’t succeed even once.

Azul is talented even if he himself doesn’t see it. Not many can say they have a successful restaurant business, and have hoodooed both the headmage and a good number of one’s fellow students at his age. Azul’s talent isn’t the one he wants though. He wants something more flashy and easily seen. Something that will make others not bother him. He never wants to be a silly little octotwerp who gets made fun of again. And, at this point, Azul can’t seem to see his knack for business for what it is. A talent. Being surrounded by so many obvious talents at NRC is bound to crush him, because everywhere he looks there is someone better than him in some way. So Azul gets greedy. He won’t let them make fun of him and look down on him like his previous classmates did. He can’t take that again. But then all of his carefully calculated actions come crashing down around him. Leona destroys his contracts and asserts, no less, that Azul has been beaten by a magicless prefect. And that is when Azul truly starts to crumble to pieces. He can’t even beat someone that he no doubt viewed, at that point, as a nobody. His actions turn desperate as he fears that Jade and Floyd, the two who’d actually taken a look at young Azul and saw talent there, are abandoning him because he’s been beaten at his own game. In Azul’s eyes, he has no talents, so why would they stay? All those feelings come racing back and Azul really does feel like a nobody. Just a silly little octotwerp even despite all his efforts. And so he overblots. Because obviously if you aren’t talented, then no one wants you and it doesn’t matter.

Jamil is talented in numerous ways and, unlike Azul, he knows it. But Jamil’s talents consistently get ignored or downplayed by everyone, even his own family. And it’s all because of the fact he works under another family so in the eyes of those around him, Jamil can’t and shouldn’t be better than Kalim. So he blames Kalim, even though he knows it isn’t Kalim’s fault that they were born in the positions they are in. Even though Kalim is someone who has always lavished praise on Jamil’s talents and never downplayed them. Even though Kalim is his friend. It’s too much. Because each time Kalim, the source of Jamil’s woe (at least in his eyes), praises him, it’s like a slap in the face. A reminder that even though you’re talented, you aren’t allowed to reach the full height of your abilities. All because of this fellow, who is your friend and greatest supporter. When Jamil’s grand scheme is foiled, it breaks him. It’s a hard hit to his ego and probably feels like yet another reminder that he can’t outdo Kalim. And, to top it all off, there’s the guilt. Because like it or not, Jamil knows it’s not Kalim’s fault because Kalim, for all that he doesn’t understand or realize about their situation, would never put Jamil in the situation that he has found himself in. And so Jamil overblots. His talents don’t matter because he isn’t allowed to show them. He’s restrained, and all of that frustration is suddenly coming out.

Next is Vil, whose troubles are so curiously (and perhaps amusingly) similar to Leona’s. Because for all of Vil’s talent as an actor, he can’t get the role he so desperately longs for. To be the hero, standing on stage till the very end where people will notice him. But it is Vil’s talent (and beauty) that weighs him down and makes people speak of how special he is. And isn’t special so similar to being unrelatable? So talented is he, so special is he, so unrelatable is he, that he must be the villain. Because no one wants a hero that seems so otherworldly, perfectly beautiful and talented. No, they want a hero they understand. A more relatable type of attractiveness, a more mundane level of skill. A villain is, as Vil’s dad asserts in the overblot flashback, a hard role to play. But Vil knows that it’s also the role everyone hates. No one wants to be the bad guy. And how often do people actually pay attention to the villain? Everyone’s eyes are on the star of the show, the good guy. Getting typecast because of his talents is a big part of what leads to Vil’s overblot. He is so weighed down by how inescapable the role of villain seems that he quite literally becomes a villain. And, mirroring Riddle, the realization that he has become that thing he so loathes and maybe even fears is what causes his overblot. The golden child that he was has finally fallen and become mired in the hideous filth that remains when one’s talent becomes a set of shackles that makes you ‘special.’

Idia is, like the others, talented. But interestingly he seems to loathe his talent just as much as he loathes a crowd. Despite his amazing technological achievements, Idia doesn’t want the recognition of fame that comes from his talents. In many ways, he almost behaves like he wants to be free of his talents. As if that talent is a chain. And perhaps it is, that talent makes him well-suited to the position he was born into is yet another chain that binds him to the Island of Woe. His wishes don’t matter. Idia is doomed to his position by both his family name and his talents. The stress of such a truth paired his past with Ortho’s death, and the constant reminder that he is at fault for it (or so he constantly tells himself) is what causes his overblot. Because at least this way, maybe Idia can use his talents once more to do something he wants. To save his brother, and atone for what he has done.

Finally, there is Malleus. Another individual with undeniable talent. Someone who is already listed amongst the most powerful of magicians and who comes from a long line of talented people. But Malleus’s talent, skill, and power for magic is what causes others to fear him, worship him, and avoid him. No one wishes to approach someone so fearsome and talented, because how could they? He is a royal who seems so far beyond them, they cannot comprehend such talent and power. Surely he is beyond them. And when they can’t understand him, perhaps it is better to fear him. It’s only natural to fear that which we can’t understand, so that is what happens to Malleus and his incomprehensible power. The isolation that stems from other’s fear and misunderstandings leads Malleus to do what is only natural. To cling to those few people that remain near him. Those who don’t fear him and instead accept him. And that isolation, paired with the need to cling onto those precious few while all others continue to stare at him in awed horror, is what contributes so greatly to his overblot. Because if those few leave him, what does he have left in his ivory tower of talent?

Anyway, I just find it fascinating that Twisted Wonderland has portrayed the darker side of talent and how it can lead to so many issues for those that hold it. Talent is a blessing in many ways, but there are two sides to every coin and it appears that talent can just as easily be a curse in the wrong situation.

181 notes · View notes

lynnlovesthestars · 7 months

Note

Your masterlist says your requests are open so if you’re cool with it could I request a Karlach x reader where Karlach discovers the reader is ticklish and they’re embarrassed about it because they secretly like it?

omg hiii, OF COURSE I'D LOVE TO!

~♡~

Edit: damn I'm an idiot, right after i posted it i realized my brain played a trick on me and convinced me that the prompt was slightly different Tomorrow I'll try and write it again so I'll fill the request properly, sorry bit it's 3:00 am lol! For now I'll still drop the one i wrote..

Pairing: Karlach x reader.

Genre: fluff.

Warnings: just a little of insecurities

Synopsys: that laugh you hate.

AN: Post act 3, i didn't like the painful ending so i decided this is how i'll headcannon it

You swore this was heaven: laying next to Karlach as the linen sheet wrapped loosely around your bodies while you spent your time getting lost in each other.

At the end of your adventure together, you all deserved a break, and winter approaching Baldur's Gate was perfect for it.

You and Karlach had spent the first few days free from the illithid to find a tiny place to share, just the two of you as you figured out what to do.

Being the hero of Baldur's Gate had its benefits, and a spectacular discount for a house was one of them.

It was nice staying in the outer city, not too far from where Jaheira lived, so you could keep up with the antics of the harpers.

It was early, too early to get out and to start helping with the reconstruction of the city, so you did sleep in.

That's how you ended up there, Karlach hovering over you, and raking her nails along your skin.

She had been so touch starved that she'd spend days just feeling you close to her.

One morning she spent her whole time pressing sweet kisses all over your face, and caressing your cheeks, just for the sake of feeling you.

The way she giggled every time she'd realize she was truly able to feel you, was able to thaw even the coldest heart, you couldn't help but blush at it.

Her voice in the morning was unexpectedly sweet, low, just a mutter under the sheets as she held you close.

When Karlach's fingers reached your hips, and her nails started drawing incomprehensible patterns, you could feel your breath itch in your throat. Your body shivering wildly even at the smallest movement. A choked laugh escaped your lips as she looked at you surprised, yet not stopping.

"P-please stop" You tried to stop the laughter, concentrate on making your angrier face but to no avail.

"Oh what is it?" She taunted you playfully, her eyes wide and twinkling.

"Mh, is my princess ticklish?" She lowered just enough to peck at your lips without leaving your skin alone.

You wriggled under her touch, trying to escape as your expression would switch quickly between trying to be serious begging her to stop, and your uncontrollable laughter.

Don't laugh, Tav. Don't laugh. You repeat yourself trying to not embarrass yourself.

You could feel your stomach starting to hurt as the fit of laughter was almost impossible to stop, then Karlach suddenly stopped.

Her eyes softened as you laid under her, she barely held you as you regained your breath and turned your head away. From one part you wanted to be mad at her for not stopping, you HATED being tickled, from the other you shied away from the burning gaze.

If you didn't know any better, you'd think she was about to rip you apart.

Instead he eyes burned with something deeper, an affection so deep, that neither of you ever experienced before.

You both wanted to say something, but it was like the words stopped in your throats. What was lingering on your lips, those words you always feared to say, quickly became a scoff as you wanted to stir the conversation away from something you were not entirely ready for.

You kept your head away from Karlach's your arms quickly met on your chest, tightly folded.

You could feel her flopping on your side on the bed, poking your cheek just enough so you'd turn to stare at her.

She was about to ask you what was going on, if she hurt you, but you'd rather talk about the tickling problem than your feelings.

"I hate being tickled." Your brows furrowed, your face a weird mix between annoyance and the laugh that was yet to die completely. Karlach's face shifted at the speed of light. The worried look she had a moment before, made room for a bright smile.

"O c'mon, it's not that bad" She nudged lovingly, wondering whether she wanted to open her arms to you, or snuggle closer and rest her head on the nook of your shoulder.

"Mh, yes it is" You mumbled as you looked at the ceiling, it's true that you hated being tickled, but how could you be mad at such a dashing smile? You thought as you stared at the way the wood planks would be lined.

"And why would that be?" she asked, getting closer and closer by the second, until she was about to lay on you.

You wondered for a moment whether it was a good idea telling her, or if it would have made the thing just more embarrassing for you. You already wanted to hide under a rock, the idea that she heard your uncontrolled laugh, the one where you'd always end up snorting, made it even worse. Maybe taking the spot of a genie in a lamp was not so bad after all. You hated that laugh so much you could feel your stomach fighting already.

"..it's embarrassing" You admitted, your voice barely audible.

"Oh, no. I don't want to hear this excuse" Karlach sat up, shaking her head vigorously.

"It's not an excuse" You kept your arms crossed, but finally turned her way, your expression unreadable for a moment.

"Sure" She rolled her eyes. "And what is embarrassing about it?" She raised an eyebrow as she eyed you from top to bottom, or the closest thing the blankets allowed.

"The snorting" That's it, you wanted so badly to be a spellcaster, just enough so you could disappear and run away, and yet your bloodline was everything but magic inclined.

"Oh shush. Your laugh is adorable" She poked your cheek, as she already was sneaking next to you again.

An mhfp was the only sound you made as you wanted to say you didn't agree, but you already knew how it would go.

She didn't accept the idea that you didn't love something about you, and she would always do her best to prove you wrong. So for that time you skipped telling her, though it didn't matter. It was like she read your thoughts all the time, you could have sworn no one knew you like she did.

"That's it, I'm proving you are wrong" She jumped up again straddling your hips as her hands were already itching to tickle you, even saying it just as you thought she would,.

"Oh no you are not going to dare" You shook your head, trying hard to wiggle away again, failing miserably, again.

"Ah ah, you are not going anywhere" One of her hands reached for your fingers, interlacing it with hers before pulling it up just enough she'd be able to kiss your palm. And the back. And your knuckles. Just enough so you could lower your guard before letting it go and sticking again with her tickling.

This time she didn't give you time to fight the laughter, she giggled as you squealed under her touch.

Her smile was bright, like the light of Lathander. It was something that no matter how upset, sad or desperate you could be, it was always able to stir something in you, deep in your stomach, something that you couldn’t resist.

It was that smile that always coaxed you to do the dumbest things, to sleep in, to fight until the blood of your enemies covered your armors, to try and love yourself.

Cause no matter how much you'd hate you, Karlach was always there to guide you the right way. Showing you how pretty, how kind, and how cutely you laughed, always making sure that the bubbling feeling in your stomach would not die down.

Little did you know what the name of that feeling is.

144 notes · View notes

venus-haze · 2 years

Text

You Go To My Head (Yandere!Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Summary: You and Elvis have been friends since the summer his family moved to Memphis; you’ve gone through everything together. You and Elvis stay close while living your own, wildly different lives, but Elvis realizes his feelings haven’t been platonic for a long time when he invites you to a recording of the Comeback Special, and you bring your new boyfriend along.

