#and he STILL fought tooth and nail for them because he loved them | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

punkshort · 2 months

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i’m the anon who asked about the request! if you decide to do it, i’d absolutely wait forever😂 it’s very angsty tho, so the idea was for outbreak joel who doesn’t get the happy ending. reader who was head over heels in love coping with his death, maybe flashbacks to show the moments of reader seeing him die? idkidk the idea is very vague, sorry if it’s too sad!! if so maybe reader seeing him die was just a terrible nightmare & he’s there waking them up & helping them through a meltdown?

i’ve been craving for some emotional torture for wtv reason😭😭 thank you for even considering requests!🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

Thank you for this request! It's my first one, so I hope you enjoy it. Also, I had to take the out you gave me and make this a nightmare because I am a big ol' softie and I won't apologize for it, but I will apologize for taking so long to write it 😂

I hate when you're right

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: After a heated argument with Joel, you finally convince him into leaving Jackson so you could explore a store for new clothes, and what happens could change your life forever.

Warnings: major character (Joel) death - but it is just a nightmare - don't read if you think that will still upset you, angst, language, violence, descriptions of blood/gore/death scene

WC: 2.5K

dividers by the one and only @saradika-graphics

You knew it was childish. You knew it wasn't essential. But you also desperately wanted to feel more comfortable, and was that really such a crime? To want to feel like yourself again? To want to wear clothes that you liked? That fit you properly? Jackson was well stocked with essentials, clothes included, but the clothes the men picked up on patrol were... utilitarian, to say the least. They grabbed the biggest and the warmest clothes so that it afforded more people the opportunity to use them, but you were beginning to grow tired of tucking men's oversized shirts into your pants, the material bunching up at your waist and twisting around as you walked, constantly trying and failing to feel comfortable in your own skin.

You thought Joel would be more open to the idea of heading outside the walls on your day off. You even teased him with the promise of picking up some new underwear, but he didn't fall for it. He fought you tooth and nail the whole evening, his voice lifting over yours angrily to explain how there's been an influx of raiders the past few weeks, that everyone agreed to lay low until they passed through, not wanting to draw attention or pick any unwanted fights. But you persisted. You always did, and you eventually wore him down when you threatened to leave without him.

Why was it such a crime to want to feel comfortable? It was just two people, you could lay low and go unseen, no problem. You've done it countless times before.

You had hoped he would have gotten over it by morning, but you were wrong. He hardly made eye contact with you during breakfast, skirting expertly around you in your kitchen, mumbling under his breath as he sipped his coffee and only shooting you angry looks when your back was turned.

The air was crisp and the woods were peaceful. You thought that would surely turn his mood around. He always appreciated being out with nature, living off the land. As much as he loved living in Jackson, he couldn't deny that part of himself that felt useful, that felt a sense of accomplishment by surviving out in the wild.

"C'mon, are you really gonna act like this all day?" you teased as you held up another shirt against your body before determining it was the right size and then tossed it in a pile with the others.

He was standing at the storefront window with his arms crossed and his jaw clenched. "Don't know what you mean."

You rolled your eyes and looked around the store, spotting a table of underwear with a grin. You lightly skipped over and tossed to the side the pairs that looked far too dusty so you could look at the ones underneath. Clearing your throat, you held up a pair of bright red stain underwear. He turned around and you saw it: it was fast, he hid it well, but you still saw it. That all too familiar excited look in his eye.

"Don't you like them?" you asked with a playful pout. He furrowed his brow at you like he was annoyed, and maybe he was, but you still saw the heat beginning to crawl up his neck.

"They ain't practical."

You gave him a defeated sigh and strolled over to your pile of clothes, your fingertips daintily holding the undergarment out to him. "No? Then what are they?"

His eyes shifted from yours to the red material in your hand and you saw his throat work as he swallowed.

"Useless," he croaked, and you narrowed your eyes at him. You got a little closer, letting the soft fabric glide against the back of his hand when you dropped your arm to your side.

"Oh, yeah?" you said breathily, and you watched his eyelids flutter at your tone. "Then I guess it wouldn't matter if I brought them home and let you rip them off me."

He stepped forward, a growl emitting from his chest, low and deep, when at the exact same time, you both heard shouting outside the store. Swiveling both your heads towards the glass storefront, your blood ran cold when you saw six heavily armed men advancing towards you.

"Shit," he muttered, his arm pulling your shoulder down just in time to avoid the cascade of bullets that rained down upon you. You laid face down on the rough carpet, covering the back of your head with your eyes squeezed shut, waiting for the shooting to stop. Joel tugged on your arm and you opened your eyes in a panic.

"Follow me!" he shouted, army crawling towards the registers, and you dutifully followed behind, your heart racing wildly in your chest.

Once you made it, the counter offering some, but not much, safety, the both of you pulled out your guns and double checked your ammo.

"Alright, when they stop to reload-"

"I know," you said, cutting him off. You've both been in this situation before. You knew what to do.

Holding your rifle upright and against your chest, you breathed deep, trying to steady your hands until the bullets slowed and you heard more shouting. Joel nodded to you and you both sprung up from the floor, pulling your rifles against your bodies in sync and lining up your targets.

Patience is a virtue. The amount of ammunition they wasted on the two of you was laughable when you each caught one of them between the eyes, leaving four against two.

You thought you would be able to get another shot off but Joel tugged your arm and you slinked back to the floor as a shower of bullets rained over you once again.

"You good?" he asked, and you nodded, gasping for air. Your hands began to stabilize when the shock wore off. You were in the zone.

Pressing both your backs against the small counter, you remained calm and waited out your attackers. Glass shards tinkled and scattered behind you. Bullets pinged against the metal shelving, ricocheting into the drywall.

"Assault rifles for two people? Really?" you muttered, more so to yourself, but Joel heard you.

"Told you this was a bad fuckin' idea," he said angrily.

When there was another brief pause, he looked to you again and nodded. At the same time, you rose up and took aim, firing on your attackers once again. Joel made his shot, you didn't. Three down, three to go.

"Fuck," you grumbled, reloading your rifle even though you still had rounds left.

"Focus," he scolded.

The men sounded like they were getting closer. Their voices were louder. Clearer. The shots were deafening. You prayed they weren't inside the store, because you hadn't planned an exit strategy. Without warning, Joel stood up and fired a shot. You heard a man scream and then a loud thud. It sounded like the man was just on the other side of the counter.

"That's not the plan," you seethed at him when he dropped back down next to you.

"Didn't have a choice, he was 'bout to jump us," he sneered.

Two against two.

When the shots slowed down, you held your breath, looking at Joel from the corner of your eye. He held his palm up to you silently, signaling for you to stay where you were. You heard boots crunching slowly against glass and your heart leapt into your throat. They were in the store.

You shot Joel a panicked look but he just shook his head, focusing on their footsteps, calculating how far away they were.

"Come out now and no one gets hurt," a man's deep voice called out. He was close.

Joel clenched his jaw and flared his nostrils. You knew that look. It was the look of a man who was about to do something stupid. But before you could stop him, before you could reach out to him and hold him back, he stood up and took aim.

One shot. That was all you heard when Joel slumped to the floor next to you, clutching his stomach as dark red blood poured from the wound. Your eyes went wide and you saw red. Without thinking, you stood up and shot, taking one of the two men down with a yelp. The remaining raider ducked behind a display, and you dropped your rifle in favor of your handgun. Crouching low to the ground, you inched forward, careful of any broken glass that would give your position away. When you were on the other side of the display, you heard the man's labored breaths. He was scared. He was out of his element. And you had him right where you wanted him.

Silently tucking the gun in the back of your pants, you slid your hunting knife out from your ankle holster. You took a deep breath and lunged forward, driving the knife deep into the man's chest.

He dropped his gun and clutched weakly at your hands, but it was no use. His blood poured from the wound when you yanked your knife out with a grunt, and you watched as his hands slowly slid back down to his sides, his eyes still wide open and staring up at the ceiling.

You smirked, feeling victorious for only a moment before you remembered Joel. Dropping your knife, you rushed back to his side, only to find his face pale and his hands stained dark red.

"Joel!" you cried out, pressing your palms against the wound, hoping to slow the bleeding. His eyes drifted towards you, softening when he saw you were alive and unharmed. That you were going to make it.

Panic consumed you. Your heart was slamming against your ribs as you fumbled with your backpack, trying to find your first aid kit through the tears.

"I love you," he whispered, and you shook your head.

"Don't start with that, you're gonna be fine."

"Baby," he said weakly, and you choked back a sob.

"Hold on," you told him, still searching in your pack.

"Look at me," he said, and your hands stilled for a moment before you dragged your eyes back to him, your lower lip trembling as you took in his deteriorating state.

"I need to-" you began, but stopped to take in a shaky breath. "I need to patch you up and get you to the horses."

"No, you don't," he said softly, and more tears spilled from your eyes.

"Yes, I do. I gotta-"

"I ain't gonna make it, sweetheart," he slurred, and you could see by the amount of blood he was losing that he was right. But still, you pressed your palms against the gunshot wound, your fingers slipping through his thick and sticky blood.

"Don't say that. I can't do this without you," you whimpered, and closed your eyes for a brief moment. You felt his fingertips weakly grip your chin and you forced your eyes back open.

"Yes, you can," he said as firmly as he could. He was so pale and weak and it was making your stomach turn.

You shook your head, about to argue with him, but he stopped you.

"You keep goin', you hear me?" he said, and still, you shook your head from side to side, small sobs slipping past your lips. "Don't let this world win. You... go on and keep fightin'. Please. Be happy, baby. For me."

"No!" you cried out, spittle dripping from your lips now, mixing with your tears. "I won't! I-I can't!"

"You can," he repeated, and gave you a weak smile. "I'm ready, baby. It'll be okay."

You squeezed your eyes shut tight, the tears leaking out, hot and angry on your cheeks as you sobbed over him, clutching his hand in yours so tightly, like if you squeezed hard enough, you could give him your lifeforce. Give him your breath. But moments later, his grip weakened and when you opened your eyes, his head slumped to the side and his lifeless eyes stared off into the distance.

"Joel!" you screamed, sitting up in bed, drenched in sweat with tears still streaming down your face. You looked to your side, where he normally slept, but he wasn't there. Panic squeezed your throat, your chest fucking hurt, but you flung the blankets off you and ran towards the door. Still not hearing any sounds, you raced down the stairs, almost tripping in the process but you had a grip on the railing to keep you steady.

When your eyes finally landed on his familiar form stretched out on the couch, his back to you, you allowed yourself to breathe a sigh of relief.

Reality came back to you now. You had your fight about leaving Jackson, but he won and you slept apart. You never left. He never got shot. It was all just a horrible dream.

You stumbled over to the couch, your tears unstoppable, the nightmare too vivid, too real. Your trembling hands clutched his shoulder as you fell to your knees on the floor, shaking him awake.

"What?" he grumbled, clearly still pissed off about your fight.

"I'm sorry!" you sobbed loudly, and when he realized something was wrong, he whipped around to face you.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice still thick with sleep.

"I-I had-" you began, then you hiccupped, cutting yourself off. His face was etched with concern as he forced himself up and cupped your face.

"C'mon, talk to me," he urged, the fear in his eyes reflecting back to you as you looked at him, still not sure what was real and what wasn't.

"I had a nightmare," you finally managed to get out. "About our fight. That we... we went out like I wanted and-and-" you collapsed into another fit of sobs, your shoulders shaking violently.

