#It's a little bare bones since I started it like. last year lol | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

haeryna · 3 months

Text

the purest shade of white ↪ okkotsu yuuta x reader ⸙͎｡˚⋆ 𓋼

summary: yuuta looks almost like an angel, you think to yourself grimly, as you shift on the balls of your feet. you haven't seen your best friend in a couple years now, not since he left for africa. too bad he's attempting to kill the kouhai that you're trying to protect.

tw: manga spoilers! anime watchers, do not read. mild angst but happy ending. starts at the beginning of ch. 139. naoya zenin is here and he is his classic asshole self. reader is in the same grade as yuuta, both in age and in terms of cursed energy. swearing because reader is a bad bitch. mildly suggestive. unironic use of "senpai" and "kouhai." slight descriptions of blood and injury, everyone is subjected to the author's attempts at writing dialogue and fight scenes. not proofread but at this point that shouldn't be a surprise. it is blatantly obvious that the writer also does not know how to end stories

notes: thank you for 100 new friends! :) poll is technically still up but i'm impatient and yuuta was winning by a pretty decent margin so here it is lol. divider by @/saradika-graphics!

"Yuuji!" you yelp, slicing the head off a curse with a clean stroke of your katana. Purple ichor splatters to the ground as you whirl, searching for the familiar head of pink hair. "Stay close to me!"

Behind you, Choso grunts with exertion, sending out another bolt of Piercing Blood. Panting, you weave through the curses, letting their corpses fall behind you. Yuuji, where is Yuuji?

As the last body falls, you can't but let out an exasperated huff at the sheepish grin on Yuuji's face. "Don't scare me like that," you chide. "How am I supposed to protect you if I can't even find you?" Yuuji opens his mouth to protest but you shake your head. "I made a promise," you tell him, pain rippling through your heart dully. Gojo-sensei was long gone, stolen away by one of the people he had loved most in the world. Grimacing, you sheathe your katana, mindful of the blood that stains your palms, as you try to ignore the memory of his words all those months ago.

If anything happens, I need you to protect Itadori Yuuji. I know they're going to pull something on him once I'm not there to back him up.

"Senpai, what should-"

Yuuji immediately tenses as your hand flies to the grip of your katana. "I smell a rat," you mutter, nose wrinkling as you turn to face Naoya Zenin, standing atop a bridge. He bares his teeth at you in semblance of a smile. "How perceptive as always," he mocks.

"Cut the bullshit," you snap, hand still resting on the pommel. "What do you want?"

"Fushiguro Megumi," is his rather bland response, and you shift your feet into the opening steps of Flowing River.

"What do you want with Fushiguro?" Yuuji yells, and the way Naoya's face twists makes you want to vomit.

"I think I'll have him die."

Cursed energy fills your body as you leap. Naoya's resounding cackle burns through your ears as you swing, barely grazing his shoulder. Before you can push forward off your feet, a heavy presence rests on your shoulders, locking you in place. All four of you freeze. Yuuji and Choso look horrified, and Naoya looks as though he's broken out into a cold sweat. But you know this feeling, feel it settle back into your body as if it never left.

Okkotsu Yuuta steps out from the building ledge, dark eyes unreadable. Your body sings. Yuuta, Yuuta, Yuuta! His hair has grown longer, bangs sweeping over his forehead, eyebags a little darker than they used to be. You can feel Rika's presence, swirling around you in a mass of death and decay. You're used to it. You've grown to crave it, even. His eyes meet yours, and for a split second, his facade cracks. Confusion, fear, and...regret?

Yuuta leaps, slamming into concrete and sending shockwaves deep into your bones. "Who's with Itadori?" God, even his voice is different, so different from the boy who said goodbye to you so long ago. You open your mouth to speak, but Choso beats you to it, brows furrowed.

"So you're Yuuji's executioner."

Blood turns to ice in your veins, and you can tell by the pained expression Yuuta has that you aren't hiding your emotions as well as you think you are. Naoya laughs. "I was going to tell you that, but you were being too emotional like the bitch you are."

"Who're you?"

Yuuta's voice is cold, but as Naoya babbles on, you can feel the horror settle thickly into your chest. Choso and Yuuji are talking behind you but it feels like you're underwater, you're sinking, drowning, and Yuuta must have come to a conclusion because all of a sudden he's surging forward-

You move before you can even think, steel clashing against steel. "Yuuji," you say, through gritted teeth. "Run."

A horrible grating noise fills the air as you let cursed energy flow through your body, shoving Yuuta's sword away from yourself. "I won't let you kill him," you hiss, body already shifting into Jagged Bolt. Yuuta's eyes flash as you surge forward, katana in hand.

"How would you describe my cursed technique?" you had asked Gojo, mindlessly swinging your feet. Gojo hums.

"Have you ever heard of Newton's Law's of Motion?"

You had crinkled your nose at that. "No?"

"An object in motion, stays in motion. Except you are the object. And your cursed energy is the motion." You remember how Gojo's lips curved slightly. "In other words, once you start, nobody can stop you."

You're crying, you realize with a start, as you cut a line into Yuuta's chest. Moisture seeps from your eyes as you twist your forearm into a parry, katanas sparking with each strike. Belatedly, you sense that Yuuji, your foolish, stupid, loyal kouhai has stayed, trading strikes with his fists between the precise movements of your blade. Your heart drops as Yuuta reaches for the ring on his finger.

No. No!

He twists it, and Rika appears behind you. Claws sink into your shoulder and you let out a cry of pain as she flips you into the ground.

"Be nice, Rika," Yuuta chides, as you hit the concrete. Blood spurts from your mouth as you choke, fingers clawing at the ground desperately for your katana. A piece of scaffolding is practically crushing your legs; instinctively, you know that if you try to break through it, you'll tear your limbs right off.

As Rika holds Yuuji up, you lunge desperately, uncaring of what you have to sacrifice. Inumaki's arm, the way half of Nobara's face had been practically ripped out of her skull, the remains of Nanami-san, the way that you were the one to find Maki's charred body-

I can't lose anyone else.

You scream as Yuuta pierces Yuuji's chest with his katana, cursed energy building in your legs as you prepare to shoot forward. Yuuta turns, eyes filled with an unidentifiable emotion as he sees you about to tear yourself in half just to reach Yuuji.

With a wave of his hand, Rika dives for you, and everything goes dark.

Yuuta had known you were special from the day he'd first met you. That spring, when Gojo-sensei had dropped him (and Rika) into a class of unsuspecting first years, he remembers that out of the four of them, you had moved so gracefully that he hadn't processed the katana in your hand until you'd pressed it against your throat.

"Gojo-sensei," you'd hissed. "What is this?"

While Maki, Inumaki, and Panda had been subsequently bruised up by Rika, you had dodged every single one of her movements until Rika had been (barely) called back by Yuuta.

"Another Special Grade," Gojo had hummed. "Just like you, hm?"

Special Grade?

What he hadn't realized then, he realized later; you weren't just special to him, but to the entire rest of the Jujutsu World as well. Special Grade Sorcerers were rare, Maki had told him. "You only have it because of Rika," she'd scoffed, "but she deserves it."

You quickly became one of his closest friends. You were fast enough to dodge Rika's ire, even laughing whenever she tried. You'd shown Yuuta kindness that he didn't think he deserved. You broke him out of his shell enough so that when he left for Africa, he felt as though he was standing with his own strength. His first katana had been the sister blade of your own, forged from the same metal by the same hands. The way your eyes had lit up when you saw it was a memory he cherished.

Somberly, Yuuta eyes the chains encasing your wrists and ankles, each decorated with the slips of protective paper that would nullify your cursed energy. Most sorcerers required only one. You required at least twenty.

He knows you, knows the way you always take the strawberry daifuku, leaving him the red bean ones even though he knows you prefer the red bean. He knows that you push yourself hard, harder than he's ever seen anyone work. But most of all, he knows your loyalty, how once your heart finally lets someone in, you'll never let them go.

Did you miss him like he missed you?

The chains are more for your own protection. He needs you to hear him out before you attempt to end his life for a second time. Yuuta knows now that Gojo must have asked you the same thing he'd asked him; to keep Itadori Yuji safe from the whims of the higher ups. Gojo, being the forgetful bastard he was, probably didn't alert you to the fact that he'd gone to Yuuta for help as well. Crouching, Yuuta eyes your body with a sad tilt of his lips. The injuries you'd sustained were immense, and it had taken quite a bit of his own cursed energy to reverse.

Will you forgive him?

You're asleep, breath hitching every so often. Yuuta wonders what you're dreaming of, before pushing the thought away. Tenderly, he cups your face in the palm of his hand, calloused fingers stroking your cheek.

"You need to wake up now," he murmurs, as your eyes flutter open, first in dazed confusion, before sharpening into panic.

"I'll miss you!" you'd cried, as you clung to Yuuta under the shade of the large oak. You were the first person he had told about his departure to Africa, and you took it hard. Yuuta had stood frozen as the first of your tears had dripped down your cheeks. It was the first time he'd seen you cry.

"I'll be back before you know it," he'd murmured, pressing a featherlight kiss to the top of your head. You'd looked up to him, eyes teary.

"Promise?"

"I promise," he'd said, interlocking his pinky with your own. A love like Yuuta's is a dangerous thing, you know, but in this moment you feel nothing but safe.

The first sensation you feel upon awakening is the dull ache in your (miraculously still attached) legs. The second is the warmth on your cheek. Yuuta is standing above you, hand gently resting against your face. Immediately you lunge forward, teeth bared. The rattle of chains stops you, and you swear. Of course he would have taken precautions. Yuuta looks almost hurt as you violently shake off his touch.

"Don't touch me, I swear to god I'm going to rip you apart."

Yuuta says your name sadly, but you're practically trembling with rage.

"He was just a kid, with the kind of power we wield, why the fuck would you listen to the higher ups?"

Yuuta echoes your name a bit more firmly, but you ignore him, tears building in your eyes.

"You're no better than the rest of them are you, you're just-"

"Senpai!"

Your heart stops as Yuuji pokes his head out from around the corner. They must have brought you back to Jujutsu Tech, you think distractedly. Just how long were you out?

"Yuuji!" you cry out, scanning his body for any injuries. He seems to be uninjured, but most importantly, he's alive. Tears fall down your cheeks. "Are you alright?"

Yuuji appears horrified by the sudden outburst as he hastily holds up his hands. "I'm fine, senpai, really, I'm sorry for worrying you. Okkotsu-san is actually on our side, I swear! It was a binding vow, that's why he had to actually kill me, but he did some really cool Reverse Technique shit and I'm all good now!"

Warily, you eye Yuuta, whose expression resembles that of a kicked puppy. "Okkotsu Yuuta," you say, voice hard. "Let me out of these chains right fucking now."

With a wave of his hand, the papers attached to the chains fall to the floor. Yuuta looks dejected as he looks away from you. "I'm so sor-"

Before he can finish you immediate tackle him into a hug, knocking the both of you into the floor as you bury your face into the soft slope of his neck. "You're such an idiot," you sob, unable to hide the rush of emotions going through you. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Tentatively, Yuuta wraps his arms around you, and you melt, pressing yourself closer to his body. "To be honest, I think Gojo-sensei is to blame. I think he forgot to mention to either of us that he asked us to do the exact same thing."

You let out a hiccupping laugh. "Of course he did. That forgetful asshole."

The sigh Yuuta lets out is shaky as he nuzzles the top of your head. "I'm so, so sorry," he tells you earnestly. "I must have scared you, and Rika's mad at me for making me hurt you like that. I think she likes you, even though she pretends not to."

You look up at him, really look at him, and see the look of adoration in his eyes as he stares back down at you. Thankfully Yuuji's escaped long ago, most likely understanding that you two would need privacy. "You came back," you whisper, and Yuuta's resulting smile makes your heart skip a beat.

"I promised you, didn't I?"

Before you can stop yourself, you pull Yuuta down for a searing kiss. He's so soft, and you nip at the plush of his bottom lip teasingly, pulling a whine from his throat. His large hands grip your hips, and in retaliation, you grab a fistful of his hair and tug. The breathy noise he makes goes straight between your thighs. You know he can feel your smile against his lips.

"I missed you," you breathe, pulling away. Yuuta looks dazed, lips kiss swollen, pupils so dilated that you can barely see the soft brown of his eyes.

"I love you," he blurts out, and your resulting laugh is airy as you press another chaste kiss to his lips.

"I've always loved you, Yuuta," you admit. "During Shibuya, I thought I wasn't going to make it. You were the only thing keeping me going."

The look in his eyes is fierce as he tugs you back into him, enveloping you in his arms. "You'll never have to worry about that again. You have my entire life. Where you go, I'll follow, and if I die, not even Death would be able to separate me from your side."

"Those sound a lot like wedding vows, don't you think?"

Yuuta's blush covers his entire face and you grin, pressing one last kiss to his lips. "Come on now. We have kids we need to protect."

As Yuuta leads you to where the others have convened, even under the dark circumstances you're in, the warmth of his hand clutching yours fills you with a giddiness you hadn't experienced in months. The sentiment is quickly dashed as soon as Maki opens her mouth.

"Fucking finally. Inumaki owes me 3,000 yen."

#haerinwrites #jjk x reader #jjk x reader angst #jjk x reader fluff #jjk angst #jjk fluff #yuta x reader #yuuta x reader #yuta okkotsu x reader #yuuta okkotsu x reader #i'm actually maki with the fucking finally #i love friends to lovers !!

2K notes · View notes

sensitiveheartless · 14 days

Note

...Somethin' please!

Hiya, thanks for the ask! :D This is the fic which I started writing a while back and then completely forgot about (the non-descriptive title I gave it did not help lol) — but basically it's a very silly college AU where Albatross comes up with a very stupid plan for Chuuya to get kissed for the first time at a dorm party. (Dazai has known Chuuya since they were both fifteen and is internally Seething over the entire situation)

Here's a rather long snippet to give the proper vibe:

---

Chuuya sighed, and thumped his head back against the wall of the closet.

Worse than the indignity of it all was how boring it was. Time felt like it crawled by even slower when he couldn’t even check the time on his phone.

Like anyone was going to come in, anyway. What kind of weirdo would be desperate enough to kiss someone who was blindfolded? And to kiss Chuuya, no less. He wasn’t exactly known for his sunny disposition. They’d probably be too afraid of him kicking them.

Chuuya shifted restlessly. He could just leave, he knew. Ditch the entire party. It seemed pretty lame so far, and it wasn’t like Chuuya wanted to be kissed…

Much.

…Alright, maybe he was a little curious, just to see what all the fuss was about.

But only a little. It was just that he hadn't ever gotten a chance to fool around during his high school years, not with how quickly everything went to shit—and even after Adam found him and things began to look up, Chuuya had been far too busy trying to put his life back together to bother with dating.

Still, this seemed like a pretty stupid way to lose his first kiss. Why the hell had Albatross thought this was a good idea?

Ugh. Whatever. He would give it another couple of minutes, and then he’d leave. Yeah. No one was gonna come in, anyway.

Of course, at that exact moment, the closet door creaked open.

Chuuya stiffened, glowering even though the other person wouldn't be able to see it. Raucous sounds from the party outside filtered in with the mystery person, at least until the closet door latched shut once again with a gentle click.

…So there were people desperate and weird enough to do this?!

“Hey,” Chuuya said, just to break the silence. He could hear the other person breathing, hushed and a little fast. Were they nervous? “Come to take a shot at it? Honestly, I think this whole thing is stupid as hell, but I’m not gonna stop ya.”

The other person’s breathing did something funny, but they didn’t move. They had to be standing quite close to Chuuya, considering how small the closet was, but the two of them weren’t touching at all.

After a moment of expectant silence, Chuuya frowned. “Oi, are you really just gonna stand there?” he asked, blindly reaching forward. “Who are you, anyw—?”

Before he could get out the last word, Chuuya found himself pulled abruptly into the person’s arms. Contrary to his expectations, however, he was not kissed—instead, he was crushed against the other’s chest, his cheek squished against what he guessed to be their collar bone.

Chuuya blinked behind the darkness of his blindfold.

This person had snuck in here, just to…hug him?

If it could even be called a hug, because it certainly wasn’t like any embrace Chuuya had received before. Nothing like the brisk but warm hugs he got from Adam, or the awkward one-armed hugs from Shirase, or the enthusiastic bone-crushing squeezes from Albatross whenever his friend got overexcited.

If anything, this grip was possessive, and seemed almost desperate with the way the person’s fingers dug into the curve of Chuuya’s spine, keeping the two of them plastered together. They were quite a bit taller than Chuuya, and their embrace was so tight that he could barely keep his toes on the ground.

It was annoying, but also kind of…interesting.

Chuuya tried to focus on the feeling of the fabric pressed against his cheek. Knitted, slightly scratchy material—with cables? A wool sweater?

It was certainly warm. Chuuya felt like he was burning up.

…He had really never been held like this before. Like the other person couldn’t bear to let him go. For the life of him, Chuuya didn’t know what to make of it.

After a few stunned moments, Chuuya squirmed a little. The arms around him loosened at once, allowing him to move his own hands up between them and brace himself against the mystery person’s chest.