Note: This is based on an anonymous request. I took some liberties with the request and also in regards to timeline stuff with this fic for plot purposes. Reader can be read as gender neutral. Please read the warnings. DNI if you’re a minor or post thinspo/ED content. Requests are open🔮

Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: This is a yandere fic, so expect dark themes such as emotional blackmail and obsessive and manipulative behavior, which some people may find disturbing or triggering. Do not interact if you are under 18.

Summer was sweltering in Memphis, and on one of the many days you spent with your best friend, you took refuge in a drug store with a soda fountain, squeezing through the other people who had a similar idea to the empty counter seats. You and Elvis ordered your usuals, spinning around while waiting for the cashier to give you your drinks.

Elvis had just recorded some songs with the Sun Records label, and they were slowly getting airtime around Memphis. It was exciting to hear his voice on the radio, especially after years of telling him that he should get into music professionally. In fact, the drug store was playing ‘That’s All Right’ on its jukebox, which you could tell made Elvis a little embarrassed.

You perked up in your seat. "Oh! Did I tell you I have a date this weekend?"

He raised a skeptical eyebrow. "With who?"

"Jack Taylor," you answered proudly.

"Jack? He’s no good," Elvis said as the two of you were handed your sodas.

"Elvis, he got into Harvard," you argued.

"Exactly, how many miles away is that? You’ll never see him. Train to Boston’s what, four days?"

You sighed. He had a point, he always did when it came to the guys you were interested in. You sipped your soda as you stared out the window.

"C’mon, I didn’t mean to make ya upset. I’m just trying to look out for you."

"I’m not upset," you said.

You and Elvis lived in the same building, two doors down the hall from each other, and quickly became friends when his family moved in right before high school. You were jealous he was an only child, when you were stuck in a two-bedroom apartment with your parents and three younger siblings. Your parents had to turn the living room into a makeshift bedroom so you and your siblings would have enough space. As a result, you became a fixture at the Presley residence. Elvis was without a doubt your best friend, so you trusted that he wanted to look out for you.

"Why are you in such a rush to get a boyfriend? Then you won’t have as much time to spend with me," he said, only half-joking.

You stuck your tongue out at him. "Because smarty, it’s weird third-wheeling you and Dixie all the time."

"You’re not a third wheel, Y/N."

"Tell that to me when we went to the state fair and I had to sit next to some smelly old man on the Tilt-a-Whirl."

Elvis’ expression shifted. "He didn’t do nothin’ to ya, did he?"

"Lord, no. It was just—I felt outta place," you said, before perking up a bit. "Hey, why don’t you set me up with one of your friends?"

"No way, those guys aren’t good enough for you."

"Elvis, as far as you’re concerned, there ain’t a man in Memphis good enough for me. So I might as well run off to a convent and take my vows."

"As if they’d let a hellion like you join," he joked.

You laughed, throwing a straw at him. "Jerk!"

You knew he was right about Jack. It wouldn’t be more than a summer fling, and you were hoping for something long term like Elvis and Dixie had. You hadn’t expected your summer to be turned on its head with Elvis’ career suddenly skyrocketing after his performance at the Louisiana Hayride. You tagged along with his parents and Dixie to support him and his band in their biggest performance yet.

Their set became pandemonium when Elvis started dancing, and you and Dixie had shared an exasperated look at how chaotic the girls in the audience were going over him. Maybe you were just used to it, hanging out in Beale Street clubs with Elvis and watching the performers there, but you found it almost comical how those girls seemed to be losing their minds. His mama, however, didn’t find it comical at all.

After that night, everything changed. Elvis had quit his job to tour with Hank Snow’s outfit, moving his way up the marquee with every town they stopped in. You were able to go out and see him more than Dixie was, so you’d bring whatever notes or gifts she had given you to pass along to him. You could tell the Colonel, who was apparently in charge of the whole show, didn’t exactly like you hanging around Elvis so much, especially when the two of you would be practically glued to each other after Elvis got off stage. You thought it was weird how people assumed Elvis and you were together, and you always had to be the one to correct them.

You supposed it worked out, though, because Elvis told you that the Colonel was making him breakup with Dixie as part of some convoluted scheme to increase Elvis’ appeal to his mostly women audience. You didn’t see much of Dixie after that, but you felt like you were seeing Elvis as often as ever, even with his packed tour schedule and increasingly controversial TV appearances. When he bought Graceland, it seemed like everything the two of you had talked about in your wildest dreams in high school was coming true.

Even when he wasn’t at Graceland, you were there. You’d missed the Presleys being your neighbors, and his parents were so used to you being over all the time that they didn’t blink when you’d drop by. Most of the time, his mama was already expecting you to stay for dinner.

You lived in a small apartment in Memphis, even though Elvis had offered you a space in Graceland. As much as you appreciated it, you didn’t want to seem like you were taking advantage of his generosity. Plus, it made your dating life easier to have your own place, since you knew Gladys told Elvis about every boyfriend you mentioned to her, and he’d call you within a day or so to talk you out of dating whoever it happened to be.

You met Joe while you were out drinking with friends, one of the rare nights you weren’t at Graceland. He was handsome, rugged, with dark hair, deep brown eyes and calloused hands from working in construction. He had the faintest scar above his left eye, which he informed you was a result of his days as an amateur boxer in years past. A salt-of-the-earth type of man with an incredible sense of humor, you gladly agreed to see him again, writing your phone number on a napkin.

Elvis, of course, immediately found fault with Joe when you’d brought him up the next time you visited him at Graceland, insisting you needed a guy with a steady job who could provide for you. He dropped the news that he had been drafted to you during his rant, and you almost thought he did it just to make you feel bad. His eyes watered as he showed you the notice, though, and you wrapped your arms around him.

“Two years is nothing,” you whispered. “You’ll be back here before you know it.”

“I don’t wanna leave,” he confessed. “The Colonel says it’ll help my image, but I don’t wanna leave you or Mama or Graceland.”

“I’m sorry. If there were something I could do, I would in a heartbeat.”

“I know. I love you, Y/N.”

“Don’t say it like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you think you’re never gonna see me again,” you said, stroking his hair. “I love you too, though.”

The two of you fell asleep on the couch in the living room, awoken the next morning by his mama, who looked worse for wear. She obviously knew Elvis got drafted and had taken to drinking more to cope. The day Elvis left for basic training, you’d promised him that you’d look after Graceland and his parents, and that you’d be in the same spot waiting for him when he got back. You just didn’t expect that day to come so soon.

You had hoped Gladys would snap out of her depressed stupor in a few weeks, but she only kept drinking, and you and Vernon were at a loss as to what to do. You’d tried to reason with her, but she was so incoherent at times it was no use. When you got the call from Vernon that Gladys had a heart attack, you felt a pit in your stomach. She had been like a mother to you for almost a decade, and now she was gone.

By the time you made your way to Graceland that day, Vernon had told you that Elvis was already on his way to Memphis, as the Army gave him permission to leave for Gladys’ funeral. It was late at night when he arrived, barely holding it together until he saw you and his dad, and he broke down in your arms until he made his way upstairs early in the morning.

You couldn’t believe it when the next day the Colonel was trying to get Elvis and Vernon outside for an impromptu press conference. Elvis had hardly moved from his spot on the floor of his mama’s closet since he got home. Somehow the Colonel managed to convince him to come downstairs, but you still objected.

"It ain’t right," you said. "None of them people out there knew her, not like we did. They’re not entitled to our grief like a spectacle. Especially not his."

Elvis sniffled. "It’s okay, Y/N. I’ll go do it. Five minutes, but that’s all."

“I’ll drag you back in here if it takes a second longer,” you said.

He gave you the faintest smile, the first one you’d seen from him. You decided in that moment you hated the Colonel with everything you had in you. You knew Gladys didn’t like him, but you figured he knew what he was doing when it came to Elvis’ career. Now, you felt nothing but disgust for the man who decided to exploit your best friend’s loss. There wasn’t even time for you to express your concerns to Elvis, because before you knew it, he was shipped off to Germany for the next year and a half.

You kept in touch, writing each other incessantly. He even flew you out to meet him in Paris when he had a short leave. It was a better reunion than the previous one, but soured a bit when he informed you of his new girlfriend. From everything he told you, she seemed nice, but way too young for him. You couldn’t lie and say you thought it was exactly appropriate for Elvis to be with Priscilla, so you just said that you were glad he found someone. Not a lie, as much as you wanted to chew him out.

Elvis returned to the States with Priscilla, who ended up endearing herself to you. Even though she technically lived in a separate house on Graceland’s property, she was still in the main house pretty often. Somehow, even with a full-time job and a new steady boyfriend, who Elvis didn’t hesitate to tell you every problem he had with, you were at Graceland a lot too. It wasn’t even at Elvis’ invitation all the time. Priscilla, young and lonely with Elvis spending more time in Hollywood, carving out his film career, would ask you to come over and hang out or go shopping with her.

Elvis sent letters and postcards from Hollywood to you and Priscilla, but you found it odd when she’d complain about not getting calls from Elvis for weeks at a time, when he called you almost every day. You felt sorry for the poor girl when she came to you in tears over the stories about Elvis and Ann-Margaret’s supposed romance on the set of ‘Viva Las Vegas’.

"Do you think it’s true?" she asked, eyes filled with tears. "Please, Y/N, you know him better than anyone."

"I know he loves you a lot," you answered, "and I know Hollywood tabloids can get ahead of themselves and make a story out of nothing."

You also knew Elvis had cheated on Dixie when they were still together and he was touring, but you couldn’t bring yourself to tell Priscilla that. You’d come to view her as a younger sister of sorts, and the last thing you wanted to do was make her even more upset than she was. After a while, the rumors died down as Elvis returned to Graceland after shooting the movie. There were other rumors, of course, after he returned to Hollywood, but Priscilla never brought any of them up to you after that. You weren’t sure if she simply didn’t believe them or had come to terms with the fact that the distance from Elvis made it almost inevitable.

Eventually, Priscilla went to Hollywood to live with Elvis there, and you saw less of them. You didn’t mind, it made sense considering where you all were in life. If you were being honest with yourself, it was a relief to not have to be the mediator in their relationship or go to Graceland in your limited free time. Things with yet another one of your boyfriends had fizzled out on mostly good terms, but you could tell your obligation to Elvis had put a strain on the relationship after a while.

Elvis would fly you out to Los Angeles every so often, even though you basically lived at Graceland whenever he was home. You had begun to notice Priscilla wasn’t around as often, until Elvis had called you one evening while your latest boyfriend was over. You whispered an apology to Eric as you went to answer the phone, knowing Elvis would keep calling until you picked up.

“Y/N, I–uh–I gotta tell ya somethin’,” Elvis said.

“What’s going on?”

“I’m not with ‘Cilla anymore. Things weren’t workin’ out.”

“Oh my god,” you gasped. “I thought y’all were starting to plan the wedding.”

“We were. I don’t know, I just couldn’t do it.”

“Well, if it don’t feel right, it probably ain’t. Your mama always said to trust your gut,” you told him. “How did Priscilla take it?”

“Not great,” he answered, huffing out a laugh. “Can’t say I didn’t expect it. She’s back with her folks now.”

“At least she’s not alone,” you said. Damn, you were looking forward to their wedding. Knowing Elvis, he would’ve pulled out all the stops. Not to mention how excited Priscilla had been when Elvis proposed.

“I’ve just been thinkin’ about a lotta things recently, makin’ some big changes in my life, my career,” he said, pausing a bit before adding. “Got some guys I’m workin’ with to start performin’ live again.”

“Elvis, that sounds incredible!” you exclaimed. “Just like the old days, huh?”

“We’re taping a whole special for my big comeback to music. Goin’ back to my roots and all, I can’t think of anyone else I’d want here for that.”

“I’m there, just let me know when,” you said, hoping he could hear your smile over the phone.

“Well, how soon can you fly out?”

“I mean, I’d have to tell work, but maybe by the weekend.”

“Alright, you call me as soon as you know, okay?”

“You know I will. ‘Night, Elvis,” you said.

“‘Night, Y/N. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

You hung up, giving Eric an apologetic smile as you made your way back over to him on the other side of your living room. “Sorry, a lot happened.”

