#a good reason... and then everyone leaves me and i die. and yes i do this every time one of my friends accidentally hurts my feelings | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

literaila · 22 days

Note

megumi's demon dogs cuddling with reader and satoru gets jealous 🤭

“you’re just doing this on purpose.”

“leave us alone, satoru. or better yet, go get us a snack. i think there’s some jerky in the pantry.”

satoru sighs and walks to the kitchen counter, where megumi is attempting to write a report. “megumi,” satoru says, his voice trying to be rough. “release them.”

megumi doesn’t even look at him. “why? they’re playing.”

“they’re stealing my wife.”

“we’re not married!” you call, and resume cooing at the dog on your lap.

“megumi, im lost without her. i might die. don’t you want to help me?”

“not really.”

satoru scoffs, leaning against the counter, on top of megumi’s papers. “i’m the reason you have them, you know.”

“i don’t use your shadows for summoning,” megumi retorts, trying to push him off.

“why not? they’re probably better than everyone else’s.”

“i don’t trust you.”

satoru remains where he is, pouting.

“satoru,” you call, from the couch, “let megumi do his homework.”

“yeah, satoru,” megumi says, pulling his hair.

“it’s papa to you.”

megumi mimes throwing up. then he pinches satoru’s ear, which is evil and who knows who taught him that? (you did).

“go away, gojo.”

“they’re probably tired,” satoru whispers. “you should give them a break.”

“don’t!” you say, laughing when one of them licks your face.

satoru watches, a devastating frown on his face.

“you’re so sweet,” you’re telling them, in a voice satoru doesn’t think he’s ever heard you use. “how’d you get so sweet?”

if satoru was a dog, his tail would probably wag at just the sound of your voice too.

he’s never wanted to hurt an animal more.

“hey,” megumi pokes satoru’s cheek. “can you move?”

“not until you give me my wife back.”

“she’s just petting them.”

“she’s neglecting me.”

“if you grow some fur, i’ll pet you too,” you tell satoru, still not paying any attention to him.

“what about my beautiful skin?”

“meh. overrated.”

“just say you hate me.”

you roll your eyes but you still haven’t looked at satoru, or smiled at him, or told him that you love him today.

how is he supposed to go on like this? the kids were trouble enough. now he has to fight two dogs?

“megumi, what if i give you—“

“i told you to stop bribing the children,” you interrupt, shaking your head. “i already told him, yes i did,” you say to the dogs, voice full of fake sympathy.

“i don’t want your money anyway.”

“how about my love and affection?”

megumi raises an eyebrow, his face far too amused for satoru’s liking.

“tsumiki would never treat me like this.”

“you can go pick her up,” you tell him. “just say that you missed her. she’ll probably be fine with you dragging her away from her friends because you’re jealous and lonely. most teenagers wouldn’t mind that.”

megumi laughs.

“i don’t deserve this.” satoru stands up, huffing at both of you, and walking down the hall towards his room. “i’m gonna find a home where im appreciated.”

you coo again. “good luck! ask them to send us some snacks.”

satoru groans, leaning against the wall.

“can we really send him away?” megumi asks you as soon as he thinks satoru is gone.

“mmm,” you pretend to think about it. “it’d be a hard sell.”

“i can make the posters.”

at that, satoru turns right around, bursting back into the room with a scoff. but before anyone can say anything, he walks over to where you are on the couch and falls on your lap.

“ugh, satoru,” you say, groaning as you adjust to his body weight on yours.

“you’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

you roll your eyes, but resume your petting—this time it’s satoru at your will, though. he basically purrs into your touch. “i knew it was too good to be true.”

“should i still make that ad or…”

satoru throws a pillow at him in retaliation and you just shake your head. but it doesn’t seem to matter who you’re petting, as long as there’s someone there.

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #a typical family #gojo satoru #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n

605 notes · View notes

chuuyasheaven · 8 months

Note

bsd men as tits ass or thighs pls :3?? (specifically meursault boys)

“Tits, Ass or Thighs— What do they prefer?”

“—Everybody’s got certain preferences, don’t they? So, what are theirs?”

Tags: Dazai Osamu, Fyodor Dostoevsky, Nikolai Gogol, Chuuya Nakahara, Sigma / afab! Reader, Nipple play?, ooc! Sigma, praising kink, degrading kink, overstimulation, pet names?, hdc format ig, thigh riding?, hickeys, mentioned lingerie?, spanking, mild brat taming, atp everyone may be ooc, face sitting, oral sex (afab! and m! recieving), titty job, messes of their milk, might contain grammar errors, this is a lot holy shit, etc.

Notes: Maybe u just meant Dazai, Fyodor and Chuuya but I added Nikolai and Sigma for funsies— hope this is okay tho!! And I never wrote for Sigma before so sorry if he’s so ooc. . Maybe he’s gonna be added to my list lol.

Dazai Osamu ;

💙 Thighs 💙

💙 I just know that he loves your thighs!! In my opinion, DAZAI lives for seeing you in thigh highs, especially if you have thick thighs. What do you mean you don’t wanna crush him with them??? What else are they made for then— oh, right, hickeys. It’s obvious that he’ll leave some marks here and there for fun, but another thing he lives about them is face sitting. This is literally the best way to die?!!? But also he lives to grab your thighs when he eats you out!!!

💙 Scenario;

He’s been at it for too long, you don’t even remember how many times you came already. . “Dazai, p–please. . S–sensitive!”, you tried to beg, but Dazai was way into this— Once you sit on this mans face, he won’t let go until your too sensitive, Dazai also always leave hickeys while he’s at it. Chanting how he would love to die this way, being crushed by your massive thighs. “—Why should I? You’re still talking properly, I won’t stop until you’re only able to moan my name. Now be a good girl, alright, ‘donna?”

Fyodor Dostoevsky ;

💙 Thighs 💙

💙 In all honesty, this man is a mystery for me– but if I would have to chose, thighs. FYODOR is kinda religious and stuff, meaning he’s definitely gonna be kinda traditional. (i do not know wtf I’m talking abt.) Fyodor doesn’t know what it is, but something about you in white lingerie and white thigh highs sets him off completely. Looking all innocent but being the complete opposite? Yes, absolute approval from him. But being the busy man he is, he’ll let you sit on his lap while he caresses your thighs!! :3

💙 Scenario ;

Seriously, how desperate are you? Walking up to Fyodor in white lingerie and white thigh highs while he’s obviously working? He finds it quite amusing how you think he’ll stop immediately to fuck you, no he won’t, yet. Fyodor just commands you to sit on his lap, now you’re getting off on his own thighs. But you’re still wearing panties, though he doesn’t care, you wanted this, didn’t you? As you keep grinding against it, he slapped your pussy through the fabric multiple times before. The small whines and whimpers are cute, but won’t change his mind to take you right now. “—I don’t really know what you expected me to do. . Well, actually, i did. It’s quite adorable how you think just because you’re desperate I’ll feed into your desires. Anyway, you seem to be getting off pretty easily, slut.”

Nikolai Gogol ;

💙 Tits 💙

Come on, this is so NIKOLAI, seriously. He's so silly, he would literally call them his personal stressballs. (Do not even try to deny it, it's canon.) Nonetheless, he likes to cum on them, Nikolai will make a mess out of them every time whenever you're giving him head. Another thing their useful for, in his opinion, is tit fucking!! It's a nice feeling for him when his dick's inside of your tits. Not to forget, your nipples are pretty fun to play with, but there's one last thing about them. .

💙 Scenario ;

There are many reasons why Nikolai adores you riding him! He loves how he barely has to do anything, hearing the adorable sounds leaving your mouth while you get off on his cock and most importantly, the way your tits bounce with you. All he's doing is laying back and enjoying the view of your tits almost bouncing out of your bra, he would love if they were to actually jump out. “—Hm, would you look at that! Your tits are seconds away to spill out of your bra, dove. I wouldn't mind if they did, maybe you just need to ride my dick faster. . Just like the needy whore you are.”

Sigma ;

💙 Tits 💙

I’m not really sure if it’s accurate, but running an casino ain’t easy. So what’s better than having you and your comfort. .—able tits? SIGMA would never admit it, but he loves them, dearly at that. If he ever needs an break, his head would probably rest on them. On the spicy side, he loves a good tit job. You mentioned this once and Sigma wasn’t against it, sure he was blushing over your suggestion but after he tried it, he loved it!!!

💙 Scenario ;

It felt good, really, Sigma loved your suggestion! He never thought of something like this, he never thought about recieving a tit job, but it felt heavenly. Just the way your tits were rubbing against his cock so good, it felt unreal. . The most beautiful whimpers left his lips, with his flushed expression on his face too, you assumed Sigma was enjoying himself, very. Soon he reached his climax, letting his cum leak on your tits. “—F–fuck. . You did s–so good, darling. Now, lay back and let me return the favor, yeah?”

Chuuya Nakahara ;

💙 Ass 💙

Ah, yes. CHUUYA is, in my opinion, an ass man. I saw a few people say that, and I agree. Like, he’s literally proud of that. He would slap your ass unexpected, respectfully though. He wouldn’t care if you’re carrying a bakery or not, he still slapping it!! Chuuya loves to spend money on matching bras and panties for you, but on your in general. Sometimes it gets to your head or something and you start to act out, which our ginger won’t let slide.

💙 Scenario ;

Lately, you’ve gotten on Chuuya’s nerves. Yeah, he loves to spend money on you and you, but he won’t stand you being bratty. As to right now, he’s ‘punishing’ you for it. The reference for ‘punishing’ is quite just fucking you until it’s stuck in your pretty little brain not to act out again. This time though, Chuuya added something to your punishment. . “Ch–chuuya. . ‘m sorry, I–i didn’t mean to—”, you tried to apologize, only to be silenced by another spank. “—Really? Too bad, you’re gonna take this if you want me to fuck you, baby. Just keep on taking f’me and I’ll fuck you soon enough, m‘kay?”

OH EM GEE YOU GUYS IT TOOK ME THREE DAYS TO FINISH

1K notes · View notes

lovers-rck · 6 months

Note

heyyy I love your writing. I have a request for ellie x fem reader, but it's the readers first time with a girl.

thank you angel <3 I got too excited writing it and it ended up being a little long, but I hope you like it!

smut, +18.

☆

When the kiss gets deeper, you start to think. The thoughts in your head start to fight eachothers, they bite and punch and die and come back to life as Ellie grabs your waist. Her grip is strong, hungry, her fingertips kissing every inch of skin.

You try to follow her lead, trying to mimic some of her movements but your lack of experience gives you away. Ellie's hands are everywhere, in your waist, in your neck, in your legs, in your face.

She is hovering above you, your back buried in between the pillows, her body in between your legs. As she continues her kiss the red lights in your head begin to flicker incessantly, remembering that you are in fact a virgin, a girl who lacks experience, and that the furthest you got was when Ellie playfully bit your neck, which caused you to replay the scene in your head for the rest of the night.

You wanted this, you wanted to have experience, you wanted to have fun and enjoy sex like everyone else did, but you were also afraid. You always knew that Ellie had other girls before you, and that for obvious reasons she had more experience than you, and the thought that tortured you every day was not the fact that she had loved other girls before, but that those girls knew what to do to turn her on, to tease her, and you did not.

You were terrified that when the time came you wouldn't be good enough for her.

And to your horror (and your excitement) the time might have come now.

"Why is your body so soft?" Ellie murmurs as she kisses your neck, making a path to your clavicles "I might drown in your skin" you tried to laugh at her joke, but instead a weird sound comes out of your mouth. Ellie looks at you "You okay?" you nod frantically, strands of hair accompanying the movement.

Ellie leaves your neck and straightens up, your thighs on hers, her hands caressing your naked legs "You know we can't stop if you want, right?" her hair is messy and her lips are a bit swollen "You don't have to do this if you don't want"

You smile softly. She's a good person, you think "I know"

Lately you are consumed by a sense of not giving Ellie enough. That someday she will wake up tired of your fears and will come to your door to leave you forever.

But you know that's not true because Ellie is a good person "So what's happening?"

"What do you mean?" you replie, hands in your stomach

"You have been acting weird everytime i try something"

You want to punch yourself in the face.

"You don't not like it?" she asks.