"Hey, it's alright," he soothed, pulling you up and into his lap and rubbing your back. You pressed your tear stained face into his neck, inhaling deeply, grounding yourself. He was alive. He was here. Everything was fine.

"I'm sorry," you whimpered, your throat still tight but your tears were slowing down. "I'm sorry we fought. I don't wanna go out anymore. I don't need new clothes, it was stupid, I'm sorry."

"Shh, it's okay," he said, pulling you tightly against his chest, "I'm sorry we fought, too. I just wanna keep us safe."

"I know, you're right," you said, pulling back a bit and wiping your nose with the back of your hand. "Will you come back to bed?"

"Yeah," he replied with half a smirk. "'Course I'll come back to bed, baby. Don't cry, it's alright."

You let him lead you up the stairs and to your bedroom, your side of the bed still damp with sweat but it didn't bother you. Joel was safe and sound and in your arms and you didn't care if you had to wear a potato sack for the rest of your life, as long as you had Joel, nothing else mattered.

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#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel the last of us #pedro pascal #the last of us #the last of us game #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller angst #requests

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miseria-fortes-viros · 2 months

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-> declan bringing ashley to monmouth. ashley, the raven boys, chapter 4. (we’re meant to look pretty for her.)

this is one of the first chapters where we really get to know a lot about our characters, and ashley being there—combined with adam suddenly being aware that they are observed when it’s clear he didn’t feel that way immediately preceding the start of the book—lead me to believe that the fourth wall is very thin here.

-> ashley, this is noah, can you see him?

ashley is one of the only characters outside of the gangsey themselves who is not only able to see noah but also to meet and interact with him.

-> (your hands are cold. (i’ve been dead for seven years.))

ashley is also the first person that noah says this to within the confines of the narrative himself. nobody is surprised when he says this, so clearly he does make these jokes a lot, but it’s significant that we, the reader, hear this for the first time when it’s directed at ashley—ashley who, like us, just got here and doesn’t (can’t) know the significance of this interaction until after everything is over.

-> adam. (don’t you feel observed? someone is looking in when they weren’t before.) the raven boys, chapter 4.

adam: wary, adam: watchful. adam feels the eyes of the reader when the others do not; adam becomes aware of us as soon as we become aware of him. no sooner is ashley named than adam is introduced; no sooner is ashley introduced than adam is wary of her.

ashley (f, gaelic: aislinn): dream, vision

-> (three ashleys) (three brothers) (three witches) (nine’s very three plus three plus three) (6:21) (3+3:+3)

-> declan started hating me first. it was all because declan loved ronan.

-> this is not the first time

declan lynch was 18 the first time matthew fell asleep (was ronan dead)

-> gansey. where’s ronan? i don’t know. something’s wrong. something’s happened to him. how do you know? i can’t explain. i don’t know. we fought. something’s wrong

he’s your dog, gansey (i can’t help him any more (i’m killing him and i don’t know how to stop))

-> he trusted gansey (he still worried about ronan (he never stopped worrying about ronan))

i want you to meet ashley. yes again it’s a different ashley (i need to check in with you) is ronan around? he shouldn’t be (we’ll fight if he’s there (i need to know how he’s doing (he’ll hate me more for hovering)))

-> ronan please just tell me it won’t happen again i’m doing everything i can to keep you both alive

the brothers lynch (a dreamer (a dream (declan)))

-> half none of declan’s surviving family was real. half a dreamer. half a dream. to lose one is to lose the other (part of ronan died when niall did (part of ronan died when his dreamer did))

ronan lynch was 18 when a demon nearly unmade him (the second time matthew fell asleep (the second time declan almost lost them both at once (was ronan dead)))

-> declan cannot let go (if he lets go who will hang on (who will live without him fighting tooth and nail to keep them))

matthew lynch was 18 when he punched his eldest brother in the face (matthew lynch was 18 the third time declan almost became the last living lynch)

-> was ronan dead

declan bringing ashley to monmouth. ashley, the raven boys, chapter 4. ashley (f, gaelic: aislinn): dream, vision. three ashleys. three brothers. three dreamers. three sleepers. three witches. three murders. nine’s very three plus three plus three

(i look just like my father (so do you (every time i see your blood on my knuckles i remember him dead in the driveway (every time i look at you i see the face of a dead man))))

-> was ronan dead

declan brings ashley to monmouth.

#hi guys. this is not coherent i know. sorry. here’s the ashley-declan-ronan post nobody asked for #the raven cycle #declan lynch #ronan lynch #matthew lynch #the lynch brothers #helenaposting #barbi.trc #trc meta #trc quotes #best of

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pochipop · 5 months

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＃FNAF MOVIE !! ♡ — IT'LL BE ALRIGHT (MIKE SCHMIDT X READER).

#. synopsis! — mike is used to walking on eggshells, just waiting for another tragedy, and you really don’t want to be just another person who's let him down.

#. characters! — mike schmidt .

#. warnings! — vague references to past traumatic events (canon compliant) , references to a verbal argument .

#. word count! — 1.8k .

#. alt accounts! — @ddollipop (nsfw) @hhoneypop (moodboards) .

#. others! — navigation & masterlist .

Mike is used to people leaving. They come and they go like stray cats who've found someone better to nab food off of, —leaving him with more ghosts in his life than he'd care to admit. At least these ones are metaphorical and melodramatic, though. His saving grace has been the fact that he chooses wisely who to introduce Abby to, just in case. She's been through enough, and she's so young that the absence of anyone would be duly noted. Not that it isn't when it comes to himself, it's just. . . He's learned how to live with loss. Maybe not effectively, but he does it, and for right now, that's probably as good as it's getting.

He's got more pressing matters to attend to. He always does. That's what he argued about with you, —what he fought tooth and nail to defend, even when you backed off. At the end of it, he knew he'd gone too far for no real reason. He wasn't arguing with you at that point, he was arguing with all the people that have left him starved for their affections and their care. The words he said to you were so far beyond your scope that it was almost pathetic to think about all the bullshit he unloaded on you like it was somehow your job to fix it, even when he knew it wasn't. So really, it's no wonder he's adding you to that list of people who've walked away.

For once, he truly deserved it.

And now he's got to explain this to Abby. Because she likes you almost as much as he does, —almost being the operative word there. Mike sucks at a lot of things, and showing you he cares tends to be one of them, but he loves in his own ways. . . And now, he fears he'll have to do it from afar.

He sort of wishes Abby was the kind of kid he could bribe with ice cream for breakfast to break bad news to. It'd be easier to scoop her some off-brand Neopolitan and tell her she'd never see you again if that would help soften the blow. But it won't, and he knows that. He knows her too well to even try.

Still, he finds himself putting chocolate chips in her pancakes that morning in spite of himself.

When he places the plate in front of her, she narrows her eyes, as if to ask him what he's done so wrong. . . Asking what he's offering silent apologies for in the form of sweet pockets stolen away inside her favorite breakfast food. He opens the fridge in search of orange juice just to avoid her gaze.

Before she can even take a bite, he opens his mouth.

"Listen, Abby—"

She looks up at him with those big, doe eyes, and he probably would have cut himself off anyway if not for the knock on the front door. Mike mumbles for her to hold that thought, then goes to check who's outside.

And there you stand a little awkwardly on his doorstep, a brand new bottle of orange juice in your hand. Once again, it's like you've read his mind, and he's as sick of it as he is thankful for it, especially right now. Still, he can't turn you away.

"Morning," you say, almost hesitantly. "I brought juice. . ."

He tries to think of something to say, but hears the quick pitter-patter of Abby's feet fastly approaching. She calls your name so happily, and you smile at her.

"Good morning to you too," you laugh, returning the hug she gives you with no hesitation.

Mike just stares, as if he can't believe you're even here right now. If you're just here to grab the items of yours strewn about his house, he feels like the least you could have done was wait until Abby was asleep or something.

"Can I have some?" Abby asks, pointing to the orange juice in your hand.

"Yeah, that's what it's for," you smile, handing the bottle to her.

She scurries off to the kitchen to pour herself a glass.

"Mike," you say softly now that she's out of earshot, "can we—"

"I'll get your stuff together," he cuts you off.

Your jaw slacks.

"What?" Is the only thing you can manage to muster up in response.

"You could've done this at a different time," he snaps, trying to keep quiet so Abby doesn't hear. "It's gonna be ten times harder on her now for me to explain why you're not coming back."

You stare at him, trying not to cry. Out of all the things you expected to happen this morning, such a drastic change of heart on his part wasn't one of them.

"You. . . You're breaking up with me?" You question.

He pauses, a lot of the frustration dissipating from his features, replaced by genuine confusion.

"Didn't you already break up with me?" He asks.

Your brows knit together quizzically.

"No? What are you even talking about, I never said I wanted to break up with you," you point out.

Sure, you didn’t say it. But most of the others had never said it either. It was like flipping a lightswitch. One minute they were there, and the next they weren’t. That's why he'd gotten so good at keeping his relationships at a distance, and he'd taken the biggest leap of faith in introducing you to his sister.

"Yesterday evening?" He says, but it sounds more like a question.

"We had an argument," you acknowledge. "It was stupid, and you hurt my feelings. I'm sure I hurt yours too. That doesn't mean I want us to be over."

Mike stares at you like he's not sure what to say, because he isn't. He's not used to someone caring enough to fight for him, and for what festers between himself and someone else. He's learned to let go before the thread pulls too tight, —before it wraps around his throat and slices through every defense he's built up for the sake of protecting himself, his heart, and the little girl that depends on him.

"Mike," you say softly, almost cautiously. "I care about you. One bad night doesn't change that. . . Not for me."

God, it was stupid. It was so stupid. You weren't even mad at him specifically, and you're fairly certain he wasn't really angry with you in particular either. Long days on both your parts collided like a warm front to a cold one, and the things both of you said in the wake of it were uttered through venom and gritted teeth. Sweeping generalizations, a lot of rolling eyes, some tears that were more about frustration than they were anything else. . . But you still loved him at the end of it, even as you found yourself walking home alone.

In fact, that walk was particularly sobering. The crisp chill of the autumn evening was enough to convince you that you'd rather be back at his place where he keeps an extra toothbrush for you in the bathroom and emptied out a drawer just so you could have a place to store some clothes. The sleep you got in the night that followed was shallow at best, restless enough to leave faint bags beneath your eyes by morning, and you were determined to make up any excuse in the book just to swing by.

So you went out and got some orange juice, knowing there wasn't any left in the fridge, and you stood outside his door for a while, working yourself up just to knock. You thought about all the things you'd need to apologize for, and you were ready to push aside your ego if it meant Mike could understand just how much you care, even when you're upset.

He swallows, just to give himself something to do while he prolongs his own response, because he's just not sure what to say. Somehow, a part of him is whispering that this would be easier if you just didn't give a fuck. . . If last evening was the end, and he could go back to finding comfort in silence again.

That's how it's always been. Someone leaves, and he copes, and then he files them away with the rest. But here you are, and Mike knows he can't bring himself to put you in with the others.

"Mike, I'm—"

"No, I am," he breathes, reaching forward to pull you into his arms. "I'm sorry that I hurt your feelings, and I'm sorry that I suck at being a boyfriend, but I don't know what I'm doing and all I can tell you is that I'm trying."

He feels the tension meld away from you, and it's then, before you even open your mouth to reply, that he starts to think everything is how it should be.

"You don't suck at it," you answer lightly. "I know you're trying, and that's genuinely all I could ask for, and I'm sorry about yesterday evening. I was in a bad mood, and I took it out on you, and that wasn't right."