“Sounds like you’re gonna be taking a trip to LA soon,” he said.

“Wanna come with me? I can see if Elvis would pay for your–”

He shook his head. “I’ll buy my own way. LA does sound nice, though.”

You squealed in excitement, throwing your arms around him. “It’ll be so fun! The beaches there are gorgeous.”

“I bet,” he laughed, keeping an arm around you.

“Just, don’t be surprised if you’re met with some hostility when it comes to Elvis. He’s never liked any of my boyfriends,” you said. “Some overprotective thing he never grew out of.”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” he assured you.

You managed to convince one of your coworkers to cover for you for the following week, and quickly made plans to leave for California to see Elvis Friday night as soon as you and Eric were finished with work. Even though Elvis had paid for you to fly first class, you sat with Eric in economy, feeling bad about sitting apart during the flight. Elvis had let you know he’d meet you at the hotel, and had a car waiting for you outside the airport to bring you there.

When you checked in, the clerk instructed the bellhop to bring yours and Eric’s bags up to the room, and let you know where to find Elvis. You took the elevator up a few floors to a conference room Elvis was apparently waiting in. His face lit up when you opened the door, but quickly fell when he noticed Eric with you.

“Who’s this?” Elvis asked, his tone hostile as he looked at you accusingly.

“My boyfriend Eric, I know I told you about him,” you said.

“Well, I only got clearance for you to come into the studio tomorrow.”

“Hey, no worries, buddy,” Eric said. “I can explore LA myself. You guys have fun catching up.”

Elvis nodded. “Alright. See you tomorrow, Y/N.”

It certainly wasn’t the reunion you were expecting, and you definitely didn’t appreciate how he treated your boyfriend, but you were willing to brush it off as him being tired from working all day. You counted yourself lucky that Eric was so easy-going. He hardly mentioned Elvis’ horrible attitude toward him when you both headed up to the room. It was on one of the top floors, with a fully stocked mini-bar that Eric didn’t hesitate to get into, opening a bottle of wine for you to share while watching TV until you fell asleep.

The two of you ate breakfast together in the hotel, and then parted ways for the rest of the day. You hoped he’d at least have a good time being a tourist in Los Angeles on his own. Around ten in the morning, you were informed a car was waiting outside the hotel to bring you to NBC’s studio. Filming wasn’t for a few more hours, and you figured Elvis just wanted to hang out and catch up beforehand.

The car dropped you off in front of Elvis’ trailer, where he was sitting outside talking to his father. Elvis’ mood had done a complete 180 from the previous night, and he engulfed you in a bear hug.

“I missed you too,” you laughed.

You and Vernon spoke for a bit, before he took his cue to leave and let Elvis and you be alone. You followed Elvis into his trailer, making yourself comfortable on the couch. You knew he spared no expense on it, with TVs and air conditioning to make it as comfortable as possible, but you were partial to Graceland.

“You want anything to drink?” Elvis asked.

“I’m good,” you said. “So, I’m guessing this special has absolutely nothing to do with the Colonel?”

He grinned, sitting next to you. “Doesn’t know a thing.”

“I know you feel like he made your career or whatever, but you need someone with fresh ideas around,” you said. “I never forgave him for that stunt he pulled at your mama’s funeral. He should be ashamed of himself.”

“Well, y’know how I mentioned makin’ some big changes in my life,” he said.

You nodded, “Yeah.”

“Some of that applies to you, to us.”

“What about us?”

“I shoulda never been with Priscilla,” he said. “You’re my rock, Y/N. You’ve been with me through everything. I got time to make things right, though.”

You were blind-sided by his confession. “Elvis, we’re practically family. I don’t know–”

He scoffed. “Don’t tell me you’re holdin’ out over that clown you brought with you.”

“I’ve never thought of you like that.”

“Bullshit you never. How come you didn’t ever get married, huh?”

“You hated everyone I’ve ever dated!”

“It matters that much to you, that I like who you’re dating?” he asked.

“‘Course it does, you’re my best friend. Where’s this coming from?”

“It’s coming from me wakin’ up and finally seein’ what I have in front of me.”

You shook your head. “Look, I need to think about this.”

“There’s nothin’ to think about. You walk outta here, and it’ll be the biggest mistake of your life.”

“What do you mean?”

“Y/N, baby,” he took a deep breath, “I wasted almost twenty years of my life not bein’ with you. We coulda had a couple of kids together; they’d probably be in high school or somethin’ by now. I ain’t wastin’ anymore time. Either you’re with me or you’re not.”

You sucked in a breath, feeling your eyes start to burn. You couldn’t do this. He was bluffing, he had to be. He wouldn’t cut you out of his life now, after everything you’d been through. Still, the possibility of losing your best friend terrified you. You’d only ever thought of dating him when the two of you were still in high school, but that was so long ago.

“Shoulda joined that convent after all,” you muttered under your breath. “Why would you do this when you know I’m gonna pick you every time?”

“You’re the only person who does. You know I love you, Y/N. I always have.”

“I love you too.”

“Then what’s the problem?” he asked. “Baby, this just a long time comin’.”

He kissed you, and you tried to enjoy it, to kiss him back, but it felt wrong. You weren’t sure why he suddenly decided your relationship was anything more than platonic after so many years. His talk about kids especially rattled you, if that was what he wanted from you in the future. When he pulled away from the kiss, you looked up at your best friend, and for the first time in your life, you saw a stranger.

#elvis x reader #austin!elvis x reader #elvis presley x reader #yandere!elvis x reader #yandere x reader #elvis #elvis 2022 #austin!elvis

652 notes · View notes

truetogaia · 1 year

Note

Hi just wondering if you would be open to writing a headcanon with some of the male avatar characters where their female mate is insecure about her chest?

featuring: Tsu’tey, Jake, Quaritch, Tonowari.

genre: headcanons

warnings: mentions of body dysmorphia, insecurities, like strong language??, quaritch is a dick because he doesn't understand but he eventually realizes!!

notes: HI OF COURSE I WILL!!! Also, If this is a request based on you, I'm so sorry you have to feel that way. You are a creation of earth herself, one of many beautiful beings wandering this planet of life. I know it might not be of much help, but you are quite literally stardust, created in a supernova explosion billions of years ago. Your skin was formed out of the cosmos, your soul is a domain of the universe and your body is the divine fortress of the galaxies and the heavenly bodies littering the sky, molded specifically for your spirit. Humanity has completely turned away from their mother and have created the concept of unbelievable beauty standards, which, by the way, do not even align with the laws of nature?? Don’t listen to social media. Think of yourself as a star, a celestial being, because that's what we all are, that is what you are.

okay, now for the actual request!! SORRY

JAKE

Jake is absolutely obsessed with every single part of you. And sure, he is a very sexual man, always goofing around intimately, but regarding matters like these, he can be extremely serious. He loves every inch of blue skin covering your body, and adores every curve that gives shape to it. There is not one thing that he would change about you, he wouldn't dream to design you any differently if he got the chance to. So when you finally opened up about your insecurities regarding your chest, he was baffled. Never in a million years did he think you could carry these insecurities about something so indescribably perfect.

He spent every following day trying his utmost best to make you forget those absurdities, drowning you in reassuring and loving words, making sure you knew exactly how jaw dropping you truly are.

“y/n, listen to me.” Your gaze shifted uncomfortably around the room, not daring to meet your mates eyes. “Hey,” he gently grabbed your hands, placing them against his chest, “this heart,” you felt it thump wildly beneath your palms, “its purpose is to love you, and It serves its purpose every day, without fail. You are undoubtedly the most beautiful being this world has created, there is not a single error on your beautiful body.”

You had him wrapped around your finger, he would do whatever was needed for you to feel as loved and beautiful as you are, and he was gonna make damn sure you knew of it.

TONOWARI

Wari could not believe his pointy ears. His main priority had always been to make sure you were completely aware of the immense love he held for you in his heart. The words that left your mouth were nonsense, and his brain was trying to puzzle it together. There was absolutely no reason for such an astonishing, ravaging person as yourself to feel that way. His heart ached as your eyes darted to the floor at his expression. His eyes told of the utter confusion he experienced, and you felt stupid.

“I’m sorry, I know It’s stupid and all but.. I can’t help but feel this way sometimes.” You finally managed to meet his gaze, and when you locked eyes, his features immediately softened.

“My beautiful girl, you are as ravaging as the ocean, and as heavenly as the cosmos. Your mere presence is enough to send a million men to their knees, enough to make me never want to forget a single thing regarding you. Even after death, I want every trivial, petty detail to stay with me until the end of time itself.”

Your smile makes his heart tingle slightly, a warm sensation spreading in your face. He gently cupped your jaw, lifting your face to look up at him. “Oel ngati kameie, y/n.” Your foreheads pressed together as you closed your eyes, reveling in the gentle affirmations before repeating his words back to him.

QUARITCH

Quaritch is a man who doesn’t enjoy being emotional. He isn’t emotionally available at all, physically and mentally recoiling at the mention or thought of being openly affectionate on an emotional level with someone. But when you came into his life, something switched in him. He tried his best to be at least.. somewhat open and supportive. He tries his best, I promise.

But, when you opened up to him about your insecurities, his brain malfunctioned. He couldn't connect the dots you so desperately gave to him. The two of you were in bed when you told him, your head was propped up on his bicep as he laid on his back. His tail nervously flicked around, he was trying to come up with a solution, like the strategist that he is, but he turned up empty handed.

“Sorry, sweetie, but what the hell are you talking about?” He turned his face to you, eyes slightly narrowed as he tried to make sense of your words. You twisted and squirmed uncomfortably.

“I don’t know.. S’ just that sometimes I feel like.. You know.. It's not as beautiful as you think it is.” He almost laughed at that, snorting as he tried suppressing the itching laughter. When his little fit of chuckles ended, he looked down at you again. You were frowning, lip slightly quivering as your face was turned away. He realized his mistakes, a slight panic settling over him as he shifted his body towards you and softly placed his hand on the side of your face, turning you to him again.

“I’m so sorry, bunny. I didn’t mean to make you upset, you know that.” You looked up at him, sensing a genuine apologetic aura from him. “You’re my finest, most amazing prize, pumpkin. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with you.” A smile spread on your face as your dear mate tried his best to comfort you. You knew he didn’t have a way with words, but him trying meant so much.

TSU’TEY

Tsu’tey is such a sweetheart when it comes to his mate. He showers them in praises and compliments, love and adoration. His heart swells with pride each time the two of you go out, reveling in the jealous looks from the other males. He knew something was off the minute you started doubting yourself. He didn’t even give you a moment to think about it.

“Yawne, is something wrong?” The two of you were sat in your shared home, nuzzled together in front of the head of the fire. You shook your head, locking your gaze on the flames eagerly licking the wood.

“I know when you're lying.” He was right. He always knew, right from the start. Even before the lies had formed on your tongue. “I’ve noticed the way you look at yourself in your reflection.” Your head shot up at that, turning to him. “Whatever it is, stop. Yawne, you are so mesmerizing, truly. There is no better mate, I mean it.”

You placed your head on his hard shoulder, sighing while fiddling with your hands. Tsu’tey grabbed them with his unoccupied hand, and brought them to his lap. “Tell me, ma tsawksyul, what is eating you?”

A tiny tear almost went unnoticed by you, until tsu’tey calmly wiped it away with his thumb. You finally opened up, spilling your heart out to him. His heart twinged with the knowledge that you had felt this way all this time, and he hadn’t known.

“My sweet girl, you are the omaticaya’s most beautiful woman. I did not mate with you just because of your amazing personality, the clan's most fierce warrior has his standard high, you know.” A giggle left your lips and it soon turned into a fit of laughter. He smiled, heart warming with each wheeze that left your lungs.

170 notes · View notes

professorspork · 4 months

Note

I hope this doesn’t come across as like a pushy “update pls” I promise that’s not how I mean it. I’m curious at what point you feel like a multi-chapter fic is ready to post? Do you write it in its entirety and then edit chapters in between updates, write and edit it in its entirety, write most of it and continue writing the rest between updates? I’m very curious about your process since you’ve been writing some monster word count fics

I really appreciate you asking!