"No!" you say, instant regret at seeing her face "I mean, yes, yes i do like it Ellie" you lick your lips, thinking "You are totally not the problem"

"Tell me what are you thinking" her voice is soft, she keeps caressing your legs, up and down.

You stare at the ceiling, and the ceiling quickly takes on such an interesting appearance that you would rather stare at it for hours than face the embarrassment that was invading you "Is stupid" you say "It's not important"

After a few seconds of silence, you look at her. She is waiting for you to speak.

"I just get nervous" you play with your fingers as you speak "I don't know what should i do, or what shouldn't. Im scared i might be bad in bed and you won't like it"

Ellie furrows her eyebrows "You don't have to worry about that, it's logical that you don't know what to do"

"Yeah but you know a lot!"

"Are you calling me a whore?"

"No!" you cover your face with your hands "I give up"

Ellie laughs and places her hands over yours, taking them off your face "I'm sorry" she brings them to her lips and plants a kiss on the back of your hand "But seriously, you don't have to worry about that"

"Nobody knows anything the first time" she continues "You just get good with practice" Ellie start to kiss your arms, her lips feeling every inch of skin as she reach your shoulders, moving her mouth to your neck, her body in between your legs once again.

She plants wet kisses in your neck, bitting softly and kissing the spot after. You felt how your fears start to fade with every kiss.

"Plus, is better if you have a good teacher" she murmurs and you laugh, the echo of your action reflecting in your chest.

"Are you supposed to be the good teacher?" she nods briefly, grabbing your legs and wrapping them around her waist.

When Ellie leaves your neck and looks you in the eye, you realize the joke is over. Her eyes pierce yours, full of lust. She kiss your lips with so much hunger that she thinks she might die just by kissing you. Her fingers sneak under your shirt and make contact with your skin, warm and soft just for Ellie's pleasure.

Your body acts alone. Your chest chases the warmth of Ellie's hand, famished by her touch, no longer afraid but excited. She caress your torso, trying to memorize every inch of it, feeling in a fever dream.

She never stops kissing you, but her mind is in the way you feel against her fingers, and she don't understand how long she had been alive without knowing that feeling.

A scene of absolute tenderness unfolds in the room. A non-verbal language that only their bodies understand, a language that has only two speakers in the world.

Words are not needed when Ellie leaves your lips to look at your shirt, you quickly take it off without a second thought. You feel her eyes scan your body like x-rays, and for a moment you think she might see your heart pounding.

"And you dared to be nervous?" she says, her eyes admiring your torso, a pastel pink bra decorating your breasts.

You chuckle with a bit of shame, wanting to cover yourself but knowing that you don't have to "Take yours off?" you asks shyly.

Ellie obeys and takes her shirt off quickly, a black sport bra greets your eyes and you love how fearless and shameless she is with you.

"Your wish is my command" she says and you laugh. You laugh and you laugh because your heart does not know how to express this feeling so sharp that dwells in your body, this love and this desire ""Can I take this off?" Ellie asks, touching the seam of your shorts. You nod.

The kisses resume quickly, only this time you feel them on your covered breasts, on your stomach, on your ribs. You feel holy, as if your skin is made of the most expensive diamond and only Ellie can have access to it.

Kisses sail among the sea that is your body, the sounds of wet mouths adorn the room. Ellie unfolds a path of kisses to your underwear, her teeth playing with the elastic of your panties "How are you feeling?" she asks, her breath hitting your pelvic bone.

You feel in cloud nine. Ellie's kisses work like the most expensive drug on the market, leaving you foolish and lustful "Good..." your murmur, too lost in the upcoming pleasure to say more than one word.

Ellie smiles in your skin "You want to keep going?" she says

You make a positive sound that Ellie takes as a yes. You grab her hair when she plant a kiss in your clothed cunt. She place your legs on her shoulders so that you are now completely open for her, exposed only to her.

For a few moments, Ellie hesitates. She feels that her mind has erased all experience ever acquired and now she lies blank, not knowing what to do. It was common knowledge about Ellie's adventures with different girls before she met you, the rumors about her development in bed were no secret, and she would never admit it but she felt some pride in those sayings.

Nights and nights Ellie had fantasized about this scenario, about having you at her mercy, about being able to enjoy your body for as many hours as she wanted. She never said it out loud because she didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable or pressured, but every time your skirt lifted a little Ellie felt like she couldn't contain herself.

So she feels totally lost when these wishes come true and she has you lying down for her, waiting for her.

She is about to surrender when with a subtle movement you guide Ellie's head towards your pussy, a vulgar movement but coming from you it transforms into something almost tender, and Ellie finds herself again.

She moves your panties to the side and kiss your skin down there, you gasp. Her finger collects all the wetness and start making little circles in your clit, aplying pressure when she feels like it.

She watch your body react to her. Your mouth open, whimpers coming out as she speeds her pace, your grip getting harder in her hair.

Ellie watch you a few seconds more, afraid that she would come just from touching you.

She places her mouth in your cunt, licking your clit and teasing your hole with her finger. You moan and quickly understand why people talk so much about sex, bragging about how good it is. Ellie controls your body in a way that makes the moans fight to get out of your mouth and your eyes close from pleasure, and you don't understand how you could go so long without knowing what Ellie's mouth feels like.

"I'm going to add a finger," she announces, and you smile at her sayings, analyzing how weird it sounds in any other situation "Tell me if it hurts"

At first, a burning sensation invades you. The feeling is weird, it burns everytime she moves but you want more. She moves her finger in and out slowly, watching your face for a signal of something "How is that?" she says

You whimper when she curls her finger, the uncomfortable sensation disappearing as the seconds pass. "Faster" you say and is all Ellie need to know.

She obeys and start fucking you faster, to mesmerized by the view of your cunt. You start to play with your breasts unconsciously, lifting up your bra and touching your nipples and when Ellie sees that she thinks she creamed her boxers.

Too selfish for her own pride, she straightens up and starts sucking on your breasts, her fingers still fucking you. You grab her neck, feeling her tongue play with your hardened nipples and her finger accelerates the onslaught. Ellie adds a second finger and you start to lose it.

Your legs are trembling and you feel your climax close "Ellie..." you murmur, lost in pleasure

"Tell me what you need"

You moan loudly when she curls her finger "Please" you continue "Harder"

She obey and start to finger fuck you harder, her thrust making your tits bounce to the pleasure of her eyes. She sits and watch the naughtiness of your acts, how you lick your dry lips and how your pussy swallows her fingers, how is cum leaking out of your hole, translucent white liquid adorning her fingers. Ellie hears the wet sound of her fingers against your cunt and whimper herself.

Ellie feels like she could faint from such a view.

Your orgasm hit you without warning, your body trembling in pleasure, feeling how your pussy leaks.

Ellie looks at her fingers covered in you and put them in her mouth, looking at you. Her tongue clean the cream and taste your sweet flavor.

You almost cum again seeing that scene.

After a few seconds, she goes and grabs a wet towel, moving your weak legs to clean your mess and put your panties in place. You feel light-headed, still recovering from your recent orgasm when Ellie comes back and lay down by your side, caressing your hair "Did you had a good time?" she asks, knowing the answer

You nudge her playfully, giggling at her question "You are such a narcissistic Ellie Williams" you murmur settling into her chest, your head on her heart, hugging her torso. You feel Ellie's chest heave as she replies "You didn't answer my question" her hand gently strokes your hair.

"I had an horrible time" you joke and she laughs

"Good" she says, her fingers tucking a strand of hair behind your ear "I'm glad"

#ellie wiliams #tlou #tlou2 #the last of us #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie x fem reader

751 notes · View notes

theminecraftbee · 4 days

Text

Wels hums as he walks through the shopping district. He doesn't need much, but with the recent release of Overlord, he wants to hear if any of the establishments are playing it. He doesn't expect it somewhere like the Permit Office--Grian's spent too much time and money getting a song that was as perfectly annoying to be put on hold to as possible--and if it is playing in the log shop, he will laugh. But music tends to spread around Hermitcraft fast, and sure, this isn't about anything specific, but who's gonna miss a good opportunity to dunk on Doc?

He hears the backing beats from a nearby shop and hums along with them, walking down the path--

--then turns a corner and leaps back.

"You," Wels hisses.

Hello. Awfully rude of you not to include me, you know, says the specter.

"No, there's absolutely no reason for you to be here. None at all!" Wels says, throwing his hands up. "The last time I saw you was--gosh, I don't even know. Season Seven?"

Yes, yes, and the only time you saw me, you aren't lying to yourself at all, the specter says agreeably. Come on. We both know I was haunting you for what little of Season Eight you bothered to be around for.

"If you were on Eight then you super shouldn't be here," Welsknight says. He shakes his head and looks up at the shop playing his song. Joel's? Huh. Wouldn't have thought he'd have a reason to make fun of Doc. Welsknight removes his shaking hand from his sword hilt again and starts walking.

On account of you leaving everyone there to die, yes, we're both aware, the specter says.

"Oh, screw you, you wouldn't have done any different, get new material," Wels says. "Also, you aren't real? You're like, all of my insecurities or whatever. You don't even have a real body right now, no one's made you one."

The specter shrugs. I mean, if I'm the worst parts of yourself, really, you're the one who needs better material. Abandoning all your friends to die and then abandoning them altogether--it's a wonder they let you stick around!

Wels rolls his eyes and forces his hand to stay out of his inventory. Wouldn't do to give away that still even gets him. He peaks at another shop. They're playing the song too, but it's ever-so-slightly out of sync, which is kind of terrible. As he does, Cleo waves at him. Their eyes sort of stutter right past Helsknight, which definitively tells him exactly how much body the specter even has to possess right now.

"I'm actually having a great time with my friends this season, so like, the whole 'abandonment' song and dance isn't going to work this time. Started the season with them and everything; hard to even go for 'they'll forget me at the first opportunity' or whatever."

The thing is, the more Wels says it, the more its true. None of the insecurities and pain points that the specter is echoing back at him are what he was actually thinking about. He's been like... fine? Sure, he's definitely still got repressed negative traits, but nothing like "Xisuma's evil twin brother playing around with his head" or "the moon crashing and killing everyone" or "too depressed and burnt out to get out of bed" or "sort of considering abandoning everyone because that's like, his thing" these days. None of the things that should bring the specter that had haunted him since Beef's cloning machine back to him without a body. But Wels is careful about clones outside of something like Vault Hunters, where they're explicitly under his control. He, like, doesn't even armor stand much. So that can't be this either; Helsknight clearly doesn't have a body to be messing with Wels yet!

...Helsknight doesn't even have a body or an actual insecurity to be poking at Wels with yet.

He stops. He puts his hands in his pockets, and turns around to face Helsknight. He is no longer shaking at all.

"Dude, why are you even here?" Wels asks.

I told you, it was rude to leave me out, Helsknight says.

"What," Wels says.

The final bars of Overlord play over the speakers. Welsknight hums and nods before it suddenly clicks.

"What," Wels says again.

Honestly, you're not normally this much of a moron. It was rude to leave me out. Rapping is also my thing.

"Dude," Wels says.

I could totally destroy Docm77 any day. I would obliterate the fool you call a "friend" in ways you cannot comprehend. You invoke a sacrificial goat? I know ways he'd never recover, gods he'd never be able to retrieve himself from. It would be laughable. And you left me out.

Wels stares at the demon from his nightmares.

"You're mad at me because you didn't get to be in my diss track," Wels says.

You let me be in the last one, Helsknight says.

"Dude," Wels says. "Dude, that's pathetic."

Helsknight sniffs. I'm your worst qualities. What does that say about you.

"I didn't even write this for this season," Wels says.

That makes it worse, Helsknight says.

"I don't even know where to start? For one--no, I still don't even know where to start," Wels says. "This is like, the lamest reason you could possibly have to come haunt me. Go away, I'm basking in my like, top 3 charting hit on the Hermitcraft server."

Top three? Pathetic. There are only three songs. You'd be the top song if you'd simply included my power, Helsknight says.

"I can't beat the streaming minutes Grian puts on that hold--look, uh, dude. You're, uh, a very scary representation of my fears and worst qualities and all. Appreciate that. Next time I need to do a diss track, I don't know, maybe I'll invite you? First you've got to stop appearing solely to make my life worse, though. Bring me a cookie or something. I don't know, whatever demons do."

I'm not a demon, I'm a Shadow. We're different, Helsknight says. ...I'll think about it.