"We both took shit out on each other," he corrects, ready and willing to share the blame.

"True enough," you acknowledge with a weary smile, finally pulling away from his embrace.

"I'm sorry," he says again. "When things go wrong, I. . . I've just learned how to slam on the breaks. If I stop things before they feel like they'll suffocate me, I can avoid them. But I love you, and I know I don't want to avoid that."

"This isn't a one way street," you remind him. "Relationships are hard, and sometimes things happen in a way that they shouldn't, but I'm here for you, and I want to be here for you. . . It's not contractual. One bad night doesn't take away all the times you've made me feel like the happiest person on the face of the planet, Mike."

He sniffles a little, then lets out a relieved sigh.

"Are you hungry?" He asks. "I can make you some pancakes. Chocolate chip."

You raise an eyebrow.

"Chocolate chip? Are you apologizing to Abby for something?"

God, a part of him hates that he's so obvious, but another part loves that you know him so well. It makes him feel even stupider for just assuming that you'd be willing to throw in the towel after one rough night.

"No, not really," he shakes his head. (Not anymore, at least.)

Mike glances toward the kitchen, just to make sure Abby's still preoccupied with her breakfast, then steals a quick kiss from your lips.

"I'm sorry," he says again.

You smile.

"Me too."

"And I love you," he adds.

Your smile widens.

"I love you too. Promise."

With that, he pulls you to the kitchen, and you sit down beside Abby at the table. She tells you that when breakfast is done with, she'd like to show you some new drawings she's done, and you nod, telling her you're excited to see them. And you are.

Mike stands at the stovetop, his back to the both of you, not bothering to bite back his grin.

He feels his foot ease off the break.

#fnaf movie #fnaf #fnaf movie mike #mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt fnaf #mike schmidt imagine #michael schmidt #micheal schmidt #abby schmidt #abby fnaf #fnaf x reader #fnaf movie x reader #five nights at freddys #reverse comfort #mike schimdt x reader #mike schmidt reverse comfort

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bitterchocoo · 4 months

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Mortals and Fools

Lyney | M. Reader

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"Love makes you break all the rules.."

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For centuries he live, never had he come across such a bright and joyful human.

He always smiles... as if he doesn't have a care in the world.

The Fae was intrigued by this, how come this human be so lively with all the things going around him? He had lived long enough to knew just how cruel the world truly is.

The world is cruel.

He had fought tooth and nail for his country, with a sword and blood on his hands. He brought his country to victory and glory. Even if it was centuries ago... the memory is still fresh in his mind, like it was just yesterday.

Filled with curiosity and interest...

He stayed.

He stayed and watch as this intriguing human does his shows. Bringing "magic" to life through his tricks and illusions.

Magic is merely a trick. An illusion. And yet some like to believe it. They see it as an escape, an escape from reality. The moment you stepped into the Opera Epiclese you entered a wonderland where magic truly exist. Where the impossible seems possible.

That is the essence of magic and entertainment.

A simple trick, a blink and you'll miss it, a flick of a wrist

It's so simple yet it's enough to catch everyone's attention and bring wonder and joy to their eyes. The way their eyes shine every time a trick is done. Quite the mesmerizing sight. It's always a joy to be able to see them.

It's the same thing with love.

"Is that what you truly believe?"

"Huh?"

"That love is just as mesmerizing and wonderful as magic?"

Lyney turned his head to the voice and saw none other than the Fae himself, [Name] [L. Name]. Living for hundreds of years, he knew for a fact that love isn't as wonderful as Lyney says it to be.

Love is cruel.

So cruel... it hurts you to your core and there's no cure for it. Therefore.. you'll continue to live with an aching heart. Forever hurting. And nothing can change that. Nothing can cure it.

"I do, yes." Lyney smiles softly as he looks at the Heliotrope on his hand, twirling it between his fingers. "It's a wonderful thing, isn't it?"

"To me it's not. You believe in the spell of this thing that you call "love." It's revolting." The Fae huffed as he crossed his arms, he sat there at the window sill as he watches the human he had learned to call friend tend to the flowers he's going to use for his show.

That's another thing he can't wrap his head around. Why the flowers? And why Heliotrope? Of all flowers? Shouldn't he be using roses?

Either way, he barely cares enough to ask.

"Revolting? Why is that?" Lyney asked, looking up from the Heliotrope to meet [Name]'s gaze. Curious as to why the Fae have such a horrible view of love. He knew that [Name] is immortal and had lived for hundreds of years, so what had he gone through to have such a point of view?

"Try as I will, I just don't understand it. Love is for mortals and fools. It never turns out quite the way that you planned it. So why do you break all the rules just for love?"

At first, he doesn't get it. Why Heliotrope? He doesn't understand the appeal, especially because Lyney's a magician. Why not roses?

It was later when he learned the meaning of the flower... it was later when the other gave him a bouquet of them... it was later when he gave it.. smiling from ear to ear... saying those sweet words to him as if he truly meant it from the bottom of his heart...

Those oh so sweet words...

Never would he thought he'll have the luxury of ever hearing him say those words and to him, no less.

At that very moment... [Name] finally knew why the magician prefers Heliotrope than roses....

Because they symbolizes devotion and eternal love.

Oh..... OH....

"'Love is for mortals and fools.'" That's what he said and he meant it with every word.

For his heart ach every time he set eyes on him. Love is cruel as it only brought pain and suffering for him. He knew that this wouldn't last and yet....

Why..?

Why must his heart beats for this mere mortal? This mere magician?

Was it the way he smiled at him? The way his eyes seems to glow brightly every time the magician saw a glimpse of him? How he laughed? How he acted? This is all so confusing to him...

"'Try as I will, I just don't understand it.'" Oh how true those words were...

He can't understand it... Love... Loving someone.. is such a foreign thing to him and what he knew... it brings nothing but pain and despair...

This won't last... none of this would last... how could it not?

Loving a mortal has always been a curse to immortals.

He'll die.

One day he'll day and [Name] could no longer see that smile of his, a smile that could brighten a whole room. Such a lovely mortal... such a lovely human... such a lovely magician... such a lovely person... such a lovely...

Lyney.

For the first few years, [Name] would always refuse to call him that... always calling him, "Human" every time. But over the years... as time passes... [Name] had grew fond of that name and therefore, start addressing him as such.

"Lyney.... My dear Lyney.."

"If love is for mortals and fools..."

"Then you can call me a fool."

"I Love You Too, My Dear Lyney."

"I'm sorry it took me this long to say it to you...."

"Your skin may not be as smooth as before... your hearing may not be as good as before... your memory... may not be as good as before.."

"....Unlike me who remain the same.."

"But similar to my never changing appearance... similar to my eternal youth..."

"My love will still remain the same... My Dear Lyney..."

#seme male reader #top male reader #x male reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x male reader #genshin #genshin x reader #genshin x male reader #genshin lyney #lyney #lyney x reader #lyney x male reader

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mins-fins · 5 months

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PAREIDOLIA (D.SC)

SUMMARY . . . history just simply always manages to repeat itself, the artist and their tired university student roommate who just can't help but admire them in ways friends don't look at each other..

PAIRING . . . dong sicheng x male!reader

GENRE . . . insanely fluffy

WARNINGS . . . none!

WORD COUNT . . . 1.8k

NOTES . . . why is winwin so majestic tf 🙁 my wayv bias is yangyang i have NO IDEA what you're talking about, im so mortifyingly in love with winwin but not in a "i want to kiss him" way in a "i wanna bake him cookies and run my fingers through his hair" way and that's basically the same thing

sicheng has become long used to coming home and seeing y/n in the middle of another artistic project. it's usually a painting, because that's the easiest thing to do in their small apartment, one the two of them fought tooth and nail to be able to afford. on some days he'll be creating costumes out of construction paper, or he'll be sewing, or he'll just be sketching on the couch.

it's become somewhat of a staple of comfort to him, maybe it's because of how recognizable it is to come home and see y/n, eyebrows furrowed, head tilted, the slightest smudge of paint on his face as his eyes are completely focused on the canvas before him. there's always a small smile that comes to his face whenever he hears the door open, sicheng only catches it on the most certain of days, though.

and maybe it's weird that sicheng remembers every single detail of what happens after he comes home from exhausting classes where all his professor does is talk about is nonsense, this is kind of like the only silver lining to his day after hours of just nothing but life draining lectures.

and no it's definitely not because y/n is just the best serotonin every single feeling sicheng has for him is completely platonic and platonic only!

it's as he's untying his shoes, that he realizes today something is different. y/n is humming, to a song the two of them hear their neighbors blast through the walls every now and then, he assumes the tune got stuck in his head, and he just can't help but now him it to himself.

sicheng puts his shoes away, he glances up for a moment, and pauses, waiting. he then smiles to himself as he watches y/n smile himself, finally acknowledging his presence. "i didn't even hear you, the door closed so quietly".

y/n's comment makes him snicker, but his eyes still don't leave the canvas, so focused on what he's painting in fact that he doesn't register the paint on his cheek. sicheng, like he does on most days, walks up towards y/n and quickly wipes off the paint with his thumb.

y/n makes a small noise, but he ultimately doesn't shy away from sicheng's hand, almost leaning into the touch if sicheng thinks about it. "how do you never notice when you have paint on your face?" sicheng asks, going over to the sink to wash the paint off his thumb.

"an artist never strays away from their artistic craft" y/n comments mindlessly, and sicheng's eyebrows furrow just for a mere moment before he looks back to his roommate, still focused on the random color he's spreading across the canvas.

"did you just make that up, or..?" at the question, y/n finally turns around after what seemed like hours of standing in the same spot, and he snickers at the way sicheng asks it.

"yep, made it up just now".

the response makes sicheng snort, because he knows that's absolutely true considering the kind of person y/n is. "you.. your something alright" sicheng doesn't know why those words are the ones that come out of his mouth, but they make y/n laugh.

"ah thanks, you make me feel so smart, chengie" y/n looks back to the painting, stepping back just a little bit to admire it. he removes his gloves and tosses them away, yawning lightly. "does it look nice?"

sicheng blinks, glancing over at y/n, who is patiently waiting for his answer. he mindlessly stares at the painting of a snowy mountaintop as he tries to think of a compliment he hasn't said thousands of times already. "it's marvelous" y/n gives him a look of confusion, and sicheng just snickers as he does those jazz hands.

"you couldn't at least be a little bit more creative with your compliment?" y/n's face scrunches a little bet, and sicheng just shrugs, rubbing his eyes.

"i'm tired i don't have time for creativity" sicheng yawns, and y/n gives him another judgmental look. "ask me when i'm more awake" he shouts as he walks towards his room, leaving y/n to admire his painting all alone.

y/n snickers, shaking his head.

what a character you are, dong sicheng..

"do you assume van gogh was a weird guy?"

sicheng barely registers the question, because the only sound he's heard for the past twenty minutes is the horribly loud clicking of y/n's pen as he brainstorms ideas for upcoming projects, assignments, and all that other stuff. he narrows his eyes at his laptop screen before looking up at y/n, who was finally done clicking his pen and began sketching.

"what?" is his immediate response, probably because he didn't have enough time to properly assess or process that question. the other thing that being y/n's roommate comes with is having to hear the most random and weird questions. "i'm sorry?"

"van gogh" y/n says again, smiling innocently. "you know, the painter gu—"

"i know who van gogh is y/n" sicheng clarifies, sighing. "i just— what do you think i know about the personality of a famous artist who died over a hundred years ago?" he raises an eyebrow, momentarily glancing back down at his computer screen as he hears y/n's loud sigh.