The short version is that I've learned over time that what works best for me is completing a work in its entirety before I start posting; above all I like posting on a reliable schedule for my audience, and I simply do not write quickly enough (or coherently enough) to do that any other way. There are a lot of reasons for that and I WILL ELABORATE ON THEM AT LENGTH:

I have several multi-chapter WIPs from the Glee days-- when I was in college-- that I never finished because I'm a delicate hothouse flower when it comes to maintaining hyperfocus, and I found a new fandom to be in before I could complete them. Back then especially, I was much less disciplined about writing sequentially: I would write parts of the story wildly out of order, focusing on whatever interested me most at the time. That means my hard drive is a graveyard of unpublished content, which sucks-- not only did I never give my audience the resolutions they were looking for, but I never got to receive feedback on parts of the story I was really proud of. I found that really dispiriting.

Going to grad school for screenwriting really helped me focus on telling a story in order, because there is literally no other way to write a screenplay than one scene at a time; it's far too reliant on momentum and consistency to jump ahead to "the good bits" and come back. I also did several projects-- writing my multi-chap Frozen&Tangled polyamory epic for a friend's birthday; pre-writing all my 2015 Cartinelli Week one shots far in advance so I knew they'd be perfect come posting day-- where I had a deadline I wanted everything Done By, which got me in the habit of writing to completion before posting. It wasn't something I thought I was going to be capable of because I'm like Tinkerbell, Finn, I need applause to live feedback is incredibly motivating to me, but having the ability to go back and change things in chapter 2 if I realized they weren't adequately setting up what I wanted to do in chapter 5, or whatever, proved to be just as powerful a motivator in a different way-- it meant I could tell the stories RIGHT, if I took my time with them. I also learned to get at least one cheerleader I could leak snippets to as I went, so that I still got the dopamine hit of the feedback even though I'm ages away from posting for real.

I also found that, as a reader, I always really appreciated when authors could stick to an update schedule so I could look forward to new chapters like I would episodes of television. It's not a standard I expect from anyone, but it is something that makes me really happy-- and the two ways to do it are to either write fast enough that you're just constantly churning out new content (not an option for me, especially on the occasions when I'm actually employed and can only write on weekends) or to pre-write and then slow release. it gives me a feeling of... mastery, I guess? Like "hey everyone here's a gift I'm giving you," as opposed to writing and updating when I can, which makes me feel like I'm always chasing something (BEING chased by something?) and risking losing my audience/my own fickle concentration if I were to wait too long.

My "ONLY post after everything is done" rule is a new one, because I burned myself on rely on certain certainties, the last D/s epic I wrote (lmao can you tell this topic interests me). I worked on that for a year and was 132k in with no end in sight when I started posting, but I was part of a Kristanna discord at the time, and I wanted to seize the audience I had before it disappeared-- which is always the danger of movie fandoms, which never have as much staying power. I had hoped that because I had such a big buffer I could keep writing ahead of the updates as they came up from behind, but I tapped out at 172k when I finished the end of an arc. That kills me, because I have SO MUCH unreleased content for that story which will never see the light of day, because-- again-- I'd let temptation win and wrote ahead to The Juicy Bits instead of forcing myself to go in order.

So, two things I've learned:

Only ever outlining the juicy bits that come late in the game, instead of lovingly finessing their every word, is a great way to trick motivate myself into continuing to write in order so that I can GET to the juicy bits, full stop; if I don't exorcise them they keep haunting me and that helps me stick it out until the end

By holding stories back until they're complete, I give myself the ability to complete them because I'm able to dig myself out of holes I've written myself into. In the old days, if I got stuck because I realized the real root of my issue had come chapters earlier and that's why it's not working now, I'd just... be stuck at that wall, unable to move forward, and that would be that. The idea of going back and editing a published story for narrative content is mortifying to me and something I personally could never do, so-- this way I'm giving myself more tools and options, so that I can tell the story I want to tell and tell it right.

In terms of my actual process, I tend to work like this: my most productive time is when my ADHD meds are at full power, so in an ideal world I am writing new content from like 10am to 3pm or so, getting as far as I can in New Content. Evenings, when I'm no longer in Hyperfocus Productivity Mode, I'll go back and reread things-- sometimes chapters from much earlier-- both to entertain myself and to make edits and changes. Often, that's just moving words around here and there for cadence and flow; rarely, it's adding whole new moments or thoughts to the chapters. I try to write In Order as much as possible, getting chapters beta'd as they're completed. I'm a nitpicky perfectionist, so keeping a hold on my early chapters until everything is posted means I can change them over and over and over again without anyone knowing but me, which I love-- and those changes are getting made right down to the wire. even when the fic is "complete" and I'm "only posting" I'm still making edits; some of people's absolute favorite parts of Newsbees were added literally the night before, when it was the "get everything into AO3 and do the final pass for typos and formatting" stage. Like, Penny writing sudokus on the fly for Ruby at the hospital? Ruby thinking in Adam Font? Those were 11th hour strokes of genius.

So yeah-- that's a very long-winded way of saying that I've found writing to completion first not only makes me more likely to actually finish my WIPs, but it makes my WIPs BETTER because it gives me far, far more time with them. I know it's not something that works for everyone, but in terms of my own sense of like, duty and responsibility and goal-setting, it keeps me on track without risking Guilt completely paralyzing me-- which is what happens when I post as I go and then get interrupted.

THANK YOU FOR COMING TO MY RAMBLE.

#on writing

26 notes · View notes

lovefrombegonia · 5 months

Text

THIS IS A HEADCANON:

I do not claim this to be canon at all. It's just a personal headcanon, bro. LOL

tw // references to childhood abuse, gore, torture

That Binghe vs Bingge extra did give me a PIDW scenario more bingge whump and qijiu angst:

Listen...I love badass, glorious, powerful cultivator Yue Qingyuan. I don't remember if it is canon or not if he is a serious threat to LBH and xin mo but I do like to think that he was the only cultivator capable of actually beating PIDW LBH, and LBH knew that. He knew YQY could rock his shit. He also hated YQY for enabling SQQ's gruesome abuse towards him. So, in his mind, YQY is like a corrupt, enabling sect leader who is also powerful enough to fight a pure-blooded heavenly demon like Tianlang jun while just being a disciple. He also knows that YQY, for some reason he decided isn't important to explore, really cares about SQQ. So, LBH decides to set a trap for YQY. He tears SQQ's legs off, tortures him into writing a letter, and decides 10,000 cursed arrows is enough to atleast seriously injure YQY, and then if he is somehow still alive, Xin Mo can take care of the rest.

Everything...goes as planned. ALmost. YQY rushes towards HHP to save SQQ in a maddening, suicidal rage. LBH cannot help but be a bit shocked at this vicious level of devotion this powerful, powerful sect leader has towards a scum like SQQ. He watches as YQY doesn't even really fight off all the arrows. It's like... it's like he really WANTS to be killed. It's like YQY is punishing himself. And yet, every tiny essence of life in YQY is trying its best to walk towards HHP. He will not stop until he dies. And...LBH can't help but laugh a little. A lot. Actually. 'This is the man you're willing to die for Sect Leader?!', LBH thinks, 'A scum who tortured his own disciples? A lecher who lusted after his own disciple? A filthy dog who killed how own shidi?? YOU WILL RIP YOURSELF APART FOR A WORTHLESS SCUM WHO NEVER EVEN RESPECTED YOU!! You're the dumbest human I have ever come across...'

He watches in awe as even pinned to the ground by several arrows, YQY is willing to tear him own flesh apart to try and move forward towards SQQ... One can't even recognise the esteemed CQMS leader anymore. He is two steps away from looking like a blob of flesh. As another round of hundreds of arrows rained on YQY, LBH watched the pathetic man turned to mush, and the magnificent Xuan Su vibrated wildly one last time before breaking into many pieces.

The sect leader was no more. LBH is a bit surprised at everything that just happened. His plan worked though. It's all that mattered. YQY was no longer a threat to him, and him empire. Now, he has to pay a visit to his shizun. He wanted to bring a piece of YQY's body to SQQ but the poisoned arrows had made sure nothing remained of him. Only the broken shards were left behind. He decided that Xuan Su would be a better "gift" anyways, after all, it was the symbol of YQY's might. The mighty that shielded SQQ for so long. It was the only thing that would matter to the scum, after all, SQQ did not really care about YQY. He insulted him every chance he got. With that thought, he went to the special prison. He couldn't wait to feel the rush of satisfaction as he imagines SQQ's face of horror.

'This...this is not...this is not right.', LBH thought as he watched SQQ's face froze in horror but...it's was a horror of different kind. 'He...should not be looking like that. Why is he looking like that!? Why is he...' and LBH couldn't clearly think for a moment. He was expecting SQQ to cry pathetically at a loss of a powerful backing. He wasn't expecting SQQ to have so many myriad of emotions...confusion, realization, shock, terror...guilt, sorrow...despair, HEARTBREAK, and then...madness. Submission. Submission of a man who has nothing to lose anymore. SQQ looked like... He was ready to die. No. No no no. This is not how it was supposed to be. NO!! SQQ SHOULD BE BEGGING FOR LBH TO SPARE HIM NOW! Crying and screaming instead of laughing hysterically like he was giving this mutilated piece of shit a funny stage show. “Luo Binghe, you’re a bastard, did you know that?”

He is still laughing. Still laughing but you can tell, Oh! You can tell that SQQ is in pain! LBH has ripped his left arm apart now and that pain is nothing compared to the agony that YQY's death has caused him. He is laughing, but his eyes already look dead, they look like they are already mourning! Already far away, only the body remains, trembling and seizing in pain to reach the departed soul.

“Luo Binghe, hahahaha…oh Luo Binghe, you…"

There is no satisfaction here. Because. Because... LBH looks on as he realises... This evil, abusive, traitorous, perverted scum of a man...was capable... Of love?? His shizun loved. He loved someone. SQQ...was capable of affection. Loving...truly loving someone so much. Loving someone so much so as to push him away. So... that's why YQY never tried to break SQQ out of prison. Loving someone enough to surrender himself to HHP so that YQY won't lose his status and honour by starting a sect war. Oh yes, YQY, was so ready to start a sect war for this scum...this... This scum who loved him. Something heavy, something unexplainably cruel and cold grips LBH's heart so tightly, he feels like if someone so much as pokes at him now, he will break apart. All SQQ ever did was torment everyone around him, spreading his miasma everywhere, and insulted YQY any chance he got...and YQY still loved SQQ all the same. SQQ was supposed to be a lecherous swine incapable of caring for anyone. He was supposed to be evil, and villainous to EVERYONE. A monster to EVERYONE. Because if he is a monster to EVERYONE then of course, he will be a monster to his own disciple, right? LBH found himself getting lost in these turbulent thoughts. He can't do that right now. No, not infront of SQQ.

'He is trying to provoke me into killing him. He will not have an easy way out like that.' thought LBH, as he told SQQ, in a calm, gentle voice, "You want to die? You can’t expect it to really be that easy. Shizun, after all the evil things you’ve done throughout your life, hurting those hostile towards you, hurting those with no malice whatsoever towards you, barely clinging to life and still able to throw a zhangmeng in with the lot—if you don’t die a little slowly, get a chance to suffer all the misery everyone else did, how else could you make it up to them?" After that, SQQ stopped laughing but his expression was unexpected. He looked almost...he looked like he understood. He looked like he was ready. For what? LBH didn't want to know anymore. Xuan Su felt heavier and heavier in his hand. It was no longer just a symbol of YQY's power. It was also a remainder of the genuine and unconditional love his shizun got from someone. He threw the damned sword at SQQ, walked away in a daze.

As he walked away, he couldn't help but think: why...? Why did this happen? If SQQ was always capable of loving then why couldn't he-- He was writhing in pain and heartbreak for YQY, a man who couldn't even protect him, who was so indecisive even at crucial moments, that he couldn't even rescue him from the water prison despite knowing he was capable of it!! Why mourn for the death of someone who failed to protect him when it mattered the most? Who didn't even really try, to be honest. YQY came here to die! Things started falling into places, and LBH hated this picture. Because the picture depicted a story he didn't even know he was a part of. A story of two people who didn't deserve the genuine and unconditional love and loyalty they gave to each other... And he played a side part. He hated himself for thinking this but he couldn't stop himself: if shizun was always capable of loving...why couldn't he love me back? It wasn't fair. IT WASN'T FAIR! IT'S NOT FAIR!! IT HURTS!! IT HURTS!! WHY?! WHY ME?! WHAT DID I DO WRONG?! What was my fault... WHY!!! LBH didn't even realise when he started crying.