Chuuya raised his chin towards where the other person’s face must be, and cocked his head to the side challengingly. “What? Was this all you wanted?” he asked, tapping a finger against the person’s chest. “Maybe you misunderstood the game, hmm? I thought you were supposed to ki—”

#I have no explanation for this one — except that I sometimes have an intense urge to put Chuuya in silly romcom situations #a) because i think he'd be hilarious in them #and b) I think he should get to experience some goofy low stakes shenanigans on occasion — dude goes through a lot #also always love Dazai getting chances to be Weird About ChuuyaTM lol #Dazai is losing his mind in this one akasdjfkdsjf #senhart's writing #ask game #long post

79 notes · View notes

thegnomelord · 1 month

Note

was thinking about drawing Ifrit from "Hell has a basement floor" and had some headcanons on his appearance.

on one hand i was thinking to make him tall and burly, built big to store all the mana and power he has, make him built like a volcano.

on the other.... what if and hear me out.... Ifrit.... skinny. tall and gangly, long limbs, underfed, outlines of bones poking out from underneath the skin, sunken eyes for that extra unsettling factor. besides magic does have a cost. maybe it's just your body that needs to be exchanged.

now i thought of the second hc because tall and skinny isn't exactly associated with the kind of brute force Ifrit has but he's still strong even if his lifestyle is gonna put him in an early grave. now imagine when he's finally part of tf 141 they notice that he's not very well in the food and weight department for his height and the amount of energy he spends so... they start feeding him (especially Price and Soap because protect and care hoard/pack)......

i've also been getting into the trope where characters gain weight as a sign of health and living a better life. so yeah tell me what you think

and maybe share your hcs on Ifrits appearance because i don't want to butcher your creation on accident

Okay 1: you have no idea how happy it makes me when I hear ppl want to draw fan art of my stuff :DD, internally I'm like that dog video where the dogs happily tapping his paws lol bc he can't contain his excitement lol. And also yeah, I'm a huge sucker for the trope and your little idea with Price amd Soap tickles my brain.

And 2: man you did some mind reading bc your hcs are actually very close to what I've made up for the lore of the whole au. While I want to overall leave Ifrit's body type ambiguous to give readers some space to imagine themselves in Ifrit's place, Ifrit is 100% underweight with more of a volleyball/basketball player type build, as mages focus on stamina and endurance rather than raw strength bc that can be augmented with magic. Also has stretch marks because their weight fluctuates a lot lol

Okay lore spoilers so if y'all want to find out through the story skip this-

Okay so— magic is increadibly taxing on the body, not just by eating away flesh and creating mage marks as a Mage's power grows, but just by simply existing inside the body magic stresses the body. Because fundamentally magic is toxic to humans, and even mages who have the needed adaptations to utilise magic are no better than our ancestors when they were first learning to stand on two legs.

The best metaphor I have for magic is chemo drugs. They're used to kill a cancer but they also damage healthy cells. Magic, similarly, damages the body by existing inside it, but also is used by mages to heal the damage as soon as it happens. This uses a lot of calories and also why mages have really irregular weights, losing 10kg in a week isn't an uncommon thing.

Someone possessing even half of Ifrit's capabilities would need to eat 3x that of a regular human of the same height and weight. Mages are literally Shaggy from Scooby Doo lol. And that's only to get the bare minimum their body needs, caloric need becomes much bigger if they're active like Ifrit is. So you'll find that many mages, but especially military ones, are underweight and need to regularly get Iv fluids and nutrients to help their body recover from using magic. They also need to eat a lot of highly caloric food, which isn't easy when one of the most common side effects of magic use is puking your guts up.

Most military mages don't reach 30. The average life expectancy is around 25, with active duty (i.e. constant missions and daily magic use) mages lasting on average 3-4 years before their body basically breaks down, but they can last longer depending on how conservatively they use magic.

Now, knowing all that, Ifrit has been actively using strong magic on par with military mages since they were 14-15 years old and while they're not the healthiest, they're healthy as a horse when compared to most mages. The reason behind their continued survival — their mage marks.

#gnome's tea break #gnome correspondence #hell has a basement floor series #hell has a basement floor lore

62 notes · View notes

allmoshnobrain · 2 months

Text

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫: 𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

part 01 of 06 | masterpost

word count: 5,1k | ao3 link | fic's playlist

✦ on this chapter: NSFW!!!, james hetfield x female!oc, oc is cliff's cousin, +18, language, slice of life, angst, grief, mxf sex, unprotected sex

✦ a/n: The epilogue's finally here! As I said before, I had to split it into a few parts because it turned out really long and I wanted to tie all loose ends lol I haven't finished writing it yet, but I'll try to keep posting twice a week. Many things will have changed in this, since it's set mostly in 1992. We will have some flashbacks, but I dated all the parts so it wouldn't get confusing. Hope you enjoy the read, feedback is welcome! ❤

December 31, 1991

San Francisco in December hit me with that familiar chill as soon as I stepped off the plane; I quickly slipped on my gloves and shrugged into my coat, letting out a sigh as the cold nipped at my nose and fogged up my breath. It felt weird being back after so long, back to the city where I'd lived, loved, and grown up all those years ago.

I’d bid farewell to San Francisco two years back when my art career started picking up steam, making the move to LA seem like the logical next step. Coming back to the city stirred up a pain that ran deep in my bones — a constant reminder of the happiness I once knew but could never quite recapture, a bittersweet flashback to all I'd experienced — and all that had slipped away.

Lars had invited friends and family for a massive bash at his vacation home, ringing in the end of the year and welcoming 1992 with a bang. I had a hunch the extravagant party had something to do with his recent divorce, after a rushed marriage which had barely lasted two years. He'd even sent his driver, Simon, to scoop me up from the airport.

It was a relief not to have to wrangle a taxi amidst the chaos of folks flying in for the last flights before New Year's Eve. Slipping into the Jaguar, I peeled off my sunglasses with a sigh; those shades had become my shield against being recognized in the last few months. Ever since I'd started doing TV gigs, getting spotted by strangers and paparazzi was becoming a regular thing. It came with the territory, sure, but sometimes, a girl just wanted a little peace and quiet.

"Good afternoon, Miss Burton," Simon greeted me with a smile as I hopped into the car, and I shot one right back at him. "Mr. Ulrich was really looking forward to your arrival."

"Thanks, Simon. Are the others already there?" I inquired, my gaze drifting out the window as we cruised away from the airport.

"Yes, Mr. Hammett and Mr. Newsted are. Mr. Hetfield will show up later; I'll swing back to get him after dropping you off. And Miss Summers won't be joining us."

I let out a sigh. Ever since Cliff had passed, Leanne had drifted away from the group, moving to another city and cutting most ties. She said it hurt too much to stick around — too many reminders of him . I got where she was coming from and harbored no hard feelings, but her absence had definitely put some distance between us over the years.

"Well, I'll have to shoot her a call later and wish her a Happy New Year," I mused absentmindedly. "Do you know if my aunt and uncle are gonna make it?"

"Yes, I'll pick them up later," Simon replied, earning a small smile from me. Despite Cliff's passing hitting us all hard, Aunt Jan and Uncle Ray had been a steady presence for me and the guys. They'd practically become like second parents to all of us over the years, always there in the Metallica routine, whether it was on the professional front or at family and friends' get-togethers.

It took us a bit to roll up to Lars' vacation home, a big old mansion tucked away in one of San Francisco’s most expensive neighborhoods, a far cry from the tiny house we used to live in back in the day. Simon pulled up at the main entrance; the door was wide open, and I caught a glimpse of the staff buzzing around, putting the final touches on the shindig. Judging by the crates of booze being unloaded, this was gonna be more than just a cozy New Year's bash with a few friends.

"Thanks for the ride, Simon," I said, grabbing my bag and popping open the car door. "Happy New Year."

"Happy New Year, Miss."

It didn't take me long to spot Lars; the moment I stepped into the foyer, there he was, barking orders to his assistant at lightning speed, champagne glass already in hand. I couldn't help but grin; classic Lars, hitting the booze before anyone else. He turned my way at the sound of my footsteps echoing on the polished floor, breaking into a smile as he strode over.

"Nore!" he exclaimed, pulling me into a bear hug. "I'm so stoked you made it."

"Hey, Lars," I grinned, returning the hug. It had been a hot minute since I'd seen him or any of the guys; 1991 had been a whirlwind for all of us, and work had pretty much consumed our lives at warp speed.

"How was the trip? Did Simon take good care of you?"

"Yeah, it was smooth sailing. Simon's a pro, always has been. But seriously, Lars, you shouldn't have him grinding away on the last day of the year."

"Oh, he's getting compensated handsomely for it, don't you worry. Hey, you remember your way around the house, right? Kirk and Jason are probably chilling in the sauna. Oh, Allie!" Lars called out to his assistant, a dark-haired girl who looked eager to please. "Got the guest list handy? Can you show our girl here where she'll be crashing tonight?" Allie nodded briskly, and Lars flashed me a smile, turning back to me. "Party kicks off at 9 PM, so I'm just tying up loose ends. Make yourself comfy, grab some grub if you're hungry, alright? Consider the place your own."

I trailed after Allie to my room, a fancy suite with a king-size bed that looked like it had never been slept in. Lars always had a flair for the extravagant, but Metallica's success in recent years seemed to have kicked that into overdrive; his new vacation house was straight-up lavish, with more rooms than I could count, a massive pool, a sauna, and even a private movie theater.

I decided to chill in my room until the party kicked off; as much as I was itching to catch up with everyone, I was straight-up wiped out. Lately, I'd been craving more time alone, away from the chaos of the ragers my friends used to live for. But hey, I knew we'd all cross paths eventually, and sure enough, when I finally made my grand entrance, one of the first faces I spotted was Kirk's, rolling in with James, who apparently had arrived while I was hiding out.

"Nore!" Kirk grinned, pulling me into a hug. I chuckled, hugging him back. "Damn, you're looking good!"

"Thanks, Kirk. It's all Lars' doing; he picked out the dress," I replied, nodding at the long red number I was sporting. I’d found it laid out on the bed in my room with a note telling me to rock it for the night. I eyed Kirk's suit, a slick navy number with gold accents. "You're looking sharp yourself."

"Yeah, that's all Lars' handiwork too. Dude's on a mission to throw the ultimate party. But hey, who am I to complain? There's champagne!" Kirk chuckled, clinking his glass against mine.

"Hey, Nore." I glanced up at the sound of his voice, meeting James' intense blue gaze. A faint smile tugged at my lips; being around him always stirred up a whirlwind of emotions that were hard to untangle. Love, sure, but also heartache. It stung, yet it felt oddly comforting. Like coming home.

"Hi, James," I greeted him softly. Kirk shot us a quick look.

“Well, I'm gonna go track down our host. Catch you guys later!" He excused himself. I watched Kirk saunter off, a slight jolt running through me as James' hand landed on the small of my back.

"Have you grabbed a bite to eat yet? Lars said you got here before me," he murmured, his voice low. I looked up at him, seeing his eyes scanning the crowd of guests, a champagne flute in his other hand.

"Not yet."

"Want me to snag something for you? Lars went all out with the spread this time."

"I'm good, James."

"Didn't drag your boyfriend along to the party?" he quipped, and I couldn't help but snort.

"What boyfriend?"

"That... Brian guy? I dunno, it's hard to keep up with all the dudes you've cycled through since we split," he remarked, a hint of irony dancing in his eyes. I furrowed my brow; was he joking or dead serious? It was getting tougher to read James these days.

"If you wanna know if I'm seeing someone, just ask," I shot back sharply. He let out a sardonic laugh and rolled his eyes. I held his gaze. "And what about your 'Nothing Else Matters' chick? She bailed on the party?"

"I ended things with her," he replied, a hint of annoyance creeping into his tone. "And I've told you that song wasn't about her."

"Then who was it about?"

"Do I really need to spell it out?" he growled, stepping closer. I lifted my chin, meeting his gaze head-on. James and I had been locked in this dance for a while now, his anger clashing with my pain like sparks flying. It didn't shock me that Kirk wanted no part of our little reunion.

"I'm gonna go track down Lars," I tossed back dryly before strutting off. I could practically feel James rolling his eyes as he polished off the rest of his champagne in one gulp.

I didn't cross paths with James again until much later, well after midnight had come and gone. We’d all gathered on the balcony to catch the fireworks, dishing out Happy New Year wishes and hugs left and right. When the crowd filtered back inside, I lingered behind, a cigarette dangling between my fingers as I stared up at the star-studded sky, grappling with the bitter irony that another year had kicked off without Cliff here to see it.

"I did wanna know, actually," a voice cut through the silence, jolting me. I turned to find James leaning against one of the pillars, his gaze fixed on me with a serious edge.

"What?" I murmured, my heart picking up its pace as he closed the gap between us.

"You said if I wanted to know if you were seeing someone, I just had to ask. And I did wanna know," he replied, so close now I could smell the booze on his breath.

"I'm not," I answered, and he grunted, satisfied, before pulling me into his arms, his lips finding mine.

He tasted like beer and tobacco, his lips moving against mine in a familiar dance, the echoes of an old tune. No matter how much time passed or how much it hurt, James and I always found our way back to each other.

"You know that song was about you," he murmured, his kisses trailing down my neck, his grip tightening on my hips as he pulled me closer, our bodies pressed together. "Do you really have to mess with me like this?"

I didn't answer; instead, I grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him back to me, his arms holding me tight as he kissed me with urgency, nipping at my lower lip. He wasn't holding back as he pushed me against the balcony railing, his hands hiking up the skirt of my dress, his touch igniting a fire in my belly.

"My room or yours?" I gasped against his lips.

"Does yours come with a bathroom?" he quipped, and I chuckled softly, nodding. "Figures. Lars always hooks you up with the best ones."

"Mine, then," I murmured, a faint smile playing on my lips.

We made our way up to my room, James guiding me through the labyrinth of hallways and rooms in the house with his hand in mine. The moment the door clicked shut behind us, his hands were back on me, pulling me close as his lips trailed hungrily along my neck, tugging at the straps of my dress.

"James, you're gonna wreck the dress..." I protested weakly, my fingers tangled in his hair. He grunted, yanking it down, and I heard a rip that probably meant the garment was already ruined anyway.

"I'll get you another one," he grumbled. "As many as you want."

With urgency matching his, I stripped off his shirt, a few buttons popping off and bouncing across the bedroom floor. Before I could even blink, he lifted me, depositing me on the bed and positioning himself over me. I kicked off my heels, sending them flying into some forgotten corner, releasing a low moan as he pressed against me, his arousal evident through the fabric of his pants. There was no time for calm contemplation, no room for hesitation or second-guessing if this was the right move; our desire for each other was insatiable, ravenous and desperate, and I felt it would consume me completely if we didn't satisfy it right then and there.

I sighed as his lips reclaimed mine, his hand tangled in my hair, gripping it firmly as I worked on unbuttoning his pants, easing them down. He pulled back for a moment, shedding the rest of his clothes before sliding off my panties, emitting a low groan as he entered me. I shut my eyes, clutching onto his arms tightly, my nails digging into his skin. He wasn't holding back; and honestly, I wouldn't have it any other way.

"Look at me," he growled, his hand guiding my chin as he thrust into me, sending waves of pleasure coursing through my body. I obeyed, meeting his gaze as tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, my mouth slightly agape as I let out small, sharp moans. He shifted his hand to my neck, pressing his forehead against mine.

"James..." I moaned, my grip on his arms tightening as he picked up the pace, sending shivers down my spine. "James..."

"I wanna ruin you. You get that?" he growled, sending a jolt of pleasure through my body at his words. Of course, I got it. What were we if not each other's downfall? What more could I want than for him to consume me entirely, even if just for a moment? For all the pain and heartache to vanish, if only while he was inside me. "I want you to be mine, all mine, all mine... Fuck..." he buried his face in my neck as my climax washed over me, my body clenching around him, my legs wrapping around his hips, pulling him deeper. "Nore..." he groaned, his own release crashing over him, filling me completely as he continued to move until the intensity of his peak forced him to collapse onto me.

He rolled away, settling beside me, leaving a pulsating void inside me where pain and pleasure danced together in my womb and heart. I shut my eyes, focusing on steadying my breath, and let out a soft chuckle when I felt his lips on my neck, his arms pulling me close in a fleeting but genuine comfort.

"My girl..." he murmured against my ear, sending a delicious shiver down my spine. I'd lost track of how many times he'd called me that, but it never failed to stir something in me. "Why do you keep running from me? Don't you know I love you so?"

I opened my eyes, locking onto his gaze, a blend of longing and yearning reflected back at me. Nestling into his embrace, I placed a soft kiss on his lips, feeling his gaze soften into a tender warmth that sent tingles down my spine.

"I'm here now," I murmured, tracing my fingers gently over his face. He sighed, closing his eyes, intertwining our hands and pressing kisses to my palm, one, two, three times before pulling me close in a tight hug.

Peace hadn't been a frequent visitor in my life for a while, but in that moment, I found it. I'd always find my way back to James, and he'd always find his way back to me. That certainty coursed through my veins, leaving me feeling whole in a way I hadn't in ages.

The next day, we'd be back in the spotlight, the distance between us creeping back in like a toxic fog. But for now, on that night, I was content. I was at peace.

I was home.

September 28, 1986

The shrill ring of the phone pierced through the silence of the empty house, yanking me out of a deep slumber with a groan. I blinked, the heavy rain drumming against the bedroom windows registering in my foggy mind. Stretching out across the bed, I groped for James, only to remember he wasn't there; my boyfriend was off on tour with my cousin and my friends. That left just Leanne and me holding down the fort.