"i'm researching about him for this project i'm doing".

"you did a project about van gogh already.." sicheng mutters in confusion, and he hears y/n's pen click once again, then the slam of his sketchbook. "didn't you?"

"oh this isn't for school!" y/n exclaims. "i'm just doing it for fun!"

"what kind of psycho does a project for fun?" at the words, y/n snorts, and sicheng can't help but gaze at him. yeah, it's stupid, but he's just so cute, and sicheng has no idea why he's staring this long at him.

fuck, i probably look crazy. i'm literally zoning out on his face, what kind of moron does that?

at least he's self aware.

"nothing?"

"what?"

"on van gogh?" y/n clarifies, and sicheng blinks like an idiot, because what else would y/n be talking about? he shakes his head, and y/n pouts in an unserious manner.

"at least your here to humor me" y/n says, picking his sketchbook back up as he begins flipping through it, he pauses at a certain page and smiles brightly at what's sketched on it.

sicheng doesn't really know what y/n draws in his sketchbook. y/n is pretty big on privacy, so sicheng never made it his thing to figure out what's in y/n's sketchbook because he doesn't want him to.

though, the way y/n's smiling at his sketchbook gets him curious.

"are the sketches causing you that much joy?"

y/n snaps up, his face going embarrassingly red as he closes his sketchbook once again. he smiles, then awkwardly laughs as he looks away, lightly scratching his arm. "yeah, um.. i just really like the sketches i made".

sicheng laughs, glancing back at his computer screen. it's so hard not to constantly stare at you when your.. well— you.

but they're just friends, nothing more.

"when i was younger i always wanted a garden of strawberries" y/n states as he paints said garden of strawberries on the canvas in front of him.

y/n is always the most busy on weekends with his artistic projects. he'll legitimately spend half of his day painting, another half making a halloween costume even though halloween won't come for the next seven months, and the other half sewing a sweater he's going to wear once every few months. sicheng has seen it all, and he's gotten used to the normalization of y/n just doing another artistic craft everyday, still being able to rest a whole eight hours.

he admires his way of just being such.. what is the phrase, a hard worker, he could say. y/n was just always up, doing something, he was never bored or not doing something, he was very much just an always working person.

"strawberries? out of everything?" sicheng asks, stirring the spoon in his cup of coffee mindlessly, he's too busy staring at y/n to pay attention to his now cooling cup of coffee. y/n gives him one of the most judgmental looks ever.

"what do you mean? out of everything? strawberries are amazing!" y/n counters, and sicheng laughs at his tone of voice. "they're one of the best things mankind has ever actually made".

"okay but why a garden of them?"

"so i can make strawberry flavored things everyday, duh" y/n dismisses the amount of red coloring on his apron, and his gloves, too busy trying to figure out how to finish his painting of his dream garden of strawberries.

y/n narrows his eyes at the painting, studying it for a moment, like he was trying to figure out if the painting was talking to him or not. "is this ugly?"

"what?"

"the painting? is it ugly?"

sicheng furrows his eyebrows, staring at y/n like he just asked the stupidest question in the world. y/n usually doesn't care about his opinion when it comes to paintings, because sicheng isn't an artist like he is, so sicheng has no idea why he would suddenly ask him about what he thought about his painting so suddenly.

"no? your paintings are never ugly.. why would you ask that?"

sicheng's question-answer makes y/n narrow his eyes at him. sicheng assumes he wasn't expecting that answer that then turned into a question, with the way he goes silent, and with the way his face flushes so much more obviously than it usually does.

sicheng doesn't get why he notices that the most, y/n is pretty unpredictable, he gets flustered at some of the most random times, and it's only at certain moments that sicheng notices how red his face is.

it's hot in the room, that's it, that's why, there is absolutely no other reason his face is so red right now.

he's just thinking of excuses.

"thank you" he whispers, turning back to his painting as he removes his paint splattered gloves. "it's a new day, i just wanted your opinion".

"that's strange".

"well if i'm not strange then i'm not interesting" y/n hums as he puts the finishing touches on his painting, and with his back turned, sicheng can admire him fully, without worrying about him getting caught and then having to explain why he was staring for so long.

sicheng is so busy admiring him, he doesn't even notice that he hasn't taken a sip of his coffee yet.

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koishua · 1 year

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not—𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐔𝐕 [ 𝐄𝐍𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐍 ]

what they would never, ever tell you!!

fluff. gn!reader. no warnings. like, reblog, feedback!

✧ heeseung has never told you this, but he'd actually tried sixteen times to muster up the courage to ask for your number and a date. it had taken him an entire year, sixteen tries, and five meltdowns to finally approach you and not instantly turn back around in a moment of weakness. he would never tell you that, however, because he thinks that you believe him to be a suave man. what you don't have the heart to tell heeseung is that jay had snitched on him and his various failures. you think it's adorable, so when you first teased him with this information, he'd gone pink as the cotton candies in your hands.

✧ jay will take this secret to his grave and not for reasons you may think. it had been two years into your relationship with him preparing sweet little lunch boxes for you to enjoy during your days of working and it had just occurred to you that he must have payed an honestly concerning amount of money on your groceries. when you had asked him about it, he'd laughed, shaken his head and brushed it off. this was the one thing in life he would want to do without a single payment back. he simply loves you to the moon and back, unconditionally. let him keep at least this to himself.

✧ jake was the person who'd bring stacks of well-taken and organized copies of his notes and put it under your desk back when you were at school. the mysterious, generous note giver had never revealed themselves to you for years. the writings on the papers were the biggest reason why you were so successful those years and it had crushed you not being able to thank the person properly other than stick-it notes you'd past under your desk for them to see whenever they came by. four years later when you'd reunited with jake and started a relationship with him, you realize how awfully familiar the handwriting looks.

✧ sunghoon would rather dive off a cliff than to explain what the clanging sounds in the kitchen for the past two weeks has been all about. you weren't allowed to enter it to help him with whatever he was doing, too. it would be your birthday soon and he'd fought tooth and nail to get every ingredient he'd ever need in order to make you the world's best birthday cake yet. the issue was the fact that he didn't know how to bake— not a single clue under the roof. so, he's taken it upon himself to practice making cakes every day until he could get it right. so far, every attempt has been a total failure. he still has a few days, so until then, he swears you off the kitchen.

✧ sunoo had written a few lengthy love letters to you as a child, not that he would ever tell you. he was eight years old and a hopeless romantic. he would spend hours coming up with rhymes for his poems about you and include them in the letters confessing his love for you. he was utterly smitten and charmed by your cute littles smiles (still is now). he'd never sent them to you, though, in fear of rejection, so he'd hid the notes in a box under his bedroom. ten years later, you were hanging out in the very same childhood bedroom and your feet hit a plastic box in the corner of his room. once sunoo sees the box and remembers about the contents in it, he feels absolutely mortified.

✧ jungwon was popular all throughout his childhood and teen years with many admirers, boys and girls alike. he was, however, thought to be uninterested in any romance, because he would instantly reject anyone that approached him. the small detail that no one knows about is how he'd walk the same route home a few times a day in hopes of one day catching your eyes from behind window as he'd pass by. no matter which clothes he wore or how he'd styled his hair, his subtle attempts would never work. months of hard work and the only thing that had worked was just going up to the counter with a box of juice and a small paper with a series of digits written on it.

✧ riki is a prideful boy and it would destroy his fragile ego if you knew how he'd stayed up a few nights and searched for tips on how to make someone like you on google's incognito mode. he was clueless and desperate to get you to like him as much as he liked you, so he'd scrolled through many wiki hows and blog articles. he even took a compatibility test to see how you matched and he prayed that you wouldn't ask why he was asking for your time of birth and star sign. you didn't ask, thankfully, and you did end up reciprocating his feelings in the end, but only because he'd charmed his way to your heart on his own— not because of wikihow's tips.

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agendabymooner · 10 months

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mamma mia (again) ! daniel r. x ofc (måneskin member! ofc)

“they ask me why i’m so hot, ‘cause i’m italiano.”

summary: a series of video clips, but it’s only just danny ric being in love with a certain lester alessandro.

content warning: hint or two of suggestive comments (nothing detailed or graphic), use of explicit language, filler blurb or something, danny being a simp for few videos straight (“have my kids” type beat), lester being an etsy and pinterest enthusiast, literally posted this blurb from my phone so they’re crazy about their image limits 😩

note: THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR THE 105 FOLLOWERS?! UHM? seriously, i’ve never been so happy. i honestly only started posting these because i have them ingrained in my brain and won’t let go until i write or make something. just indulging my imagination you know? enjoy xx

masterlist

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐔𝐁𝐄 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐘 𝐑𝐈𝐂 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐏

【VIDEO ONE — daniel ricciardo is a gatekeeper】

[1st image: yeah, i dunno. everyone just found out that i made it official with my girlfriend and i’m pretty sure i just saw lando weeping in his room. max was the second to react to it and i’m so sure he recoiled. he did say that he didn't want to know what happened in imola few months ago.]

[2nd: interviewer: what happened in imola few months ago? daniel: *chuckles* wouldn’t you like to know - nah, i’m messing about. nothing happened in imola besides from me retiring to my bed early. i think we were both drunk when i posted that photo and i know it looks lewd but there's no way we could've done anything questionable.]

[3rd: d: but yeah. we didn't really want to catch that much attention until maybe i don't know... when we're married or something *chuckles* i: keep it a secret until the wedding? d: yeah. but charles, the absolute fool, posted videos during the concert with me in the background. It would've been real nice if no one caught onto it until we had a mini ric running and racing, you know? just to wreak havoc.]

【VIDEO TWO — daniel ricciardo talks about lester’s love language in his gq video】

[1st: i got this journal from lori. it has my initials "DR" on it for daniel ricciardo*laughs* it's one of those many first gifts that i’ve gotten from her throughout our first few months of dating. her love language isn't just shitting on my life -she has every single aspect of love language within her and this is one of them.]

[2nd: when she gave this to me, all she said was "you can write out your thoughts if you can't let them out through your mouth. *giggles* "she clearly had her thoughts sorted out that time especially when she showed me a page with an embossed phrase or nickname, "tasso di miele" - it means honey badger. she apparently bought the custom embosser from etsy and almost fought tooth and nail just to get it in time. *laughs even more* i love her so much, i honestly wanted to cry that day.]

[3rd: lori actually has a laptop with *laughs* itunes on it and she still got some playlists from 2010-2014? yeah. she’s put a lot of old taylor swift songs in my ipod during the christmas break. my favourite album right now is speak now. she loves red.]

【VIDEO THREE — lester hates ashy hands confirmed】

[1st: daniel: i think i should just cover my hands with gloves all the time. lando: that literally has nothing to do with anything that we're about to do. d: lori tells me that my hands are rough whenever she holds them.]

[2nd: l: or you know... you can just use a hand lotion all the time because your hands dry up real fast? d: ah that's true. i wonder if that's why lori just casually put a bottle of hand cream on my travel bag. the thing smells nice though. it’s chamomile.]

【VIDEO FOUR — it’s okay to spoil your partner; even if it’s an accent chair from her pinterest board】

[1st: d: lori just sent me a picture of an armchair from ikea. l: why was she randomly in ikea, by the way? I saw the text. d: window shopping. but anyway, she saw this armchair that she had on her pinterest board. she asked "pretty or no?" with the green velvet chair. l: what did you tell her?]