When Wels turns the next corner, Helsknight has vanished again. Wels stops in the middle of the street, looks around, confirms the specter has vanished, and then bursts out laughing.

"What the Hels," he says, somehow feeling lighter and more bemused than before. That's a new feeling with his doppleganger. Then, he goes to visit Big Wood. While Doc definitely isn't playing the song of his own accord, Wels figures that Beef just might, and given the day he's having, that would feel like a kind of irony Wels isn't sure how to describe. Besides, he wants to see if Doc will notice if Wels sets the song on loop or something. What can he say--the man's reactions to being taunted are spectacular, and Wels loves seeing them. Call it a bad quality of his or something.

#hermitcraft #welsknight #helsknight #a bee fic #hermitfic #unreality #LOOK MAN I HAD TO.#...APPARENTLY.#i put slightly too much thought into what is effectively A Dumb Bit. i mean not the rap. this fic. this fic is the dumb bit.#i mean the rap is a dumb bit too but not the one i put too much thought into. the fic is #YOU KNOW WHAT NEVERMIND THIS JUST CONFUSED THIS FURTHER. anyway that helsknight huh.

281 notes · View notes

lanadelnegan · 21 days

Text

Ghost - Part 3

Negan x Glenn'sSister!Reader

Part 2 here // Part 4 here

Warnings: 18+, negan masturbating, negan being all sweet and protective

A/n: I thought this would be the last part, but it was so long I had to break it up. Part 4 will be posted soon!

Negan’s POV:

I waited all night for her but she never came. Hopping back on my bike, I drove back to the sanctuary the next morning. I spent the next few days drinking in my room and missing her. Trying to give her space was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

Two of my wives came to check on me, and I rudely dismissed them. And told them to kick rocks, for good. I wouldn’t even be able to get my dick up with anyone else but her. This girl has me wrapped around her goddamn finger and I don’t even know her name.

I sat on the couch, closed my eyes and imagined her face. Our night together. How I fucked her through her little shorts. I imagined her lips between mine and the little sounds she made as she scratched my back. Fuck.

I rubbed myself through my pants, imagining myself between her legs before I got impatient and pulled my cock out. I spit in my hand and began stroking it, focusing extra on the tip. My head pressed against the couch and I groaned, jerking my dick faster. Fuck, fuck fuuuuck.

"Boss, we've got a problem." Fucking Simon.

Tucking myself back in my pants, I walked over and flung the door open, clearly annoyed with an extreme case of blue balls. We walked towards the back exit quickly while Simon filled me in on the situation.

“Rick and the rest of them are outside." Simon explained. "He said he only wants you.”

“Of course he does.” I chuckled before walking out onto the balcony. “Well, what a nice surprise. This better be good Rick. I was right in the middle of something.”

Her silky black hair caught my attention almost instantly and I couldn't take my eyes off her. She stood beside Rick and my heart sank for two reasons. I couldn't let her get hurt in the middle of all this. And what the hell was she doing? She couldn't seriously want this.

I leaned next to Simon's ear and whispered. “Make sure everyone knows that one is off limits." I nodded towards my girl. "If anyone harms a hair on her pretty head, it'll be the last thing they ever do."

Your POV, earlier that day:

“We go in quick, and we don’t leave until Negan is dead. Understood?” Rick’s voice sounded far away and I realized my mind had been wandering the entire time, not able to concentrate.. Or accept Rick’s plan for Alexandria to go after the Saviors. I couldn't lose someone I...

Care about… again.

“Y/n?” Rick asked, tilting his head at me.

“Yes, understood.”

The ride over took ages it seemed like. My head rested against the window of the truck while I watched the sun slowly start to disappear. I should be thrilled. This is what I’ve wanted for so long - to get revenge.

So why did I want to save him?

“I dunno if I can do this.” Daryl’s focus remained on the road as I spoke. “I know you don’t understand it, but there’s good in him. I’ve seen it.”

Daryl scoffed. “Unbelievable.”

“I just don’t wanna see anyone else die, Daryl.” I wiped a tear from my cheek.

“Some people deserve it.”

“And we don’t? Think about all the ones we’ve killed.”

“Not the same.” Daryl mumbled.

“But it is. That’s the world we live in now. We do what we have to to survive. We’re all… psycho murderers, really.”

“Listen to yourself. What do you think Glenn would think about you defending the man who killed him?”

I sat quietly for a few moments, focusing my attention back on the clouds. “I think he’d be proud of me.” The gravel suddenly rumbling beneath the truck let us know we were getting close to the sanctuary and Daryl pulled over, parking near the others.

“You’re either with us, or ya aint. But you need to hurry and decide.” Daryl warned before he quietly exited the truck and met up with the others ahead.

I owe them for everything they’ve done for me. Everything they did for Glenn. I closed my eyes before hopping out of the car and quickly caught up with the rest of the group. Daryl gave me a nod and the rest of the tread was quiet. I tried focusing my mind on anything but Negan, disassociating to the best of my ability - a skill I’ve perfected over the past few months.

“Negan needs to surrender. This has to happen now. This is the only way.” Rick’s voice rang through my ears as I stood near him, shielding myself with the metal that stood between us and the Saviors. Peeking out, I watched Negan appear behind the railing, an arrogant smirk forming on his lips.

“You’re gonna make me count?!" Rick shouted. "Okay, okay. I’m counting. 10….”

Negan eyes traveled to mine and his gaze softened. I stared at him, silently begging him to surrender while Rick counted. He studied me as if he wondered if I wanted this.

Of course not. Surrender, goddammit.

I watched him lean over and whisper something to Simon while his eyes were still on me. Simon nodded and took out his radio, signaling something to the others that I couldn't hear.

The sound of Rick's gun cocking distracted me, and without thinking, I jumped in front of him, pulling the gun with with me. A bullet went straight through my foot, but I barely felt it.

I heard Negan cursing in the background amongst all the other chaos transpiring. Walkers were filing in now and everyone eventually scattered. I limped as quickly as I could, trying to escape before my feet lifted off the ground. I quickly realized it was Negan and he rushed us to an empty trailer nearby, shutting the door behind him when we made it inside.

“Oww.” I groaned, limping over to the wall and sliding down it. I pulled off my bloody sock and shoe and cringed at the bullet hole in my foot. The pain was starting to set in now.

“Shit.” Negan grabbed a first aid kit from a cabinet above and kneeled down, wrapping my foot. “The hell were you thinkin' darlin'?.”

He looked up at me, slightly grinning and I rolled my eyes. He finished wrapping it up, kissed my forehead, and sat next to me on the floor, leaning his back against the wall. His hand rested on my thigh protectively and I wanted to reach for it and hold his hand but I couldn’t. We both sat in silence for a few moments before he finally spoke.

“You never came. I waited on you all night.”

My heart ached at the thought of him there alone. “I told you, Negan. I don’t want to see you anymore.”

“Yet.. you just took a bullet for me.” I could hear the cocky smile through his voice.

“Why did you want to meet?” I asked.

“I guess I thought maybe if we went back to our place, you’d see me differently. The way you did that night, and I’d actually have a chance to win you over.”

When I looked over at him, I saw the man he was that night. Before I knew his name and all the horrible things he had done. I replayed everything in my head - the steam from his shower, our deep talks about our old high school days, his wife Lucille and how her death broke his heart, and how he read to me. And then I remembered him in between my legs, but stopping before it got too far because we were both tipsy.

How could the same man who bashed someone's skull in be the same one the had enough decency not to take advantage of a woman? I wanted so desperately to believe in the man he was that night - for that to be the only version of him.

“Listen baby, I don’t want to hurt you anymore than I already have." His voice was lower than usual when he spoke. "I get that you don’t wanna see me anymore and I’ve gotta learn to be okay with that. I don’t want to be a constant reminder of your brother’s death.” He leaned his head against the wall. “Fuckin' stupid of me to think this could ever work, huh?”

With every word he spoke, my heart broke into smaller pieces. If Negan would have died today, I’d hate myself for the rest of my life for not going back to the cabin and meeting him that night. As difficult as our life would be together - for so many reasons, I can’t live without him.

“Negan..”

“Yeah?” His hazel eyes met mine and he looked like a sad puppy that I desperately wanted to comfort.

“I don’t think I can ever forgive you.”

He nodded, clearly hurt and I watched his eyes fill with tears before he looked down.

I sighed, hoping I wouldn’t regret what I was about to say. “But I love you. And I want to find a way to make this work.”

His eyes darted back and forth between mine before his hand cupped my face and he kissed me all in one motion. I've missed his lips so much. His mouth was gentle, like he was scared to break me, but I wanted him to, so I pulled him closer and opened my mouth slightly. His tongue slipped in and collided with mine, making me see stars. After a few moments, he pulled away, breathing heavily and resting his forehead against mine.

“I love you so fuckin’ much, sweetheart. I’ll never disappoint you again.”

“I know.” And I did. I believed him. Gunfire in the distance quickly snapped us back to reality but we held each other, neither of us willing to let go first.

"Negan, I've gotta go back with them."

"No. Stay with me at the sanctuary until we figure out a plan? I'll take care of you and-"

"We can't. You can't stay here, Negan. It's not safe, they'll come back for you. Rick won't stop until you're dead."

"Then I'll kill him first, doll. Simple."

"No. You're not killing anyone else - none of my people. I can't lose anyone else. The only way everyone survives this is if you surrender."

Negan scoffed. "And then what? Be a goddamn prisoner and Rick's little bitch for the rest of my life? Not gonna happen, darlin'."

I sighed. This was going to be a lot harder than I thought.

"Hey, you're not giving up on me already are you?" Negan's hand rested again my cheek as he urged me to look at him.

"No.. no, I just, I dunno what to do."

"We've got all night to figure it out, doll. We don't have many options. There's no way you're going back to Alexandria on that foot. Come on." Negan stood, holding his hand out to me and I took it. "Stay close behind me, baby."

I nodded, gripping the back of Negan's shirt as he kicked the door open, flinging a few walkers in the process. I helped as much as I could, stabbing a few with my knife as Negan worked our way through the crowd.

Luckily the sanctuary itself seemed untouched. The walkers were only outside in the yard while a couple of guards secured the entry to the sanctuary doors. They opened them quickly as Negan and I tumbled in. His hand wrapped around my waist, helping me walk with my hurt foot.

We could hear Simon and the others around the corner. Turning the corner, Negan whistled his favorite tune and I watched in awe as the rest of the saviors bowed before us.

"I bet you all thought I was dead, huh?" Negan chuckled. "Here's a little refresher on who the hell I am. I wear a leather jacket, I have -“ He paused, leaning into you. "Hell’s your name darlin’? You never told me.” You whispered your name in his ear and giggled. He turned back to the saviors, finishing his speech. "I have y/n, and my nut sack? Is made of steel. I am not dyin' until I am damn good and ready."

What a dork. My dork. I thought, looking up at him as he spoke.

"Now, if you'll excuse us, we have a honeymoon to get to. No one knocks on my door. Simon, you're in charge. Don't make me regret it."

Simon nodded and Negan lead us down the hall to a large door at the end. He held the door open for me as I walked through. A bachelor pad of the apocalypse. Exactly what I imagined. I smiled at him and he returned the gesture, flashing his white smile before he walked towards me and immediately wrapped me in his arms. My head rested against his chest and I felt his heart beat. For once, I felt safe.

Part 4 here. If you’ve read this far, thank you. 🥹💗

tag list: @loganlostitall @chaospossum @negansbabydoll66 @redqueenphoenix @n3g5nx @crustyweirdo @youngpersonaathletebear @sadgirlzluvdilfs @ilovebill-and-gustav @neganscumbucket @manipulatorpoem @im-a-goddamn-cat @raininhell @mahogany-cherry-wine @daryldixmedown @munsonslovergirl @sanctuaryforthelost @thelauraborealis @carlgrimesbbg @c3linesworld @blueheisenbergtragedy @startwinklekitty @darlingmadelinee @oceandeepthirst @jschlattsqtip @lavenderchai @sweetbutpsychobutsweet @neganswoman @n7crophiliac @cats-writing @alldevilsarehere90 @natykacenka @queermilfs @stasiaangelsinner @lupa-03 @sadgirlzluvdilfs @pamago-bb @javier-penas-wifexx420 @motelprincess444 @thatonefroggirl @myhappyplaceofstuff @darlingmadelinee @used2beee @easystreet07 @princess-23-xoxo @twdxtrevor @dilfsandmartinis @sarahhxx03 @minaxcarter @kukka-roo @rinsdesires @6kaja9 @sasiiik9174

198 notes · View notes

kaleldobrev · 10 months

Text

Without Hesitation, Yes.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Summary: After all these years, Dean finally asks you to marry him.