Dragging myself out of bed, my eyes still weighed down by sleep, I shrugged into my robe and slipped on my slippers before trudging out of the room, descending the stairs at a snail's pace. Flicking on the lights in the living room, I scowled at the clock — it wasn't even seven in the morning. This better be an important call, I grumbled inwardly. I was itching to crawl back under the covers.

"Hey," I mumbled, stifling a yawn and rubbing my eyes in an attempt to shake off the sleepiness.

"Hey, Nore," James' voice crackled through the receiver, but in my grogginess, I barely registered the tense undertone, so unlike his usual laid-back demeanor.

"Babe..." I murmured, another yawn threatening to escape. "I know you're in a different time zone, but it's way early here. I was out cold..."

"I'm sorry. I had to call," he replied, and this time, the strain in his voice didn't go unnoticed. I furrowed my brow, sinking down onto the couch beside the phone, suddenly wide awake.

"Is everything alright? Did something happen?"

"Yeah, something happened. Is Leanne there with you?"

"I think she's asleep. Why?"

"We had a crash," he said, and my heart clenched, a surge of unease and dread knotting my stomach. "We were on the road... Late at night. The driver lost control..."

My breath hitched, and in that instant, a sense of foreboding washed over me. Something felt off, deeply unsettling. It just didn't add up. I knew I should be getting this call from someone else. I knew my cousin; I knew Cliff would want to speak to me and Leanne directly, to break the news himself.

Like when he shared he was leaving Long Beach for San Francisco. Like when he announced he was joining Metallica. Like when he called to tell me Dave got booted from the band, or when he rang to say Metallica was wrapping up tour and he wanted me there for their first hometown gig after dropping the first album.

Something wasn't right.

"James," I whispered, my voice trembling, tears pricking at my eyes as if I already knew what he was going to say. "What happened to Cliff?"

January 1st, 1992

I jolted awake, my cheeks damp with tears that refused to cease flowing. I sighed heavily, my breath shaky, the early morning sunlight just beginning to seep through the curtains. James' arms were wrapped snugly around me, his breath warm against my shoulder as he softly snored.

That dream, again.

It always seemed to resurface whenever I was near James. Maybe my subconscious still linked him to that chilly morning, to that phone call that’d shattered any hope of happiness for the rest of that year and beyond. A call that tore a hole in the fabric of my world, leaving an ache in my heart that felt like it would never mend.

The call that had shattered my heart for good, leaving no chance of putting the pieces back together.

I carefully shifted James' arm away from me, slipping out of bed and heading to the bathroom. Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I took in my tired blue eyes framed by dark circles, my brown hair tumbling in waves over my shoulders, and the red marks on my neck and collarbone left by James the night before. With a sigh, I opened the bathroom cabinet, my hands trembling slightly as I reached for the pills I knew would help ease my anxiety.

I lacked the courage to return to bed, so I nestled into one of the armchairs in the corner of the room, observing James' peaceful slumber as the daylight gradually filled the space. He stirred awake soon after, as if sensing my absence beside him, his eyelids fluttering before he groggily opened his eyes. With a puzzled frown, he reached out for the bed, only to find it empty, prompting him to scan the room. A sigh escaped him when he spotted me, a sense of relief washing over his features that tugged at my heartstrings.

"Bad dream?" he inquired, and I simply nodded in response. "You wanna hop back into bed?"

"I'd rather not risk slipping into another nightmare," I admitted, and he sighed, sitting upright.

"Well, I know a surefire way to keep you awake, if you're interested," he quipped, and I managed a shaky laugh. I much preferred this relaxed and caring version of James to the sarcastic and irritable one from the night before. "So, spill. What was haunting you this time?"

"The usual. That day," I murmured. It wasn't anything new; I'd replayed that nightmare countless times, and James was well aware. My demons weren't a mystery to us, but that didn't make them any less terrifying.

With a sigh, he got up and strolled over to me, scooping me up effortlessly, which elicited a surprised gasp from me. He carried me back to bed, settling me down beside him, his hand securing my waist while the other supported the underside of my thighs, lifting one leg and tucking it around his waist. I hugged him tightly, nuzzling into his chest. It was a brief moment of warmth and solace, a fleeting calmness that I knew would vanish as soon as the day kicked into gear and he walked out that door.

"Are you taking off today?" I whispered softly. I understood that once James and I dove back into our regular routines — fame, commitments, the whole mess — things would get complicated again. I'd lose him once more; I'd been through that too many times in the last few years to entertain any other outcome. But as long as we were together, there, shielded from everything else, he was mine. And I craved his presence. I craved his warmth.

"Do you want me to jet today?" he countered, and I shook my head no. He grumbled under his breath, the rumble vibrating against my cheek as I snuggled closer. "Then I'll hang tight. I suppose we can annoy Lars a bit longer."

"I'm too scared to doze off," I admitted weakly, grappling with the heaviness of my eyelids, which threatened to seal shut from exhaustion. James planted a kiss on the top of my head, gently stroking my hair.

"I ain't budging. If you slip into that nightmare again, I'll be right here when you wake up. Deal?" he whispered, and I nodded.

I knew that as soon as I drifted off, that same haunting dream would likely rear its ugly head. It was just one more cruel reminder of the growing chasm between James and me. It felt like we were broken, perpetually out of sync, and his nearness both healed and wounded me in equal measure. But in that moment, I was willing to bear the pain if it meant he'd stick by my side.

"I love you, Jamie," I murmured, and he sighed, pulling me close as my body surrendered to sleep.

"I love you too, Nore," his voice was the last thing I heard before drifting off.

February 18, 1992

The bouquet of red roses James had given me was beginning to droop, the once vibrant petals shriveling and browning with each passing day. Yet, the fragrance lingering in the air remained sweet and evocative, as if the flowers were still in full bloom.

I sighed as I ran a brush through my hair, eyeing the dress laid out on the bed for the evening bash. It was the launch party for the new TV network schedule I'd been hired for, and showing up was not just a courtesy but a must.

I hadn't crossed paths with James much since our time at Lars' getaway spot. His absence had become a familiar ache over the last few years, a kind of shield we'd unintentionally built between us over time. Yet, there was always that tiny flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, he'd call out of the blue and bring back that sense of ease with his voice.

To my surprise, the phone did ring that day. I set the brush down on the vanity, hurriedly making my way to the bedside table to answer it, a rush of excitement coursing through me.

“Nore?” the voice on the other end wasn't James', but it still warmed my heart, prompting a smile to spread across my face as I sank back onto the bed, cradling the phone to my ear.

“Lea!” I exclaimed, feeling a surge of joy. “It's been too long! How've you been?”

“I'm great! And you?”

“Oh, you know. Just hanging in there. How's Joe?” I swiftly changed the subject. As much as I adored Leanne, I wasn't ready to spill my guts about how I was really feeling.

“Oh, he's doing fantastic. Actually, that's why I rang you up. We're getting married!” she announced, her excitement palpable, and I couldn't help but smile.

“Lea, that's incredible! When's the big day?”

“It's in August. We figured summer would be perfect. I'm calling to extend the invite; would you do me the honor of being one of my bridesmaids?”

I leaped up, my grin stretching wider across my face. Leanne and I had been thick as thieves since day one; seeing her so thrilled about tying the knot, and knowing she wanted me to be part of her big day, warmed my heart.

“Oh, absolutely!” I exclaimed, a bubbling laugh of joy and surprise escaping my lips. Lea chuckled in response, matching my excitement. “Thank you! I know it's going to be beautiful. Can you fill me in on all the details later?”

The rest of my day sparkled with newfound energy after the news; I even caught myself humming an old song as I finished getting dolled up for the evening bash, weaving my hair into an intricate hairdo my mom had insisted on teaching me.

When I finished getting ready, I checked myself out in the mirror, pretty pleased with the result; the dark blue spaghetti-strap dress hugged my curves just right, with the skirt flaring out at the waist and skimming down to my ankles. A dainty golden choker with crystals adorned my neck, and my long brown locks were styled to perfection, framing my face in all the right places, with my eyes sparkling, cheeks a touch flushed, and lips painted red.

But, of course, I couldn't roll up to an event like that on my own; right on the dot at 7 p.m., I heard the honk signaling my ride had arrived. I sauntered down the stairs, arching an eyebrow in surprise as I stepped outside and spotted the limo parked up front. My old friend Charlotte rolled down the window from the backseat, flashing me a big grin.

“Hey, Nore!” she chirped as I slid into the car, handing over a glass of champagne, which earned a soft chuckle from me. “Ready to rock?”

“I guess I’m a bit jittery. First time going to a party like this one,” I admitted. Now that I was on my way, the thought of facing a swarm of photographers and journalists at the event’s entrance was making me more nervous than I cared to admit, and I wasn't sure if I was ready for it.

“Well, it's gonna be a blast, trust me! Everyone who's anyone will be there. I'll be your wingwoman, so don't worry about a thing. I'll make sure you rub elbows with all the big shots you haven't bumped into yet during the shoots.”

I nodded, taking a bit of champagne to settle my nerves, the bubbles dancing on my tongue and momentarily diverting my attention. If my acting career was taking flight now, it was all thanks to Charlie; she'd been the driving force behind my return to the scene after I’d graduated High School, persuading me to switch gears from the Visual Arts program up in San Francisco to Drama School down in Los Angeles, and had even helped me snag my first TV gig.

I'd recently jumped into acting over at the same TV network where Charlotte had been working as an actress for a while. Even though I hadn't wrapped up recording my first project yet, the buzz around a relatively unknown actress snagging the lead in the latest drama series had caught the media’s attention. In just about a year, my life had changed completely, going from being just another face in the crowd to even having paparazzi tail me. But truth be told, I was still getting the lay of the land at the network. Charlie had hit the nail on the head; this party was prime time to make some connections.

We rolled up to the party spot; I soon realized that navigating through the sea of photographers and reporters on that red carpet was no joke. But once I got past the Q&A, which mostly revolved around my work and career, it was time to get down to business. Charlotte ushered me into conversations with all sorts of folks: actors, musicians, executives, and even some of the network's shareholders. It hit me quick that networking at these parties was just as much a part of the job in the entertainment industry as being good at your craft.

The hours zoomed by amid chats, laughter, drinks, and nibbles. Soon, I was feeling drained and decided to grab a bite from the buffet before taking a breather. As I was fixing my plate, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned around, expecting it to be Charlie, ready to introduce me to someone new.

Never in a million years could I have guessed what awaited me in the next few seconds.

"Nore... Is that really you?" the man exclaimed, looking utterly astonished, and suddenly I was eighteen again, my heart racing in completely uncontrollable pirouettes as my breath hitched, my surprised gaze meeting his, the world filling with color and song as I stared into the eyes of Dave Mustaine.

✧ if you'd like to be tagged on the next parts, let me know and I'll add you to the tag list! ❤ ✧

tag list: @killazilla777 @whatsupvic @70srogah @genswine9 @twice360noscope

52 notes · View notes

babytarttdoodoo · 8 months

Note

i love your prompt fills! <3 so, a prompt for me: jamie and roy go out for a beer again, they don't have a fight this time! platonic or romantic is fine, wtv you prefer, i just want them to have a nice time lol

I actually had so much fun writing this and it very quickly became what could be the start to my post-S3 universe that I've been spinning headcanons and lore for.

Because of that, it ends a little weird, but I hope you enjoy it regardless.

---

Jamie was picking at the edges of the label on his beer bottle. His thumbnails had scraped a nice little mound of soggy, gluey paper onto the shiny surface of the bar and didn't show signs of stopping.

He'd elected for a seat near the door. If this all went sideways, he wanted to make a quick retreat before it came to blows. Again.

His phone buzzed.

From: Roy Running behind. Be there in 5.

Well, he wasn’t being stood up, at least.

To: Roy No worries mate. I’ll get a round in 🍻😜

Jamie flagged down the bartender and asked for another beer, not bothering to replace his own barely touched bottle.

True to his word, Roy strode into Bones & Honey a few minutes later, predictably dressed down in jeans and a leather jacket. Jamie had opted for a nice shirt this time, since his (albeit designer) hoodie had left him feeling out of place on their last outing, even before it got ruined.

He gave Roy a little wave to catch his attention and smiled when he drew close.

“Heya, lad. Just got you a beer, that okay?”

Roy grunted, taking in the two drinks and the pile of scraped up label. His eyebrows did something complicated.

For a moment, Jamie thought Roy was going to berate him for having alcohol and felt indignation swell in his chest. He could do what he fucking liked during the off-season, thank you very much.

He didn’t, though. His gaze lingered on Jamie’s hands around the bottle for another second before he took his seat without complaint and all the fight response deflated from Jamie’s hackles as Roy took a sip from his own waiting beer.

“Sorry I’m late,” he offered, clearing his throat. “Had to drop Phoebe off at her mum’s.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jamie said. “How is she?”

Roy narrowed his eyes, unfairly suspicious of a perfectly innocent question. “My niece or my sister?”

Jamie snorted, freeing up some of the tightness in his chest. “Phoebe. But if Ruth’s been asking about me…?”

“She fucking hasn’t.”

“Right, then, the nine-year-old it is.”

He grinned cheekily in the face of Roy’s eyeroll, sure he wasn’t imagining the faint twitch of a smile.

“Phoebe spent two hours explaining why she’s planning to cover her room in magic plants or some shit for the summer solstice and only shut up when I gave her ice cream so, apparently, she’s getting weirder. But, yeah, she’s fine.”

Jamie nodded, considering. “Mint. Kids are fucking bizarre. It’s brilliant.”

The quick little exhale of air from Roy might have qualified as a laugh if Jamie were feeling generous. As it was, he was more preoccupied by how… weird Roy was sitting.

He was rigid as a board on the plush stool, leaning decidedly away from Jamie with a hand gripped on the edge of the bar. It looked as uncomfortable as fuck.

“D’you want to move?” Jamie suggested, wondering if the high seat was messing with Roy’s knee, or back, or some other old man body part. “There’s a free table over there.”

Roy’s eyes followed Jamie’s gesture to the booths set along the back of the room and he shook his head. “This is fine.”

“You sure? ‘Cause you look one sneeze away from falling over.”

Roy sighed heavily and made a visible effort to relax, settling more comfortably. “There. Better?”

“You tell me, mate,” Jamie said, bewildered.

Roy grunted again and took a long pull from his beer. It seemed to fortify him for voicing whatever was spinning around in his head.

“Thank you,” he eventually settled on, growling like the words had been dragged unwillingly through his clenched teeth. “For. Suggesting this. We didn’t… I didn’t know if you still wanted to be… Friends. After.” He waved a hand around, gesturing to their surroundings and clearly referencing the last time they’d been there.

“Oh.” Jamie blinked, pleasantly surprised by the admission. “Well, yeah. Didn’t get much of a chance to straighten all that out, did we? I were on a plane fairly quick after the season.”

Roy nodded, staring back at the bartop with that same intensity Jamie could now recognise as discomfort with the subject matter. Or, at least, mostly that.

“Keeley didn’t go with you.”

It wasn’t a question but Jamie answered it anyway. “Er, no. Doubt you’d have wanted to be trapped with me on the other side of the world after all that, either.”

He had been disappointed when Keeley emailed to say Barbara was going to be accompanying him ”for the sake of their professional relationship”. It was fair - it still hurt.

Barbara turned out to be a surprisingly good laugh, though, and was very protective of their contract. In turn, that meant she was militant about ensuring Jamie was taken care of on every shoot and that he got a say in what went to production.

She even kept up with their entirely GIF-based text thread after returning home. It was nice.

“Wouldn’t have minded a free holiday.” Roy broke into Jamie’s thoughts with a shrug and it took him a second to catch up to the conversation again. When he did, he scowled at Roy’s poorly disguised smirk.

“Eh, it weren’t an holiday! I was working! Don’t need to be rude just because no one‘s wanted to take your picture in the last century.”

Jamie sniffed and took a sulky swig of his beer.

“Oi.” Roy knocked their shoulders together. “I’m just joking. I know you work hard.”

“Yeah, well, everyone would do if it were easy, wouldn’t they?”

Roy tilted his head in a ‘fair point’ kind of way and shifted to face Jamie, instead of being actively primed for an escape. “Got anything else lined up for the summer?”

Jamie hummed and shrugged. “Driving up to Manchester next week. Not staying long, though. Mummy and Simon are going on holiday for most of August. Might see if any of the City lads are about.”

“Didn’t realise you still talked to that lot.”

“Not many of the first team. But there’s guys on the reserves and doing PT stuff now that I came up with. We still try to hang out when there’s a few of us in the same place.” Even though Roy seemed more curious than judgemental, Jamie wondered if he was about to be accused of divided loyalties.

He would definitely be at risk of a hefty fine from the team for ‘cavorting with the enemy’ if he ever went on a night out in Manchester during the season.

“You got any friends like that?”

“A few.” Roy’s face turned pensive. “No one from my Sunderland days is playing anymore but I’ve been invited to weddings and shit. Stopped talking to anyone at Chelsea when I left.”

Jamie scoffed. “What’d you do that for?”

The immediate tension in Roy’s jaw made him regret asking but, to Jamie’s surprise, a moment later he took a deep breath and offered an explanation.

“I didn’t want reminders. Wanted to… fucking… disappear. Fuck off and… be forgotten.”

Jamie gaped. “But you’re Roy Kent.”

Roy barked a laugh. “Yeah. Suppose I forgot that for a bit.”

Jamie huffed and shook his head, draining the rest of his beer to cover the warm feeling in his chest at making Roy genuinely laugh.

“Alright, then, you’re an old weirdo with no friends. What are you up to for the rest of the summer?”

