#but like. what else do I say? saying 'that sucks' feels so empty because OBVIOUSLY it sucks | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luvsuperboard · 1 year

Text

stranger

pairing: idol!hyunjin x photographer!f.reader

contains: smut, cursing, hyunjin being jealous of felix, orgasm denial, edging, pet names (darling, love, toy), unexpected end?? clue: it’s in the pictures.

note: don’t really like this but i wanted to post something T-T it’s also inspired in imagination because who doesn’t love the secret relationship trope?! btw sorry if there’s any spelling errors :(

—

the sounds of the way his hips collided with your skin and your moans were the only ones rumbling in the small room where the mess started. atrocities were the only things the stranger behind you would say every time he entered your pussy, every time he touched and felt you. is it weird that hearing him say such things makes you go crazy? your mind went blurry, the rhythm of his thrusts was getting faster and faster, rougher and more memorable. this moment will be tattooed in your mind for a long time now. let's hope it reminds you of the reason why you should behave when it comes to this stranger. “don't.” hyunjin felt how your walls began to suck his dick deeper into you, clenching and implying that your orgasm was close. he took his length out of your wet hole making you sigh, it frustrated you to feel empty after being so close.

his hands grabbed your shoulders, turning you around and letting your back rest on the door where your cheek had been glued on. your chest felt heavy, he was edging you, you didn't even realize that his teasing did have an impact on you and your watery eyes were proof of it. he had always been like this, he knew he had you in his hand’s palm, he had involved you in his game, so it was not uncommon to see him try to cause your annoyance. after all, what were you going to do about it? “what happened, darling? don’t wanna play anymore?” it surprised you how he sounded so calm and relaxed. as if I hadn't been fucking you for what it felt like hours so now... oh right, he wasn’t the one being edged. the smirk on his face said everything; although, according to him, he was punishing you for “not behaving”, he was clearly enjoying it.

there was nothing better for him than to see how your back arched, how your body squirmed while being sensitive. seeing you cock drunk, sicking his touch and then take the pleasure away from you. he liked to make you dizzy, make you upset, see you beg and practically cry over his cock. wait, why do we call him a stranger though? ok so. your job is simple, you receive models or artists and take pictures of them for events, promotions, magazines, etc. that being said, it would be very rare to call him something else that wasn’t stranger, because if so, you’d get attached. after all, you weren’t lying, he was just one of the many celebrities you took pictures of, what special quality could he have for you to call him other way?

blah blah you know, let’s just call it a fuck buddies situation and “we ain’t official cuz you’re an idol and im a photographer and omg the world is against us and can’t be together” typa thing…… ?????? for example, did you wear a shorter skirt than usual to work? no problem! that stranger who carefully observed every move you made and who coincidentally always made excuses to go to the photography studio, will be there to tell you that you have limits—created by him.

jealous that someone other than him could have the privilege of seeing you wearing such a thing? pft of course not. what about all those times when a strange car would pick you up from work when, according to you, you weren't in anything or with anyone? well, maybe someone was making that a habit to get to know you better.

in a few words; hyunjin + you = confusing situation.

the guy was nothing to you, obviously there can’t be nothing between a simple photographer and an idol, right? well, that question was going through your mind now, but to think that you have nothing more and nothing less than hwang hyunjin himself destroying you, shook it somewhere else. “hyunjin... please” mhm, as if a dumb phrase like that one would make him take pity on you.

or will it work?

surprise! no.

although yes, hyunjin is and has always been the romantic and sweet type when it comes to having some kind of love relationships; that does not take away from the fact that he is quite ahem possessive. his chest went up and down as he breathed heavily, the veins on his neck popping out, jaw clenched, offended by your request. wasn't it enough for you? first you make him jealous then you have the guts to ask him for more? he didn't listen to you and attacked your neck with licks and bites, his warm breath tickling your skin. he noticed you started to play with his hair though “can’t control your hands neither?” he said and put your hands aside. his words were firm, voice deep, raspy.

you had no choice but to bite your fist, muffling the moans that escaped your lips unconsciously. “‘oh felix, there's no problem with this! oh felix, don't worry about that!’” hyunjin said, mocking how you were talking to felix earlier. "tsk, pathetic" he spat as his lips went down to your collarbone, hands firm on your hips, keeping you pinned to the door. just a few minutes ago he was inside you, length touching that sweet spot that made you lose your sanity. but you forgot you made him jealous, you had broken the rules –although the comment you made to felix was stupid and harmless– and hyunjin was going to make you feel like shit about it.