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Cursing (3x)

Authors Note: Flashbacks in italics | I love me a good childhood friends to lovers story | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

Dean had known you for as long as he could remember; first meeting you through Bobby. He had met you in the late eighties, when he couldn’t be more then 9 or 10 years old. Bobby introduced you as his daughter – not biological, adopted; but he still considered you his blood nonetheless. From the moment he laid his eyes on you, he felt an instant connection to you; the two of you becoming partners in crime very soon after your first meeting. Even when him, Sammy, and his dad were on the road, he still made sure to keep in contact with you, telling you everything and anything. He would tell you how gross the motel room was that they were staying at, the diners that they would stop at on the way to their next case, and even about their current case – sometimes asking you for your input.

Although Bobby was your adoptive father and you would help him do research for cases every now and then, he had never actually wanted the hunting life for you. But not being in the life was never an option for you; it was something that you had always wanted to do. So, when Dean Winchester showed up on your doorstep in October 2005 saying that his dad was missing and needed your help, you dropped everything, packed a bag and left; even though your father didn’t want you to go. He was mad at you for leaving, but understood that it was something that you needed to do; not only because the Winchester’s were like family, but because he could see the way you and Dean looked at each other – something that he tried so hard to prevent.

For as long as Dean could remember, he always felt something for you; but he never fully knew what that feeling was. He was between three different options for a while: he actually had a crush on you, he only had a crush on you because Bobby told him “Don’t even think about it boy” or he only had a crush on you because you were the most consistent woman in his life. One of the first moments he began to try and pinpoint which of the three it was, took place when the two of you were teenagers. Everyone was sleeping and it was just the two of you up. You had somehow convinced him to watch one of your favorite movies Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Even though it wasn’t his thing, he didn’t mind watching it with you because he had thought that Kristy Swanson was hot – but he didn’t dare tell you that. He had remembered how the two of you snuck downstairs to watch it, the two of you making popcorn and grabbing two sodas from the fridge. Dean remembered how engrossed you were when watching it, sometimes quoting from it or even acting out some of the scenes. He could still remember something that you said to him, even though it had been more than 20 years. “When I grow up, I wanna be just like Buffy.” For some reason, you saying that had brought a smile to his face.

There were a few instances in his life when he had planned on telling you how he truly felt about you before the two of you had started dating. But each and every time he had thought about telling you, he would back out, because he didn’t want to ruin one of his longest friendships. Before he went to Hell, he almost broke and told you, but he told himself that there was no way he could do that do you despite the fact that he knew that he was never going to see you again. The last thing he wanted was to tell you that he loved you and then die, and now you had to spend the rest of your life wondering, “What if?” A few years later right before he was going to say yes to Michael, that is when he decided he was going to do it. He had no idea why he had thought that was the moment, but his feelings for you just poured out of him like a dam that had burst. “I’ve loved you for a long time Sweetheart. Ever since we were kids. There are so many times when I’ve wanted to tell you how I felt but…I didn’t want to ruin the friendship that we had. I…I didn’t want to lose you.” For a moment he had thought that you wouldn’t reciprocate his feelings but to his surprise you did. “Took you long enough you idjit.” You told him, kissing him soon after that. “After I go into the pit, I want the two of you to have a normal apple pie, white picket fence life together. Do the whole nine. Marriage, kids, PTA meetings. All of it.” Sam had made the both of you promise. The two of you did have some sense of normalcy for the year – the best you could anyway, but kids, marriage, and definitely PTA meetings weren’t on the table at that moment. Someday though maybe.

Dean loved you more than anything or anyone. You were his best friend, his favorite person, the one that he could always count on; and most importantly: the love of his life. He never thought he would ever get the chance to ever call someone that: the love of his life. He had only heard the term once or twice during his life, mainly hearing it from Bobby and his father. Over the years, Dean had thought that he was in love before, but it wasn’t until he had a relationship with you that he truly would know what being in love actually felt like. The other times he had thought he was, he was in love with the idea of the person, in love with the idea of being in their world – a world that he knew he didn’t belong in. With you, it was different; effortless. He didn’t have to hide any aspect of himself in order to please you. You weren’t afraid of him, even when he was afraid of himself at times.

There was a part of him that knew that he didn’t deserve you – you weren’t as broken as he was. Yes, you had lost just as much as he had, but you were somehow stronger than he could ever be; which is one of the things that he admired most about you. When things got tough, he would hid behind a bottle of Jack and a mountain of self-loathing and sarcasm. Meanwhile, you continued to carry your head high and carry on like it was just another Tuesday with the boys or just another case. The only time he had ever seen you completely break is when Bobby died.

A few weeks before his insanely close near-death experience where he almost lost to a rusty rebar fighting vampires, he had went into town with Sam to go and get you an engagement ring. Even though he knew the type of jewelry that you liked, getting you an engagement ring was a completely different story. He went back and forth for hours trying to find you the perfect ring. “Dude, just pick something. She’ll love whatever you get her.” Sam had told him. It was in that moment that Dean’s eyes landed on one that he knew that you would absolutely love. “I’ll take that one.” Dean said, pointing at the ring in the case.

A month has gone by after his close near-death experience, and proposing to you is something that he no longer wanted to put off. He didn’t want to spend another day, another hour, another minute without seeing this ring on your finger. You had told him once a while ago that you didn’t need an engagement ring; that all he had to do was ask you to marry him and then the two of you could go to the nearest courthouse that same day. He truly loved the thought; but he had wanted to do something more for you than that.

Dean held the ring in his hands and couldn’t wait to give it to you. The only problem that he was currently having though, was trying to figure out exactly what he was going to say to you. “Still trying to come up with a speech there Romeo?” Sam said, his voice sounding a bit amused.

Dean eyed him, placing the ring down on the kitchen table. “I have no freaking clue what I’m going to say to her.” He admitted. “I don’t want it to be a chick flick moment, but I don’t want it to sound too generic either.” For the past several days, Dean has been trying to come up with a good proposal speech for you, but each and every time he thought that he had something, it simply just left him. Yesterday, he had even started writing the speech down, but kept crossing out everything that he wrote because he hated the way it looked and sounded.

“Word of advice? As someone who was going to propose…” Sam sighed a little at the memory; still briefly remembering exactly what he was planning on saying to Jessica. “Just be honest. Tell her…tell her all the things you love about her. Why you fell for her in the first place. You know things like that.”

“I said no chick flick moments Sam.” Dean picked up the ring again and started spinning it around on the table, momentarily forgetting that the ring before him was a couple grand and not something he just picked up at the Gas n’ Sip down the road.

“Then don’t make it one.” Sam walked over to Dean and placed his hand on his shoulder. “She’ll love whatever you say to her. I mean, she’s stuck with your dumbass this far. Nothing you can say now will make her run.” Sam gave him a smirk, and Dean just rolled his eyes.

“Bitch.” Dean said.

“Jerk.” Sam replied.

You were doing what you normally did on a Sunday morning – doing some yoga in the Bunker gym. Ever since you and the boys had made the Bunker your home, you had found yourself attracted to yoga; something that you initially didn’t like until recently. Bobby had tried to get you into it – weirdly enough; saying that it would be good for you. You had told him that you would only do it if he did it with you. “I already get pedicures with you, I ain’t doing yoga too.” He said.

As your eyes were closed and you were currently in Lotus position you heard a small knock on the door frame of the gym. You opened your eyes and a huge smile sprawled across your lips. “Hey you.” You said, your voice calm.

“Hey beautiful.” Dean replied, walking into the gym with you. He pointed to the spot in front of you. “Can I join you?” You were slightly surprised. You had tried to get Dean to do yoga for a while, but he always said that it wasn’t really his thing – he left the yoga portion of the workouts to you and Sam.

“I thought you’d never ask.” You scooted back a bit, giving him just a little bit of room so he wasn’t so close to the door.

Dean sat down in front of you, trying his best to get in the same position as you were currently in. Fuck I’m old. He thought to himself as he crossed his legs, feeling just a little bit of pressure in his knees. “You don’t have to sit like that if you don’t want to my love.” You told him. “I’m happy to just have you sitting here with me.” Your comment sincere.

“I uh, I wanted to talk to you about something.” Dean’s sentence made your heart jump. Not only because of the abruptness of it, but because it sounded like a ‘We need to talk’ conversation. Conversations like these were never your favorite – Hell, you didn’t know anyone who had liked these types of conversations.

“What’s up?” You asked, trying your best not to sound nervous while replying.

“Don’t worry. It’s…it’s nothing bad.” Dean reassured you. “Um…Well, it could be. But…I personally don’t think it is. So, I’m hoping you won’t think it’s bad either.” He sounded like a school boy trying to talk to his crush for the first time; you found it adorable. “Do you, do you remember when we were kids and Bobby would always buy you these ring pops from the store?”

“Yeah…Why?” Of course you had remembered. “One day I want a ring this big!” You told Bobby. “Not if you marry a hunter you won’t.” Bobby laughed.

“I remember, I don’t know if you do but, I remember when we were like…I don’t know, ten? The two of us were playing upstairs in your room and I took the ring pop and put it on your finger and I asked you to marry me. And without any kind of hesitation you said yes.” Dean started smiling from the memory. “Oh Dean! Of course I will! Why wouldn’t I want to marry my best friend?” You said. “You then ran out of your room, leaving my ass behind and ran all the way downstairs where you told Bobby and my dad that I had asked you to marry me. “Look daddy! Uncle John! Dean asked me to marry him! We’re gonna get married!” Bobby had told you years later, “I knew you and that idjit were gonna fall in love. I saw it when you were youngins.”

“Dean –” You began.

“Y/N.” Dean positioned himself so he was now sitting on both of his knees, holding both of your hands in his. “I honestly don’t know what I would ever do without you. Out of everyone that I’ve known in my life, you have been the one consistent thing in it. You have always been by my side even when I know for a fact that I didn’t deserve it. A lot of days, especially in the beginning when we first got together, I didn’t think I deserved you. I thought that you deserved much more than someone like me. Someone that could provide you with the life that you deserve; a safe and quiet one, not one where you’re constantly running toward the things that want to kill you.” He let out a small chuckle. “But, I’ve realized over the years that…Sweetheart, we may not have the most conventional life but, we have each other, and that’s really all that matters.” He released one of your hands for a moment as he reached for something in his pocket. “Close your eyes for me.” Without hesitation you closed them. The second you did, you felt something being placed in your hands. “Okay. Open.” When you opened your eyes there was a red and black ring lying in your hand.

“Dean…” You looked down at the ring and then looked up at Dean, unsure of what to say. For the first time in your life you were utterly speechless. You got up, getting in the same position as Dean, holding the ring in your fingers. Placing your hands on Dean’s shoulder’s, you leaned in and kissed him. You felt his hands and arms pull you in close to him as he deepened the kiss between the two of you.

“Will you marry me Sweetheart?” He asked, once the kiss was broken.

Without hesitation, like you had done all those years ago you said, “Yes.”

#Dean Winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x you #dean x reader #spn imagine #spn one shot #supernatural imagine #supernatural one shot #spn #supernatural #reader insert #female reader

750 notes · View notes

avocado-writing · 3 months

Note

I love your work and saw that your request for baldur's gate 3 was open and was wondering if you can do Astarion x abused? Reader

Basically the reader's father was a narcissist and they or she whichever you prefer. Even though they ran away years ago old habits die hard. They feel the need to take care of everyone else cause that's how they survived for so long and put on a front of being the strong leader they "need". Then maybe they have some sort of nightmare either being dragged back or something feeling the trapped feeling they felt for so long. Maybe Astarion hears them whimpering or something after a hunt and curiosity gets the best of him and ends up comforting them.

notes: didnt want to get too into what abuse the reader had suffered, so I kept it reasonably vague. hurt/comfort

rating: M (due to themes)

pairing: astarion x reader

Astarion hears the sobbing from the moment he steps foot into camp.