The good humour deflated out of Roy again and Jamie immediately regretted whatever had tumbled out of his mouth to cause that reaction.

“I, uh, I’ve been talking to my doctors a lot.” He looked down at his beer, grip turning white-knuckled around the glass. “Looks like I need a partial knee replacement. Soon, if I want to be… fucking upright by the start of the season.”

“Fuck,” Jamie exhaled lowly, glancing down to the leg in question and worrying again about the high bar stool. “They can fix it, though?”

“Theoretically. Said that last time, though, didn’t they?”

Jamie blinked. “What last time?”

Roy turned to him with a furrowed brow. “Oh, right. That was before you came back.”

“You, er, you had to have surgery, then?” Jamie felt vaguely ill. “When you retired?”

“Yeah. Small one. Didn’t help like it was supposed to.” Roy shrugged. “Artho-something. Just made it worse, then better for a bit, then back to a shitting mess in the span of a month.”

Jamie nodded, processing that. Any thoughts he’d spared to Richmond that summer had revolved about Ted and the little army man he still had in his trophy case. He’d avoided thinking about the game that got them relegated as much as possible. Fucking awful night all round, that had been.

Thoughts about Roy, when he let himself linger on them, had been ugly, tainted with guilt and resentment.

His tongue darted out to nervously wet his lips.

“Well, let me know when you’re out of commission this time, yeah? Need me coach to get me back in shape, don’t I?”

Roy chuckled again, smaller this time, and Jamie instantly felt lighter.

“Alright, fair enough.” Roy indicated the empty bottle Jamie was still titling around between his hands. “Same again?”

“Yeah. Yeah, go on then.”

#my fic #ted lasso #jamie tartt #roy kent #fic prompt #they're not actually capable of holding grudges against each other anymore #because I said so

41 notes · View notes

yelenabelovq · 2 years

Text

iii. the hatred of a minute | m.m.

series masterlist

summary: long nights begin being crowded by things you don't want to see materialize, after your legal battle runs its course. the question stands: can you fight your way out of this one? or will you finally fall?

playlist: permit the righteous to be moved | m.m.

word count: 3.6k

rating: 18+, swf, canon typical violence with a slight trigger warning for assault/SA (latter only mentioned in a medical sense), slight she-hulk spoilers

a/n: (playlist starts after if i'm being honest) this quote comes from an edgar allen poe passage, "years of love have been forgot, in the hatred of a minute." hello all! i know it's been like nine months since my last chapter and honestly i shouldn't promise any more consistent updates lmfao. i've moved twice (once cross country) since my past chapter and i'm moving out of state again in like two weeks. so life has been unreasonably crazy lately, but i watched she-hulk and when she said the accords were revoked i was like are you fr rn bc so much of this fic's plot was in fact based around the accords but also i hadn't been writing bc i didn't know what i wanted to so with it so honestly that little tweak in canon made me wanna overhaul the plot and start writing again so here i am!! this is still the bare bones of where i had planned on going with the series but with some changes so that i'll actually be invested in writing it lol and i hope y'all will be invested in reading it!! also shout out to the three people in my notes who reblogged the first two chapters like two days ago that finally made me start writing, yall are awesome. this is for u. (and she-hulk) (oh yeah also matt in she-hulk!! sexy af)

March 2024

Matt could smell your hangover.

Every inch of you was drenched in sweat and vodka and sick. You stumbled into the office of Nelson, Murdock, and Page a little after eleven, half reeling, and rendering Matt more than a little concerned. Foggy met you as you made it in the door, helping you to the small couch next to his desk.

“What the hell happened to you?” Foggy asked, tossing Matt a water bottle to hand to you.

“Have you seen, like, literally any public media source?”

Matt hummed, leaning against the desk across from you. “I did. Imagined you’d take it about this well, too.”

“Thought you couldn’t see, Murdock.”

Matt chuckled. “Good to know your humor’s still in tact.” He unscrewed the bottle an handed it to you. You took it, taking a long sip, then pressing your head to the back of the couch.

“How does, like, the law work?” you asked. “Can I sue? I wanna sue, or something. Get that asshole to put his shield down.”

Foggy laughed sympathetically, walking around to take a seat. He’d told Matt you would be coming in today only about an hour ago, detailing the phone call he’d had with Bucky Barnes. Apparently he’d fished around your purse until he found Foggy’s business card and called, asking if you could come in. Neither of them knew what the topic of your visit was, but after last night’s news spectacle, it wasn’t hard to guess.

“That’s not how the law works, unfortunately,” Matt answered you. “Also, we’re defense lawyers.”

“Okay, and?”

“We don’t sue people.”

“We protect the people getting sued,” Foggy supplied.

“Assholes,” you mumbled, eyes sliding shut.

“So, what, did you raid a liquor store last night?” he asked, voice dancing with the odd mix of sympathy and humor.

“Tried to outdrink Bucky.”

“How well did that go?”

“Can’t remember a single thing after four p.m., but at least my hangover hurts worse than the news blasts I keep getting on my phone do.”

“You can turn those off, you know,” supplied Foggy helpfully.

“Fuck off, Nelson.” Matt laughed, suddenly acutely aware of the rip in your jeans where your skin poked through unhindered. You were crowding his senses for some reason. He pushed off the desk, walking around just to give himself something to do. He noted what was happening outside the window. Someone was walking a dog, a couple was arguing, a few honks from taxi drivers, the smell of you underneath all the liquor—

Knock it off, he thought.

He paced back around to the opposite side of the desk, balancing himself on the edge. Your voice coated his thoughts as he tried to focus on what you and Foggy were saying.

Foggy was explaining something about the legality of the Accords to you that Matt was struggling to catch on to. You swore at whatever he said. Matt let the conversation float over him as his senses crept out to the warmth of your skin and the softness of your voice and whatever shampoo you used that made you smell so good. He dug his nails into the wood of the desk below him, something solid to keep him from drifting into whatever made him like you so much. He knew he couldn’t, knew he shouldn’t, after the alarms went off in his mind the last time he walked you home and you’d leaned into his touch just a little too much. That bit of intimacy you’d offered him, the trust you were putting in him was misguided, unearned, and dangerous. Not with who he was. Not with who you were.

So he denied himself, as any good Catholic would.

He was brought back into reality when Foggy directed something at him.

“What?” he stuttered, willing his brain to come up with something a little bit better.

“Still with us?” Foggy laughed.

You remarked, “I thought I was the one who was wrecked,” and he clenched his jaw.

“My mind wandered.” He took a slow, deep breath.

He couldn’t ignore the soft laugh you gave, or the way your pulse picked up with awareness under his focus. He could tell Foggy knew he was full of shit. "What did you say?"

"Do you think you could handle a neighborly visit?" Foggy asked.

Matt had no idea what he was talking about.

Thankfully, Foggy saved him the embarrassment of having to ask. "I'm going to do the best I can to figure out how to get around this once Bucky Barnes gets in contact with Sam Wilson. I think you should pay a visit to Mr. Walker."

Matt huffed and shifted from foot to foot. "Um, why?"

"Trying to prevent a murder," he answered dryly, then pointed a finger at you. "You are not to make contact with Walker. At all. I don't care. Relay that message to Bucky as well."

You sighed and rolled your eyes, letting your head lull back onto the couch. Your hair fell away from your neck, exposing more of your skin to the air. No more deep breaths.

"I think it can be arranged," Matt said.

He felt you tense, like you were making to get up, but you didn't move. Matt rounded the desk again, offering his arm to you. "Let's get you home."

You took it, letting him half-haul you up off the couch and into a standing position. Your skin was so soft. "Coffee?" he asked.

"You buying?"

He smirked at you, then turned his attention to Foggy. "Send any updated you find?'

Matt could tell Foggy was giving him a look that he was hoping you weren't picking up on, powers or not. You let yourself be escorted out the door, down the stairs, and out of the building, the entire time not letting go of Matt's arm.

New York liked to pretend to have spring. There was snow on the ground, and the temperature was barely breaking 65, in a way that let non-locals believe there might be some warmer weather up ahead. He knew better, though. He knew New York would stay icy for a long while longer.

He walked along the streets covered with melting snow, dodging tourists and kids checking out colleges on spring break. No one paid him a second thought. People were too busy thinking about themselves. Everyone is always only ever thinking about themselves.

Even when there was so much hurt in the world. So much that needed to be fixed and yet everyone chooses to think only about themselves. Everyone chooses to ignore the help they could give others and instead make it about them. So selfish, he thought. But he wasn't selfish. He thought about other people. He thought about the betterment of other people. Of a community.

That's why it took him so long to pick the perfect person. He didn't want to call her a victim. A pretty blonde in a pinstripe suit. She had just hung up the phone. Perfect, he thought. She wasn't a victim, no. Even as she thrashed and kicked as he came down hard with a hand over her mouth and dragged her into the alleyway just to his right. She wasn't a victim, she was the beginning to the betterment of a community. Of the world.

He pushed the needle into her skin, letting the dosage sink into the muscle of her arm. He'd had to tear her pretty blazer. He was sure she'd be fine with it if she knew. If she knew she was the beginning to a better community.

She lost her fight as the dose made its way through her system, slowly slumping in his arms as he lowered her to the ground, and he left her there to wake up later, making his way back into the sidewalk as if nothing had happened.

"Are you sure they're going to let you in in your condition?"

You laughed, still clinging to Matt's arm as you both made your way to the hospital. He'd insisted on ensuring you made it there safely, despite your protests. It's either this or the rooftops, he's said. He'd bought you coffee. You figured you could start your shift off on the right foot.

"They don't care what state I'm in as long as I can change a bedpan and start and IV," you remarked.

Mat laughed, and you liked the sound. "Let me know if you ever want to unionize."

"We're med students, Matt, I'm not even a real employee."

"That... sounds like it should break some labor laws."

You screwed up your face. "Gotta learn somehow. There could be worse ways. Than legalized slavery."

"Oh no," Matt said around another one of those pretty laughs. God. Go back to when you hated him, you thought. It was so much easier than thinking he was beautiful. And God, was he.

"I'll be fine," you stated, trying (and failing) to stop staring at him in the glistening springtime air. "Couple more cups of coffee and I'll be human-shaped again. Or, med student-shaped. How about you go out there and make sure we don't get any stabbings or GSWs? I want a quiet night."

"I'll try my best," he said, releasing your arm so he could slide his hand up and down it. What a gentleman, warming you up. So polite.

You stood there in silence, trying to come up with something to say maybe to extend the moment, or maybe a dig to make it not as incredibly obvious as it felt that you really enjoyed his company. Before you got the chance, a scrub-clad energy ball launched at you.

"You gotta come in here, we got a chick with some weird-ass symptoms, right up your alley. Come do your funky thing." He shivered. "God, it is freezing out here."

"Derek, no, that's not how this works and you know it." You sighed, closing your eyes, and digging your phone, which had begun ringing, out of your coat pocket.

"It is now," Derek said, smiling like he was sharing an inside joke with you. His smile faltered when he realized you were entirely lost. "You didn't see? I thought you would be jumpin' for joy."

"See what, Perez?" you asked, funneling every inch of exasperation into the question.

"The Accords got revoked. You get to be super doc."

"What?" you and Matt snapped in unison.

You looked down at your phone to see Foggy calling and thrust the phone up to your ear.

"Is it true?" you demanded at the same time Foggy said, "I have the best news ever!"

You heard him laugh on the other end of the line. "No more collar or leash for you, baby! The Accords were just revoked for American citizens!"

"Is he serious?" Matt asked you in a low voice.

You felt like you were going to pass out.

"I knew this had been in the works in congress but I didn't want to get my hopes up, but it's happening, baby!" Foggy was going on.

"What?" you snapped.

"Effective immediately, you are no longer required to sign the Accords. No leash, no monitoring. Go have fun."

"I would definitely still check with your higher-ups before using your abilities at work," Matt supplied.

"Is that Matt? Matt, you asshole, I've been calling you for like 10 minutes!"

"Dude," Derek said, "you've gotta come see this girl."

You were frozen in place, frozen with shock until you felt Matt's hand come to rest on the small of your back. You took a shuddering breath. "So, I'm free?"

"You're free," Foggy said gently.

You hung up the phone without saying goodbye, and turned to Matt. "I should get in there." Patients first, feelings later.

"Have a good evening," Matt said, his hand falling from your back. "Text me when you get home.

You knew damn well he would know when you got home without you texting him. But you didn't say anything. Instead, you turned back to Derek as he walked away and you forced yourself not to let your gaze follow him.

"Do I have time to get scrubs?"

"This chick is wild, okay," Derek began, ignoring your question. "I'd just gotten in when she came in. Flu-like symptoms, so the docs put her on me, right? Turns out, she was assaulted walking to work. All shaken up. I went to go get the kit, but she kept refusing, thought she'd probably feel safer with a female doc. So I offered up one of the interns, but she refused again. Said she was conscious for the entire attack, and all that happened was this guy stuck a needle in her arm and left her on the ground." He kept talking as you rounded the corner into the locker room. "Scumbag, right? I wasn't sure I believed her, but she let me do a physical exam and the only signs of struggle were on her face and neck. And her arm, where the needle went in. So she's telling the truth. And here's the catch. Tox screen is nuts."

You shrugged on your white coat. "How so?"

"Lit up like a Christmas tree," Derek said, shaking his head. "Amphetamine, opiates, benzos, tylenol, you name it."

You raised your brow at him. "Wow."

"And get this, she's bleeding from every line we give her. I tried to put in an IV, blew the vein."

"You're bad at IV's."

"Not that bad," he said indignantly. "But even Mar tried, and the line started bleeding. Mar! Best nurse in this place botched an IV. Doc Cohen tried to put in a central line, more bleeding. Her pressure was skyrocketing every time we tried too."

"That would sense," you said following him further into the ER. "Eight million drugs in someone's system ought to thin the blood."

"Yeah but we get at least a central line on druggies. Besides, she doesn't have any past drug use history. Her lines are clean, man." He led you to a private room towards the back of the ER. You pushed open the door with a sigh.

There was a young girl on the bed, two bloody bandages around her arms and a bandage across her chest. She was pretty, twenty-something with her blonde hair falling out of a ponytail at the back of her head. There was what looked like a designer bag and pinstripe pants discarded in the corner, the matching jacket in an evidence bag.

"Hannah Edwards, this is one of my colleagues, she's gonna do a much better job of figuring this out than we are," Derek supplied as you walked farther into the room.

You introduced yourself with as much smile as you could muster, sitting down next to the bed. "Don't sell her lies, Dr. Perez, please. How are you feeling?"

"Like a human pin cushion with a nasty flu," Hannah said with a weak smile.

"Can you tell me when you started getting the flu symptoms?" you asked.

"Like, fifteen minutes after the guy got me. I laid on the floor, not able to move for like ten minutes. When I got up, I started to go home, but I got, like, super dizzy and feverish five minutes later, so I came here instead."

"You were paralyzed?" you asked.

"I guess?" Hannah shrugged. "I got really groggy for a while and then when I tried to move, everything felt super heavy. It took me, like, ten minutes, like I said, to get up and move. Then I felt all dizzy and came here."

"Good thing," you said. You let your ability reach out ever so slightly, creeping out to touch whatever weird sickness surrounded her.

You jumped back.

"What, what is it?" Hannah asked.

"Dr. Perez, could I see that tox screen please?"

Derek handed you the paper. "Told you, there's almost so much on there that it's unusable."

"She shouldn't be upright with all of this in her system. Have you had any vomiting, Hannah?" You read the tox report again and again, begging the number to make sense but--Hannah Edwards should be dead right now if this were true.

"Just a little nausea," Hannah answered.

"Temp's been bouncing between 100 and 102," Derek said from behind you. "That's the third tox I ran. Same result every time."

You stood up, turning to meet his eye. "Let's get this shit out of her system, please."

You walked out of the room, almost slamming face-first into your resident as the door shut behind you.

"Did you do your thing?" Dr. Cohen asked.

"I, uh--"

"She started to, but something weird happened, huh?" Derek supplied. He'd seen you break the rules with your mutation once or twice or enough to tell when you did.

"It was weird. Like her sick pushed against me. She has so much in her system she should be dead or close to it, but there's something to keep her standing," you told them.

"Which is?" Cohen asked.

"I... don't know."

"Okay, so go find out." Cohen flashed her brown eyes between you and Hannah.

You sighed and shook your head before shutting your eyes and willing the hustle and bustle of the ER to go quiet for just a moment. You let your ability reach out once again, tendrils of invisible power creeping toward Hannah in her bed. You let it lace through every drug in her system, finding familiar things like acetaminophen and penicillin, the odd things like an antidepressant, and the less familiar things you were assuming were things like cocaine and meth, until you found... nothing.

"There's nothing there."

Derek and Cohen stared at you.

"What?" Derek asked.

"All that must be a front. She just has the flu." You looked between the puzzled expression the two shared.

"A flu that came on in less than fifteen minutes," Cohen supplied.

"I'm not saying that's all it is, or all that's gonna develop." You shoved the chart back into Derek's hands. "You should admit her for observation. I need a cup of coffee."

Your phone rang again hours later and as it flashed on the table of the breakroom, you found yourself hesitant to answer.

"Hi, Matt," you said as you brought the phone up to your ear.

"Good evening," he said, his voice silky and husky and you wanted to hang up.

"Hi."

"Are you walking home tonight?"