[2nd: word to word? I texted her "LOL you should see the accent chair I've gotten you for our flat in monaco." l: are you serious? *laughs* d: she wouldn't tell me what she wanted for her birthday. I only got a brief idea when she left her phone in my pocket once and gave me a free access to her pinterest boards.]

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chaikachi · 10 months

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The Little Prince, The Rose, & The Aviator

AKA We just got confirmation that Oscar's main allusion is in fact The Little Prince so I wanted to gather all evidence that supports it in show thus far.

cross-posted from twitter

A brief summary for those who aren't familiar:

The Little Prince is a story about a young boy that travels to many worlds & meets many people. It is told out of chronological order from the perspective of an airplane pilot that the prince meets close to the end of his journey.

It explores themes around childhood and growing up, love, loss, friendship, loneliness, and hope, among other things. All ideas very prevalent in RWBY.

Part 1: The Little Prince

The first theme I want to touch on is that struggle of trying not to lose yourself as you grow up.

"Grown-ups never understand anything by themselves, and it is exhausting for children to have to provide explanations over and over again."

Oscar is the youngest of the group, and yet he is one of the characters most often shown trying to reason with the adults in the room.

Yes, we've mainly seen it with Hazel, Ironwood, and Oz... but while the rest of RWBYJNR are also 'just kids', he spends so much energy trying to reason with them and mediate conflicts there as well. All while still being the youngest of the bunch.

Another way this shows itself is in Oscar's resistance to merging with Oz. The merge is a very clear metaphor for how the people you meet and the things you experience can often change you. And how, when you're a kid, it all feels like its completely out of your control.

Speaking of the hoverbike scene, I want to shift to a different part of The Little Prince. The infamous moment with the fox and what it is to be 'tamed'. To be tamed is to create ties with others. To become important to them and for them to be important to you.

When Oscar is having a talk with Oz in v8 about how he finally felt like himself, the person he wanted to be, and felt like he was finally "part of the team"... There is a fox plushie lying on the ground as he passes by.

But we see that Oscar was right to feel this way later on.

Because just as he was "only a little boy like a hundred thousand other little boys" when he first met everyone... he had since been tamed, and tamed his friends in turn. And they fought tooth and nail to bring him back when he was captured by Salem.

Part 2: The Aviator & the Rose

In RWBY, most characters have a main allusion that is central to their arc and then secondary allusions for what roles they fill in relation to other characters. (Ex. Yang's main allusion is Goldilocks, but when thrown into the plot, she also becomes the Beauty to Blake's Beast, just as Blake was once the Beauty to Adam's Beast).

If we apply that metric to other characters here, we know that Ozpin's main allusion is The Wizard of Oz and Ruby is Little Red Riding Hood... so when placed within Oscar's story structure of The Little Prince, they become The Aviator and The (Ruby) Rose, respectively.

The aviator is a man that struggles to hold onto his childlike wonder. He tries, but he lives in a world of grown-ups so it becomes difficult with time. The little prince - much like Oscar with Ozpin - helps him remember some of the things that he's forgotten.

When the little prince meets him, the aviator is grumbly after crash landing his plane in the desert & is trying to fix it before he runs out of water.

Funny then, that when Oscar is crash landing a plane it is Oz that instructs him on how to do it.

When the aviator explains his circumstances, the prince laughs and exclaims that he "fell from the sky too". Which is an interesting tie in to the canon RWBY fairytale mentioned in Before the Fall, The Boy Who Fell From The Sky...

...as well as another fairytale we've seen mentioned in the show proper: The Girl Who Fell Through The World. A tale that was first talked about by Oscar, later expanded upon by Ozpin, and finally lived by Ruby Rose herself. (Yes her team also experienced it but it's very strongly emphasized Ruby and Alyx were paralleling each other in ways the others were not).

One thing about the little prince and the aviator is that by the end of their journey when it's time to say farewell, it's quite clear they've tamed each other as well. So much time spent by the pilot wishing to fix his plane and get out of the desert, but when it's finally time to say farewell, he does not want to go. This is not something we've gotten in show yet, but I'm willing to guess is going to be the basis for when the war is won and Oz is finally set free. Leaving the two of them to finally have to say goodbye.

And I realized I couldn't bear the thought of never hearing that laugh again. For me it was like a spring of resh water in the desert. "Little fellow, I want to hear you laugh again..."

Moving onto the Rose.

In the story, the little prince is enamored by her as soon as he sees her for the first time. As he gets to know her, she is described as many things. Some that fit Ruby well (miraculous, naïve) and some that she subverts (vain, self-centered).

Ruby might not be caught up on physical appearance, but she is convinced that she's the only one in all the world that can do what she has to do. It's a childish way of looking at things, and to believe you can't accept help from others is - in its own way - selfish.

In the book, the rose asks the little prince to tend to her. She's very needy with her demands and while the prince loves her dearly, it is a strained relationship. In RWBY, Oscar sees Ruby wilting very early on and decides to tend to her without waiting for her to ask. Of which we have... SO MANY EXAMPLES AND I DON'T HAVE A HIGH ENOUGH IMAGE LIMIT TO POST THEM ALL SO YOU GET 2.

Not pictured here, but still worthy of note: Oscar mediating when Ruby is being undermined in v8, Oscar talking the responsibility of telling Ironwood the truth in V7, the "food always makes me feel better" / "I made you a casserole because you were sad" scenes. The List Goes On.

Part 3: Other Easter Eggs & Evidence

There are also other fun little pieces that drive home just how much these characters allude to the book as well as the inspiration it's had on the show in general.

The first thing the little prince asks the aviator for is a drawing of a sheep that he can take home with him so that it can eat up the sprouts of baobab trees before they overgrow his entire planet and destroy it (and his rose) in the process...

The tree in the Ever After has maple leaves, but the shape of its trunk is very clearly not a maple. When compared to these illustrations, it seems to have pulled inspiration from baobabs... and what does the tree in the Ever After do?

Its roots consume the rose.

One of the lessons that's brought up repeatedly in the book is that:

"One sees clearly only with the heart. Anything essential is invisible to the eyes.”

This is brought up in a few different ways:

The little prince left his rose back home, so when he looks to the night sky, separated from her, he says:

"The stars are beautiful because of a flower you don’t see . . ."

When Ruby is in the Ever After, with no one to tend to her, she is in a town filled with paper stars.

It is brought up again in reference to the desert, which we have a wonderful tie-in now thanks to the animatic shared at RTX recently:

“What makes the desert beautiful,” the little prince said, “is that it hides a well somewhere . . .”

And again by the aviator in reference to the little prince himself.

What makes the little prince special is his loyalty to a flower. Ruby Rose, who inspired Oscar to keep fighting, who reminded him he was brave, and who's mission he has worn on his literal shoulders.

Two other lines in that passage I've highlighted I also want to mention.

"As the little prince was falling asleep, I picked him up in my arms, and started walking again. I was moved. It was as if I was carrying a fragile treasure."

This line about the little prince being a treasure (treasure is an rg song truthers rise up 🙌)

And the emphasis on lamps being symbolic of the Little Prince himself which... we've seen for Oscar A LOT.

"What moves me so deeply about this sleeping little prince is his loyalty to a flower - the image of a rose shining within him like the flame within a lamp, even when he's asleep... (...) Lamps must be protected: A gust of wind can blow them out..."

Also Ruby has been referred to as a "spark" by Oz before and when Oscar is worrying over Ruby at Brunswick farms, Maria tells him to "keep that fire fed" which is exactly what lamp lighters do. Just very deliberate use of that imagery here.

It ALSO ties into earlier in the novel where, among the little prince's many travels meeting plenty of confusing adults he doesn't understand, he encounters a lamplighter. And of all those that confused him, he found he could at least relate to this one and see value in his work.

There is also a matter of how the prince's first appearance is at sunrise:

That he is cited to live on a planet "scarcely bigger than himself" and "being in need of a friend". How we see Oscar very alone on his farm back in Mistral, just like the prince, only tending to his daily chores by himself, we never even see his aunt.

And while there are a few other bits and pieces i'm surely forgetting, the last big one I want to talk about is how both the beginning and end of the book start with a venomous snake.

The aviator shows us a drawing of a boa constrictor eating a wild beast...

...versus Oscar's first appearance coming immediately after he wakes from a nightmare of Tyrian, a venomous scorpion faunus, being sent to capture his rose.

And the story ends with the little prince in a desert getting bit by a venomous snake that sends him back to his rose and away from the aviator... thank goodness RWBY loves to subvert its fairytale origins, amiright?

"(The little prince) fell gently the way a tree falls, there wasn't even a sound..."

tl;dr Oscar is for sure The Little Prince, Ruby has always been his rose, RG canon, Tryian vs. Oscar in the desert real and #GREENLIGHTVOLUME10 SO WE CAN SEE IT HAPPEN ALREADY >:OOOO

Thank you for reading 💕

#might to a lil red riding hood one next tbh #rwby #ruby rose #oscar pine #ozpin #analysis #rwby analysis #chainalysis #long post #the little prince #rosegarden #greenlightvolume10 #meta #rwby meta

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enderwoah · 8 months

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AUUUGHGHGHGHF Q!PAC AND Q!FOREVER ARE EVERYTHING TO MEEEE

god i love people that have lost everything and they turn to something, literally anything to relieve them of their pain. you know what makes them so special. it's the fact that they started taking the drug for different reasons.

i mean, sure, yeah, obviously it was born from the same inciting incident (ie, richas going missing), but that affected the two of them in completely different contexts. forever was set off by that plus a bunch of newfound presidential stress; pac was set off by that, forever succumbing to the drug, mike still being missing, and generally feeling weak and useless to everyone. forever wanted to stop feeling angry at the world. pac wanted to stop feeling sad for himself. they were given different reasons and they just. they pulled off the way it affects them differently so so SO perfectly.

in forever's moments of lucidity, he was so angry. he was furious. he was hollering with rage and shouting at people and pulling guns on those he trusts the most, kicking and punching and clawing at the air so that his family wouldn't be hurt because he is tired of his family being hurt. he is supposed to be the protector and yet every member of the favela 5 has had just awful awful things happen to them and he is so, so angry at everything for hurting them. and being angry is exhausting, especially when that anger is just pain and sorrow and hurt disguised as something else.

in pac's moments of lucidity, he was just sad. he was broken. he was anguished and in turmoil and despair, and he wasn't as hooked on the drugs and as such. we got to actually hear his thought process behind taking the drug. pac was alone. he lost forever, he lost richas, he lost mike, he lost walter bob; everyone close to him, everyone that he loves was just gone, and he couldn't do a single thing about any of it. he felt useless and so, so lonely and was so filled with this deep-rooted melancholy and. ugh.

it's so impressive to do essentially the same thing with two characters and yet have them act completely different for more than one reason. sure, pac had moments of awareness more often and not as aggressively as forever did because he was on risus for a shorter amount of time, but also because that's just...not how his true self manifested. he wasn't angry- or he was, maybe he was, but that wasn't his primary emotion. he was just sad and lonely. forever was angry and protective. pac was sniffling and curling in on himself in his cage, flinching and breaking out into fully-fledged sobs when cellbit started shouting. forever was shouting right back at him, hallucinating, trying to plunge himself further into denial even as his real self fought tooth and nail to get out so he could protect his family. when forever was released from the risas, he screamed and it was one of pent up fury. when pac was released from the risas, he wept. same drug, two different affects on two different people. it gives it a jarring element of reality that's just. utterly incredible. huge props to all involved.