#pidw luo binghe #pidw headcanon #luo bingge #svsss #pidw #shen jiu #original shen qingqiu #yue qingyuan #luo bingge whump #personal headcanon #headcanon #gore #child abuse #mentioned #blood #torture #mutilation #trigger warnings #trigger warning

31 notes · View notes

wayfayrr · 10 months

Note

I am LIVING for the househusband shenanigans, it gives me so many ideas (super long ask i'm sorry lol)

but i love the idea of the chain ending up in reader's world, more permanently, and after falling hard for reader to boot, so the period of adjustment for everyone is wild and what the fuck is reader supposed to do with 9 (or more, depending who you ask) lovesick heroes in their house fit for 1-2 people?? not to mention none of them have documentation or decent knowledge of modern culture

i can imagine some of the Links (time, legend, four) jumping at the opportunity to learn more about their darling's world, and their likes and dislikes, in order to better understand them and get closer to them (it's the feeling of wanting to know every possible thing about something they're obsessed with, just completely filling their brain with it)

Some (most) Links are going to be straight up hazards to themselves and their environment with their curiosity and lack of understanding for technology. it doesn't matter what precautions you take something is going to get blown up in the microwave.

wild and sage would probably attempt to cook for you, knowing how stressed you are about the whole thing, only to wildly overestimate how long it takes to cook something with a microwave (all you'd told them was that it heated things up like a cooking pot) and also fail to realize that some things cannot be put in the microwave

an alarm clock or something goes off, and one of them smashes it thinking its a threat (time... old man don't know shit about tech and he's too traumatized)

and good luck getting your clothes back because all of the boys are going to participate in the theft of them at some point. doesn't even matter if it's not something they can wear. they just want it because it's yours and it smells like you and it's like a piece of you-

speaking of clothes, if you start to voice concern for lack of clothing (bc someone keeps taking all of them) they are all jumping at the chance to lend you their own

Legend would leave a spare tunic of his for you, not even giving you the chance to decline when you simply find it folded on your bed. And he'd mend or tailor anything for you that you have complaints with, asking you so (uncharacterisitically) nicely to be with him while he does it, because, he's going through the trouble for you, the least you can do is keep him company, right?

He might even intentionally cause problems with your clothes, if he's desperate enough for attention. But how can you blame him? He knows it's not your fault, but your mind just been all over the place with everything going on and with the time you've been spending with the other he just feels left out.

All he wants is your praise, to hear you tell him thank you, and that he did a good job, and maybe run a hand through his hair, yeah? God, he'd just melt against if you did that. It makes everything beyond worth it, for you to stroke his hair and tell him how you don't know what you'd do without him. His angel, it makes him feel so blissful, so special when you give him your attention like that.

A few of them would eventually get the idea to get a job, prompting the rest to act as well. They can't just let their god(dess) take care of everything, can they? That would be asinine.

It would be difficult, considering they don't have...ID's, or anything of the like, but there are still ways for them to earn money

i could go on, but... yeah lol

Don't worry about it being long, I love getting asks like these!! I love talking about the househusband au, all the different ways it could go with the chain and the different members are really fun to explore! And all of your ideas in this one are just 😭💖 I'd always welcome any asks or dm's about the au, because it's just so much fun to hear everyone else's ideas for how it'd work as well!✨✨

The housing is certainly an issue for the chain though SOJNCAN with that many people not used to the modern world in such a small place?? They're basically begging for something bad to happen, like a fire or something breaking even worse if reader's house is being rented to them. Documentation and ID's as well? For some of the chain, they could likely get away with it, but it's really a goal for them to get ID asap because if they do they can get out of a lot of legal issues Wind and the "kids" (Wild and Cal) are the first of the rest to get ID for the sake of school. And there'd likely be a written language barrier as well! If reader wanted to buy some other place to live they better start saving, who knows maybe they could just trade in a few rupees at a time and have a new place in a matter of days?

As for the ones you've mentioned wanting to learn everything possible, it'd get to a point where they're sitting with bloodshot eyes in front of either readers laptop they've borrowed or something they managed to buy steal for themselves having gone down a cursed Wikipedia rabbit hole, Maybe even watching through some playthroughs of their own games? Or if reader was still studying, like at uni or something, suddenly they know more than even the experts in that field.

ALL of the links at some point get dangerously close to breaking something, it's more a matter of if one of the more experienced cough Sage cough or reader steps in time to stop them. I absolutely adore all the different things you've suggested though, the microwave and the alarm clock??? Time's still got trauma to do with clocks and alarms and it's so perfect✨✨

The chain stealing readers clothes is also just 🥹, it's the easier option than even washing their own clothes with their laundry not because readers worn these in the past, no never. May I raise the idea to them stealing things they can't wear to putting the clothes that don't fit for whatever reason onto pillows?? so they can hold a part of their beloved when they sleep.

Legend with fixing their clothes as well as lending them his own I'm sobbing 😭😭😭, since ofc he's one of the more sensible ones he gets left alone far more often so he's so much more desperate for their attention even though he only gets less because they trust him more alone. So for him to get those small moments of praise, even though they're so small because it's only a matter of seconds till readers torn away again by someone else shouting for their help 😭

I think I've mentioned them getting jobs if they were dumped irl, seeing as there are a few they could do without ID you couldn't pry influencer!wars out of my cold dead hands. The moment of realisation they've been using their darling would be such a moment of guilt before they follow legend's/sage's leads and start working or helping reader around the house, those links at school would be getting the top grades in their classes seeing as that's what reader wants them to focus on.

#yandere linked universe x reader #linked universe x reader #househusband sage #yandere linked universe #moss✦answers

103 notes · View notes

risetherivermoon · 5 months

Text

here have a sparrow related rant :D (dndads ep 48 spoilers!!)

btw, my entire perception (or all together understanding) of sparrow oak has shifted after this episode-

i think unconsciously i saw the twins as completely different people, like wildly different from eachother, after season 1 and in season 2

but honestly- after we find out that sparrow is the one who enacted code purple, the conversation with henry and mercedes? i still see them as different characters, but i feel like they are actually way more similar than i initially thought

they're just both two guilt ridden idiots, and at first i was really confused why it seemed like sparrow would always group himself with lark when talking about who "ended the world" or whatever (i thought it was probably him saying it in solidarity or whatever, which i think is still partially the reason) but now he also basically did what lark did

i think thats whats heartbreaking to me, because henry immediately forgives lark after he releases the doodler, but sparrow is immediately told he will never be forgiven, and where lark has the motive of wanting to defeat the doodler and become stronger, sparrow has the motive of just wanting to protect his family-

im not saying this is out of character of henry, i definitely think this is how he'd react since he has the knowledge of exactly what code purple will do, and we also know that sparrow tried to lie to him to enact it as well, but its just- fuck

personally i think because of how lark and henrys relationship is in late s1 (and afterwards) henry probably was unconsciously more attentive to lark afterwards, trying to repair that broken relationship- and so his perspective of sparrow is different, sparrow usually goes along with lark and backs him up but he never actually argues with henry or whatever,

so when sparrow does something that he does himself, it seems so off and random to henry, personally i think if he had to think about it that lark would be the twin that what would be most likely to be the one to do it, a lot of it is sparrow acting on his own principle and we really don't see that often, (blah blah, its lark and sparrow not sparrow and lark, blah blah)

basically i think that it was so unexpected of sparrow that henry immediately freaks out and is more aware of the betrayal than he was back when the doodler was released,

im relistening to the mummy issues arc in s1, and was listening to scene of henry and darryl arguing about the pyramid, and i think that's really the thing yk? because henry's moral compass is more pointed towards being selfless, where sparrow seems to be on the opposite side of that in this situation

for example, henry wants to go and get arrested by neverwinter because they had let the pyramid fall instead of trying to save lark and sparrow from the omegadads, which makes sense that he doesn't approve of code purple because it would put faerun in danger, even though it would mean his family would be safe,

and then sparrow, who enacts code purple because even though it would destroy faerun, he and his family would be safe,

ive seen people compare code purple to the trolley problem- and honestly, i agree so much, its similar, where if the same amount of people are on both tracks but one has your friends and family/people you love on one side as well,

really sparrow was put into such a huge position of either way he will end up hurting someone, his 6-year-old son is attacked by a flesh hoard that he can get rid off by flicking a single switch, and of course he's going to do it, even if that means his parents never want to speak to him again and that he dooms another plain of existence to destruction

im just in love with how much this podcast spins morality around, it can be so incredibly philosophical for being a dungeons and dragons podcast about a bunch of stupid dads, it really makes you realize how complicated humans are

26 notes · View notes

pkmnprofloblolly · 1 year

Note

Hi! I don’t have a specific question, but I wanted to learn more about trapince, vibrava, and flygon? They’re super cool and I love them but as I’m growing older and learning how much I don’t know, I’m realizing I don’t know a lot about these guys! (How is your flygon also? Did you raise them from a trapinch?)

sure!! flygon is one of my favorite pokemon in the world, i'm always down to talk about it.

i think the biggest misconception about flygon is what it actually is. the majority of dragon-type (or just dragon-like, hi charizard) pokemon with arms, legs, and wings as adults- species like dragonite or salamence- are part of a group of squamates (lizards, snakes, and six-limbed dragons) called the hexapodisauria, meaning six-limbed lizard/reptile. and you'd be forgiven for thinking flygon is part of that group! but in actuality, the trapinch line are actually insects. seriously! they're a kind of antlion, also called a doodlebug (joyous). most of their relatives aren't pokemon (many invertebrate species are not!), so their closest pokemon relatives most would be familiar with are beetles like pinsir and heracross.

you'd be forgiven for thinking otherwise, though- they've secondarily lost their first pair of legs (though to be fair, there are many insect pokemon which have only four limbs plus wings), and while trapinch and vibrava are covered in a chitinous exoskeleton, flygon's exoskeleton is only present on its head, legs, and tail. it also, rather uniquely, has a highly developed endoskeleton compared to its relatives. arthropods do indeed have endoskeletons, though they're much less substantial compared to their exoskeleton.

(in case anybody in unfamiliar- skeleton just refers to the supportive structures of an animal's body, and can come in forms like hydrostatic (supported by fluid pressure, as seen in many squishy invertebrates such as frillish or pyukumuku), exoskeleton (skeletal elements on the outside, like the hard carapace of a beetle), and endoskeleton (skeletal elements on the inside, like your bones). arthropods have skeletons made of chitin, while you and other vertebrates obviously have skeletons made of bone.)

the endoskeletons of arthropods are generally for muscle attachment or connective tissue. flygon's endoskeleton is derived from the exoskeleton, and has convergently formed elements similar in function to a tetrapod's skeleton. though, if you were to dissect one it'd look wildly different, more lattice-like in shape in addition to being made of different materials.

& my flygon's doing fine! she's her usual grumpy self. gummy worm (eelektrik) has realized that ground types don't take electric damage and has taken to zapping hermes for fun and she gets SO mad about it

&& nope, i met her as a vibrava! in the desert between castelia and nimbasa, pretty soon after i moved to unova in my first year of college.

#ooc artist note i draw flygon with two pairs of wings because: i think it looks better #art #pkmn #flygon #trapinch #vibrava #pkmn irl #pkmn rp

177 notes · View notes

csprslvt · 9 months

Text

you and i, and her. pt 6

Chapter five

Summary: Seattle day two. Ellie and Abby have more similarities than reader had originally thought. As they fight off infected together, reader takes notes of the way Ellie's urge for vengeance made her unstoppable. Reader sneaks off at night looking for more clues and comes across a familiar group. Heartbreak ensues.

Warnings: Mentions of murder, mentions of violence, vague descriptions of violence, Ellie is down bad, but she doesn't know it, fluff, platonic affection, platonic love, reader is heartbroken, but Ellie is there, sharing a sleeping bag/bed trope, foul language (its tlou what did you expect)

It was only a matter of time until you'd both come across infected, after all it was an apocalypse. However, that didn't make you dread the confrontation any less.

It wasn't even the killing that grossed you out, it was the smell, the blood, the guts spilling and bone crushing sounds you heard every time you came up from behind and stealthily attacked.

Ellie was impressed by your skills, but she was just as strategic if not more than you, she had this look in her eyes when she killed. One of pure, raw, determination. She struck with zero hesitation, and it reminded you of Abby.