"Alone," you said. Not the smartest idea, all things considered, but you knew when someone was going to sneak up on you. You were an Avenger for fuck's sake. You could walk home alone tonight.

His voice dropped imperceptibly lower. "What happened?"

"Nothing," you said, carefully keeping emotion out of your voice. "Busy night. And, plus, I don't really need a lawyer anymore, since the Accords were revoked. So."

Matt laughed dryly, and you felt like you could imagine his face on the other end of the phone. He sighed. "You know I can hear your heartbeat through the phone, right?"

"You're so full of shit."

"You're lying to me. Why are you blowing me off?"

"Cause I'm a big girl, Murdock!" You dragged a hand over your face. Attachment was not your style, even Steve knew that, but this guy was making that very difficult. "I don't need you trying to sneak into my bed every night."

"You have got to stop with the lying, it's getting you nowhere with me."

You screwed up your face. "Goodbye, Matt." And you hung up the phone.

Matt was not having a good night.

He went out on patrol like he did most nights. Like you told him to that night. That was where he'd called you from, a rooftop in Hell's kitchen. Maybe he did go seeking out trouble. Getting into fights he didn't need to be in. He wasn't unaccustomed to getting his ass kicked. No one knew more than Matt Murdock what pavement tasted like. What differed tonight from most nights, though, was the level at which he got his ass kicked.

Whatever he was stuck with, it knocked him on his ass for a good ten minutes. Groggy and disorienting, like every cell was magnetized to the floor. His throat hurt, probably a symptom of being out in the cold all night. Even Daredevil wasn't immune to the common cold. He hauled himself off the floor with great effort, shocked his assailant left him there, and a little upset with himself he let the guy get away.

He was beaten and bruised and thoroughly feverish as he sat on the subway to Brooklyn.

He didn't want to show up on your doorstep. And you'd made it very clear you didn't want anything to do with him. But he was tired, and everything ached, and if anyone could fix his potentially broken rib, it would be you.

So, no, he didn't really blame you for the shock when you opened the door to your condo and found him slumped against the doorframe.

"Matt?" Your voice was high and indignant.

"I don't--" He fell forward, and you caught him taking off his mask.

"What the hell happened?" you demanded.

"Lost a fight," he managed, letting you guide him to the couch. He felt... some sort of tickle. Something that relaxed his muscles and felt soft, like how he imagined your skin felt.

"Matt, what the hell? Who did you get in a fight with?"

"I don't--" He grunted in pain, then relief as the pain in his ribs subsided.

He felt your face contort in pain, and your breath hitch.

"Don't--" he started.

"What happened?" you tried again.

His body started to feel light, so light, as if he were floating. Then he felt you slump against him, and suddenly, sleep was grabbing at his senses. He tried his hardest to resist it, tried to shake you awake, but he just ended up falling asleep, a hand snaking into your hair.

#my desire to be back in school rly popped out here #rip my nonexistent career #this is really not proof read sorry #its okay im moving to florida to work for disney in like a week so thats cool as hell #emmmaswrites #matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #daredevil #daredevil fanfiction #matt murdock x fem!reader #marvel #marvel fanfiction

41 notes · View notes

our-reality · 8 months

Note

can we please hear about. the s1 or s2 plot please i love your little guys so much

no ^_^

BUT IN ALL SERIOUSNESS agh it wouldnt make sense to explain the s2 plot without s1 but s1's plot is . im only proud of it in my head but i guess i can try to explain it LAWL sorry if this makes no sense

so season 1's plot revolves around this prophecy. that the highest gods of the universe (swift and python) will split apart but be rejoined by The Chosen One (its not immediately revealed who this is for Reasons) in order to stop the evil guy (vysel) but in the process the high gods will die and the chosen one will take their place . sounds pretty simple right. uh yeah thats the last time itll be simple

swift and python. really never took the prophecy seriously before their fight. they had long lives ahead of them (or so they thought), and besides thinking about their horrible demise doesnt really . do a whole lot for them. other than make them depressed. but when the split happens (and python leaves swift behind) swift suddenly starts to take the whole thing MUCH more seriously. it doesnt say how long it'll take for the chosen one (that's not what the prophecy calls them but its okay) to bring them together so swift just kinda. holds out hope for a while. but eventually they lose faith and only adhere to the prophecy because it predicts sky's gonna die early. which becomes the only thing they care about.

FAST FORWARD TO THE MODERN DAY python's a human and he's an old man and it ends up in this little town called overgaard and he (literally) runs into these two girls named ruby and java!! and within a second of shaking both of their hands it's like oh. they're The Ones huh. (keep in mind he barely remembers anything about the prophecy so like. yeah sure theres two chosen ones. why not. and it n ruby n java hit it off really well!! (ok more so like ruby and python hit it off java kinda hates him initially LOL) but eventually python knows that like. even though he hates responsibility he should do something about. this. like this is kinda important

now python's been on earth for a while. and they know there's exactly one (1) place here that swift can occasionally be found on. and that place is called purity's garden!! and it just so happens there's a gateway to it in overgaard!!! but uhhh unbeknownst to him two humans unexpectedly FOLLOW him into this place that very few, if any, humans have stepped into for the past couple thousand years. but uhhh swift does end up being there and python basically walks up to her and is like "hey girl so i know we havent talked since i abandoned you without saying goodbye hundreds of years ago but i think i found the two kids from the prophecy ^o^"

now swift has been studying the prophecy for AGES. she KNOWS that there's only one chosen one. and sky also knows that the shitbag who honestly ruined her life just came bsck without any kind of explanation or apology for doing so. AND he's just wholeass lying to them on top of that. so she's not very happy until lo and behold !!!!!!! thw two kids from the prophecy come to intervene!!!!!!! and at first swift is like "python these are just normal humans you fuckinf loser". but python INSISTS tjeyre the chosen ones, swears it on every bone in his body. amd she's like "i'll literally prove it to you ill SHOW you the prophecy" but!! when they get there!!!! the prophecy suddenly says there IS two chosen ones!!!!!!!!!!! and swift is losing it because sky's literally spent every day of python's absense memorizing that shit down to the SPECIFIC INFLECTION OF EACH WORD and somehow she mustve fuckijg forgotten that the prophecy calls for two people. ok. Fine. she can be cool about this . itll be Fuckinf Fine. so she reluctany trains these two alongside python in order to become skilled enough to defeat this evil demon thing that threatens. the fabric of the universe actually.

and BADABING BADABOOM that's most of s1 :-) everythinf just kinda follows that plot. and by that i mean the prophecy keeps fucking changing because it turns out having two people instead of one kinda changed everything WAY more than it fucking should. but its okay.

uhhh other than that the negative spirits take vysel as their pawn on the 200th anniversary of his death amd start rebuilding his prescence in the cutural consciousness only to make him like. the most hateable person ever. because negative actions and emotions make them stronger. and vysel's cool with it because he's a shallow asshole who only wants fame and attention even to the point of sacrificing his identity and personality both to the internet gods and to. the kinda demon things possessing him

although the whole training arc is going on (which does get some episodes dedicated to it tbf) most of the episodes in s1 are actually moreso slice of life stuff. a whole year passes between java and ruby finding out they're "chosen ones" and the end of s1 so they still have a lot of time to like. interact with their families or reconnect with old friends (as two conpletely nonspecific examples) . and about halfway thru the season vysel shows up proper and the story has urgency now yippee!!!!!

anywhoozle like i said in that one post. and i should probably explain how this happens so im gonna do that rq . but basically i've talked about this thing called imprisoned rogues before? they're basically intergalactic super criminals . if you do something that endangers an entire planet or more the gods will come up with some sort of unique enless trap for you to stay in for all eternity. like for example an endless staircase you never stop climbing or your consciousness being transferred into an inanimate object. shit like that. and all these rogues are kept in sectors that only gods can make portals to. but the collection of negative spirits within vysel have become so strong they can collectively create one giant portal to send everyone through. where they would presumably die (except for swift who they're now confident they can kill if she gets singled out ^_^). which is much safer than trying to kill them directly. and of course thats the one day java and c+ actually decided to hang out with each other for the first time in 3 years so uhhhh get fucked jobs georg you and your girlbestie get sent to the hell dimension !!!

and yada yada emotional turmoil happens and they eventually decide that letting java die out there isn't a particularly great idea and they save her but by then the endgame has pretty much started. the other gods finally start to help when they realize that this is actually. yk. a big fucking deal. and the prescence of two people is actually enough to cause the prophecy to change so much that both swift and python get to live in the end WOOOOOO (well. they live in some timelines that is. but dw about tjat its Not important ^_^) vysel dies in the process and everything is hashtag awesome the end . oh my lord that took so long to explain sorry LOL

UHHHHH S2'S PLOT ISNT NEARLY AS COMPLUCATED THANKFULLY. basically another year passes after the end of s1 and everyone's hanging out and being friends and whatever. but even after that time swift couldnt shake the feeling that something was wronf with the prophecy. she figured out it was changing but she couldn't understand why. but it wasn't really worth worrying about because they had to stop vysel. but after all was said and done she decided to visit one specific imprisoned rogue in particular, who sought to gain all the knowledge in the universe. so to punish xem the gods GAVE xem infinite knowledge but also put xem in a pitch black, inescapable room, so no one else can possibly hear xyr knowledge. which was what xe wanted in the first place. how fun ANYWAYS xe's not at all important ^_^ the point is that swift finally caves and asks xem what happened and xe's like oh!! some human kid fucked it up lol :) now can you free me now that i told you that and swift's like . sorry buddy its kinda hard to take back your knowledge now that you have it . but we'll figure out something for you !! (sky never does /J)

ANYWAYS the point of all this that swift figures that the human that altered the prophecy is the REAL chosen one. and even after all this time there's still no one to take the place of swift and python (which. swift being the god of all energy is a major reason why they're so unhappy in the first place. so of course they dont wanna put this burden on ruby or java or python.) but they figure that if this humam is old enough and experienced enough to be able to change the future in such a drastic way, then with some more experience and love for the universe they'd absolutely be able to take up this role. right ?

SIKE!!!!!!!!!!!!! THE KID THAT DID ALL THIS IS SOME SHITTY 15 YEAR OLD SCENEMO KID!!!!!!!!!! GET PRANKED LOSER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

so they kinda have an issue. cuz swift absolutely Cannot handle being a god anymore . but this kid (named requiem) doesnt wanna do it either. and also said kid is way too powerful to just. stay let loose. so they're like hey man!!!! you can like. change the future and shit isnt that cool. and this kinda freaks requiem out they're like THATS WHAT THE PROPHETIC STRESS DREAMS ARE ABOUT?????? ALSO WHO ARE YOU so automatically they're even worse now

and the main 4 are like. hey. ik we really stressed you out before and were sorry but we can also get you out of here because youre very obviously depressed. and requiem's not great rn but they also Are Depressed and Have No Plans For The Future so they're like. okay. their parents are okay with this btw because theyre. aghh

so basically s2 is about trying to get requiem to appreciate life. because we dont want this child who can change the future to be sad all the time. or angry. or yk. evil. which sounds kinda shallow but they develop into really good friends!!! and they found family each other ....... bless. so they travel the world and see things from so many other perspectives and this is the season where i kinds go creazy with the worldbuilding ....... its for me to have fun . win

and uh . funny story i STILL dont have a proper ending for s2 .......... i have ideas i just need to think of how such a thing would happen. but i will get back to you when i come up with something ! dw

and erm thats kinda it ... there's also a side story with themes and motifs AND two blokes who do fuck all. but i dont talk about that one as much but its okay!!!! i will soon.......... stayyyyyy tuned ^_^

#plot tag #plot 2 tag #<- mentioned briefly at the end #AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA #NOT checkijg this for typos . good lard . i hope this makes sense hsgrrjsbdmanvdjd

6 notes · View notes

heyitssashag · 11 months

Text

Is it weird that I’m trying to plan out when is the absolute earliest I could possibly start training for a marathon? Yeah, I thought so. The earliest would be the end of August, by the way. lol. At this point in time, I don’t know if the surgery has done much so I’m probably jumping the gun a little. Maybe I could train for a half. lol.

I was looking at some old pictures of hiking up the Grouse Grind. I’d go up sometimes twice in row (yes, on the same day /humblebrag). If you haven’t heard of the Grouse Grind it’s a 2.5 km hike up the face of Grouse Mountain in North Vancouver. Elevation gain is 2,624 feet (800 metres). You’re only allowed to hike up. You either need to take the gondola or another trail (BCMC) back down.

Beginning of the Grouse Grind Trail

I remember way back in the day, if you hiked up, you got a free ride down. Now it’s $20. lol. (It’s $75 for both up and down ticket which includes the mountaintop activities like the scenic chairlift). Anyway, it’s a big tourist destination both in the summer and winter (for skiing). It’s the closest mountain to downtown Vancouver. There’s some fun stuff to do at the top of the mountain (ie lumberjack show, birds show). My favourite is to say hello to Grinder & Coola (the 2 resident grizzly bears) or ride the chairlift and go up the Eye of the Wind (a massive wind turbine). At the top of Grouse, you can hike into the back country: Dam, Little Goat and Goat Mountain. Goat is challenging and you’ll need to use provided ropes and chains to summit but it’s a great view.

I’d also hike from Lynn Canyon to Grouse Mountain (along the Baden Powell Trail). Lynn Canyon also has a suspension bridge which is fun (and free) to walk across. Lots of trails and hikes around there - most are easy to moderate. You can also go swim at the 30 ft pool.

There’s a little nature centre which is great for the kids. I had one of the best cups of coffee at the cafe at Lynn Canyon. (Although, it’s been a few years so I’m not sure if it’s still just as good. lol.)

We have another “touristy” attraction called the Capilano Suspension Bridge (very close to Grouse Mountain) but it’s around $70 for entry into the park. Lots of scenic areas (but there’s no hiking).

Old photo of Ella crossing the Cap Suspension Bridge.

Anyway, those are just a few areas of North Vancouver that I used to hang out at. I was trying to calculate if I could make a day trip out there and do the Grouse Grind. lol. The average person takes a little over 2 hours or so to hike it. Back in the day, I could do it in about an hour. I definitely need to be stronger and more healthier to be able to hike that, again. *sigh* Not sure if this is wishful thinking or something to work towards. I guess I’ll soon find out over the next few months.

I started back on the Ibrance, today. I was supposed to have started it last Tuesday but I wanted to make sure I was healed up a bit more. These cancer meds do a number on your immune system. I just realized it’s been 3 weeks since I’ve taken it, though. I don’t want to push it any longer. Next week I have a bone scan. I don’t have an MRI until August but I’m okay with that. It can take a while for the new hardware to settle in. I don’t want them to heat up while I’m in the machine. That happened a few years ago when I had the original hardware put in my neck. It was horrific - I could barely breathe. I had to abandon the test.

This morning I chatted with my participant with the health coaching program and helped with their action plan. This afternoon I have groceries delivered. I’m hoping once the kid gets home from school, they can take me for a walk to the cafe.

My hives are gone but it feels like parts of my face are flushed and super hot. That happens sometimes but it’s really annoying so I’m going to put a cold cloth on my face now.

Here’s some other old photos around Capilano & Grouse.

#metastatic breast cancer #I miss my old body #north vancouver #capilano suspension bridge #grouse grind #I want to go hiking and then I want to go run a marathon #lol

4 notes · View notes

cyberneticlagomorph · 2 years

Text

REDSTRING.BOARD.NET, a shady conspiracy theorist forum akin to somethingawful, reddit and 4chan

A hotbed for mundane humans to explore and discuss their experiences with the supernatural (real or imagined), it's become the canary in the coal mine for many secretive organizations looking for breaches in the collective charade.

It's harder than you think to find what you're looking for, the forum's a barely moderated mess oozing with crazy people who think they're sane and sane people who think they're crazy.

In the end you stumble across a thread that piques your interest.

-----

Thread started by USER: comradewaffulz (CW)

DATE: AUG 5th 2121 06:54

"URSUMBA/URSUMBRA ONLINE REAL?"

CW: [a video of a black rabbit shaped creature with glowing eyes looming over a child's crib, taken from the doorway to the child's bedroom]

CW: ok but, i'm not crazy right? this looks like one of the enemies from that ursumbra game everybody played back in high school?

CW: like??? there's been a spike in missing children's cases lately and when the cops go to check out the crime scenes theres always black goo around and the parents mention at least one of their kids toys is missing, thats *too* close to the main storyline to be a coincidence right

UrsumbraUnderlord (UU): [user was banned for this post, reason: unrelated]

[DELETED USER] (AG): oh my god how is a bot on here

[DELETED USER] (PR): lol get fucked

PR: but you're right CW, it is stupidly similar. if it wasn't for the fact that kids are actually disappearing i'd say it was a PR stunt.

AG: are you a PR stunt lmao

PR: shut the fuck up

AG: you'd think they'd test the goo tho

PR: maybe they have.

AG: good point…

CW: id say its weird that none of this has hit the news yet but lbr if anything on this board was in the news iit would be for the wrong reasons

PR: it'd be fucked up if the devs tried to claim this shit.

CW: but like... is this happening BECAUSE of the game or did the devs know about these creatures and make the game based on them

PR: if there's anything remotely like the game they're probably absolutely exhausted of this shit

KintsugiKitsune (KK): LOL COULD U IMAGINE?? BEING A WHOLE ASS NIGHTMARE AND SOMEONE MAKES A STUPOD GAME ABOUT U GRTTING YOUR ASS BEAT BY A FUZZY BUNNY

KK: ID GO APESHIT TOO LOL

PR: people are going missing KK

KK: SUCKS TO BD THEM LOL

[CW has kicked/banned KK]

CW: God you suck

CW: anyway

CW: I wonder if anything fucky has happened in game since this shit started

PR: I mean I doubt it, that would be too on the nose right? Some true creepy pasta bullshit

CW: ok but, has anybody checked?