#pactw #forever #forevitao #pac tazercraft #qsmp #qsmp spoilers #im so ill about pac #might make a post about him too #just. he's so.#ugh <- despair #drug abuse

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hyacinthsdiamonds · 8 months

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"But Monza is for the dreamers," you say, as if this win is somehow a betrayal to that legend, but isn't this victory exactly why Monza is for the dreamers?

It's for every driver who looks at a fast car and wonders how far it could take them, if they could make it too. They know that few drivers get to see days like these, but if they didn't yearn for them, well, they wouldn't be where they are now. So they keep dreaming and keep racing. It's for every young karter who looks at the man with the number one and dreams of maybe being like him one day. It's for the love of the sport because we've had eras of dominance before but never something like this. We're watching him push the boundaries of what we thought was possible in this sport, and he's still going. Days like this do not last forever, but damn, they're forever golden. He is the inevitable, the curse breaker, but he was also once a boy dreaming, and now he's there in the dream. Every step, every sacrifice has brought him here, and it's all been worth it. His team, who no one took seriously, that "energy drink" team, who nobody thought anything of, they've fought tooth and nail for everything they now have. They are now in the top 5 f1 teams of all time and hold a historic record that was once mclaren's, the mclaren of the golden years of senna and prost...

So yeah, Monza is for the dreamers. Why wouldn't the record be broken here?

#f1 #formula 1 #formula one #max verstappen #monza gp 2023

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roryintheir90s · 2 months

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Do you guys ever like... think about Jimmy's empires s1?

Bc I do. I do a lot. (Also think a lot about e2 but yk)

The fact that Jimmy, the codfather, wasn't actually a push around and fought tooth and nails for what he believed in even tho it was stupid to the majority of people. How he was willing to sacrifice the lives of his own closest allies for it.

How he kept screaming and shouting at sausage that he did not trust him, saying it in the most petty way ever, only to always, COSNTALY, turn his back around to him, never ran or did anything of actual damage to him bc deep down he actually trusted him. The fact that only actual damage jim ever did to him was him stealing or having a stupid show off of border walls.

Flower husbands.... Scott spending half the story antagonizing jimmy and being his enemy, only to later on turn around and decide that he's in love while Jimmy did not want it from him, and when jimmy thought that they were allies, the moment he did something slightly wrong, like being in fwhips empire, scott when and informed the wither alliance about it! How Scott said that he never chose sides back then. He did. He did choose sides. The fact that Scott did him wrong over and over again. Jimmy would have never chosen Scott because of that.

Fwhip and Jimmy are antagonistic of each other, but in the end, in the very end they after all this time, we're able to pit their past behind even if through the gritted teeth. Excitment that the both of them had when they worked together. Even after everything exploded, fwhip still looked pleasingly at jimmy begging him to come with him and Gem only to be rejected.

Jimmy leaving back to his empire. Destroyed and.... there's nothing. He had to leave had to leave.

He forgot everything. He and his sister did. Leaving nothing but ruins behind.

#im sorry i hate them sm

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morsking · 10 months

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oberon is such a liar and a stubborn mule of a bug he does not realize nor allows himself to realize the truth in front of him that though chaldea should've been his sworn enemy he is gazing up at their departure from the abyss much like caster gazed upon the star she did not wish to betray. at the very end he yells from the abyss he'll wish them the very best because if he's a liar and nothing he says has meaning then he might as well just say whatever at this point knowing it doesn't matter... except that it does.

at the very end he's honest with himself about one thing: he's at peace. all hatred, all malice, all reason to lie and resent and kill has vanished. what comes out of his mouth in this moment is the truth. the truth that though he did hate all of life he still yearned to find love, and he wanted those he loved to live. his actions were all unrighteous and repugnant. everything he did was to lead every other idiot who'd believe him and his promises that they could come out on top by stepping over everyone else to their well-deserved deaths witnessing everything they hoped for crumbling into the pit oberon himself was.

but also, everything he did, he did because someone was wronged. because someone innocent was trampled. because someone who should've been real was buried and forgotten under a mountain of lies. isn't that awful? isn't that unfair? everyone who could save them had already tossed them aside. so he had to step up. even if he never asked to be born, even if his first breaths tore at his entire body, even if he was sick to his stomach from the moment he opened his eyes, he was still going to do it. he was still going to put an end to the suffering of the land, he was going to fulfill the sacred and abominable purpose given to him. he accomplished this with flying colors. truly, no one could've done a better job at it than him. nobody could ever have put the amount of thought and effort into destroying britain he did.

"oberon" accomplished what "vortigern" was born to do. but "vortigern" did not accomplish what "oberon" chose to do. his subjects were all dead. his friendships were all forsaken. and above all, he could never offer any respite to titania. the closest "vortigern" could do as "oberon" was be there every step of the way for another reject, whether it was the despised foreigner artoria, or the solitary fujimaru. though they were meant to be his mortal enemies, he too did not wish to deny them the destinies they fought tooth and nail to hold on to even if they had to tie their own guts to them to stay fastened to them. even if he was to kill them at the very end, he could not help but admire their resilience, their hard work, and even the repugnant selfish selflessness they used to shield themselves from their overwhelming pain. he wanted them to succeed beyond what their success enabled for his plans. though titania did not exist as a fairy named titania born to love oberon either in the lostworld or in proper human history, she did exist in the bonds he forged with his people, with blanca, with artoria, and with fujimaru. perhaps he could not turn the lie of titania's existence into the truth by killing the scriptwriter and their audience. but the idea of titania was still proven true in the form of the love and admiration even he in all his wretchedness wished to express.

the void exists to be filled. and for a brief moment, it was caressed by the kindest of lights.

#lb6 spoilers

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lethalchiralium · 1 year

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No More | [3] | Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

a/n: i think i have a storyline. i’m winging the SHIT out of this y’all it’s not even funny. (…maybe a top gun-ish au but we’ll see) I LITERALLY CANNOT FIGURE OUT HOW TO KEEP THIS GOING BUT I KEEP FINESSING??? WHAT IS HAPPENING. this sucks too but whatever. i love it. messy is messy and i love it

warnings: angst, cussing, MEDICAL ATTENTION/INACCURACIES, cerby being both useless and useful but we love him, MENTIONS/ALLUSIONS OF DOMESTIC ABUSE (NOT ABOUT ANYONE FROM 141), cussing, violence, trauma, Top Gun ;)

summary: It takes time heal a wound that big. Alejandro and Soap are big oafs, you have unwanted conversations in person and in text, one with Keegan and one with your elusive best friend back home.

PREVIOUS << | >> NEXT | SERIES MASTERLIST

Against Simon’s best protests, you found yourself sitting at your desk on base, already gone over files you meant to before the mission. Your pen hadn’t stopped writing as you signed off on patient notes, confirming what you had put down when you examined them.

It was nearing ten in the morning when your personal phone began to buzz. You glanced up from your notes, grabbing it and looking at the notifications.

ROOS: Alive?

It was your best friend. He texted you every few months to make sure you were, indeed, alive. He fought you tooth and nail about you joining the 141, that’s why you don’t talk as often as you used to.

YOU: Maybe. What’s up?

ROOS: Just checking

YOU: You okay?

ROOS: Had a bad dream.

ROOS: Are you okay? Are you safe?

It wasn’t often that Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw asked if you were safe. It wasn’t often that he texted you at all. Your nightmares were about surviving a plane crash, eating dinner next to frozen and rotting corpses in a town in Ukraine - his nightmares were of flying back day after you crashed to explode your plane so the enemy had no access to the technology, his nightmares were of the weeks of mourning he did of you because your rescue was a classified Special Forces op. That and sometimes, it was of the night you two don’t speak about anymore. He’s protective of you.

YOU: Yes, I’m safe. And at work. I’ve got like 10 guard dogs.

ROOS: Okay

YOU: One of them’s a real dog

YOU: Are you okay? Do you need me to call you?

ROOS: No

YOU: Was it about Ukraine or about Nevada?

ROOS: Nevada

Well, there goes the not talking about that specific traumatic night.

YOU: Do you want to talk about it?

A knock sounded at your door, you glanced up from your phone to let out a calm, “Come in.”

The door opened quickly as you heard the clack of claws on the concrete, you pushed your chair away - a smile invaded your face. Cerberus yapped like a puppy, his front paws coming to set on your thighs as you took his face in one hand, scratching his head with the other while still holding your phone. “Hi, baby.”

The German Shepherd shoved himself forwards, his wet tongue licking your nose and cheek - you pushed him down and laughed, “No kisses, honey, we’re working.”

“He likes you a lot more than he ever will me.” You looked up to see the familiar cloth skull mask of Keegan, his hands shoved in his pockets. You smiled at him.

“How’s your chest? Doing okay?”

Keegan nodded, moving forwards to place Cerberus’s blue leash on your desk. He shrugged, crossing his arms.

“Just came to say thank you.”

Your eyes widened a fraction, hands stopped petting Cerberus - who whined in annoyance. His wet snout pushed underneath your hand, trying to get you to continue to pet him. “I just did my job.”

He sighed, going to pull the chair opposite of you out. He sat down quickly, hands wringing each other. “You didn’t-“ He paused. “You almost died.”

“Part of the job.” Your eyes glanced at your files on your desk before you set your phone on your desk.

“I remember how bad your nightmares were when you first joined us.” He recalled, hands settling on his thighs before he finally locked eyes with you. “Just wanted to make sure you’re gonna be okay before we leave.”

“So soon?” Your eyes widened with surprise. “I thought Price was keeping you guys here for a couple more months.”

“That plant they’re building is something big. Caught the eyes of the US Navy, which means-“

“Top Gun.” You finished for your friend, he gave you a knowing look. The only thing he knew was that something bad happened to you on a mission in Top Gun, he knew about the nightmares.

“Look on the bright side,” Keegan’s voice pulled you from almost jumping off the precipice into what could happen. Your hands clenched into fists. “You’re a very important medical Captain, and you’re not under their jurisdiction anymore.”

You would think. You wanted to say that Laswell kept you as a standby pilot, even though she promised you she’d never make you fly. So, in the eyes of the US Government, you were still a Top Gun asset. A damn good one at that, to the point you knew that Top Gun was pestering Laswell for you back. You wouldn’t tell Keegan that though - he’d rip someone’s throat out with his teeth.

Keegan cleared his throat. “You don’t ever have to fly again, Mercy.”

Before Ghost, there was Keegan who woke you from nightmares. Sure, he wouldn’t hold you but he’d sit next to you and quietly talk about something random, something informational - like the design and sinking of ships. If you put thought to those talks, you would be able to talk about his favorite ships. He was a good friend, incredibly loyal. You were the same.

You nodded, hands going back to pet Cerberus, whose head had settled on your thigh, eyes gazing up at you. You looked at him and smiled, scratching behind his ear. He let out a happy little yap before you looked back at Keegan, a solemn nod came from him.

“You know my number, Mercy.”

“Rest up, Sergeant.” You commented, he stood then.

He walked towards the door, opening it before he took a brief pause, looking back at you. “Be careful with Ghost.” And with that, he was out the door and had shut it behind him. Your eyebrows furrowed.

Keegan had known you two had been together since… you got together. What does that mean?

Cerberus whined, making you look back at him. He raised his paw and smacked your leg, you pet him with one hand as you grabbed your phone again, seeing more messages from Rooster.

ROOS: Trying to wake you up in your apartment. Then it was me running to the ER with you in my arms.