Though the fighting styles were so different. After observing Abby for years and Ellie for months, you noticed how their personalities impacted the way they fought. Abby was powerful, brutal,swift and efficient and though Ellie also got the job done, she snuck up on her victims rather than plainly attacking and drew as little attention to herself as possible. Ellie was a force to be reckoned with and watching her made you realize how power of an emotion vengeance is.

It frightened you. It made you fear for Abby, Ellie would put up a good fight. She didn't seem to ever change her mind, she was bold and stubborn and impulsive.

The longer the trip went on, the less you slept. You would stay up all night studying the map you found but to no avail. Everything on the map, you already knew. After all, you were a member of the WLF.

Until one day, you snuck off into the woods and found a lookout. You climbed up its ladder. It was a struggle in the dark, but you managed and inside you were shocked.

A working radio, walkie’s, a wall of notes and sleeping bags.

Someone was here.

Just as you started to look through everything, snatching the walkies into your pack you heard a voice.

“Your fucking asshole, I cant believe you made me come all the way out here for nothing.”

“Hey I thought I heard something!”

The voices immediately started arguing, it sounded like two men and vaguely familiar but you were still on guard, you were trapped inside the tower, you grabbed your gun and stood flat against the wall by the entrance readying yourself, a man stepped in not played attention until you pressed your gun to his forehead.

“Dont fucking move” you spoke

“What the fuck!” The man said, you were about to respond until you were promptly tackled to the ground. It was dark, hard to see, and your flashlight flew out of your reach.

“ Get off of me asshole!” You screamed

“The fuck is going on up there!” A voice shouted from below. You were on the floor, stomach facing down as someone pulled you by the hair and tilted your face up.

“Fucking get off!” You flaided your body wildly trying to escape. The person on top of you stopped suddenly and was pulled off of you.

You sat up panting.

A flashlight’s beam hit your face, blinding you.

“Oh my god, y/n?”

You looked up at the oh so familiar voice, the smell of pine and forest and sweat hitting your senses.

You froze ,mouth gaping.

“Abby.”

She pulled you up by the arm, hands on your shoulders and stared at you.

“Its you” She spoke, holding your face.

“Its me”

Another man entered the room, promptly ruining the moment.

“y/n?”

You turned

“Owen.”

“Owen fuck off for a second!” Abby said, clearly annoyed that he had fucked up the moment.

“What the fuck! No!”

“Owen, manny, everybody needs to get out. Now.”

At that, they all exited the tower.

“Where the fuck have you been?” You said with a shaking voice

“Where have you been? You disappeared! I thought you left me”

“You know me better than that Abby”

“Yea, yes I do” Abby spoke, her rough calloused hands stroking your cheeks as if she didn't believe you were actually here.

“Why didnt you come looking for me?” You said, million questions in your mind

“I had somethings to take care of”

“What?”

“I found him”

“Found who?”

“The son of a bitch that killed my father. I found him, I killed him”

You paused, in the joy of finding Abby again, you had forgotten the purpose of Ellie’s goal.

You stared at Abby

Then you smacked her across the face.

“Babe! What the fuck!”

“Don't you ‘babe’ me” You were so pissed off, Abby didn't try and find you after you'd gotten kidnapped because she was too busy seeking revenge? Maybe you were being a little dramatic, slapping her and all but she forgot about you completely and moved on while you were hung up looking for her, betraying Ellie for her.

“You completely forgot about me!”

“I would never forget about you.”

“Then why didn't you come looking for me? I literally almost fucking died alone!”

“I wanted to look for you, trust me I did but Owen-”

You rolled your eyes

“Oh since when do you listen to Owen”

Abby gulped, with a knowing look in her eyes

You stepped back

“No fucking way”

“Baby, listen, I just-”

Angry tears welled up in your eyes

“Your with him again. Arent you.”

“Its just because-”

“Answer my fucking question Anderson”

Abby's face fell, you had only called her that when you were upset with her, it was always Abby, Abs, babe, but never her last name.

“Yea. I am.”

“I fucking hate you”

“You dont mean that”

“I have spent hours, days, weeks, months not able to think, to sleep, because I've been worried about you! I've been sitting here looking like an idiot stuck on someone who is now fucking around with Owen! Out of all fucking people, Owen? Are you serious? You clearly never gave a shit about me! If you had, you wouldn't be sleeping with your shitty ex-boyfriend!”

Abby looked at the floor, shame weighing on her.

“I love you”

“Unbelievable! You expect me to just fall back into your arms after everything you put me through!”

“No, no I don't.”

You put your head in your hands. You loved Abby so much, but being with her right now was overwhelming, and knowing she was with Owen again broke you.

You shoved her out of your way and went to leave.

“ You can't leave me, I've just found you”

Abby’s voice sounded so soft and so remorseful as if she was genuinely scared of losing you again. Her hand trembled, wanting to pull you into her arms and apologize over and over again, because she really was sorry, she really did love you. Owen could never be enough for her, not when she only wanted you, Owen was the shitty fuck she came too only to get you off her mind, but every breath she took, every beat of her selfish heart, it was only there for you.

You turned to face her. Resolve crumbling, you had only ever seen her so broken once before, when she lost her father.

“Meet me here tomorrow at dawn we can talk…Don't bring Owen.” You replied.

She nodded, willing to do anything to win you back.

“I’ll see you then.”

You didn't look at her after that, you walked out and passed an annoyed Owen. What was once anger morphed into sadness as you made your way back to the makeshift camp Ellie had made.

Ellie was kind, she was generous, she cared about you, every morning you woke up her floor the first thing she would say was,

“How are you feeling?” with the most genuine expression. She was interested in your response and listened to you. Ellie was good for you, she was healthy for you. And you were betraying her. It made you second guess your original plan. Ellie was the one you needed, but Abby would always be the one you wanted.

When you made it back, you shuffled your sleeping bag closer to Ellie's. You wanted the comfort of your best friend even though you didn't deserve it after all you had done.

“Y/n?” Ellie stirred awake, looking at you, taking in your melancholy.

“Did you have a bad dream?” She was concerned, she was so good to you. You felt like you could cry

“Uhm yea”

“Come here”

Ellie opened up her sleeping bag, holding her arms out for you to crawl into.

Any other time, you would have said no, but you were so vulnerable and hurt you moved into her arms with no hesitation, burying your face into her neck.

Still you were tense. Holding in tears, that was until Ellie wrapped her arm around your waist. You let go of the tears and fell into her. Allowing her to comfort you.

“Shhh, shhh its okay” She mumbled

The tears just kept coming, but Ellie knew you didn't want to be questioned at the moment, so she held you, showering you with affection.

It felt nice to feel wanted again. It felt nice to be comforted.

I'm so sorry Ellie, You thought, the guilt of your actions making you worse.

“‘’M sorry” you mumbled, between frantic breathes

“About what?

“Everything”

Ellie looked at you with a confused face.

“Never be sorry for telling me how you feel.” She assumed you felt embarrassed by your display, she didn't want you to feel that way

The truth would kill her.

Nothing felt more right than holding you in that moment, she had yearned for it, and savored the way it felt. She was happy to be the one comforting you.

“I'm here for you, okay?”

The tears eventually slowed to a stop,

“Okay.”

“Get some rest, you can stay with me tonight”

You nodded, feeling exhausted and fell into a deep slumber. That night, when you dreamt it no longer smelt as strongly of pine.

Ellie awoke first with a pleasurable pressure on her chest, the feeling of your head laying on her. You were curled into her side, fast asleep with a face puffy from crying.

Youd seen her cry plenty of times, but she never saw you reciprocate that vulnerability until now.

She was overjoyed that you trusted her enough.

She watched you rest until you woke. You looked like a total mess, she smiled, she could get used to waking up next to her best friend.

It was then when she noticed your natural beauty, fresh in the morning, bathing in sunlight. How could she not see it before? Here you are, gorgeous as ever, was she blind to it the entire time? Or was it just now that she was learning to appreciate you?

“What are you staring at?” You grumbled, still curled up next to her

“You.” Ellie spoke breathlessly, in a trance like state, simply watching your every subtle movement.

You stared up at her wide eyed, feeling awkward and deciding to break up the tension.

“That was so not platonic” you thought.

“You creep” You laughed, trying to change the subject. Ellie snapped out of it at the sound of your nervous laughter.

“Oh whatever” Ellie rolled her eyes

The two of you finally separated, eating the rations of Chef Boyardee you had found.

“Mmm room temperature 20 year old raviolis. Yummy” Ellie exclaimed with clear sarcasm in her voice

“Better than what you had us eat yesterday, fucking canned artichokes? Disgusting”

“Yea, it was pretty gross”

“I know, tasted putrid”

“Putrid? Where do you come up with words like that?”

“Its a real word, maybe you would have better vocabulary if you paid attention in school”

“Bitch fuck you, you ran away when you were 14”

“Bitch so did you”

“Well…okay yea” Ellie said sheepishly.

You smiled at her, ravioli sauce on your lips

“Umm you got a little something.” She pointed to the corner of her mouth

You licked your lips, she stared.

“Thanks”

She didn't speak much after that, but when you both had gotten up on Shimmer, your chest against her back. She felt at peace.

For now, things were okay, but deep inside, it was the beginning of the end.

39 notes · View notes

aeon-borealis · 3 months

Note

The simplest answer to why Alenoah became popular is a fanfic called Slippery Slopes by courtney-deserved-better on Ao3 happened. The fic saw Heather being eliminated rather than Noah during 'I See London…' as it explored how Alejandro and Noah's semi-friendship turned rivalry turned romance would look like in this TDWT rewrite.

Alenoah did exist as a rare pair before with a few authors who were loyal from the beginning, but that fic put it on the map. It led to an explosion of TDWT rewrites with Alenoah, which eventually to authors realizing they could put these two in even further Situations. It also led to a bunch of fanart for the fic being made on tumblr. Which exposed more people to the ship and its potential as a different flavor of Aleheather. Which led to even more art and it became a huge snowball until you now see.

I'm under the impression that it pulled most of its fans from Noco since Alenoah arguably has more basis in canon that you can work from. Not to diss on Noco of course, I just don't see where else the fans could have come from since I don't think they just popped out of nowhere, and Noco had the most fans with the potential of conversation purely based on the number of fans.

That's just my theory though! I've only been in the TD fandom for a couple of months thanks to Island of the Slaughtered so I'm basing all of this on my observations via tumblr and Ao3 rather than being in the fandom during rise of Alenoah.

Thanks for answering my question on where this might have started! I'm definitely curious about that fic. Noah has only so much screen time and following him to a final 2 scenario, regardless of ship fodder, sounds fantastic.

I think your theory is plausible. I was active in the Total Drama fandom between 2010-2014, but only came back recently. At that time, Noco was definitely one of the popular ships next to Duncey. The height of it was definitely 2007-09 because of the "ship tease" accidentally cuddling together scene in Island. Noah's always been a fan favorite. And the fandom fell in love with Alejandro the minute he appeared on screen.

This is a very generalized opinion, but early fandom for anything was really, really attached to whether or not a ship was canon. LGBT pairs of any kind were sparse in cartoons or Western animation at large. Noco makes sense from the perspective that these two had the closest, plausible chance at canon. Even if it was a snowball's chance in hell.

More recently, fans are a lot more open and receptive to crackships and rarepairs than the early 2010s. While this is a wildly different example, Alenoah kinda reminds me of how fan content helped Hanamusa (Pokemon) take off and become as popular as it is now. I want to do more research on this. I might end up writing an essay if I'm not careful, lol.

15 notes · View notes

m00nc4kes · 7 months

Text

MAYBELLE JUNE WATSON!!!!

she’s literally my fav ever… i tried to do something different with the shading so i hope it looks alright ^^ (she's so pretty aahhdefjkfj) And maybe one day I'll draw her with Hobie...