AG: game's basically dead, the dev team abandoned it shortly after launch cuz it wasn't making the money they hoped it would.

AG: wasted big bucks on pop culture tie-ins for merch and item skins too

AG: if anybody still plays they've probably been around since day one

PR: I heard they quit cuz they couldn't get Server Moon to host for them

AG: por que no los dos?

AG: the original game was pretty ok for an rpgmaker project, dunno why the studio that bought it thought something that intensely personal would translate into an MMORPG though

AG: anyway, if you wanna see if the game is borked you'd have to do it yourself CW

CW: fine, I will

-----

The last message is dated a week after the thread started and merely asks if anyone has seen comradewaffulz.

There are no further replies or answers, no other threads on this topic.

The gap in your knowledge stares back at you like an empty eye socket and chills you to the bone.

This isn't an isolated incident, this has been going on for at least a year.

Maybe even longer.

And nobody's noticed.

You thumb the little foil packet in your hand, feeling the chip inside floating delicately in its bath of stasis gel.

You wonder if this is really worth it.

If you couldn't just… back out now and find a halfway decent lawyer to cover your ass when the Tower comes knocking.

…but now you're curious.

#ic #action post #ask to tag

4 notes · View notes

golbrocklovely · 2 years

Note

ugh girl i feel u with the job stuff. i work part time too and when i first started a little over 2 months ago i got at least 3 days a week and now im barely getting 1 day a week maybe 2 if i get lucky or get called in to cover a shift. i think they hired way too many people which is annoying af

i've been working at my job for like two almost three years now. and i swear recently they have been giving me more and more reason to quit, which is hilarious bc i'm their best worker, and that's not even a joke. every manager and co-worker i've had agree.

but it literally took them til last month to finally make me employee of the month....

and then when i started working freight there, bc originally i was a just a cashier/sales associate, they promised me a raise and never gave me it. i got one later, but it was still less than what they promised.

and then when all sales associates got a raise of a dollar, the managers acted as if we should be lucky we got one. like?????? i work harder than you and you STILL make more than me lmao

and what's funny is that they give me and my one freight co-worker extra hours any time there is any bc they know we are the best and also bc the other two ppl on our freight team are flaky and literally just quit this past week lol

so idk why they keep dicking me with these hours and act as if we don't have the time. they kept us on this schedule of tues/thurs since january. it's only been within the last 2-3 months that they will randomly throw me a bone and be like "you like working right? you like money right? come in and work saturday, the worst day ever to be in retail"

it's just... so annoying. if they cut my hours anymore, i won't qualify for my part-time benefits and if that happens, i'm fighting employees, managers, and customers in the parking lot lmaooo

#ask #personal

2 notes · View notes

changelingsandothernonsense · 5 months

Text

Wip but it's my Thursday

Tagged by @saltymaplesyrup tagging @mareenavee ( I know you're getting space but I said I was still tagging) @thequeenofthewinter @archangelsunited @snippetsrus @gilgamish @tallmatcha @kookaburra1701 @thana-topsy @orfeolookback @caliblorn Low effort 0 expectation, I know there's a lot of chaos running around but feel free to join in if you like. I have been procrastinating on study because I'm changing my major so I am out of steam on that. So I have um...too many wips in both the art section and the writing section. We have been doing SAD WARS and that means a lot of art and a lot of writing. Like I think I wrote 30K in a month XD ART First I have the Erra render that I've been working on. He's coming along.

Some Josh about to fuck up some Reavers. IDK I kinda just wanted to draw the Dwarven toe prosthesis which will be more visible if I ever line this lol. under the cut for the rest!

Pic of Yani too idk. Okay, Writing!

Going to post 3 snips because I've been jumping around wips. First is a section from Mortal Chill

Corprus? But…how? I stood and moved to try to pull the covers off of him, I don’t know what I was really trying to do here. I could not remove them myself. I- I guess I wanted those bandages removed so that I could see for myself. The tumours, the growths that twisted and deformed the body. The broken bones the-

Maera he was so thin, was it the wasting kind? All I could remember were stories of mad creatures that would come screaming out of the southern ash wastes at night. That they had a madness, that they ate the cursed flesh of their brethren. The Urshilaku would warn us every few years of another outbreak of blight. That it had started breaching the Ghostfence. My tribe did not much care for such things. The lore of our ancestors meant little amongst the Erabenimsun. Our Ashkhans were absolute rulers, our focus war and glory. The news of blight usually fell on deaf ears. Our Wise Woman’s warnings would often go unheeded. It was why my father had made that attempt on old Ulath-Pal’s life after all. Some sort of pact between my kin, the Ensirhaddon who bore most of the tribe’s farseers and mages and the Urshilaku and the Ilaba'andul-Sul family, who were the ruling clan of the northern wastes. It failed, and my kin were systematically executed one by one. I had fled the night my twin sister had her throat cut in her sleep. I was fifteen and utterly alone.

I had run into someone afflicted with blight somewhere around Piran. The wasting the growths. She was practically mad as she lashed out at me. I still have no idea how I had gotten away in the end. Maybe it is because I am forgetting so many things but I know that creature haunts me, Kiang.

Is this really to be my son’s fate?

You shuddered, turning to stroke our son’s cheek. Forty-six years since he was twelve. I guess I was trying to do the sum in my head, had never been good at that, resorting to counting the individual sections of my fingers instead. Three, six, twelve-

“Fifty-eight, Yani. He turned fifty-eight yesterday-I,” you let out a breath, shuddering once again, “I tried to summon you yesterday but- I don’t know why it didn’t work or-“

I couldn’t believe it, the last time I had heard your call and walked through the flames he was still a child, barely twenty-two! You reached for me, your hands on either side of my ruined face. Torn and beaten from the rubble that had entombed me. My ear missing, torn at some point. My face ripped from the razor edge of debris that I had not seen. My throat slashed to such a point that the grizzled meat was visible. It is why I cannot speak.

I was only thirty-one when I had died, barely grown myself. Maera I’ve missed so much.

The second is from Ahzidal's Descent

“Greave,” she held out her hand again, “Teldryn I need it to keep the splint in place.”

He grumbled a little as he reached out behind him, handing her the light, chitinous plate. The surface was a marbled green and beige that dully reflected the sunlight. It had something carved into its underside. Something in what looked like Dunmeris but she honestly couldn’t tell. Sydari untangled the netch leather straps and placed the chitin on top of his shin.

“Tel, I’m going to have to lift this again,” she said as she lightly prodded his shin.

“Do I have to wear it?” He groaned, scratching the back of his head, “I’m pretty sure that’s what irritated it in the first place. Thing was fine this morning.” He shrugged.

Sydari exhaled slowly. Of course, he’d blame the only thing that was supporting his leg! It couldn’t possibly be the fact that he chose to scale this dune! She lifted his leg and started securing the chitin greave to his shin, maybe a little too roughly.

“N'chow! Now I know you did that on purpose!” Teldryn protested, he began to fiddle with the leather strap of his goggles.

“You don’t think that maybe you aggravated your leg by climbing up a cliff?” Sydari pinched the bridge of her nose, “You didn’t even bother to properly brace it!”

“It was fine this morning when I took it off,” Teldryn hunched over his left knee and exhaled sharply, “Thing interferes with my prosthesis, I told you. Plus, I really felt fine this morning, Sydari.”

“You’re not supposed to be taking it off yet Teldryn,” Sydari began to search her pack again, pulling out another small vial, this one filled with a red viscous liquid that leaned violet in the sunlight. Tinged by the minuscule edition of Sleeping Tree Sap. It would dull the pain but make his comedown from the stamina tonic a lot harsher.

“What’s that?” Teldryn asked.

Sydari shook the bottle a little, “It dulls pain.”

Teldryn tilted his head, “Didn’t I just take one of those?”

Sydari shook her head, “No, this one is a bit different, stronger,” she handed him the glass vial, “Just don’t drink all of it, it contains a sedative.”

Teldryn raised an eyebrow, “What kind of sedative?”

Sydari sighed, “It’s a type of sap from this tree in Whiterun Hold, it’s um…”

Teldryn chortled, “Say no more hla’Miluth, say no more,” he raised the small bottle to his lips and took a small sip, “tastes like shit though,” he smiled and handed the mostly full vial back to her.

“You think everything does,” Sydari replied as she replaced the stopped and returned the vial to her pack.

She stood up and offered Teldryn her hand, “Come on, let's get you back to the Netch.”

“Aww come on Miluth!” Teldryn frowned, “It’s just over this ridge, we’re so close. Why go back now?”

Sydari pulled her pack over her shoulder and offered him her hand again, “Because you’re not making it up that hill, not in your wildest dreams.”

And finally a bit from Kagrumez Gauntlet

I took a few steps back, dagger still readied…just in case. The specter reached out.

“It is okay, Dumu, I mean you no harm,” there was an echo to his voice as well, as if he was both far away and far too close. I wonder if that is why he never spoke last time.

“Wha-“I stammered, I had no idea what any of this was.

He held up a hand and shook his head, “Does your Ata know you have that?”

I slowly lowered your dagger, putting it away. I shook my head at the ghost.

He sighed, “Nervyna, these places are death traps for the best of us. You cannot be messing around in here.”

I pouted, “Ata said he’d take me down here to help with his research. We were supposed to be here together but he ditched me with my cousins and came here himself,” I folded my arms, “It’s not fair!”

The ghost shook his head, his hair almost floating around him, “Oh Dumu, I am sure he had good reason. It is a new place, yes?”

I nodded, “That’s why we were going to come down here together,” I told the ghost, “then all of a sudden he decides ‘No! It’s time to go visit your cousins!’” I mimicked your gruff tone as best as I could. It made the ghost laugh.

“Ah, I think I know what is wrong, Nervyna,” the ghost smiled, “Your Ata found that down here, I do not think he wants one of these ambushing the two of you.”

I looked back at the metal mer that lay battered and broken, melted to the floor. Did he see this thing and run? I sighed, “So he saw this thing and ran away? It’s dead. Creepy but it’s dead.”

The ghost approached the broken hunk of metal and knelt over it, “Nervyna, your Ata does not run from these things. This is his doing.”

I walked over to where the ghost was kneeling, standing on the opposite side of the twisted metal mer, “how would you know that? I don’t even know who you are?”

The ghost furrowed his brow or tried to, the long scar that cut across his face seemed to make it hard, even in this form, “Nervyna, I have known your Ata for a very long time. More than he would probably care to admit. I know how he attacks these things. I have seen him do it many times. Dumu I know your Ata took down this metal mer because I do not know anyone else who can melt this kind of metal.”

I stared at the thing’s melted surface. It reminded me a little too much of how an ice mer melts during the early spring thaw. Like the ones that you would build with me whenever snow fell on the mountains to the north of the island. You hated the cold but you would take me up there every year so that we could make one. This wasn’t making any sense.

“I haven't seen Ata so much as take down a slaughterfish let alone whatever this thing is,” I stood and stomped back towards the stairs that lead further into the ruin.

“Nervyna! Wait!” the ghost called back as I descended the stairs. I replenished the light I had summoned with some of my magicka, just like you showed me. ‘Imagine you can make the light stronger with just one touch,’ I had finally started getting the hang of doing that.

The ghost reformed in front of me as I entered a colossal chamber. The whole place buzzing and whirring with that magical steam you always talked about. He frowned at me, bow gripped tightly in his ethereal fist.

“Please do not run off like that. I can not protect you if you move too far away from me,” he cautioned, though his tone was even and calm, I could tell there was a slight hint of annoyance there.

“I never asked for your protection, ghost. I don’t even know who you are,” I grit my teeth, I never summoned any ancestor ghost. I don’t even know that spell yet!

The ghost blinked at me before sighing, “That is my fault, I forget that you do know what I look like. I am Erra, I was-“

“You’re Aya’s uncle!” I interrupted, I had heard of him before. I had heard of him a lot, in fact. You had called him by the same words that you used for Alma.

For a brief moment, I thought I saw the ghost frown. He smiled again and nodded, “Yes, that is it.”

#my art #my writing #my wips #teldryn sero #danger!josh #Erra Ilaba'andul #Nervyna Sero #sydari aralen #dunmer #skyrim #morrowind #the elder scrolls #tesblr #nerevarine #last dragonborn #tes #tes fanart #tes fic

1 note · View note

blue-eyed-bloodstains · 1 year

Text

When was the last time you didn’t want to get out of bed? always lol

Do you save cards from your birthday/x-mas, etc? yeah

When was the last time you’ve gone shopping with a friend? many many years

What is your favorite kind of salad dressing? ranch and balsamic vinaigrette

If given the chance, would you go to Ireland? definitely! that’s a big part of my heritage/nationality

If you’re not already, when do you plan on getting married? god only knows at this point...been together 7 years, engaged for 2 but we just haven’t been able to save up or even start planning, plus he’s barely ever home cause work sends him everywhere constantly for long periods of time...

Is there anything that you should be doing right now? not at the moment

Have you watched a t.v show lately that you haven’t watched in forever? court shows, used to be routine during the day but it’s been a few months and just did the other day

Are you currently in a relationship? If so, how long have you been dating? yeah, been together 7 years and engaged for 2...Feb 13-14 is our anniversary of dating/together, Christmas day 2020 is engagement anniversary. lived together since December 1, 2016 so a little under a year into the relationship we moved in together

Do you use normal batteries or rechargeable ones? rechargeable

Do strapless bras work for you? never really tried one but not sure if one would work

What was the last video game you played, if any? Pokemon Scarlet

Out of Biology, Chemistry and Physics, which are you the best at? never got to take Chemistry or Physics so biology either way but I was real good at it too so

Is there a friend you can always talk to about anything? yeah

What is/or was your graduating year? high school 2010

Have you had a weird dream lately? you have nooooo idea

Do you own a pair of slippers? yeah slip on Ugg slippers gray with no back and furry inside, suede on the outside

Cutting your hair extremely short, would you do it? I completely shaved my head summer of 2021, and I’ve cut my hair short many times all my life and I’m way overdue for a haircut right now so yeah lol

Do you like your nose? I guess yeah

How soon is your birthday? it’s today actually lol I’m 31

Are you one of those people who listen to songs on repeat? yep

Do you have piano fingers? if you mean long and thin? yeah

Is there a movie that makes you cry every single time you watch it? several

What is the first letter of the person’s name you last kissed? Z

Is there an accent you prefer? I’m a sucker for Brit accents for sure, and I love a good country drawl ;)

Where exactly are you right now? home on the couch

Have you ever been in a parade? not in one no

Would you ever consider being a news reporter? yeah

Do people say you look your age? Or younger or older? younger, I look forever 16-18 lol

When was the last time you swam in a pool? too long!! dying to be in one asap

Do you like seafood? omg I’d live on it if I could!

Why are people so afraid of bees? cause they don’t wanna get stung duh!

Have you ever broken a bone? only one and didn’t happen till I was 21, my right collarbone

What would you do if you saw someone turn completely inside out? O_O...okay I love horror movies but what the fuck dude...?! umm what any normal person would do and lose my shit screaming and running?!

Where’s your cell phone? next to me

Would you date the lead singer of a band? maybe

What would you do if I told you you would die today? not going there right now...

Are you coasting on potential towards the wall? what...?

How do you feel when you wake up next to a stranger? ummm...? never happens? I live with my fiance sooo

Does September depress you? only if you wake me up XD no seriously umm no reason for it to

Do you like strawberries? yeah

Do you drink coffee? hell yeah could really go for one right now actually uggh exhausted

#survey #bored #random #about me

0 notes

noonaishere · 1 year

Text

So I was sitting here, thinking to myself, wondering how long I’ve been working on this fic [also: I was thinking about this LAST week, I just forgot to type up this post. I feel like that’s just… this whole thing in a nutshell] and I decided to go through my phone to find screencaps and go through my gdocs to find the earliest document that’s associated with this coming fic...

And… I had forgotten that - originally - I was planning on doing a Choose Your Own Adventure-style Otome fic. It’d have each member of Ateez be one of the personality types you see in Otome games, and you’d read through it and click links and choose who you’d end up with in the end. I read a really great CYOA story on Twine a long time ago and I’ve been wanting to do one since then, though I haven’t had an idea that I felt was befitting it.

So I looked up the main Otome personality types and tried to fit each Ateez member to each type and then sort of ran out of ideas/was too busy with work, and so I just put it in a folder marked “fics” which has all fic ideas that I’m kicking around (some come to fruition, some don’t). The document is called “Otome Character Archetypes” and the date on that document is Jun 5, 2021.

Anyway, I recall kind of thinking about the idea for a while after that and then forgetting about it. My Jaehyun fic was still updating, and while I wanted to start a new fic so I had something for when that one was done, I think I might have been also working on some original stuff as well.

At some point I scrapped the Otome idea since I didn’t feel like I grasped the personality types enough to be able to write it well, and created a new doc called “Ateez smau idea.” It’s creation date is November 7, 2021. (I don’t really use this anymore - the last time I opened it was February of last year lol - because I made a better, more organized “book bible” kind of thing at some point.)

Then I got this comment that sort of blew my mind.