ROOS: I hated that feeling

ROOS: I still hate it

ROOS: I’m sorry I’m bothering you

ROOS: Please don’t tell me if you have a boyfriend again

You internally groaned, knowing how incredibly protective he got of you because of your last relationship - which was almost five years ago. You kept scratching behind Cerberus’ ear, his leg thumped against the floor.

YOU: …Surprise?

ROOS: I think I’m going to have a heart attack

ROOS: I’m gonna throw up

YOU: If it makes you feel any better, we’ve been together for a year and a half and he hasn’t done anything to me other than make me overthink things. He loves me and I know he does

ROOS: It does not make me feel better you ass. YEAR AND A HALF AND YOU HAVEN’T TOLD ME

ROOS: And stop fucking saying shit like ‘oh he loves me, he loves me not’ . That’s exactly what happened last time, you’re starting to fucking freak me out

YOU: I don’t know what else to tell you. He’s a good man.

ROOS: Last time you said that I broke my entire hand in a man’s face. Please tell me you’re safe

You wouldn’t have taken that shit from anyone else. If anyone snapped at you like that in person, they’d be on their back with a knife on their throat. By you or your guard dogs - Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Alejandro; Rudy, if you asked nicely. All the men you’ve grown to cherish their companies.

You began to type to Rooster again when there was another knock on your door, three in rapid succession. Your eyebrows furrowed, slightly annoyed. “Yes?”

The door flung open, Cerberus whined when you stopped scratching his ear as you stood, seeing Soap stumble in with a hand on his head. You flung your phone onto your desk, eyes widened. Right behind him was Alejandro and, unsurprisingly, Ghost. You were immediately around Cerberus and your desk, reaching for Soap as he groaned in pain. “What the Hell happened?!”

“Muppets got too involved in their trainin’.” Ghost growled, Alejandro gave you a smile to which you noticed the bloody gash on his forehead.

“You’re both idiots.” You grabbed Soap’s arm and pulled him towards your cot, motioning Alejandro to follow. Cerberus weaved through your patients effortlessly, immediately going straight for Ghost. He pawed at Ghost’s leg while you forced and Sergeant and Colonel to sit on your makeshift examination table. Both of them stared at you, Soap looked like he was out of it. You grabbed a pair of medical gloves, pulling them on quickly.

“Also might be nursin’ a hangover.” Soap mumbled, you rolled your eyes. Of course he had gone out last night. You would have smacked him upside the head had he not been cradling it. You forced him to move his head, seeing the bloody gash on the back of his head near his mohawk.

“Christ, how hard did you headbutt each other?” You mumbled, going to grab your med kit.

“Was his fault.” Alejandro murmured, closing his eyes. “Feels like he cracked my head open like a coconut.” You pulled out your pocket flashlight from your vest, making Soap face you again.

“Keep your eyes open and look at my nose.” The Scot blinked a few times before staring at your nose, you flashed the light into his eyes - they were both reactive, so there wasn’t brain damage. You held up your finger. “Follow my finger.” His eyes followed your finger back and forth, he was responsive so you weren’t worried. You put the flashlight back in your vest before moving Soap’s head again to look at the gash. “Helluva hit, fellas.”

“Thanks.” Both Soap and Alejandro said, the Colonel laughed.

“Didn’t mean to hitcha that hard, hermano.” Soap mumbled as you moved to Alejandro, instructing him the same way. Look at my nose, follow my finger - his coffee like eyes were sinkholes, he did as you told him. If you had taken a moment to set back, you would’ve said that he was your new version of Rooster. A Special Op Limited Edition, with better maintained hair and great jawline.

If you weren’t so enraptured by Simon, you would’ve dove for Alejandro the second he gave you any sort of glare. But no, you’d choose your ice cold boyfriend over a cowboy casanova. Maybe in another life.

You moved the Colonel’s head towards you. It was a thin cut on his forehead, jagged but nothing a small bandage can’t fix. You turned around, peeling off your gloves before grabbing your phone. You opened it, amazed at how many texts Rooster had sent.

ROOS: Please don’t ignore me right now I will get Ice on the phone this instant

ROOS: I mean it

ROOS: Sorry you’re probably busy

ROOS: Just stay safe please.

ROOS: I can’t have a repeat of that shit .I’ll lose my mind

ROOS: Call me when you’re free

ROOS: Please

ROOS: I really don’t want to have to go detective on you and show up at your doorstep like a dog

ROOS: Cause I will

ROOS: You’re worrying me, please don’t make me have to call Mav. If I have to call Mav you will never hear the end of it I SWEAR IT. YOU’LL HEAR ABOUT IT UNTIL YOU’RE DEAD

YOU: I’m working, I’ll text you later

“Dramatic bitch,” You mumbled to yourself before turning your phone off. You moved across the room to your sink. You began to wash your hands as Cerberus poked you with his nose. You glanced down at him. “Go play with Dumb and Dumber, buddy. I’ll be a minute.”

The dog whined, pawing at your leg and poking you with his snout again. He wasn’t alerting, he was trying to get your attention. A search and rescue dog like Cerberus had no job right now since he was on base, except to sometimes get in your way. You gave him a sharp glare. “Now.”

Cerberus let out a loud whine of annoyance before he huffed, walking away towards Alejandro.

“Don’t have to be mean to the poor dog, lass.” Soap commented, you shot him a glare when you dried your hands with a paper towel. He threw his hands up.

“He knows I’ve got stuff going on, he likes to be bothersome.” You pulled on new gloves and grabbed the equipment you needed, moving your chair over to the cot with your foot. You sat down gracelessly, setting bandages and hydrogen peroxide on your lap. You pulled a cotton swab from your vest, opening it and then dousing it in the peroxide.

You took Soap’s head in your hand and moved it again, letting the light shine into it as you dabbed on the peroxide - the man flinched.

“You’re usually chatty, hermana - what’s wrong?”

You glanced at Alejandro, tossing the swab into the garage can behind you. “Friend texted me. Chatted for a while.”

“You not like her or somethin’?” Soap asked, you settled the small adhesive bandage over his injury, sticking it to his shaved head with firm pressure. “You mind not pressin’ that hard?”

You smirked, waving him off. “You’re done.” The Sergeant smiled and stood, walking away from the cot while you faced Alejandro. “Bit of an argument, nothin’ new. Happens when you’ve known them your whole life.”

“Oh?” Alejandro smiled. “Like me and Rudy.”

You shrugged. “When I say my whole life, I mean as soon as I was brought home, I had a best friend.”

“Ah, not like me and Rudy.” He chuckled then, you cleaned the wound with another cotton swab and some peroxide - he didn’t even react.

“Not even close. I didn’t get a choice.” You threw away the swab, opening another bandage.

“You always have a choice in the people you keep company with.” Alejandro closed his eyes as you opened the bandage.

“Not when you’ve both put your lives on the line for each other without question, like I would all of you.” You mumbled, securing the bandage a lot softer than Soap. “Maybe not to the length I would for Roos, but it might be near it.”

“Roos?” Soap echoed, suddenly right next to you as you turned the opposite way to toss the trash into the bin.

“Nickname.” You shrugged, pulling off your gloves and standing. You gestured to the door. “You can leave now, just take some Tylenol if the pain persists.”

Cerberus whined as Alejandro stood, saying a quick farewell as he darted out the door - Soap lingered as you pushed your chair back to your desk. “You’re always so mean.”

“It’s,” You glanced at the digital clock on your desk. “almost eleven. I might just want to go get something to eat,” You sat down, throwing your feet up on your desk as you glared at the Scot. “Maybe I want to sit in silence like I was for the past five hours.”

“Aww, lass, you just wanna get railed by-“

“That’ll do.” Ghost’s voice boomed, making you jump a little as Soap whipped his head to look at his Lieutenant.

Cerberus found his way to you again, pawing at your leg. You reached forwards and scratched behind his ear as you watched Soap and Ghost have a small stare down. Soap backed down after a few seconds, glancing at you and then Ghost. “I’m going to take my leave.”

“As you should.” Ghost’s voice was low, both of you watched as he scurried out of the room, almost slamming the door behind him. You looked to Ghost, who visibly decompressed as he moved towards your cot in sluggish motions. He collapsed onto it, the cot let out a groan under his weight and his mask went straight into the white pillow you kept at the head of it.

You cocked your head to one side. “You hurt too?”

“No.” His voice was muffled.

“You’re just gonna sleep in here?”

“Yup.”

“Well,” You grabbed your phone again, hand leaving Cerberus as you pointed to Ghost. “Go lay down with Dad.”

The German Shepherd would never not take the opportunity to jump onto Ghost, even in a position like that. The dog sprinted the two feet away and jumped onto the Lieutenant’s back, he groaned loudly in pain. Cerberus’s tail wagged with a quick pace as he laid his head on Ghost’s shoulder blades. You quickly took a picture of it before sending it to Rooster.

YOU: oh no! my guard dog killed my guard dog :(

ROOS: THAT MAN IS HUGE .

YOU: Thanks! he’s mine :)

ROOS: I CANT KILL A MAN THAT BIG

YOU: Won’t need to. Pretty sure he’d die before he even raised his voice to me he’d be so ashamed.

YOU: I love him.

ROOS: you have got to stop having boyfriends. my heart can’t take it

YOU: You’re a clingy bitch.

ROOS: well at least someone cares for your well-being 🤍

YOU: My boyfriend does.

ROOS: Don’t fucking say that shit. I’m not getting traumatized again cause that guy is not a man, he is 100% a demon

YOU: LMAO

ROOS: HOW IS HE SO BIG

YOU: Idk. Go to bed idiot

ROOS: Fuck off

YOU: Love you too, clingy bitch.

ROOS: You’re a bitch too

YOU: All day, everyday.

“You’re not paying attention to me.”

You looked up from your phone, seeing now that he moved his head to look at you. Cerberus’s head rested where his nose settled right next to where Ghost’s ear would be. You put your phone down on your desk, putting your feet on the floor as you gazed at him. “I have never heard you say that before.”

“Maybe fuckin’ you would put your attention back on me.”

You rolled your eyes, setting back in your seat. “You’ll always have my attention. I’ve got to keep Roos updated before I get a search party sent on my ass.”

“Sounds clingy.” He murmured, you could barely see as his eyes closed.

“Sounds like what you would do if I didn’t answer your text right away.” You commented, looking at the files you had stared at all morning before stretching your arms above your head. “I’m probably gonna take a half day.”

Ghost hummed from the cot, Cerberus whined from above him. “Take the mutt with you.”

“Always.”

The man moved his body, making Cerberus jump from his back - Ghost groaned in pain. He rolled over like an oaf, since he was bigger than the cot itself. You smiled at him as he looked back to you. “C’mon.”

It was often that he would waltz into your office unannounced and collapse onto your cot, beckoning you to come lay on him. And you did, every time. You gracelessly climbed onto him, settling your head under his chin and stretching your legs out over his.

“You didn’t sleep last night.”

Your sort-of-happy mood completely fizzled out like a flame doused in water. You could’ve sworn he was asleep when you slipped out of bed and into the bathroom, holding yourself in the bathtub until you felt like you could breathe again.

“Where’d do go?”

“Tub.” You murmured, hand crawling up his side and settling on his shoulder. “Had a bad nightmare.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I can’t tell you about it.” You spoke immediately, the phantom feeling of flames licking your skin made you bury your face into his clothed neck. “Don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Well, uh…” His gloved hand went to your hair, petting you gently. “You know where I am.”