~Backstory + Connection to Hobie under the cut~ (TW: death, blood)

The Basics:

super sweet but has a mean uppercut (and I mean like... one hit and lights out) yet can't throw a regular punch

she was born with vitiligo and started out with small patches that grew (and continue to grow) as she got older

her demeanor changed drastically from her teen years up until the present

I say shes 19/early twenties (which I hc Hobie is pretty much the same in this universe)

She has an older brother

She used to cover her vitiligo with her hair during her early teens

Meeting Hobie + Early Life

they first met each other when they were around 14/15

Mj was on her way home from school and heard someone playing the guitar and that's when she locked eyes with Hobie

she ended up sharing her uneaten lunch

After that, Mj would stop by the alley (or some place nearby) to meet up with Hobie and eat

it wasn't the quickest friendship. there were times where Mj would go weeks without stumbling across Hobie, but it never strained their dynamic

she was very soft-spoken and shy

and he, well, wasn't.

So it worked out pretty well, until everything flipped on its head

Mj was walking outside of a store when the doors flew open and someone dashed by her. it took half a second to realize it was Hobie and the shop owner had chased him out, screaming obscenities.

there was a police officer nearby, so he decided to chase after the teen. Before she knew it, a hand was grabbing her wrist and dragging her along. Hobie had noticed her.

"Trust, you don't wanna let that wanker get a hold of ya!" he shouted.

They got away in the end, but it bit their asses in the end.

Two weeks later.

Mj was walking near the store, hoping they wouldn't come out to hunt her down. She didn't want to be a troublemaker, truly. Nothing happened when she passed the store, nor the store after that. Yet-

She was pushed into an alley, making her fall to her knees and scrape up her hands and legs. When she looked up, the officer from before was there.

"Did you really think you got away from me, little girl? You’re under arrest."

She was stunned into a silence as she attempted to back away. "I'm sorry! Please leave me alone!"

He stalked closer to her and she immediately rose to her feet. Wrong move.

He grabbed onto her arms and slammed her against the wall. Her heart was beating wildly as she tried to fight back. She couldn't think straight- she couldn't. Her brother always told her what to do with officers but in this moment, he was no longer an officer.

No.

He was a strange man trying to pin her against a dirty wall. And she could remember what she was taught to do with strange men.

With a strangled cry, she wrangled an arm free and dug into her jacket pocket, pulling out a knife. (Yes, she would get in trouble with her school if they knew she carried a weapon on her, but her brother had insisted on having her carry it)

Before she could register what she was doing, she brought her arm up, shut her eyes, and jabbed it into the officer.

There was silence.

Then a choked noise.

She opened her eyes and her knife was lodged in the officer's neck. Her blood ran cold at the sight of his own blood running down his neck. She let out a cry, not noticing how his hand reached for the gun on his belt.

He wouldn't get the chance to do it as a guitar came swinging down from behind him, crushing the back of his skull.

The officer collapsed to the ground, revealing a wide eyed Hobie as he gripped onto his blood covered guitar.

The two of them stared at each other before Mj burst into tears.

Needless to say, Maybelle and her brother moved from the city and she wouldn't see Hobie again until a fateful day, 4 years later.

#maybelle june #hobie brown #hobie brown x oc #atsv hobie #atsv oc #spiderverse oc #m00n art #atsv #across the spiderverse #mary jane watson

31 notes · View notes

hatosaur · 6 months

Note

Assuming that I’m “wildly misinformed” or “under-educated” on something is not exactly “the kind thing to do here.” You are insinuating that I have no knowledge in the current issue.

With that being said, I want to start off by saying that this question was not at all framed in a “gotcha moment” manner. It was framed out of a mere observation of what you had been posting concerning this conflict. And also on how you hate Neil Druckmann but still support his creation. According to you, he is a Zionist. He did say that the last of us part II was made from his perspective on his anger towards the situation in Israel back in 2000. He has spoken about this in different interviews, podcasts and such. I’m aware that Dina does not have an opinion on this because she is not real. All that I am saying is that you are pegging the creator, but praising his creation. Don’t you think that his creation would embody his perspective on the issue?

It’s just a thought.

As a closing remark, no. I am not a Zionist or a fence-sitter. I have my personal opinions on the actual conflict that I have formulated over the years that I have been studying, and still learning about, the Palestinian and Israeli conflict.

I hope you have a great day.

first of all, yes, assuming you're misinformed/under-educated is the kind thing to do because the unkind thing to do would be to be to assume you're a fucking idiot, which is what i thought at first. the kindness was in explaining it to you, and not give in the impulse to cuss you out.

secondly, none of what you're addressing in your second paragraph here is what you asked me. you asked me why, if i support palestine, do i draw dina, a jewish character. 0 mention of neil, 0 mention of any other context that you seem to want me to get from the inquiry. your initial question came with the implication that me liking/drawing/reblogging dina contradicts my support of palestine. i know what you meant when you asked that; if "clarifying what you meant" by saying something completely different is your way of saving face because of how bad and embarrassing that shit was, it's pretty damn pathetic.

clearly, you ARE misinformed if you thought that question was in any way appropriate or defensible.

i don't know if you know this but i already bought the fucking game. that money's been outta my pocket for 3 years now. how does me simply enjoying a video game franchise in a tiny corner of the internet directly benefit the zionist movement, or even neil at all. like you realize i already have beef with the game for its treatment of black characters right? you realize there are parts of it that i find offensive from my own cultural background? i'm sure since you're so smart, i don't have to explain to you the concept of enjoying something while being critical of it.

#come off anon nga #you knew what you were doing #asks

19 notes · View notes

moonlight-prose · 2 years

Text

BEAUTIFUL NIGHTMARE | KING OF NIGHTMARES

a/n: i knew i'd end up here somehow. but how could i not when he's just so pretty and broody all the time. listen i do not know much about this character (i haven't fallen in too deep to research yet) but i do know i loved the show! this will only be a few parts so hopefully y'all enjoy it!

reblogs, comments, and feedback is always welcome!!

i do not keep taglists but i do have a library blog!

summary: lovers that were torn apart continually by the ravages of time forces the king of nightmares to consider his own fate. that is...until the dreaming brings you to him one last time.

word count: 4.3k

pairing: dream of the endless x fem!reader

warnings: not explicit, angst, a brooding dream, mentions of death, alcohol consumption.

“We are all made of dreams, and our life stretches from sleep before birth to sleep after death.”

-The Tempest; Shakespeare

Sunlight always felt comforting in dreams. The brightness didn’t burn your eyes nor did it feel too warm that you needed the cool aspect of shade to ease you. You’d rather contend that it felt…perfect. A comfort that you could happily rest in until the time came for your eyes to open back up into reality.

You longed for these moments when you could; sleep, having become more difficult as the years went on. Really you weren’t sure when you stopped getting enough sleep to ease your aching bones and weary soul, but one day your body decided on its own that sleep would evade you. That your dreams would be sparse and found few and far between. Yet no matter how much you tried, no matter how many medications or assistants you took…nothing helped.

Nothing would force your stubborn body to relent and allow you a few hours of reprieve.

Sighing, you sunk further into the sand; the echo of the ocean waves crashing against the shore nearly lulled you to sleep. You wondered if it was possible to have a dream within a dream. Although that brought up the varying questions of…was this actually a dream? Or were you finally at peace with life given the circumstances you’d had to face numerous times over.

The water reached up to cover your toes—the chill causing a shiver to go through your body. You wished more than anything that this—whatever it was—remained exactly the same. You wished you would get a chance to come back here, even if only to stare at the crystalline blue water that seemed to go on forever. Stretching your arms up over your head, you allowed your eyes to flutter closed as the warmth encased you entirely.

You hadn’t realized that you started to hum. A song you didn’t recognize filled your mind like it was playing around you, steady and slow but very much alive. It would make for a nice waltz with someone. That thought alone had your lips curving into a smile. It caused something to flicker to life in the back of your head and you tried to grasp onto it, but you were brutally shoved away as if you crossed a boundary put there for a reason. Back to where you were, enjoying the lilting tune and smiling to yourself at the feeling of joy spreading through your body.

The sensation had you so enraptured you didn’t hear the footsteps heading your way. Nor did you see the black coat that shifted around whoever came to a stop beside you—a stark contrast to the light beige of the sand. He kept his distance regardless. Standing a few feet away and staring at you, his lips parted and eyes wide as you hummed a tune that hadn’t been played for over a century. He could remember it down to the exact day—the very moment that he heard it last, and his heart twisted violently in his chest.

“How do you know that song?”

Startled, you sat up quick enough to cause your vision to blur slightly, and whipped around to face him. Whatever sight you expected wasn’t what greeted you. In fact, it was wildly different from what you pictured in your mind, but something was familiar about him. You couldn’t place him; the same block in your mind shoving you back to the present. Only you knew that you knew him. You’d seen his face before, heard his voice. The answer remained on the tip of your tongue, but no matter how much you dug through your mind…you couldn’t place him.

“What?” you asked, sounding far more breathless than you would have liked.

“That song,” he murmured. Taking a single step closer, he watched you get up to your feet. The light sundress you were wearing fell around your figure—the sunlight practically rendering it see through.

He fought against the smirk that wished to form.

“What song?”

Something dark flashed across his face, stilling your rapidly beating heart. “I won’t ask again,” he said low enough to barely be heard over the ocean waves, but loud enough that it echoed in your ears.

“I-I don’t know.” It was frustrating having a brain that worked against you constantly, when all you wished to know was his name. “It just came to me. I’m not even sure it’s a song.”

“It is.”

Silence enveloped the space between you and you shifted your gaze back to the sea, admiring how the sun nearly made it sparkle. However, his eyes remained solely on you. Watching as you attempted to ease the growing uncomfortable pause that he was more or less okay with. You could feel the weight of his stare, the burn of it searing into the side of your face, but you found that…you didn’t mind it. In fact just as the warmth of the sun and the sand felt like a comfort against your skin, his gaze felt similar. It felt safe.

“Who are you?” you bravely asked, willing away the tremor in your voice.

He didn’t fight the slight quirk of his lips this time. “I believe I should be asking you that.”

“Okay…” You turned back to catch his stare, meeting its intensity with passion of your own. “Then how about a different question.”

“Do you have one to ask?”

You gave him a slight nod, before your chin raised again and your eyes narrowed. “What are you doing in my dream?”

He stiffened, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides as all the amusement fell away from his face. The flash of what you’d seen before returned. It sent a chill of fear down your spine and you stumbled back a step when you saw the sun begin to dip below the horizon. The warmth fading slowly until all at once…you were cold again. The outside world—reality—was cold and you wrapped your arms around yourself to combat it somehow.

“How do you know this is a dream?” he asked, his voice dropping even lower—nearly slicing through you.

“I’ve been here before.” His eyes were once the same hue as the ocean, but now they resembled the darkening sky before a storm. “I laid on this beach and felt the warmth. I know that it’s a dream.” His eyebrow raised slightly, demanding a clearer answer than what you’d already given him. “I know because it feels familiar. Even you…feel familiar.”

You wanted to say you saw a slight flash of recognition in his eyes, but you figured it was merely your mind playing tricks on you. Did many people not know they were dreaming? Or were you a lucid dreamer? Although that might not be the case given how little you dreamed; how little you were able to sleep overall. It seemed the second you grew up your mind came to the cruel conclusion that you didn’t need to hold onto silly fantasies to survive.

That you would do it all on your own.

Dreams were figments of the imagination. That was simply a scientific fact.

So how were you standing there talking to a man who didn’t belong in your dream?

The darkness began to drift away from the sky, the sunlight breaking through and streaming down onto the cool sand once more. Perhaps you were still dreaming—your brain coming up with fantastical ideas that made absolutely no sense when awake. Either way you chose to savor what little peace you could grasp onto.

You turned away from him, focusing on the ocean and humming that all too familiar tune again. And he said…nothing. Merely stood beside you, the breeze pushing his coat and hair this way and that. He looks like a raven, you mused. It brought a small grin to your face as you stood there waiting for your body to wake you up in a panicked jolt as it always did.

“What’s your name?” you asked. He would probably refuse to give you an answer, but you figured you’d try nonetheless.

Glancing at him, you allowed your eyes to trace the high curve of his cheekbone—the sunlight casting a glow on them that seemed to cause his pale skin to shine. You wanted to trace your finger down the slope of his face. Was his skin as soft as you thought it would be? Were his lips? After all he was merely a dream—a person you created.

“Morpheus,” he replied softly, his blue eyes meeting yours; they were back to being the same shade as the ocean, as the sky, and you found you liked them better like this.

When they were so clear you swore you might be able to see every star that shone in the universe.