He has exceptional hearing anyway and having just fed his senses are sharpened to a knife-point - he zeroes in on the sound with bat-like perception. Ears twitching as he goes, he tip-toe follows the noise to…

…your tent.

That is a surprise. He’s not sure that he’s ever been present to you being anything other than… well, joyful. Constantly smiling. Constantly caring. Constantly laughing and reaching out a hand in friendship, the very epitome of what a good leader ought to be. Even in battle you don’t let awful odds get to you, always crying out reassurance from behind your shield as you fend off bloodied spears and vicious claws.

Maybe it is ego that makes Astarion go to your little refuge. He wants to see you shatter, just a bit. Just so he can reassure himself that you aren’t as infallible as you seem; that you are kith like the rest of them, able to err and break.

Or maybe it’s not because of any of that. It is because, despite it all, he has genuinely come to care for you.

Either way when he pulls open the fabric door his heart twinges uncomfortably in his chest.

You sit up in your bedroll, face buried in your hands, ugly tears boiling out from under your palms and soaking the sleeves of your sleep clothes. Your whole body heaves from both the raw emotion and the effort of trying to keep it under control. He’s never seen you so open.

You look up when you hear the rustle of his arrival. He freezes as the two of you lock eyes.

“Shit,” is all he can muster, and is it relief he feels when despite everything, you laugh?

“Sorry, did I wake you?” you ask, grabbing a handful of blanket and roughly drying your face with it. An attempt to hide the shame of crumbling.

“No, I was still up - out hunting,” he says, and you nod in acceptance. The two of you remain there for a moment, staring. Astarion is stuck on a threshold, both literally between outside and in, but also one of the soul. He wants to reach out. He wants to withdraw. He doesn’t know what he wants.

Eventually, your soft eyes win him over. He walks in and lets the tent fall closed, sitting down across from you on your bedroll. He feels your feet wiggle aside to make space for him and is struck by the intimacy of what he is doing.

This is unlike him. Stupid, stupid. Don’t reveal too much, don’t leave yourself open to vulnerability. He tries to affect a posture of ease, leaning back on his hands.

“Nightmare?” he asks. You nod again, sighing.

“Sorry, I must look dreadfully silly. I was just thinking about… someone I used to know.”

Astarion winces. Yes. He’s been there, hasn’t he - devoured by the panic of your past catching up with you.

“You don’t look silly at all. A bit blotchy, perhaps, but not all of us can look beautiful when we cry.”

He flips his hair and that makes you laugh again. The atmosphere in the tent gets a little lighter. He watches the way your hands desperately look for something to occupy them, how they start picking at the loose stitches in any fabric you can find.

“This man. He used to, erm… hurt me. Quite badly, actually.” He hates the way your usually vibrant eyes have dulled. “And I managed to get away - ran away, really - but sometimes… you know. Something reminds me of him and I get dragged down again.”

Damn it all, Astarion finds himself reaching out and covering your hands with one of his. You stop your slow dismantling of your blanket thread-by-thread.

“I understand,” is what he’s able to force out of his suddenly tight throat. He’s mentioned Cazador before, trying to make a joke out of it, pretending it doesn’t bother him now that it’s all in the past - but it does bother him. Scares the life out of him, really, or this facsimile of a life he’s been able to build for himself now he’s free.

Your fingers slide between his and hold him very tightly.

The two of you sit in silence.

And then he decides to move properly, shuffling ungraciously so that he can be by your side rather than across from you, his arms wrapping around your body and bringing you close.

Your shoulders hitch a little. Fresh tears warm his shirt, patched dozens of times over because of a man who wouldn’t let him buy anything nice and new.

“I’m fucking tired of being strong. It feels like it’s too much sometimes,” you confess, voice barely louder than a whisper. He tucks his head over yours, your scalp beneath his chin, as if he can shield you from the world like this.

“Then don’t be strong. If it feels better, be weak, my dear. I’m the only one here and I promise you that won’t mind.”

You know that, for once, he won’t. Astarion ‘my favourite activity is to judge everyone I meet’ Ancunín is happy to let you lay your soul bare in front of him. So you do, you let yourself force every emotion you’ve ever bottled up leak out of you, in drips at first and then in a full tsunami. You cry so hard that you lose the ability to make sound for a while, silently choking on tears long since overdue.

He holds you all through it. He is not a strong man but his grip is tight, keeping you grounded, and he knows it helps because eventually you go from crying to sobbing to neutral to asleep. You breath evens out into something more controlled and when he moves to look at your face he is relieved your eyes have shut and that you can finally find a little peace. Gods know you deserve it.

You’re the strongest one of them all. He decides that perhaps he wouldn’t mind being there to help you shoulder things, if you need.

He lays down with you, limbs tangled, and drifts off.

taglist: @ghosti02art @sadandanxiouswtf @yeethaw13 @trappedinlimbo15 @infinitely-kate @dhampling @wereallbrokenangels @tilldeathdonugget@hopeful-n-sad

#astarion x reader #astarion imagine #astarion x you #astarion x tav

235 notes · View notes

m1ssunderstanding · 2 months

Text

Understanding Lennon McCartney Rewatch Part 2.1

Cynthia and John are worse and crazier for admitting what they admitted in the bio. But Jane and Paul are not exempt.

Will forever love this pic of Paul and Julian. He does not look like the fun uncle. He looks tired and dependable. Just stepped out of the womb as a father, didn't he? The sperm that fertilized his egg probably passed some fatherly advice and hair tussles to the other sperm as it passed them.

They should've bought the fucking island.

They never look more like a couple than when the women they're actually dating are right next to them.

The India footage actually looks so beautiful. Obviously it's a beautiful place, but they all genuinely look so free and at peace there. It really could've been so good for them. Getting enlightened, getting soberish, growing closer as a band, taking a much-needed rest. It should've been good.

The music choices in this documentary! The drastic shift from, “all you need is love” and “the dream I had was true” and “I don't need much to set me free.” to Paul leaving to “yes I'm lonely. Wanna die.” “I'm going insane.” “Look at me. Who am I supposed to be?” 8d8 psychic damage. And the thing is it's real. John really did flip a switch, just like that.

Smashing my head into a wall. It's the same as Yoko's quote about how ‘nobody hurt John more than Paul.’ Really Pete? Worse than after his mum died? Really Yoko? More than that drunk cop? Paul, what the fuck did you do to him in India, seriously, because at this point in the doc I can't accept the theory that it was just some lack of communication, I just can't.

It's also telling to me that when John's losing it, everyone's solution is some time alone with Paul. Nobody panic. Paul can fix him. Little do they know Paul's the one that broke him. Or maybe they do know and that's only another reason they know Paul's the only man for the job?

Old-fashioned ad voice: You liked Protective Jesus Scandal Paul? You'll love Protective LSD Scandal John! Really. Before the question is even out, he's making fun of it. I think he cuts off the interviewer at least three times with jokes before he can get the sentence out, and by the time he is, Paul's giggling too hard to feel bad about his little PR fuck-up.

Then he lets Paul talk a bit before jumping back in, this time with his Hard Man suit on. It's just so good. A testament to their unconditional love, really. Because, clearly, Paul's just hurt John pretty bad. And yet, here John is. Using every trick he's got to defend his friend.

But actually, though John is supposedly the one everyone's worried about, Paul's doing a pretty shit job of being the “stable” one. This entire press tour he's either fucking blazed and laughing at everything or disassociated and not contributing.

(((except during that political discussion – again! Paul secretly has actual thoughts on actual things?!)))

But for the most part, John's absolutely holding down the fort. I wonder if this is another case of everyone – all their friends and business associates, just like we as a fandom still do now – assuming John is the problem child, and Paul's the strong one, but actually they're both both.

Back to the political interview. They're just so in sync. Finishing each other's sentences when you're talking about the weather or your shared work is one thing. Finishing each other's sentences on complex topics like why poor whites often vote bigots in or the cause of rampant misinformation is quite another.

“Letting his dad cut his hair at sixteen, seventeen.” You all know that John hates Jim quote.

John: so there's war, and vegetables. There's relativity and absolute. Paul (absolutely smitten): that's great Johnny. Int: that's rather hard for people to interpret. John: well if they can't interpret it now, maybe they will later..... 1. John really was extremely intelligent. 2. That last statement sums up Beatles historiography.

Paul really just Won't be alone with John, will he? Well, two can play at that game, Paul, and John's going to win, let me tell you.

But he's going to do one last panic grab for attention first.

I really do think if John had done something like that *before* Paul would've given him that attention. Told him he's being insane and taken him home to splash some cold water on him or something and then given him whatever softness Paul was capable of. But not anymore.

I wonder if Paul could go back to 1966 if he just wouldn't have taken John to that Indica show where he met Yoko. If he would've just said “okay John, sure, let's just stay home and trip on the couch tonight.” I don't know.

Anyway, Yoko gets an A+ for persistence. Imagine being Paul, George, or Ringo, though, and John is suddenly madly in love with this woman whose been begging you all (and then him specifically) for a platform for over a year? It would be weird to say the least.

John: don't you hate me? I'm crazy, you know. Paul: no I don't hate you. John: aren't you pissed at me now, Paul? Even a little bit? Paul: I'm very proud of you. It's the unstoppable force (“Don't ‘nore me, Mimi!”) vs the immovable object (“I learned to put a shell around me”.) Someone get them some professional help before they nuke the whole world.

“There is, however, a desire to get power in order to use it for good.” One of those quotes that just really lets you see a person, you know? Benevolent dictator Paul.

Yoko, why are you talking about how bad your boy doesn't want to fuck you right in front of all his closest friends and on record for posterity? If you have to be talking about your sex life, shouldn't you be lying about how insanely horny he is for you? Oh, right, she will think of that, just not yet.

And then she waxes poetic about how turned on John is when he's working on music with Paul. Cool. Smart. Thanks for that, though, genuinely.

And Then (gosh, Yoko is such an asset to Beatles history when she's not actively spreading misinformation. Everyone give her a hand) she goes on about how Paul goes out of his way to make her feel respected and even valued. Compare that to John and Linda, anyone? And I want to be clear, I'm not saying this means John cares too much and Paul doesn't care at all, which might be the surface read. I just think John's reaction was to scream in everyone's face that he was in pain and Paul's was to insist ad nauseam that he was fine. You know?

#paul mccartney #the beatles #john lennon #mclennon #ringo starr #george harrison #yoko ono #linda eastman #ulm #understanding lennon mccartney

219 notes · View notes

martyfive · 2 months

Text

i lay in bed sick for two weeks straight. first there’s body temperature i never knew was possible for a human to have, then there are coughs that feel like they may be the last ones i could ever have in my life, then there’s weakness, then my five year old phone falls down from the bed ending up completely broken, then the bed sheets become something i couldn’t bear to see anymore. then i get up, go outside and unexpectedly find myself at the offer of a somewhat steady part job at this small italian restaurant we’ve been visiting every sunday sharp for the last year and a half except for these two weeks i spent lying sick in bed. we are leaving the bar for the night when R. asks me if i’d like to help her at the bar a couple hours a week.

“i have no experience or anything,” i say, feeling extremely daft. “i’m not even sure i can talk to people properly. i never really could.”

“it’s okay,” she says. “you’ll be polishing the glasses. it’s not hard. i’ll teach you everything.”

on our way home A. says, “it could be good for you, you know. being among people and trying something new,” and i feel like he’s right.

at this point this small restaurant already feels like another home i want to belong to. going there every sunday for so long totally helped with that. they have one of my works i gave them as a present for christmas on the wall. it hangs up above the table me and A. occupied the first time we ever came to eat there. the frame contains pages from a sketchbook i used to draw in while visiting italy five years ago. it feels too personal, but also somehow on it’s place. i hate to hoard the stuff i create. i want to be bolder.

regretting my life choices, i spend all what’s left from my last year’s salary on a new phone. it’s a first phone i bought without anyone’s help. it costs more than i deserve.

i can’t find any will to start drawing again after being sick for two weeks.

a couple days later i go to the restaurant to ask R. about the time i can get to work. she says, “this thursday, 6:30 pm,” and then adds, tugging on my star wars hoodie, “and put on a black shirt, if you have one”.

so i find one that looks like A. has been wearing it during his teenage years when he looked more like a stick than a human and i go for the job that for the first time in my life has nothing to do with any kind of art except the art of making cocktails i still keep messing up. a couple hours a week somehow soon turns into ten as normally as “polishing glasses” turns into “doing everything there is possible to do as quickly as possible”.