“Not really, not all the time.” You whispered, hand clutching his sleeve.

He huffed out a humorless laugh. “I guess not.”

“Is this your way of trying to make it up to me?”

He stilled a little, it wouldn’t be noticeable if you weren’t laying on his entire body. You drank in the fading smell of his musky cologne he wore sometimes, pressing the top of your head into the bottom of his jaw.

“It’s hard.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t know how to.”

You moved your head up, raising it so you could see his eyes. “At least you’re trying.” You leaned forwards and kissed his cheek, then rolled off of him with a groan. “Alright, I’m going home. Need my key?”

He shrugged as you walked over to your small rucksack, checking what you had in it. “No, got the spare. I’ll lock up when I’m done.”

You looked over your shoulder him, seeing his arm over his eyes. You shook your head before grabbing Cerberus’a leash from your desk and walking back to him. You placed a kiss on the exposed skin of his arm and spoke, “I’ll see you at home.”

“Mmhmm.”

_________________

Simon always made you take the car, the nice SUV he bought for himself yet will not drive - always makes up an excuse to have you drive, and you were grateful. You weren’t even sure he had a driver’s license, let alone any knowledge of driving. He was always keen to walk home anyway.

Cerby dove into the apartment as soon as you opened the door, he immediately sprinted his way to the living room. It wasn’t long before you heard a couple of glass bottles hit the rug and you groaned.

“Cerby, come here.” You called, dropping your rucksack on the floor and shutting the door behind you. You would have taken your boots off, but you had no idea what he had knocked over in the living room. You walked into it, seeing that your dog laid on the couch, tongue hanging out from his mouth and his ears perked. You rolled your eyes, looking down at the rug. There was three empty bottles of the bourbon you knew was Simon’s favorite, your eyebrows furrowed. You kneeled, taking a bottle in one hand and seeing how there was no alcohol left in it. Placing it on the table, you pulled the two other bottles onto the table before noticing a small folded piece of paper under where the bottles had lied.

A knot in your stomach began to tug as you grasped the piece of paper, pulling the piece of paper open and recognizing Simon’s handwriting.

My love,

I’m sorry. I don’t know how else to say it but, I do trust you. I trust you a whole hell of a lot.

But what we have isn’t worth the pain, I am not worth the pain. If you wanted me to leave, I would. No one has stuck around this long anyway, you won’t hurt me.

But I hate that I’m hurting you. I think the best choice is for me to leave. I’ll always be here for you, you have my number. I’ll send you where I’ll be. I’d rather you be happy without me than miserable with me.

I love you.

That felt like a punch to the gut.

It felt like a knife wedged in between two of your ribs, digging and twisting.

No one has stuck around this long anyway.

Is this the pain he felt, waiting for you? Drowning in his sorrows, going to leave you to save you pain? It made a part of you angry, yet all of you felt ashamed. You had hurt him too.

But he hadn’t left. He had to have written it before you came home because he did not spend one moment without you since you arrived home.

It hurt your heart that he thought his best decision was to run. It hurt to know that he probably felt scared, that he ducked back into that dark place in his head. He was drunk last night, he might not even remember himself writing it - but in case he did, you folded the note again. You placed it on the floor, placing the empty bottles how they were after Cerberus made them fall. You stood, feeling as if you had held a gun to Simon’s heart and pulled the trigger.

Even as you walked back towards your bathroom to shower, you could still feel the gunpowder residue on your hands.

———————

(comment for part 4! it will get better from here, i promise (aka more fucking angst HAHHA))

taglist! (some i wasn’t able to tag, i’m sorry!)

@luhvbot @its-me-ya-boi-lisa @ladystarfishnut @chris3tom2pau1rdj @kat-nee @efsa-lks @angelsquidd @marytvirgin @medivalpersephone @ramadiiiisme @blueoorchid @guiltyconfessions @abbiesxox @lockleywife @nicomactavish @nose235678 @lumpypoll @multi-fandomlovers-world @holyfeck @thriving-n-jiving @kgive @simonsdoll @crazyfandomist @ryunniez @sofasoap @depressedacidtest @angelinathron @dindjarinsbby @kluhhsu @lazyperfectioniste @keiva1000 @jellyedkazoo @le0thely0n @1sam1 @lovecats123451 @erensonly @cielobgers @sunniiiiiiiiii @d1lf-luvr @thekuroinsomething @lake-145 @badpvn @guineapigzwei @qualitypudding @mariamorim28 @s0meth1ngs-n0t-r1ght @doodle-cat16 @5seastar @horniestbutterfly

#simon ghost riley cod #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x afab!reader #simon ghost riley x fem!reader #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley call of duty #simon riley cod #simon riley #simon riley mw2 #simon riley x you #simon riley x f!reader #simon riley x fem!reader #simon riley x afab!reader #simon riley x reader

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mac-and-thefox · 8 months

Text

Everyone seems to really be going through it this weekend. Here is an offering of fluff 💙 purely self-indulgent sappy love-struck Phantom crushing and pining over Rain because my brain is in chaos and needs some softness 🙃

Cw: fantasizing, hand jobs

Elixir of Life

The woods outside the abbey have always been a special place for Phantom.

When he was new from the Pit, before finding his place in the dynamic of the pack, he would take frequent walks in the woods. He would just wander, marveling at the light filtering through the trees and giving the forest floor an ethereal glow. They didn't have light like this in the Pit, and he'd find himself in awe of all of the simple, natural wonders of the surface world.

What amazed him the most was how there was water everywhere. There was so little water in the Infernal ring he had come from. What little there was to be found was putrid, acidic, and stank of sulfur and brimstone. Although dank and toxic, it was still a precious commodity. Ghouls fought tooth and nail with each other for a handful to drink. He would run his fingertips over the scars etched in his face, through his milky eye that no longer had sight, and shudder at the memories of his siblings growling and maiming for the right to a few drops to quench their thirst.

The water here though, it was safe and cool, it was healing. The water here brought life, and that life was something he could hear, smell and taste all around him as he stepped through the trees on this particular day.

There was no path leading to where he wanted to go. At this point he had come to this place so many times that it was imprinted in his heart.

Phantom moved silently through the trees, having left his shoes at the edge of the wood. He padded over the moss on the ground and ducked under fallen trunks and branches until he came to a clearing.

This was his safe place, a haven for him to go and clear his mind; to escape, not that he didn't love his pack fiercely, but to have a moment away from the mentally exhausting process of learning all the things and customs that came with being on the surface.

This clearing, with its aspen trees, it's small meadow of wildflowers, it's clear, pure stream-fed pool, was a place for him to breathe, and reflect, and read his books.

Here, he would also find Rain.

Phantom had been fascinated by Rain the moment he had stepped out of the summoning circle and set eyes on the water ghoul. Water ghouls were basically non-existant in his circle of Hell. The fact that Rain had elemental power over water, could just summon it and influence it at will, was something Phantom marveled at and still struggled to wrap his mind around.

Rain, with his creamy skin, long graceful limbs, dark soft curls, and eyes so strikingly blue it made Phantom's heart ache to look into them.

The young quint had longed to...just touch Rain, to twine their tails together and run his claws through Rain's hair. To run his thumbs over his soft, perfect skin. While Rain was perfectly friendly and had welcomed him with open arms into the pack, Phantom had simply been too shy and nervous to do anything about it.

So here he sat, knees drawn up to his chest in the soft moss and foliage as he hid behind his book in the shade of a golden aspen. Across the clearing, Rain lounged in the pool, floating on the surface of the water as he watched the clouds track slowly across the sky.

Every so often Phantom would peek over the pages of his novel and watch the water ghoul in his element. Occasionally Rain would raise his head to look over to the young quintessence ghoul watching him and smile to himself as Phantom would notice him looking back and hide back behind his book, pointed ears reddening and scent tinging with shyness and embarrassment.

Phantom yearned to just sit and watch Rain twist and glide through the water like the most graceful, perfect creature of the sea. He longed to run his hands along the colorful, delicate beta fins that came with Rain's unglamored form. He wondered what would happen if he could lightly caress Rain's gills with his fingertips. What Rain's perfect, full lips would look like whispering his name. He let his mind wander as he tried to get his heart rate down from getting caught looking.

In his mind, Phantom could be brave. He could put his book down and cross the clearing to the pool. He could reach down into the pool and cup Rain's beautiful face in his hands before softly pressing their lips together, sighing as he felt Rain's plush mouth give and open for him.

In his mind, he could be brave enough to slip into the pool with Rain and draw the water ghoul into him to straddle his lap while caressing the muscled planes of Rain's back and shoulders. He could run his nose along Rain's throat, leaving soft kisses and licks in his wake as he basked in the scent of water lillies and fresh morning dew. He could feel his quintessence dancing across the water ghoul's skin as he reached out with his magic to elevate what they were both feeling.

Phantom could work up the courage to gently grip Rain's hips and slowly start grinding up into the water ghoul. He could practically hear Rain's soft sighs and whimpers as they pressed close together; hands roaming, touching, caressing. He could feel Rain's hands tracing patterns on his chest before coming up to entangle themselves in Phantom's hair. Maybe Rain would start rutting against his stomach, with kisses becoming more insistent, more filthy as Rain pushed his tongue past Phantom's teeth to caress the quint ghoul's tongue with his, claiming Phantoms mouth and lips like they're Rain's to own.

Maybe Phantom could then draw Rain back in his lap just enough to free his cock from his shorts before pulling him back in to grind their cocks together. He could cup Rain's ass in his hands, kneading the firm muscle as he moved Rain's body against his to find the perfect rhythm and pressure that left them both gasping and moaning into each other's mouths.

In his mind they were sharing breath, riding a high off of each others' scents and arousal as they drove each other closer to coming undone in each others' arms. Hands moving to tweak nipples, tug on hair, rest on throats, caress gills, to take both cocks in hand and jack them off together as they rutted against each other.

Phantom could imagine what it would feel like to see Rain's eyes roll back into his head and whisper Phantom's name against his lips before crying out and cumming between them. Phantom would follow shortly with his own release, his head dropping to Rain's shoulder to bite as he moaned out his ecstasy against the water ghoul's dewey, perfect skin.

In his mind they would rest against each other in the water, exchanging soft words, gentle kisses and touches as they drank in each other's presence in this moment. A second lasting an hour as the two willed to stay suspended in this moment for eternity.

***

Phantom came back into the present and jolted to awareness as he noticed Rain standing over him, a curious and slightly concerned expression on his face. Rain crouched down and cupped Phantom's cheek in his hand.

"Hey Stardust...you back? Where did you float off to?"

Phantom blushed all the way to the tips of his ears as he moved his book to cover the now very obvious boner in his lap.

"Sorry, sorry..it's nothing. I'm fine,"

Rain sat back on his haunches and looked at Phantom for a moment before shrugging and offering his hand.

"Alright, well c'mon then. We should be getting back,"

Phantom took Rain's hand and stood, trying to discreetly adjust his shorts to make the lump in his pants a little less obvious.

They left the clearing and made their way back to the abbey. Phantom trailed slightly behind to watch Rain as he stepped through the trees with the grace and poise of the most elegant deer.

"Yeah," he thought to himself, "maybe one day I'll brave enough."

Water was a special thing indeed.

@jesusbutbetterrr @jimothybarnes @iamthecomet @jazz-bazz @littlemoon-beam @criticaloser @kamonart @sphylor

#mac writes #phantom x rain #phantom ghoul #rain ghoul #the band ghost #ghost fan fiction

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