You tested his name on your tongue, smiling as his eyebrows shifted up and lips curved into a grin. His name didn’t feel odd or unusual to say. But rather as if you’d said it a million times before—the curve of each letter suiting your voice and bringing back that familiar feeling in the back of your mind. Eventually you turned back to the view in front of you, sighing at the realization that you were more content here than you ever could be in real life.

How sad.

“Come back tomorrow night,” he said, breaking the silence between you.

A sorrowful smile crossed your lips. “I wish I could.”

“Every human returns to the Dreaming.”

“Not me.” The sight before you began to grow hazy; your mind finally decided that you’ve had enough time to rest. “I rarely dream.”

If you could return willingly, you would. Every night you’d come back to this solace of peace, this haven of beauty. You had half a mind to ask him to help you fix what would most likely be a minuscule problem to him, but you kept your thoughts to yourself. This issue wouldn’t be fixed so easily with a man you weren’t even sure existed in the first place.

“Why did you call this place the Dreaming?” you asked, turning back to face him—already enamored by the sight of his eyes.

“That’s where you are.”

You laughed. “Okay. I’ll play along.” Gesturing to the area, you found that you’d be quite happy to remain here with him. “If I—If we are in the Dreaming. Then what are you to this place?”

He paused, as if thinking about which title suited him best and you tried not to laugh at the all too grave expression on his face. A part of you wished to see him smile. Not grin, smirk, or look partially amused at your words. No, you wanted to know what his true smile looked like when he felt happy. Was he capable of happiness?

“I am…the King of Nightmares,” he finally said, settling on the most fitting title he was called.

You were taken aback, certainly not expecting him to give such a dark response. Part of you thought he was joking. Simply trying to mess with you while you still remained, but the look in his eyes told you differently. He was serious. How strange that your mind would conjure up the image of a man who looked pristine and perfect and yet aged at the same time. A man who only noticed the darkest parts of a soul he must harbor.

That alone made your heart twist as you stepped closer.

“Why are you called that?” you asked, noticing that he didn’t make a move to step away from you. He simply remained—strong against the world that still remained slightly hazy as you fought to stay with him. If only for a minute or two longer.

“Because it’s what people see.” The honesty in his words, in his eyes. It made you want to prove him wrong.

You didn’t fight yourself on the impulse of earlier. Lifting your hand you traced the curve of his cheekbone with your finger, smiling softly as he fought an internal battle to not move.

“Hm,” you hummed, stopping at the corner of his lips and meeting his eyes once more—the stars now shining brighter than before. “A beautiful nightmare then.”

The words were whispered, barely audible, but he caught them just as you had before. His eyes widened, lips parting as you pulled away from him. You would be waking up soon, you could feel the tug of the waking world try and force you back, but him quickly gripping your wrist in a tight hold stopped you. He looked surprised, as if he finally placed who you were after all this time. You only wished you could do the same for him.

“Mage.” The word was hardly a breath passing through his lips, but it sparked something in the back of your mind. Tiny enough to fade quickly and yet you somehow managed to grasp onto it—pull it closer and unravel what lay within the confines of this particular memory.

You saw him, standing before you in attire that certainly didn’t fit the century you resided in. There was a glimmer in his eyes. The blue overflowed with an emotion you couldn’t name, but knew oh so well. For you felt it too. Harbored it like a closely kept secret that only he understood. Just as before, the name remained on the tip of your tongue, but he was no longer a mystery. No, you knew this man better than you knew yourself; tied to him through an unbreakable strand of thread that weaved its way throughout your very being.

He was your beautiful nightmare. The king that was taken by the cursed soul, the damned woman who would never truly stand by his side. Yet he loved her anyway. He loved her in every lifetime she lived—every century she walked in—despite the tragedy that paved her path.

“Who—” you mumbled, eyes refocusing as the memory vanished into thin air. “Who are you?”

His hand attempted to tighten the grip he had on your wrist, but you felt the tug in your chest—the pain that came with waking up. Like many times before, you were ripped from his grasp. A violent truth he never learned to accept. Your figure faded into the sunlight that bathed you in its iridescent glow, until he was left standing on the beach alone. Inhaling sharply, he could practically taste the scent of magnolias on your skin—a feature that followed you in every lifetime you lived.

The waves were drowned out in the background, his hands clenched into fists and with every second he stood there without you, he felt your loss just as he had before. How ironic that you returned to him on land covered in sand. How tragic that he was unable to keep you again—history repeating itself over and over again. Dream nearly smiled at the humor of it all, but the split second of hilarity washed away like the tide. Leaving the damming realization to once again settle into his mind.

You would be somewhere on Earth, just waking up and believing all of this to be a dream. When in fact this was more real than whatever occupied your time now. He wanted to curse at the blue skies for only letting him find you now—curse time for taking you away so soon with each century he had you.

He wouldn’t go searching for you just yet. No, he would allow you to come back to him, because now that you were finally awake…the memories would return. Your past would ram into you like a train going at full speed and the one thing you never believed to exist would become the one thing you begged to have back. After all…he would know. He had stood in your shoes at one time in his long almost never-ending existence.

He had begged, pleaded, dreamed of the one thing that he could no longer have.

You.

The alarm on your phone sounded extra irritating this morning as you woke up with a jolt, your head pounding. You tried to recount what exactly happened last night, but came up with zilch. All you did was go out with Samantha for drinks. A thing you’d done for years since college, but last night had turned into a haze of laughter and cigarette smoke. Apparently you’d followed her from bar to bar, intent on forgetting the pain of losing your job.

Well technically you didn’t lose your job. You were welcome to go back anytime, but the thought of working with your once friend’s ex husband had bile building up in the back of your throat. Either that or it was simply the amount of alcohol you consumed. Certainly enough to nearly poison your body.

Digging your face into the pillow, you still saw flashes of your dream return to you. The man in the black cloak with astonishment and disbelief in his eyes and you…wishing you could find out what his name was. He felt too real to be merely a figment of your imagination, but sadly romance seemed to only happen to you in dreams. Although for once you felt okay about dreaming.

For so long you’d dealt with sleep deprivation since you were a teenager and every once in a while your body finally allowed you to fall deep enough into a sleep where you dreamed. You weren’t sure why it happened—having asked several doctors who held no answers—but you simply dealt with it and moved on. The amount you drank last night must have had something to contribute to you passing out for hours on end.

Sighing, you managed to drag yourself out of bed, the hangover slowly creating a steady thrumming in your head loud enough to nearly send you to the bathroom. You had lunch with a friend later, but for now you would focus on the sudden hunger that erupted in your stomach. Last night’s midnight snacks of potato chips and water didn’t suffice as quality food. Which left you with no other option than to head to the coffee shop three blocks away; just the mere idea of the coffee’s flavor left you salivating.

Your phone rang, Samantha’s name flashing across the screen as you yanked on your light beige trench coat. Your keys being snatched up before you swung the door shut and winced at the echo it made down the hallway.

“Don’t talk too loud I’m nursing a hangover that rivals our last day of college,” you muttered, squinting when you stepped outside—the sun burning your eyes.

“You too huh,” she said softly, a groan following it. “I remember the first bar. The rest after that is kind of…”

“Hazy?”

“Yeah,” she replied.

Sidestepping someone on the sidewalk, you felt the pain lighten up the longer you walked out in the fresh air. Well as fresh as it could get with all the pollution from the cars stuck in traffic on the street.

“How did I get home?” You couldn’t even remember falling into bed, let alone changing into clothes suitable enough to sleep in.

She sighed, the sound scraping against your eardrums. “I think I called Michael.”

You stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, ignoring the rude words of the people around you. You had expected an entirely different answer than the one she gave you. Anything else would have been acceptable, but Michael was the one thing you wished to forget the most. He was the reason you fled to this city—only to find out he followed along in the hopes of falling back into your life. Michael…had been the love of your life and now he was the man you hated most in the world.

“Please tell me you’re kidding,” you croaked, suddenly fatigued with more than just a headache and a turning stomach. “Tell me you didn’t call my ex to come and get us.”

“I…didn’t—”

You cut her off with a groan. “Let me guess he was overly kind about helping us out.”

“I don’t remember, but he might have been.” A pause of silence nearly made you turn around and vomit right there on the sidewalk, because dread filled the gaps. The kind that determined what her next words would be. “I don’t see what’s so bad about him to begin with.”

Rather than continue to stand there like an idiot, you forced your body to move. One more block and you’d be there. The scent of coffee could be smelled down the street and it made your stomach twist painfully—the hunger now prominent. There was thankfully no line to wait in, but still you stood at the back of the shop, waiting for the cashier to be free to take your order. Samantha’s voice filled your ears as she attempted to back up her words with enough proof to convince you she was right.

You loved her as family, but she became a walking nightmare when she settled her mind on something she believed was right.

“He isn’t the way you described him to me,” she said, her voice timid.

“Yeah well Michael is the kind of man to draw you in with a smile and tear you to pieces with his teeth.”

“Maybe he’s changed.”

You rolled your eyes, stepping forward once the customer moved. “Dreams would come true before Michael ever changed his ways.” Your words were practically dripping with mirth; the scowl on your face, so deep it startled the barista.

“Come on Mage, you need to realize that people can change.”

Samantha only called you Mage when she knew she wasn’t getting her way in the argument. It was a nickname bestowed upon you by your mother after you ate a Magnolia flower picked from her garden. You were only a toddler, barely able to walk let alone stand for very long, but for some reason the name stuck and you were too attached to it to let it go so easily.

“Mage.”

The voice that breezed past your ear caused your head to shoot up, eyes darting around the coffee shop as a memory filled your head. His voice. His eyes. The way he knew your nickname before he learned your actual name. They all came rushing back to the surface, Samantha’s voice now drowned out to become nothing but a mere background noise. You wanted to know how you knew him; how you could pick out intimate details of him after only having met him in a dream. For all you knew he didn’t even exist in the real world.

“Are you listening?” Samantha’s voice cut sharply in your ear, dragging you violently back to the surface—your head breaking through as you practically heaved in air.

“Yeah,” you mumbled, seeing that the order you suddenly couldn’t remember placing was set on the counter. “Listen…I’ve got to go.”

“Wait—”

You hung up the phone, shoving it into your back pocket and grabbing for the coffee. The hair on the back of your neck stood up the second you exited the shop, and you turned around, hoping to find who had their eye on you. Only to find an empty sidewalk. It seemed that the people who were milling about out here had suddenly decided to vanish—going their separate ways and heading back to their lives.

Which is something you should have been doing.

Shaking your head, you decided that you really had gone insane. Dreams didn’t exist. You muttered that to yourself with every step you took back to your apartment, hoping to sleep off the remainder of your hangover. Yet you could still feel the prickling sensation of someone watching every move you made. As if you were being followed. You continued to keep your guard up while you walked—afraid that if you allowed yourself a split second of peace, you would wind up in a situation you didn’t need nor want.

“I’m going insane,” you breathed, feeling relief flood your veins at the sight of your apartment building in the distance.

A raven flew across the street, landing on a stoplight not too far away, its eyes turned towards you. It made eye contact with you, its wings flapping slightly in order to get comfortable and you tried not to allow the wariness to creep back up your spine. After all, it was only a fucking bird. It probably didn’t even know what you were in its mind.

You turned away from it, opening the door with your key and slipping inside before your mind truly decided to give you something to fear.

The bird took off in flight, going as high as your apartment and landing outside on the fire escape. His dark black beady eyes caught sight of you entering your apartment and tossing your bag on the couch; you collapsed down beside it soon after. Matthew could feel Morpheus’s weight in the back of his mind—a reminder of why he was here in the first place. Yet he couldn’t figure out why you were so important. Out of all people Dream of the Endless could focus on, he chose the one who didn’t even believe that dreams were real.

It wasn’t his place to question things—especially when Morpheus could most likely hear the thoughts that went through his mind—but he couldn’t stop the comments from peeking out.

Morpheus pressed against the back of his mind, now seeing what Matthew saw. Clearly intrigued by the sight of you nearly falling asleep on your couch. He didn’t know it now, but Morpheus was about to finally have you back in his grasp sooner than he expected. The woman he lost so long ago, now back once more.

This time—he hoped—for good.

#morpheus x reader #morpheus x you #morpheus x y/n #morpheus #dream x reader #dream x you #dream x fem!reader #dream x y/n #dream of the endless #the sandman #my writing #the sandman fic

196 notes · View notes