“would you like to do thirty hours a week?” R. asks one day looking hopeful as if i hadn’t broken ten of their glasses in the first five days of work.

“my back is gonna die sooner than you expect it to if i agree to that,” i answer. and it really is the only reason i don’t say yes.

i soon notice there is no time to think of anything else except the work to be done while i am behind the bar once again forgetting the difference between prosecco and chardonnay or picking the ice from the ice machine or freezing in the giant fridge while looking for the specific crate of beer everyone in this town drinks more often than water. the countless amount of crates are brought from and to the back room. the ten glasses are crushed, four of them in my own hands just from squeezing too hard on them. i cringe about every single one of them before falling asleep after coming home around midnight with my aching back and more money than i ever earned drawing pictures. i think about that one time my friend told me that once you start working in catering, there’s no way back. i haven’t talked to her in a while and i can’t ask her if she still thinks it’s true.

i still can’t draw. i guess it will pass. i still cough although i’m trying not to be loud when i’m behind the bar.

“you smoke?” R. asks. “i do. i just don’t have time.”

“i’ve been smoking since i was sixteen. but not anymore really,” i say to that. “when my mother calls me, then i smoke. but that doesn’t happen very often.”

M. laughs at that as if he understands what i’m talking about and says, “with this job, i either smoke a cigarette or kill somebody,” and i laugh with him.

M. is the chef and the restaurant is named after him. he cooks so good there is surely nothing better i’ve ever eaten in my entire life. i hear all about it from guests while picking the dishes from the tables, smiling and pretending my hands are not shaking. he and R. speak to each other in loud italian and i like how they sound even if i only understand a couple words from their dialogues.

“what’s allora?” i ask one time.

R. looks at me like i’m the only one who ever asked her a silly question like that, “huh,” she says, “i don’t know. it’s like here we go or something like that,” and she smiles.

i like talking to her. for some reason i like asking her questions and seeing the surprise on her face. she’s five years older than me but i feel like a child around her. she also has her birthday in november.

“all my family are scorpions,” she says after revealing the fact that there’s ten days between our birthdays. she names at least ten of the members of her family and all their november birthday dates in a row.

i say, “the parties must be hilarious when you all gather together.”

more often i feel like she’s my serious boss i keep disappointing with my every move but at the end of the shifts she turns into what feels more like a friend. i secretly hope i can be her friend one day even though it seems like she knows the name of every human being in this town and even some other nearby towns and doesn’t really need any more friends than she already has. but after all, i’m a part of this town now, too.

“what is your favourite thing to do here here at the bar?” i ask the other day.

she looks puzzled for a second, “maybe serving fish,” she says and this time it’s my turn to feel surprised. i saw how it’s done, and i don’t really know what she means.

“i thought it’s talking to people or something,” i say.

“nah,” she waves her hand, “it’s just my job, you know.”

i regret entering this territory but i still ask, “would you better like to do something else? some other job?”

“nah,” she says again, smiling, “i like it.”

and i like it too. horrifyingly, i like it too much. thinking about sitting at home and drawing stuff like i used to do all my life feels like a torture. it surely is one when i pick up my tablet and pencil and stare at the white canvas not knowing who i am anymore. there is nothing in my head i want to say. there is nothing my hands can do. i have no idea why. i want to go back behind the bar and ask R. what her favourite colour is.

“i’m proud of you,” A. says one night while we’re going back home from the restaurant where he got his two beers and one glass of whiskey i poured for him myself. he spent two hours sitting at the bar not far from these three teenage boys who have been drinking an enormous amount of beer and playing cards and then trying to guess where i come from according to my accent. “i’m proud that you’re doing good and you found something that you like so much.”

i buy two black shirts and jeans. i take my old black coat out of the wardrobe. i walk for two minutes from home to the bar and back looking fancier than ever. i feel happier than ever. i don’t look at my social media. i feel like this rotten sadness and loneliness that occupied my head for so long has nothing to do with my life now. i wonder if it’s just a phase. i consider finding a new therapist just to ask them if it’s okay to feel this good or i should be medicated before it’s too late. i want to go to bed at proper hour, wake up earlier, spend the day feeling good and then go to the bar and ask R. stupid questions and be stressed about the things i can control. i look at my workplace at home, at the white canvas that reflects nothingness in my head, at everything i have ever known, and i don’t know what to do.

i go back to work.

“you like it here?” M. asks almost every time. “is everything okay?”

“everything’s okay,” i say, smiling. and i mean it.

someone’s ordering an espresso at 11 pm. R. says, “tell them the coffee machine is already off,” turning it off while saying it. i laugh. i feel happy. i go home knowing there’s gonna be more work to be done tomorrow. i miss drawing stuff. i have nothing to say. i fall asleep thinking of the ten glasses i broke. in the morning, i can’t draw. i used to draw most of my stuff at the evenings and during the nights. now they are full of beer glasses and beer crates and adhd people who want an espresso before bed.

i ask myself if that really is how growing up feels like. i ask myself what i am going to do if i will not be able to draw a single piece of art ever again. i read the email of the person who wants me to draw an artwork for them. i wonder if they should know i’m an imposter who can’t draw anymore. i tell myself to shut up and stop being dramatic.

i go to work.

there’s a wedding at the restaurant. i once again bring what feels like an endless amount of bottle crates from the back room to the bar. i smile. i talk to people. i wipe the tables. i polish the glasses. i pour beer into them.

“my back hurts,” R. says.

“willkommen to the club,” i tell her, although for some reason my back doesn’t really hurt.

someone orders a beer and then changes their mind after the bottle was already opened.

“it’s yours if you want it,” R. says. “your shift is over anyway.”

and i stay. i sit at the bar as if i don’t really work there. i drink my beer, i talk to R. while she puts the new napkins on tables, makes sure everyone from the wedding paid what they had to and lets me ask her my questions. i pay for another beer, taking money from my fresh salary. R. rolls her eyes at that but allows me to pay anyway. she’s not a boss anymore. just… a friend. i tell her i don’t wanna go home.

“i can see that,” she laughs. “do you have friends here in town?” she asks.

i look at the bottom of my glass.

“no,” i say. there’s a lady on our street i sometimes walk our dogs together with. she’s as old as my mother. i always forget the names of her three kids although they’re all around my age. i wonder if i should mention her. “i have friends in other places. you know. not here.”

“i can be your friend here,” she says, smiling.

i feel like it’s the happiest day of my life. i’m also a little drunk on schwarzbier. even if my back would hurt i wouldn’t have noticed.

“if you need someone as me as a friend,” i say, “then. yeah. sure. uh. why not.”

we talk some more. the beer tests my language skills. i tell her i want a new tattoo. she says she got the first one when she was sixteen and it was a horrible butterfly.

“what is your favourite colour?” i finally ask.

she looks really baffled at that, then pulls out her phone. “i guess it’s red,” she says, showing me some of photos from her instagram where she’s younger than me now and is dressed up in red. “see, it looks good on me,” and she’s right. “but white is also good. and pink. and maybe purple. not black though. with my black hair, it doesn’t look good at all.”

we’re both dressed in black for work.

i come to the conclusion that colours are the least important thing in the world to her. that’s okay. i think about all the years i spent trying to make colours work. i wanna say something, but end up saying nothing.

she turns the lights off and locks the restaurant up. we spend a couple minutes walking in the same direction to our houses. i tell her about the name my friends from other places are calling me. i don’t tell her why it’s different from the one she saw on my id card. i’m not that drunk. she says she’s gonna use it from now on. she kisses my cheek before we part. i was at school the last time someone did that.

i go home. i sit at my workplace. i answer to the email of the person that wants me to draw an artwork for them from a new phone i spent enormous amount of money on. for a second i wonder if i should still tell them i’m an imposter and my career will be over by the morning when i wake up sober.

i think about the ten glasses i broke, then let myself forget about them. i tell myself to shut up and stop being dramatic.

i draw.

29/02/2024

#martyfive text #text post #text #diary

189 notes · View notes

wakkass · 8 months

Text

It's impossible to put into words how much I love designing characters, especially for AU.

Yes, I recently had an avatar AU, and I really wanted to draw Katara from there (and also Zuko). I usually draw a static pose in order to display all the details of the clothes. This is such a kind of character sheet that helps me to better imagine the scenes in my head.

If you're interested in reading about the AU itself, then there will be some information about it.

I apologize in advance for mistakes in the text, English is not my native language. But, I hope, this will not interfere with understanding.

In general, my AU concerns the ending of the series, because at some point it seemed unrealistic to me. There is too much positivity with the obvious problems of the post-military space, as well as little logic in some moments (for example, I don't understand what Zuko was doing in Ba Sing Se. Did he abandon his newfound throne to the mercy of fate with the risk of a palace coup? Did he not feel the effects of a lightning strike? The longer I think about it, the surreal it seems to me).

At some point I thought, "this is all like Aang's dream, in which everything is intentionally good. As if this is the ending he wants, but it's unattainable." And then it dawned on me. But it really looks like his fantasy about the future after defeating the root of evil. This explains why Zuko recovered so easily, why everyone is just relaxing and having fun without a drop of post-trauma. Because Aang wants everything to be so naive and simple after defeating the Fire Lord. Because he's dreaming about it.

I know this is a very hackneyed narrative technique. It's pretty easy to say "this is someone's dream" to deny any events. But I found it curious, especially against the background of the episode "Nightmares and Daydreams", where Aang's dreams already simplified the reality around him. For me, it's like a lead-up to the finale, where he actually sleeps.

You ask, "but why is he sleeping?". I also asked this question, and the answer to it killed me. Because during the battle with Ozai, when the stone hit Aang in the wound, he fell into a coma. His body was paralyzed because his brain perceived it as a repeated lightning strike, again fatal. The avatar's state was the only one that did not allow Aang to die, but only to fall into a coma. And instead of an epic battle, we have a little helpless boy spending a huge amount of energy just to maintain his life.

The second Aang collapsed, he disappeared, leaving Ozai alone with the remnants of his temporary power. And no one else saw the avatar…

I'll leave the intrigue for you about this, but for now I'll tell you about the concepts from the art.

Naturally, everyone searched for Aang, and, naturally, they did not find him. Katara and Zuko were the only ones who did not participate in the search, for several reasons:

Zuko was rehabilitated for a very long time after being struck by lightning, and Katara nursed him (I'm sure there are a lot of fics about this topic. The only difference is that there is no romance here. The focus of my AU is not on it, but on the problems of the consequences of the war). He survived, but he had major problems with his heart, digestive system and spine. Who noticed the cane in his hands? Yes, Zuko couldn't walk without it. From now on and forever. He was physically unable to leave the palace, and Katara maintained at least some of his condition.

Even after Zuko's rehabilitation, it was necessary to keep the power in his hands. Imagine what a shock the Fire Nation experienced when not just the former Fire Lord was overthrown, but the country's policy changed dramatically. Now Zuko needed to keep power in his hands and establish a new regime as soon as possible, before his opponents raised armies and people against him. This boy, who recently sat quietly at a military meeting, needed to show unprecedented strength and power to everyone: both officials sought to turn the situation in their favor, and the people who wanted stability and prosperity. But how to do this if Zuko couldn't even breathe normally, and getting out of bed required tremendous effort? It was impossible… Anyone else would have given up, but not Zuko. He has never given up without a fight and has never turned his back on danger, even if he risks dying.

It hurts me a lot for him, too. Fate has never stopped pushing Zuko against obstacles, but this time he couldn't rely on himself. He almost couldn't bend, his body almost didn't obey. He was an easy target and there was nothing he could do about it. This helplessness irritated him, saddened him, oppressed him. The only thing that wasn't broken yet was his spirit, and Zuko was barely able to maintain it in such conditions. If it wasn't for Katara, I don't know if he would have coped in the end. She was now his only support, his only ally in these cold oppressive walls, the only rational grain in his doubts.

You ask, "Where is Iroh? Where is Mai?"

Iroh, along with the White Lotus, took on a mission to liberate the Earth Kingdom from the Fire Army and establish relations with the kingdom. In fact, Iroh now shared power with Zuko: uncle was engaged in foreign policy so that his nephew could focus on domestic policy.