And I was like… YO, what IF there were two couples trying to get each other together, our favorite (or at least my favorite) fic chaos but doubled?

…

What if it was two fics?

So I started writing notes like, immediately-- AND I DELETED THE ORIGINAL DOCUMENT LIKE A FOOL. I KNOW I made posts about it in April and May, but I guess I copy/pasted the text out of the first documents and deleted the remains as I got everything together and made it make sense? Which - I now realize - I need to STOP. DOING. Since I don’t fucking journal about what I’m doing at all, I need to keep the docs themselves to know when I did things 😫😫😫😫😫

I don’t have the original version of the one side of the fic (it’s two fics. I’ll explain when it’s ready to come out. I don’t know why I do these things), but a file called “Notes from first draft” has March 8, 2022 on it. So I had to have written the first draft of it before then; somewhere in between January 19th and March 8th, because those are the dates of luvvvx’s comment and the day I apparently had enough of a first draft to read it and make notes about additions. The first drafts (of each side of the fic) had to have been very bare bones though, because the doc has a lot of smaller points in it that are intrinsic to the plot and that I know I decided on early on in the writing process.

So I started somewhere between: January 19th and March 8th, 2022.

…And now it’s over a year later since I started the missing doc of the first draft, and I missed BOTH anniversaries of starting the fic (the comment and the first doc).

When I first was like, “When did I start this?” I thought maybe I could make a little post about it and be like, “Congratulations to STILL NOT BEING DONE” and it would be a lark and kind of funny since I’ve been working on this for so long, but I MISSED BOTH OF THEM. I had two and I missed them.

So yeah, idk what this is.

Happy missed anniversaries I guess 🎉

#anyway: guess what’s getting very close to finally being finished #I'm hoping to finish it with this April Camp NANO #because I want to BE. DONE.#I wanted to be done so much sooner #but between work and the burnout that CAME from work #omg #I could tell I was finally starting to recover because I can look at any writing I have without feeling like I don't want to do it #because all of it felt like WORK #I still have some days when I don't want to write at all (which is STILL weird because I LOVE writing)#but they seem to be getting less numerous and it seems to be getting easier #now I just need to finish this so I can write original work and upload it on patreon lol #and I might make that CYOA at some point #I have a new doc for it lolol #it'll just be like a cute thing I think #I will also be printing out this post and putting it in the new hobonichi I ordered #I feel like this counts as 'journaling' lolol #ad then I won't have to go on a hunt for documents in the future lolol

0 notes

raytaku · 3 years

Text

Did I ever talk abt the sideblog I have for cataloging my ocs here?

Anyway if you’re curious, it’s @raytakus-ocblog

#raytaku.txt #It's a little bare bones since I started it like. last year lol

2 notes · View notes

jackrrabbit · 3 years

Text

Adversary /// Overhaul x f!Reader (18+)

Summary: You make a deal with the devil to save your life, but it turns out Overhaul’s not interested in your soul.

A/N: Remember when I said I was going to do a fantasy collab and then dipped for like 9 months? Hahaha…anyway…

@pleasantanathema @ present-mel @shadowworks—if it’s not too late, here’s my part for the Pleasant & Strider Fantasy AU Writing Collab from a million years ago. Go check out the masterlist and gorge yourself on these amazing pieces!!

Tags/Warnings: dubcon, demon fuckery & occult things, big heresy/sacrilege/perversion of religion, sex in a church ft. Catholic sex guilt, other than that it’s not that bad lol, inexperienced reader, mild degradation, shameless camp and demon-fucking clichés, Overhaul calls you “little girl” 👉👈

He doesn’t look like a demon.

Not that you really know what demons are supposed to look like. But…red skin, right? Fangs and claws and swirling masses of bad energy. Maybe cloven hooves for feet. Yes, that’s the Disney version—but even if you didn’t expect a cartoon personification of evil, you didn’t expect this.

He looks like a doctor, you think. Lab coat hanging open, surgery mask pushed down under his jaw, stethoscope draped over his shoulders. No, he’s a little young to really look like a doctor…an intern, you amend, shifting back in your hospital bed. He looks like he fits right in here, not a hair out of place. Except for, you know, the polished black horns curling out of the sides of his skull.

Overhaul. It was written in the book. That’s the only thing you have to call him in your head.

He’s standing in the center of the sigil you drew at the foot of your bed before midnight, surveying the room critically without meeting your gaze. He looks annoyed—that’s not a good sign, is it?—but then again, of course he’s annoyed. You’d be annoyed too if you got summoned out of your cozy hell dimension in the middle of the night. According to the book, you’re lucky he even showed up…although ‘lucky’ isn’t really how you’d describe yourself most days.

“So,” Overhaul says after a long moment of silence in which you question every choice you’ve made in your relatively short life. “You’re dying.”

You nod.

“And you don’t want to be.”

You nod again, wondering if you’re supposed to be contributing more to this conversation. It’s a bit difficult when your mouth is so dry it feels like you’ve been eating dirt, but you suppose being in the presence of an unholy servant of Satan will do that to a person.

“Fine.” He sighs, frowns, and then finally lowers his gaze onto yours—and you shiver.

Those eyes. No human has eyes like that.

“Make me an offer,” Overhaul tells you, and through his open mouth you catch a flash of sharp white teeth.

Okay. Okay. The chirping of the heart monitor speeds up (as if it weren’t obvious enough that you’re terrified) and you fold your knees up to your chest and fidget with your ring and think. He’s giving you a chance to establish parameters. You’re supposed to start with his end of the deal, the thing you want from him. That’s what it said to do in the grimoire, aka the 19th century demonology volume your creepy cousin brought back from her pagan anthropology research trip in rural France. The one you keep hidden under your bed because your mother would burn it if she knew you were reading about summoning demons.

Offer nothing to a hell creature without first telling him your price. You know the words by heart, both the winding calligraphy of the original French from the grimoire and the rushed scrawl of the English translation your cousin left for you in sheets of lined paper layered between the pages of the book for you to read. Really, this is her fault. She was the one who slipped you the book, who told you that it worked, who snuck you the ingredients for the summoning. She was the one who left a bookmark at the chapter on this particular demon, one that specializes in ‘Contrat pour Remédier au Déséquilibre des Quatre Humeurs’, which she said meant a contract to cure any illness. Even his ‘name’ is translated in her hand, practically an afterthought in the margins of the page.

‘Le Malin qui Ravage et Rebâtit’— Overhaul?

You looked up the literal meaning of this phrase on your own. It did not reassure you.

“Girl.” His voice is cold, irate. Your eyes snap back up to his and it feels like that burning gaze is laser-beaming into your skull. “Do not test me. My time is limited…as is yours.”

You swallow. “How long do I have left?”

“Less than a single human year,” he tells you without a trace of sympathy. “Seven months, twelve days, three hours. Or so. You’ll be too exhausted to leave this bed in four months, and the pain will become intolerable in six… By the end, you’ll wish—“

“Stop,” you breathe out. The heart monitor is beeping wildly and you squeeze your knees into your chest, trying to calm down your breathing. “Stop, I—I want to live.”

“Of course you do.” Overhaul’s lip curls. “How very predictable.”

Be specific, you remind yourself, doing your best to ignore the stifling disapproval from the man—the demon—in front of you. Something about him (maybe how clean-cut he looks, maybe the indisputable authority in his demeanor) makes you want to impress him. But you didn’t turn your back on your religion—you didn’t draw pagan symbols on the floor in chalk, fill silver cups with various questionable substances (including your own virgin blood), and turn the crucifix your mother hung over your bed upside-down so you could let a demon make you feel guilty for wanting to survive. “I want to be cured. I’m okay with whatever natural death I have instead when I’m older, I just don’t want to die of this illness. I want you to make me healthy.”

“Simple enough. What else?”

‘Simple’? Your heart surges with something you’ve felt very little of since your initial diagnosis—hope. “T-That’s it. Just the cure.”

Overhaul glares at you. “Humans… Every vice in the world available to you, and you limit yourselves to the basest priority of survival.”

“But you can do it? You can cure me?” you persist.

Overhaul steps forward (quiet, so quiet you wonder if he really moved) and holds a hand out to you past the foot of your bed—you hesitate, and a second later you can see the muscles in his hand flex, stretching the latex of his plastic gloves tight over his knuckles.

Just do it. You give him your hand. Carefully. Like you’re scared the contact will burn you. It doesn’t (although his skin feels warmer than yours), but after a moment his grip tightens, sliding down past your hand to circle the fragile bones of your wrist and squeeze.

“Ow?” You wince.

The demon’s eyes flicker closed for a second, lips moving silently like he’s talking to himself—and then he drops your hand unceremoniously back onto your lap. “You could be cured before the sun rises this morning. I doubt your stay in the hospital will extend past the end of the week.”

He sounds bored, voice as flat and passionless as it was earlier, but your heart is soaring. Cured. You’ve lived with this illness for so many years, you can’t remember the last time someone told you you could be cured. And getting out of the hospital that soon? You can just imagine taking down all the decorations from the walls of your room here and setting them up in your old bedroom at home. You could see friends on the weekend and not take an oxygen bag, you could get a job or—or apply to college, you could have a life—

“That is…assuming you have something to offer me in exchange for the cure.”

Your stomach drops. You’d almost forgotten about the other half of the deal.

“Don’t tell me I came all this way for nothing.” Overhaul steps back, and the orange light of the candles you set sends strange shadows over his arrogant face. The fires look brighter now, and you find yourself tracing the lines of those shining black horns. In an odd way, they look natural—so organically framing his temples that you can’t imagine him without them.

“N-No, of course not. I have some money—I mean, my mom has some, and I can get it for you…” Which is half the truth. If you know anything, it’s that your mother’s spent most of her savings on your treatment and care. You probably have more debt than you have money in the bank right now—you’d try to get rid of that, too, if you hadn’t read in the book how important it is to keep your request as simple and straightforward as possible.

…Although it’s apparently not enough. Overhaul’s eyes narrow, molten gold irises carved into slits. “Even if I had a use for human money, do you really believe your life is worth so little?”

“No—no,” you say quickly. “I just thought—in case you were interested—”

The air crackles with energy, the candle flames spark bright blood-red, and the hair on your arms stands straight up. “I am not.”

“Okay! I get it.” You wave your hands back and forth, pulling your IV line from side to side with the motion. The book was very clear about staying calm and rational while you work out the terms of the deal, but that’s easier said than done when you have a real live (live?) hell creature in front of you. You always knew this was going to be the hard part—all the stories say there’s only one thing that a demon would be interested in, and no matter how inviting the prospect of living past this illness is, you know you’d rather die than sell your immortal soul to the devil. “I’ll give you anything except my soul! And—and don’t hurt anyone I care about, or— just don’t hurt anyone, okay? Other than that, if there’s anything I can give you, I will.”

Overhaul’s lip curls, baring a thin strip of those unnaturally sharp canines. “And is your soul really so valuable?”

This throws you for a loop. Isn’t that the standard deal? A soul for a wish? That’s how it’s supposed to work—at least in this twisted version of reality where you can summon a demon to perform unholy miracles for you. But if you think about it, it doesn’t really make sense, does it? Why would your soul be valuable to him? You can’t form an argument, especially since you’re not willing to barter it away in the first place.

Your mouth is pursed open as you search for a response, but Overhaul doesn’t seem willing to wait. A gloved hand wraps its way around the railing at the side of your bed, and he leans in closer. “Little girl…what makes you think you possess anything I desire?”

Little girl. You’re not a little girl, you’re a grown woman—and yet there’s no untruth in the statement. In front of him you feel insignificant, immature, weak. You have nothing real to offer, and something tells you that you’re not going to get rid of the demon you summoned without a sacrifice you’re not willing to make.

You twist your ring around your finger—the nervous habit you haven’t bothered to break because you’ve always had more important things to worry about—and the glint of silver in the candlelight must catch Overhaul’s eye because before you even notice him moving, your delicate hand is trapped in his larger one to give him a better view of the tiny piece of jewelry. “What is this?”

“It’s—um, a ring. A purity ring.” Has he never seen one before? Well…actually, that makes sense.

Overhaul turns your hand over in his without touching the band of silver. He’s looking at it closely, inspecting the lovingly engraved cross in the design and the inscription on the other side. “Matthew 5:8,” he reads out.

“…Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God,” you recite cautiously. It feels wrong to speak the words in front of him, but somehow you can’t help yourself.

Overhaul’s hand doesn’t leave yours. “This ring is important to you.”

“It’s a symbol of a—a promise I made to God. To save myself for my future husband.”

“To ‘save yourself’? To save what?”

You can’t believe you’re explaining this to a literal demon. You close your eyes and inhale slowly and taste smoke. “My…virginity. It’s a promise that I won’t have sex until I enter into a biblical marriage.”

At this, Overhaul is quiet. You give him a moment to answer, half expecting him to question why you think God cares about your sexual status (honestly, you’d be lying if you said you haven’t wondered this yourself), but he stays quiet until you peek up at him to try and gauge the look on his coldly handsome face.

He’s still staring at the ring. He hasn’t touched it—maybe he can’t, because of the cross?—and through the latex, his skin feels hotter than a human’s is supposed to be.

“Is there…” you start, but you trail off when you realize you have nothing to ask. You give a little tug to try and take your hand away and you’re surprised when your wrist actually slides out of his grip to fall back on the nest of sheets in your lap. You didn’t think he’d let you go so easily.

Overhaul turns his head to the side, eyes drilling into you so you feel like you should lower your gaze. The candlelight flickers in strange shadows over his horns. “This will do,” he says quietly.

“What?”

“In exchange for your cure.” The demon taps his own left ring finger, the place where the purity ring sits on your hand, and your heart soars. He actually wants that? It’s just a simple silver band, not worth much, but you’re not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Maybe it has some special significance because of the religious connotation. Your mother will be angry you’ve lost it, but you’re happy to cope with that if it means living to actually get married!

“Yes!” you blurt out before he has a chance to rethink his offer. Sure, you’ll miss the purity ring—you’ve had it since you were a kid, after all—but there’s no question you’re getting the better end of this deal. At least in your opinion.

Something flashes through his yellow eyes, something you don’t even want to try and identify. “The contract, then.”

You barely have time to notice that his voice has gentled, that it’s practically silken in comparison to before, when the candlelight flickers again and suddenly the contract is everywhere. Everywhere. Writing appears on every surface in the room, covering the walls, stretching over the ceiling, coiling around the sides of the hospital equipment and decorating your bedsheets until you and Overhaul are the only untouched surfaces in sight. The characters are inscribed in red, dark red like—don’t think about that, you tell yourself squeamishly. You can make out some of the letters, even a word here or there—French, you recognize, mixed with what looks like Latin and interspersed with what you can only guess are runes.

“I can’t read this,” you tell him, fidgeting with your ring for what you now realize will be the last time.

“I only need your name,” he purrs, and then you feel a fragile weight in your hand: a feather, pearl-black and glossy and too large to belong to any bird you can think of, its angled tip glistening with wet ink. There’s an empty space in the writing before you, and Overhaul’s gloved hand comes to yours again to guide you into place.

This feels wrong…then again, of course it does. Even if you’re getting off relatively easy and just losing your ring rather than your soul, you’re still making a deal with a demon. You sign your name, forcing yourself to think about the future you have ahead of you rather than a disapproving white-bearded caricature of The Man Upstairs wagging his finger at you for haggling with a literal servant of Satan. People have done worse things to survive, haven’t they? It’s just a ring.

You set the feather down and Overhaul sighs, thick black eyelashes obscuring his intense gaze for a moment—and then the contract is gone, leaving your hospital room as blank and sterile as it’s supposed to be (well, aside from the candles and all the other ritual stuff you threw together to summon a demon in the first place).

“Are you going to cure—heal me now?” you ask.

“…Patience, little girl.” He’s pulling his glove off, peeling it down his fingers to bare the pale skin of his hand. You catch your breath and wonder what this is going to feel like, and then the tips of his fingers meet your cheek and—

you stop breathing.

It doesn’t hurt.

Or if it does, you don’t remember the pain a second later when breath floods back into your lungs. What you do feel is energy. Strength in your muscles, blood pumping through your veins, every inhale and exhale as light as a bird and freer. You feel healthy. You’re surprised you even remember what health feels like but you do: it’s like you’ve only been half alive, and now life is surging into you and through you and around you, bubbling up in your core like a spring overflowing. You blink rapidly, thinking you might cry from the sheer pleasure of it, but when you open your mouth it’s laughter that comes out. You’re healthy. You’re alive. You barely notice the IV line literally falling off of your skin because the hole where it entered your vein is sealed shut and healed perfectly.

No more needles. No more hospitals. Even without all the monitors beeping out your heart rate and measuring your vitals, there’s not a shred of doubt in your mind that you’re cured.

“Thank you!” you laugh, looking up at Overhaul and for the first time, not caring that he’s evil incarnate. “I feel—I’m okay! It worked!”

“Of course it did.” His expression is inscrutable, but he lets you have a few moments to enjoy your newfound health.

You roll your shoulders back, flex each muscle you can isolate one by one to test, make fists with your fingers and then run them over your hair, which is already thicker and shinier than it was a moment ago. Your body thrums with energy—you want to run, to feel the ground against your bare feet and the cold night air on your face, and you think you could do it! Your legs are already swinging over the side of your cot, ready to run barefoot out of the hospital if that’s what it takes, but before you can stand up Overhaul’s pushing you back down onto the bed.

“Have you forgotten your end of the bargain already?”