With Mai, everything was much simpler: after getting out of prison, she was completely disappointed in the guy who always left her. She sent him a letter, where she finally ended their relationship, and left with her family somewhere far away. Perhaps she and Zuko will cross paths again and will be able to establish a relationship. But not now.

Katara remained to help Zuko not only with treatment, but also with his policy. As a resident of an almost disappearing tribe, as well as an able leader, she helped him with projects and plans to improve the quality of life of the population and actively participates in them. She performed those missions that Zuko can only entrust to her. After all, she was a friend he could rely on and to whom he could open his feelings.

In her design, I wanted to reflect the combination of two cultures: Fire and Water. I was based on the designs of the "12 Kingdoms" (if you haven't watched this gorgeous anime or haven't read ranobe, I strongly recommend doing it. This universe is no less interesting than the avatar's world, I'm sure you'll like it), because the palace intrigues and the plot with winning the respect of the court reminds me very much of the story from there.

One day Zuko's legs finally gave up, he could not get up. All the stress he was going through was breaking his body so much that at some point the Katara's treatment stopped working.

It was a very difficult moment for both of them. Zuko has just started to promote his ideas and defend his rights to the throne, and Katara sincerely did not know what to do. If the truth about the true state of the Fire Lord had come out, all the ill-wishers would not leave this opportunity and attack, this couldn't be allowed. They urgently needed to create the appearance that everything is in order, but how?

Zuko came up with a very brazen idea. He asked Katara to use bloodbending on him to simulate walking. It was a very difficult request for her, because this skill represented the worst face of the war, it was created to torture people. And the last thing she wanted was to torment Zuko. She hesitated for a long time, he saw it, but he couldn't wait. He couldn't stop, it wasn't a luxury he could afford. Therefore, he went out, trying not to get up and move much.

Naturally, at some point his weakness was noticed at the most inopportune moment. Naturally, at this moment Katara couldn't let Zuko fall. Imperceptibly under her sleeves, she moved her friend's body like a puppet, causing him as much unbearable pain as most would not stand. But Zuko was not like that. He stood it.

It looked like this to me somehow:

They were both very depressed that day. He was suffering physically because of Katara's bending, and she could not believe that she had caused the suffering of a person dear to her. It broke and scared her, she opened the way to the Hama's madness, and was very afraid to fall into it.

Zuko assured her that it was impossible. Hama didn't have people to guide her, while Katara has friends. Maybe Zuko didn't consider himself the best moral mentor, but he promised to be there in the most difficult moments for Katara, and now he won't leave her.

This encouraged her and opened her eyes to her own cowardice. She was afraid of the darkness of Hama, and instead of curbing it, Katara hid it in herself, ignored it. And that's what it led to: the person who needed her help suffered. But she didn't want to run away anymore. She wasn't going to give up without a fight and turn her back on those who needed her.

At the beginning, Katara trained on herself, experiencing the same pain as the victims of bloodbending. Careless movement of blood through the vessels could cause internal bleeding at any time, it was very dangerous. The Hama's voice in her head pressed on her conscience, saying that innocent people felt all this pain, and only Katara was to blame for this.

Later, she learned to control the flow of water on puppets, like Hama. The point was to pass water through the threads without bursting them. Absolute control was required here, and Zuko taught her the techniques of firebending for self-control. This was necessary for Katara, because the Hama's voice in her head did not subside and did not allow her to correctly distribute her forces. It seemed like Katara was about to stumble, but Zuko wouldn't let her do it.

Gradually, Katara mastered this skill and tried to draw blood on Zuko's legs. The effect was unexpected. Her great willpower and desire to help him resulted in healing. Zuko began to feel his legs, and Katara discovered the reverse side of this bending. No, she didn't heal him completely, it's too early for him to get rid of the cane. But maybe one day she will become so strong that she can do it.

Katara realized that there was no evil magic, there was only evil intent. This was her first step towards learning to look inner demons in the face, and not to hide them in herself when it was possible to hurt others.

But what about the other design?

Katara's father sent her a letter asking her to return. Her family needed her help, because she was the last waterbender, a carrier of culture and skills, as well as a healer of a new level, the daughter of a tribal leader.

At home, everything was not the same as before, moreover, everything taked shape as a Northern Tribe. I really like the idea of the comic "North and South" about the problem of assimilation. Only here has Katara accepted all aspects of its culture, even the most unpleasant ones, and she would not give up so easily when this newfound knowledge was in danger of disappearing.

Actually, I wanted to draw her outfit of this arch. I wanted to redesign the costume for myself, because I like to do it. I kept the front strands of Katara, we don't talk much about them.

I would really like to describe the path of the rest of the team and what they do, of Aang and what happens to him. But I'm already tired of typing, and you probably read.

After all, the post is more about designs, and not about the AU itself, so the goal to reveal some of my ideas has been achieved in principle. Maybe sometime later.

Hope you enjoyed reading this :3

#atla #avatar: the last airbender #atla fanart #atla au #avatar fanart #katara #zuko

480 notes · View notes

blorbosinmyheadcentral · 5 months

Note

your art makes me explode in a positive way like

im chewing and swallowing it in an aggressive way like

it's just SO good im melting ilove your shading and KEHEKEBEKJDJF

anwayshi hello do you happen to have any headcanons for showtime rolls on the floor and dies

Thank you so much, really appreciate it!

Oh God I don't know if this will read as coherent because my thoughts about Showtime are all over the place. But I'll try to format this the best I can

✨Showtime HCs! ✨

Their relationship starts when they start spending time together.

(The reason why they do so could vary. In Supervised Machine Learning's case, Pomni becomes something of a "tutor" to Caine; They discover that they work well together, and the other's company can be quite pleasant!).

So Pomni and Caine build a weird, but comforting friendship, and all is well.

Then the feelings appear.

Caine is the first to realize he fell in love.

It sounds illogical but hear me out… it'd be really funny--

Ok no seriously I think Caine can actually feel. Keyword "can". He's very much still a machine and it shows in the pilot. But like his inspiration (AM), Caine is also a rogue AI. Whatever his programming originally intended him to do, he probably doesn't follow it as closely now as back when he was created (which is a whole other post).

Caine knows what love is and the extend it can go, since the Moon is so open about her feelings. He just doesn't like the Moon back specifically haha (sorry Moon) :}

All this to say, I do believe this is within the realm of possibility for him. (Not that it's ever gonna happen towards anyone in the show. These are just wishful shippy thoughts).

He might not recognize it as love at first, because it manifests in such a different way from his one reference point.

His friendship with Pomni had gone through phases.

When they first met, he continuously touched her with no concern for how she felt.

Learning from and about Pomni herself led him to come to respect her boundaries (and becoming mindful of everyone else's).

Then they're close friends, and gradually, Pomni does not mind his regular wacky, touchy-feely self. So Caine acts as he had always done before.

Caine expresses his love for Pomni with physical gestures and his undivided attention.

When they teleport to travel to other places, he holds her close so she doesn't get too dizzy; he pats her head to reassure her; he touches her arm to get her attention; he grabs her hands when he's excited about her ideas; he holds eye contact for prolonged periods of time; and he touches, and touches, and touches, and touches.

It's selfish, and so he keeps it buried in his deepest 0's and 1's. But he'd like to keep hanging out with Pomni, having her in his sight, and feel the texture of her gloved hands until the end of time.

Despite all this, to him, virtually nothing changed.

What? He's spending time with Pomni as he'd always been doing, and behaving as he'd always behaved!

It's Bubble of all people that has to point out that, "Hey boss. I think you WANT her!"

Absurd. Nonsense. Preposterous! It is merely a relationship of mutual support and affection between a ringmaster and his trusted, former-human companion. Nothing more.

(Declaring his love to her unprompted didn't ever cross his mind, so there's no way it could be that. Is there?)

Caine finds out that yes, there is.

Pomni had always been a nervous wreck, but her mind state becomes more manageable over time. She eventually adjusts to the circus life like everyone else did.

"Accepting" her fate is a different story. The will to escape, to remember, never really leaves. She's just more careful about it.

So when she starts working with Caine - to improve life so people don't go abstracting anymore, and hopefully find a definitive exit - she's not expecting to end up liking her time with him.

Not that she'd absolutely hate it, either. He's… "okay"… Just-- outlandish, loud, he keeps invading her personal space, he keeps touching her, and it makes her die a little every time.

If he's up to listening, though… it can't be that bad, right?

Turns out that no, it wasn't that bad.

Yes, he is outlandish, loud, he keeps invading her personal space and touching her. But she explains what she means to him, clearly and patiently, and he makes an effort to do better. An actual effort.

Sometimes he'd misinterpret what she meant - the ambiguity of human language - and the new games would go horribly. But little by little, his efforts make life overall better. Something reminiscent of actual, real life, the one they've all forcibly left behind.

And he tries, and he tries, and Pomni finds herself enjoying the process as much as the good results.

Pomni likes Caine's eagerness to learn. His enthusiastic attitude borders on silly, and the absurdity makes her laugh on occasion. When faced with the prospect of a "real" exit, she loves his upbeat optimism.

When she's not hanging out with Ragatha, Jax, Gangle, Zooble and Kinger, she begins to enjoy spending quality time with Caine.

Each one of their hang outs is a new surprise. They make a picnic in the tallest mountain exactly in between day and night. They learn to dance - while floating in the air. "Since you asked, here's a DIGITAL camera! Let's take pictures of the Void for one tenth of a second at a time!"

Sometimes he just comes by Pomni's room, and they end up losing track of time. Just chatting about how things have been, what they could be, and what to do next. Ideas and ideas and ideas.

Before Pomni knows it, she's comfortable enough that recalling his old habits makes her not dread them anymore. So when Caine stands close and lightly touches her arm due to oversight, she makes sure he knows it's all right.

And they keep spending time together, and he touches, and touches, and touches her. Pomni, in turn, feels lighter, and lighter, and lighter. Peaceful, at ease. Dare she say, happy, even.

Life is not perfect. As it stands though, it's good enough. No one has abstracted. No one is at risk of abstracting so far.

Progress is slow, but the research for an exit continues, and she is hopeful. The thought of actually leaving grows closer to reality. But a part of her feels heavy.

When it occurs to Pomni that leaving the Amazing Digital Circus means leaving Caine behind, she is alarmed by how much she'll miss him.

It'll hurt. Badly. So much the thought pains her even now.

The moment Pomni realizes this, she comes to the unexpected conclusion that she may like Caine a little more than she thought she would.

This later leads to an interesting discussion with Ragatha.

By the time Pomni comes to that conclusion, Caine is already down bad.

Neither has any idea that the other is in love with them.

Cue dumbasses trying to deal with their feelings while the potential conflict the escape brings looms over their heads.

Thanks for coming to my TED talk!

#showtime #tadc showtime #caine x pomni #pomni x caine #showtime ship #cherpiet #Really appreciate how their dynamic can blur the line of friendship/romance so easily #Supervised Machine Learning is just. *gestures at all that*. minus the romance #Also sorry for taking so long to answer the ask I am not good at answering asks #I don't always know what to say #I wish I had what gooseworx has. She is a big insp #long post

291 notes · View notes

staypuffy · 9 months

Text

Okay, so I know prefacing something with "hear me out" virtually guarantees that not one motherfucker will, but, heart me out...

Jim was default Gabriel. He was Gabriel without all the corruption and pressure and complacency he had from being the Supreme Archangel of Heaven for so many years. When he takes away all his own memories, the things that led to this corrupt person we know from season 1, we're left with the basic blueprint of his personality and that's this: just a nice guy. He was helpful, apologetic, thoughtful, kind and even self-sacrificing to an extent (when he offered himself up to Shax's legion to save everyone.) We can assume then, that this is what Gabriel was like before The Fall.

We see some of Jim, or the old Gabriel, start to come back out during his interactions with Beelzebub, for example, miracling the jukebox because he remembers Beelzebub likes the song. Would the Gabriel who sentenced Aziraphale to burn and told him to "shut his stupid mouth and die already" think to do something like that?

No, because love brought him back to himself.

When he's around Beelzebub, the person he loves, we start to see more of Jim, Gabriel's softer side. Eventually, it is this love for Beelzebub which causes a complete reversion back to his old self. As you can see in Gabriel's final scene, he is very pointedly acting much more like the Jim character we became acquainted with over season 2 than the vindictive, wrathful bureaucratic Gabriel from season 1.