Honestly you did forget, but only for a second, only because you were so excited to just be outside again. “Oh, yeah. Of course.” Your hand goes to your left ring finger, ready to slip the ring off and hand it over, but Overhaul shakes his head.

“Not here.”

“What—?”

You’re falling. Your hospital room is disappearing, the image of your walls and your window and your bed disintegrating into yawning black, and you’re falling through it into nothing, into emptiness, and Overhaul’s still-bare hand in yours is the only anchor you have so you clutch onto it and squeeze your eyes shut. You want to scream—that’s the sane thing to do when you’re falling through miles and miles of empty space, right?—but when you open your throat the sound is swallowed up just like the light was…

Overhaul’s hand burns into yours, an improbable lifeline that you pull closer more out of terror than conscious thought. The slick, empty air rushes around you and you think I am going to die like this and then, incredibly, as soon as you’ve accepted your imminent demise, you feel your back mold onto a chilled, flat surface, vertebra by vertebra up to the back of your head, as if you’ve been lain down onto it.

Your heart thuds in your ears and you brace for an impact because your body hasn’t quite accepted yet that it’s not falling anymore—but at the same time, you know you’re lying down on something. You pry your fingers away from their vice-grip on Overhaul’s arm and feel around blindly for what’s underneath you, and when it seems reasonably tangible you let yourself open your eyes.

Way above, vaulted dozens of feet over your head, is a ceiling studded with gilt-edged frescoes and stained glass. It’s raining (even though it wasn’t in the hospital, you think) but through the massive panes of colored glass there’s enough oily blue light to make out that you’re in a church.

You’re in a church, with a demon. Isn’t that against the rules?

You sit up stiffly and look over at Overhaul, who’s standing at your side and looking down at you…which is how you realize the soft, cold surface you’ve been deposited onto is the blanket on top of the altar in the sanctuary. “Where...did you take me?”

“You should know this place.”

And you do, when you look around. It’s empty now and you’ve never been here at night, but this is a church your mother would bring you to when you were little, back before the disease got so bad you couldn’t risk traveling to it anymore. This is where you took your purity vow…the ring feels heavy on your hand. “Why—why—“

“I can’t stand human hospitals. Filthy places… How that reek of illness and death doesn’t bother your kind, I’ll never understand.” Overhaul pulls his latex glove back on. He’s dressed differently now, no longer impersonating a doctor—black shirt, black pants, and a…bird mask in red leather and gold. So are you, as a matter of fact. Instead of your hospital gown, you’re in a gauzy white dress that’s already been pushed up to pool around the tops of your thighs.

The slip is too thin for the cold, and you can feel your nipples standing up under the cloth so you fold your arms over your chest and hug yourself. “Why did you take me here?” The sound of your voice echoes off the walls eerily and you wish you hadn’t spoken so loudly. The reflection of your words sounds girlish, nervous.

“I told you. Your side of our contract.” Even in this dark, the angular features of his face are clearly concentrating—on you. “Are you already having second thoughts? Such a fickle little thing…”

“You mean the ring?” You reach for it again, ready to tear it off and throw it at him if that’s what it takes to see your deal through, but Overhaul snatches your hand away, pinning it above you.

“Not the ring,” he says. “The promise.”

The…promise?

A chill makes its way down your spine despite the heat radiating off the demon’s body and onto yours. “I don’t understand.”

“The promise,” Overhaul repeats—and you hear a sound almost like wings flapping and then he’s on the altar with you, knees straddling your hips as a single hand holds both your wrists above your head. “To remain a virgin until marriage. Your promise to God.”

A streak of lightning cracks down on the other side of the stained glass window behind the altar, illuminating the room briefly in spectacular pits of red and orange and yellow…and then it’s dark again, and the only color you can make out is the gold in Overhaul’s eyes.

“I’m going to break it,” he murmurs, lowering his head toward your ear right as the answering thunder rolls through the sanctuary, up through the altar, up into you.

///

Méfiez-vous de son piège, the grimoire said. Beware of the catch.

Of course it wasn’t just a ring.

Overhaul’s fingers are in—inside you, his middle and ring finger pumping through the length of your cunt like they belong there, like you were made to be touched this way. A mixture of your juices and your own spit cling to the latex because he made you suck his fingers before he put them in you and he hasn’t bothered to take his gloves off—not that you asked. You’ve been too busy biting your lip to try and muffle the moans that he keeps forcing out of you. He’s bracing himself on top of you with one hand and fingering you with the other, so your own hands are free to push into your eyes and hide your face…until he yanks your arm back and stops.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes are screwed shut and you shake your head back and forth, the movement shuddering your whole body right down to your pussy wrapped around Overhaul’s fingers. He slows the movement and kneels back, pushing one of your thighs up into your chest as he does it.

“Look at me.”

And you’re not sure whether it’s some unearthly power he has over you or the plain old deterioration of your willpower, but you can’t refuse him. You crack your eyes open and he’s glaring down at you, skin pale as ice in the blue light. Once he’s satisfied that you’re watching, the demon leans back in to fuck your cunt with his fingers, slowly at first and then quicker when he hits something inside of you—a spot, a place on the inner wall of your pussy that makes you feel like you’ve been shocked— heat blooms through you like blood in water and you gasp and he curls his fingers up to pet over that spot again.

“Wait—wait, that’s—it feels—weird!” You’ve never felt like this before. You’re not supposed to feel like this, it’s wrong.

“I understand you’ve never touched yourself, but don’t pretend you don’t like it.” Overhaul says, voice as indifferent and calm as ever even though your cunt is dripping clear sticky liquid over the plastic of his glove.

He pushes back in and grinds his palm over the little button on the top of your pussy—your clit?—and you want to scream. “No, I—I don’t—nnhh...”

Do you like it? The demon’s body is so hot next to yours, like he’s running a fever except you’re the one going out of your mind… You’ve heard metaphors for sexual pleasure before (that it’s like having something to drink when you’re dying of thirst; or that it’s the ultimate act of intimacy, love in physical form) but all of that’s a fucking lie. There’s nothing to compare it to, no reference that makes sense, because it doesn’t make sense—you don’t even want him to keep going, do you? You’re only doing this because you signed your name on a devil’s contract, because you don’t want to die and there’s no alternative…but that doesn’t explain why you feel so warm from the inside out, why you’re squirming and your hips are rocking involuntarily no matter how much you try to keep still. This isn’t right. You feel like you’ve been lied to.

A good girl wouldn’t like this.

Overhaul isn’t going to let you close your eyes, so you don’t—but the sounds coming out of your mouth are so…indecent (and how can you think these things about yourself? the word feels like someone else is saying it when you hear it in your head) that your hand is drifting up to your mouth before you can stop yourself, trying to stifle all of it…

“Let your voice out. I want you to hear yourself moan.”

Long fingers slide their way out of your pussy and then move up to rub quick little circles around your clit and you moan, like a whore, like a girl getting her cunt rubbed by a demon— “Oh, uhhhn—something, it’s—coming—“ There’s something building up in your core—a peak, a climax, something that makes you fist your hands in the nightgown he put you in (so tight you’re surprised the thin fabric hasn’t torn) and tilt your hips up into him, begging without words because you don’t have any to express what your body is asking for…

But he doesn’t give it to you. Overhaul takes his hand away from your pussy and the shock of the cool air after his too-hot touch is almost enough to send you over that edge—almost. Not quite. And without it, you’re left shivering and quaking, thighs twitching as your baser instincts beg you to just put your hand between your legs for once and hump your fingers to completion if the demon won’t do it.

You’re not going to risk that, though. Not when Overhaul’s dragging your body closer, bunching up the blanket on the altar under your spine, so your pelvis is angled to his… He’s already shirtless and you hear him unzipping his pants but you can’t bring yourself to actually look at him, even when you feel something hard and hot nudging up against your inner thigh and then aligning to your sticky wet slit.

“This will hurt a bit, but I want you to look,” he says, and you don’t even understand at first until you make yourself feel it—his cock, pushing up against your tight cunt to finish this, this perversion of what your first time was supposed to be…

And what was it supposed to be? Roses and candles and soft kisses? A nameless, faceless husband unzipping your wedding dress and making love to you with the lights off? The way the demon touches you should be cruel in comparison but it isn’t, it’s lighting fires under your skin and turning your brains to mush, so how is your body supposed to tell the difference?

It’ll hurt, you know that, you’ve heard enough about sex to know that it always hurts the first time for girls…women. It was already a stretch to fit his fingers in your virgin pussy, so of course his cock is going to hurt. You turn your head toward the window at your side and try on look out at the rain drawing rivulets like veins over the glass, something to focus on instead of him.

“I said look,” the demon hisses, and his hips push forward a bit and you bite off a whimper of pain. “Watch me take your virginity…look at your tight little cunt swallowing me up just like it was made to.”

“N-No—“ you whine, even though it’s not like you can ignore it. “Don’t make me, don’t make me look, I can’t—“

“Then look at me.”

It’s what he wants, some kind of wicked satisfaction he gets off on, but you’re lucky enough to even get an option so you choose that one, shifting your gaze up into his face instead of the place where his cock is pressing deeper and deeper inside you. Overhaul’s eyes are half-lidded and it’s hard to tell from behind the mask but the look on his face is…pleasure? No, that would be too human. Restraint, at least. He could just thrust up into your body in one stroke, but he wants you to feel it for some reason.

Maybe because it’s a worse betrayal of your chastity if you want to get fucked.

Lucky for you, though, you can barely feel anything aside from the pain. The heat you felt building earlier is draining out of you even as Overhaul tilts deeper, layering his chest over yours. You’re almost grateful for the modest barrier the dress provides between your torso and the solid muscle of his abdomen. His cock in your pussy feels like it’s too big too deep too much and it’s the first time you’ve felt like your body wasn’t created specifically for this purpose so you hold it tight.

“Does it hurt?”

A second of clarity makes you want to snarl (of course it fucking hurts, I’m losing my virginity to a demon I summoned from hell) and you dig your fingernails into your palms to stop yourself from saying it out loud. Overhaul pulls out a fraction of an inch and then pushes back in and you feel like the breath’s being pushed out of your lungs. “Yes! Yes, it—it hurts—“

“I can make you enjoy it…for a price,” he sighs, settling into a slow rocking motion of his hips pushing into yours.

And you want to, every sore muscle in your cunt is telling you to give in and give up, give him what he wants so you can enjoy it like he says—but you’d rather hate every second of this than make another deal. You shake your head quickly and because you’re still too afraid to look away from him, you don’t miss the look of surprise that flits across his face before he tamps it down. “I don’t—I don’t want to—like it,” you gasp out between thrusts. “It’s better if—if it h-hurts…”

This time it’s obvious—his eyes really do widen, and you feel some petty triumph at having caught him off guard like this. Who’s predictable now? you think—and then he’s lifting one hand off the altar at the side of your head and tugging his glove off with his teeth, and you don’t even have time to be afraid of what he’s going to do to you because it’s too late, his bare fingers are already stroking over your mound and onto your core, massaging into the flesh of your stomach so he can feel his own cock sliding in and out of you—

and it doesn’t hurt anymore?

You only have a second to try and understand—he cured you, he healed the pain from your first time just like he healed your illness?—before he hooks his grip under your thigh and folds your legs into your chest so he can fuck into you harder than before. His cock slaps into your pussy and you can hear it, hear how wet your filthy little cunt is, smeared through with your juices. It’s sick—the sound of skin against skin, and the moaning you can’t hold back, you sound like a woman in a porno and you wish the pain would come back just so you could keep hating what he’s doing to you. “What—what did you do—“

The demon ignores you. “It feels good, doesn’t it.”

“Nn—“ It’s deeper like this…deeper and rougher and you can feel it. Now that the pain’s been reduced to the dull ache of a stretched muscle, you can feel everything—his cock sliding against that same spot in your cunt that makes you want to squeal, the friction of his body moving against your clit, all of it, everything you wanted to block out— he pumps into you and you hear your breath sobbing out a moan a second out of rhythm, the sounds of you bouncing on demon cock echoing over the walls. “Please—ah, ahhh…”

“‘Please?’ Are you begging—me, little girl?” Overhaul pushes your thigh up and drags his cock through you, excruciatingly slow, forcing you to feel the thick head slide over every gummy wall in your slick pussy.

You shake your head, mewl, try to force your hips to stop rocking back into his and grinding your clit against him. But you can’t. You’re a—you were a virgin, for fuck’s sake! Overhaul’s immortal. Probably thousands of years of experience on how to make you feel like you want this, like you’re only alive in the places he touches you… You’re at his mercy, if he has any. You never stood a chance.

“Then are you begging your god?” His body lowers directly onto yours and like you’re being controlled by puppet strings your arms fold around him and rake your fingernails uselessly into the smooth skin of his back. You can feel the vibration of his mirthless laughter through his chest. “It must hurt terribly…to know he isn’t listening.”

“Don’t—stop, please,” you sob. “Don’t say—don’t stop—please!”

“Listen to yourself, girl—“ Overhaul’s breath is faster now, but you don’t have time to question it because you feel your peak coming again, the tension rising up through your cunt and your abdomen, harsher and crueler than when his fingers were in you but you want it just as much. More. “Has he ever answered your prayers? Has he...ahh, fuck—who’s the one giving you what you need?”

“No— please, please just let me let me, please—“ You’re talking nonsense now, begging for the release—at least then it’ll be over, and you need it, you need it so badly you feel your muscles locking up, cramping, your ankles crossing each other behind Overhaul’s back.

“Good girl,” the demon breathes, and then he lifts off you so he’s kneeling upright with the two of you still connected, his thick, heavy cock still speared in your pussy, and his fingers come down again to rub at your clit. Everything’s so wet you can hear the motion of his fingers slicking themselves through your juices, sliding up and down the little button over and over and it feels so good that a tiny part of you almost wants to drag it out, to savor it, but the rest of your body is going to die, is going to go crazy if the demon doesn’t let you cum right now, right now, right now!

And he does. Praise the Lord. The pads of Overhaul’s fingers pass over your clit one last time and your head rolls back, your throat moves but you can’t even make a sound, your legs shake and you cum.

You didn’t know it was like this.

Your cunt squeezes down on his cock, throbbing and pulsing and your toes literally curl (you didn’t think that was a real thing!) and your vision goes black for a moment and—oh fuck oh fuck i want this i want more how is it possible that i’ve never felt like this—you understand, more intimately than ever, why sex is wrong:

because nothing that makes you feel this good could possibly come without a cost, could it?

///

It must take longer than you thought for you to come back to your senses, because when you regain awareness of your body you’re in your hospital bed. You’re clean, too, and you wonder for a second if Overhaul bothered to clean you up? Or no…he probably just snapped his fingers and transported you back to your room. You’re not really sure how it works.

What you are sure of, however, is that you just got fucked by a demon. You’re sore in places that you didn’t know it was possible to be sore, and there are already bruises forming on the flesh of your thighs from how tight he was holding you. You don’t really have time to inspect these, though, because apparently your…ordeal (if you can call it that) isn’t over.

Overhaul’s still here.

He’s facing the hints of sunrise through the east window, dressed again in the immaculate lab coat and surgeon’s mask. “You’re awake,” he says without looking at you.

You nod hesitantly. You’re not really sure what the protocol is in this situation, but at least you’ve finally held up your side of the contract, right? And so has he. Despite having been up all night doing sinful things, you’re still itching to get out of this bed and test the limits of your healthy body. “You’re…going to leave, right?”

“Yes—”

At that, you sigh in relief and settle back into your starched bedsheets.

“But there’s one more thing you owe me.”

“Goddamnit,” you swear for the very first time in your life. After what you just did, taking the Lord’s name in vain seems like a relatively minor sin.

Overhaul’s mildly irritated expression doesn’t change, but he holds his hand out to you, palm up, the way you imagine someone would if they were helping you out of a car or requesting a dance at an old-fashioned ball. And really, you want all of this to be over—you want to get out of this hospital, you want to taste what the air outside is like, you want to distract yourself from what you just gave up in exchange for a future. At this point you’re just going to have to hope God isn’t as picky about the whole premarital sex thing as you grew up believing.

So you put your hand in Overhaul’s.

Slowly, carefully, like he’s afraid it’ll burn him, he slides your purity ring down your finger and balances it in the palm of his bare hand. It sizzles when he touches it, glowing orange until it eventually burns down into a ash-black circle in the center of his palm. Once he’s satisfied that your pretty little ring has been reduced to nothing more than a scorch mark, he closes his hand around yours and you feel something sharp, painfully hot, etching onto your finger.

It’s over in a second, but you still yelp and yank your hand away from him as soon as he lets you. “Ah—ow, what was that?”

He burned you, he literally burned you! He’s already healed it, but there’s still a thin, pale scar, an intentional one left wrapping around the skin at the base of your left ring finger. Like a wedding ring.

When you look close, you can make out a symbol on the back of your finger where the cross used to sit—and even though your conscious mind doesn’t recognize it, the sight of it rings out something inside your ribcage, deeper and truer than flesh and blood. It’s the devil’s mark, you think. It’s his.

“…A promise,” Overhaul says softly, and even though it’s a chilly morning, you can feel the heat of his hands on yours a long time after he vanishes back into the dark.

#overhaul x reader #chisaki kai x reader #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #mha imagines #tw dubcon #tw sacrilege #tw christianity #overhaul #chisaki kai #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia x reader #boku no hero imagines #my hero academia x reader #my hero imagines #boku no hero fanfic #smut

2K notes · View notes