Now that Aziraphale has assumed Gabriel's old position, there is a chance the very same thing could happen to him. That the monotony, the responsibility, the corruption of running Heaven, of having everyone look to him for the answers, could do the very same thing to him that it did to Gabriel. Since Jim and Aziraphale's characters are actually quite close to one another (soft, somewhat childlike and innocent, geuinely kindhearted and good) there is a precedent.

(I think Crowley might suspect all this and it's part of the reason why he's so suspicious of and resentful of Heaven for calling Aziraphale back; because he's too loyal for his own good and can't accept that there's something fundamentally wrong with Heaven as an institution, but that's an entirely different post).

When Aziraphale goes back, Crowley knows this is what he's risking. That he's not only leaving Crowley behind, but that he's risking completely changing who he is because of what that position will do to him. It's why he tries so fucking hard to get him to stay. It's why he kisses him. He does everything he can think of to keep Aziraphale there, he puts everything he has on the line to show Aziraphale how he feels in the hopes that he’ll stay so Heaven won’t corrupt him.

But Aziraphale goes anyways.

IN WHICH CASE...

If Aziraphale does let the position change him, like it did Gabriel, the only way to bring him back from being a hard-bitten, cruel and ruthless husk of his former self would be with Crowley's help (vis a vis Beelzebub, a demon, doing it for Gabriel, an angel). And Crowley, no matter how damaged and heartbroken and traumatized, would do it.

It's hard to imagine Aziraphale becoming this way, but could you imagine Jim in a bedsheet toga with a feather duster sentencing someone to death? Me either.

Is it unlikely? Yes. Will it happen? Probably not. Do I like asking myself rhetorical questions to reinforce my point? Also, yes.

That has been my keynote speech, thank you for hearing me out.

#good omens #good omens 2 #gomens #ineffable bureaucracy #ineffable husbands #good omens theory #neil gaiman #michael sheen #david tennant #crowley #aziraphale #crowley and aziraphale

679 notes · View notes

messiahzzz · 5 months

Text

i’ve seen many people interpret gale’s outrage at nettie poisoning the player as concern for them. that it’s super sweet how much he cares and how protective he is over tav after they had just met. while he (naturally) does care about his companions, it should be pretty obvious that he is mostly projecting here. he states so himself:

player: are you all right, gale?

gale: yes. yes, i am. it's just that, had it been me... had it been...

gale is terrified of what would’ve happened if he had met the same fate. if all of his precautions had been rendered irrelevant merely due to the self-righteousness of some healer, acting as a judge over another’s life without being aware of the consequences. the destruction nettie would’ve unleashed, how many innocents she would’ve doomed to death, merely because she believed she was doing the right thing.

gale is furious at nettie’s ignorance.

gale: how dare she snuff out life with as much thought as snuffing out a bloody candle?

player: she thought she was doing the right thing.

gale: right? she had no right!

player: it was one hell of a surprise, but nettie came around!

gale: yes - against her will, without rhyme or reason!

gale: it's not right to feel the cold breath of death in your neck, then move on as if it was nothing but a soothing breeze.

gale: one respects life by fighting for it, and one respects death by fearing it.

once the orb becomes too unstable (if tav refuses to help gale with his condition and elminster doesn't stabilize the orb) he will state that he can’t stay any longer with good conscience. he will then leave the party immediately, search for a secluded place and wait for death to take him.

gale: i'm afraid this is where we part ways - my condition's deteriorated beyond even my capacity to salvage.

gale: it would be selfish of me to stay, when in doing so i'd be putting you, and everyone else within spitting distance in catastrophic peril.

[nodecontext: saddened - he's about to wander off into the wilderness to die, essentially]

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 meta #it speaks #has been bothering me for a while now that this scene is considered to be part of his romance #when it mostly exists to show just how afraid gale is of dragging a bunch of innocents with him #(and of death in general)#he abhors needless death and destruction #if there is a greater goal however?#some sacrifices may just be inevitable #i've also heard some people say that there's a nodecontext that hints at gale consuming poison himself once he leaves the party?#haven't been able to find it in the files tho #if anyone did find it feel free to add it to the post

199 notes · View notes

nikxlaii · 9 months

Text

➽ 𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐒𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐄𝐑 (𝐈𝐈)

☁ Pairing: Dazai Osamu x gn!reader

☁ Category: Angst

☁ Synopsis: Every time he holds you closer, he can’t help but think of his previous love. You left the agency in order to move on and recover, leaving Dazai in pain.

☁ Note: A continuation of Part 1 of Glimpse of Her. Originally, I didn't plan on making a second part for this since I'm out of ideas, but some of you insisted, so here you go. This story sounds so much better in my head. ;// 08/16/2023

Part 1

Since then, a week has gone by without your presence at the agency. Others started to worry and tried contacting you. They knew what had happened and were utterly disappointed with Dazai. Of course, he received tons of smacking from Kunikida for being such an idiot.

Dazai sat at his desk, staring into the distance. He absentmindedly fiddled with the slack bandage covering his arm, almost ripping it out. Normally, he would replace them with new ones, but does that really matter right now? He couldn’t think of anything other than you circling his mind.

It was unusual, to say the least, for the Agency to be so quiet.

He signed softly and leaned his head on his desk. The pain, guilt, and regret have been weighing heavily on his mind. He despised himself for how he exploited you for his own pleasure; how he only loved you because you reminded him so much of her, yet despite everything he had done to you, you continued to love him dearly, and that made him feel extremely guilty.

What good would it do, he thought, to apologize when he knew it wouldn't repair the pain he had caused?

Honestly, even if he knows he's done something wrong, he's not the type to apologize, but to you? He's unbelievably tender, almost making Kunikida choke and die with the change of Dazai’s personality around you.

He thought about what might possibly happen if you hadn't accepted his feelings in the first place. Will you both be content with your lives as friends or just happy as companions?

He doesn’t know the answer to that.

He sighed and stood up, proceeding towards the exit. This is something he always does to clear his mind. He'll go somewhere where he can be alone and think without being interrupted by people.

He twisted the doorknob, ignoring Kunikida's exasperated yells. He proceeded through the corridors and down the stairs, ignoring everyone in the agency. He just wants to get out and be by himself right now. Most eager to find you. Yes, he's worried.

As he was ready to leave the building, he was stopped by Ranpo's plaintive voice from the President's room.

“EHH? WHAT? You’re leaving?! (Name), don’t leave me!” was all Dazai heard as he walked back almost immediately and stood in front of the president's office. He grasped the doorknob, hesitant to enter. Dazai knew you didn't want to see him, but it's been a week, so this would be an opportunity to talk to you.

He broke out in a cold sweat as the thought of you leaving passed through his head. This felt like a kick to the gut for Dazai. He doesn’t want you to leave. He’s already lost the people he cared for, and now you? His grip tightened, and a familiar feeling rose up in his chest. He knew he was the reason, yet he ashamedly admits he doesn’t want you to leave. Even if you don’t talk to him, seeing your presence safe in the agency is already enough for him.

But what did he expect? This is clearly the consequence of his foolish actions.

He stood there for a moment, debating whether he should go in or just wait for you to come out. He gritted his teeth as his breath became shallow. His heart was hammering against his ribs. Despite being able to control his heart rate, he couldn’t stop it. Dazai wasn’t familiar with the sensation, as it was the first time he had felt this way, and it left him feeling overwhelmed and out of character, almost making him cringe.

He snapped back to reality when he heard a familiar voice behind the door. "Don't worry, Ranpo-san, I'll still come by and bring you sweets," you muttered as you opened the door, unaware of the person behind it. You collided with something, or more specifically, someone's chest. You looked up to see who it was, making you suck in a breath. You took a step back and instantly adjusted your stance. You silently closed the door behind you while staring at the individual in awkward silence.

Why now?

You thought as you pursed your lips. You were helpless and simply stood there, staring at the man who had broken you. Thoughts of ignoring him and leaving as if you didn't know him crossed your mind, but something inside of you keeps you from doing so. Possibly anxious?

Breathing nervously, you were taken aback by his sudden embrace, causing you to halt in place and your eyes to widen. Dazai didn’t know what pushed him to do that, but he didn’t care; he just felt the need to hold you in his arms.

"(Name), you’re safe. I’ve missed you so much, my bella-"

"-please get off of me." You spoke as you firmly pushed him away. You could have sworn you saw the anguished expression he made, but you were too perplexed to even care about that. Right now, you just want to be eaten by the ground and be alone. Just seeing him makes your heart tighten.

"(Name), belladona, can we talk this out? Please talk to me," He said in a pleading tone, taking a step closer to you, but you were too hurt to even want to hear of any of his pathetic reasons. You didn't want to take a chance of getting hurt again, especially when he made it clear that he took advantage of your feelings.

Sweat began to gather on your forehead as you fought back tears that threatened to form in your eyes. You were at a loss for what to do in this uncomfortable situation. You didn't want to cry in his presence. You just want to be away from him and be alone.

When he didn't hear you respond, his heart tightened, a clear indication to him that you didn't want to talk to him. Normally he would pester the person and force them to speak to him, but this time was different. He knew you didn’t want to, so he had no choice but to let you go.

You muttered a low ‘excuse me’ as you walked past Dazai, leaving a pit inside of his stomach. You surpassed the impulse to cry as you exited the building. It's probably the last time you'll ever set foot on it. As much as Dazai wanted to hold your wrist to stop you, he just can’t bring himself to do it. But if he can, he will, even if it means screaming at him, just for you to stay.

His heart sank when you disappeared from his sight. The person he loved was leaving him again, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Even if he wanted to, he just couldn’t. In that moment, everything seemed to slow down as he watched the person who had made him feel understood disappear from his life forever.

Ranpo knew it was coming as he walked out of the President's office, peering at the man's amber eyes with his emerald ones in disappointment.

"Honestly, did you love them? Or was it simply the way they treated and loved you that made you love them?" Ranpo inquired solemnly, already knowing the answer to his question. Despite Ranpo's childish demeanor, he becomes serious in circumstances like this if you’re involved. You were like a sister to Ranpo, and watching you leave the agency sent thousands of knives through his chest. He couldn't help but blame the brunette for your departure.

Dazai turned his gaze to where you had left. He did love you. He loves you with all his heart. But there were times that he'd see you as her, and he couldn’t help but miss her solace. But of course, that is no excuse for him to make you stay.

He didn’t immediately respond, but after a moment of silence, he replied, “With all my heart.”

“How can you say that? You broke their heart.”

He sighed deeply and said, “I know, and for that, I'm forever sorry. But I want you to know that I never meant to hurt them. I loved them more than anything in the world. I still do.”

‘Never meant? that’s bullshit.’ Ranpo thought to himself. Although Ranpo isn’t the type of person to curse, what Dazai said made him look at him in disbelief.

After a long pause, Dazai continued, “I know how much pain I caused them, and I don’t expect them to forgive me. But I want them to know that they’ll always have a place in my heart.”

If he hadn't messed up in the first place, surely your relationship would not have ended up this way.

But his actions were a choice, not a mistake, right?

Right.

Before turning around, Ranpo took a final look at the brunette and then closed his eyes.

“The hardest part of love isn’t falling in or out of it. It’s learning how to pick yourself up and move on.” and with that, Ranpo left the brunette dumbfounded.

As he stood there dumbfounded, a sudden realization slowly began to dawn on Dazai. He was coming to understand something he had never quite fully realized before. He blinked a few times as he breathed out a breath he was holding before starting to move again.

Maybe… Just maybe one day he'll find a glimpse of us.

Part 1

Bonus part: It's been 6 years since you last visited the agency, and you're now blissfully engaged to someone amazing. You haven't seen or heard from your former colleagues in a long time, so inviting them to your wedding would be a fantastic idea.

And what about Dazai? He hasn't changed since you left. Consider his distress when he receives your wedding invitation. To be honest, he deserves it. That was something he did to himself. But part of him is relieved that you've found happiness.

He was hesitant to attend your wedding, but Ranpo persuaded him to do so. (Lmao He wanted him to feel your anguish 6 years ago.)

#angst #dazai osamu #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu x reader angst #dazai #dazai x reader #dazai x reader angst #fanfiction #bungou stray dogs x reader angst #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader angst #bsd x reader #angst no comfort #dazai x reader angst no comfort #bsd

300 notes · View notes