“should we open the door? show your cute little felix how desperate you are, hmm?” his tip had been in contact with your entrance, teasing your clit with just the tip, driving you crazy. if he continued you’d come right away “thought i didn’t see how you blushed? too bad, darling. i saw too much.”

what did he expect tho, for you to see the lee felix SHIRTLESS, and have no reaction? cmon now.

they were in the studio, the two boys mentioned before were getting ready for a photoshoot in collaboration with cosmopolitan, and since you saw them –especially felix for some reason– you didn't stop complimenting their outfits and style for the occasion. “really? ‘wow felix that looks so good on you!’”he imitated you mockingly and with an annoying tone. it was squeaky. you began to regret making him jealous, but you quickly reconsidered when he bit your neck once again, making you moan in pleasure “god, y/n. fucking embarrassing.” at this point you accepted you lowkey liked this side of him.

“shit- hyunjin, please!” you managed to talk after containing your breath, what you do when you’re nervous, especially when it comes to him. “please what, darling?” you felt him smirk against your neck, you were giving him what he liked the most, which was seeing you beg “if you want me to do something you must ask for it properly, don't you think?”

“please! hyunjin, i wont- it wont happen again” you didn't convince him, instead he growled against your skin, rolling his eyes. yes, you couldn't see his face clearly due the room being dark, but you still could tell he had that typical judgmental face. “i said, what do you want. go ahead and tell me, y/n” he said and continued to click his tongue, his jaw tense and eyes staring at your lips, waiting for the long-awaited phrase to come out of these.

looking up at him with watery eyes, you swallowed “fuck, hyunjin i need you inside me, i want you and only you right now, i need your cock, can you pleas-” and finally your requests worked before you could even finish the sentence. his cock made its way back to your core, you moaned at the feeling of him fucking you again, walls hugging him tightly. it shocked you how after all the times you had been like this with him, his cock’s size inside you was still surprising.

“there we go, look at you being nice. wasn’t that hard, was it?” he began with slow thrusts, finding that familiar spot that made you lose it all. he softly slapped your cheek after talking “respond before I get bored and leave, love. maybe felix could come and replace me...” he said it in order to blackmail you but actually, leave you? hell no, and even less when you had obeyed his orders. let's say he said it to add more tension into the situation, since he knew you would just give up and beg. “it was easy! it was easy h-hyunjin…” he was satisfied enough to now focus on your pleasure and planted a long kiss right behind your ear after hearing you.

how unpredictable, first he destroys you and then makes you feel like a queen... ok not so much like a queen because you're going to see what the guy is going to say next, but yea he was being nicer.

“my cute toy, letting me do whatever i want to you” he kept kissing you neck until he pulled away and looked at you “hope you've learned,” he said, warning you, “remember that this little thing saves everything we did here, okay?” he stroked your cheek while smiling. “but don't worry, love” he put the tiny camera in his back pocket to continue to thrust into you “i don’t think felix wants to see that i’m the only one allowed to fuck you, and fuck you this good” this guy's ego was incredible.

you we’re definitely going to make him jealous again, oh and you were definitely going to try to take a look at that video…

#hyunjin #stray kids x reader #stray kids fics #hyunjin smut #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin imagines #skz x reader #skz #skz smut #stray kids smut

830 notes · View notes

youremyheaven · 6 months

Text

The Dark Side of Jupiter💀🚬🍾🎊

There is a lot of discussion around Jupiter's abundance, its boundless energy, its expansiveness. But what about the dark side of Jupiter?

Being so giving can be so tiring. To simply never run out of fuel or feel depleted can mean that you have no sense of boundaries. You simply don't know whether you've pushed yourself too hard. Being burnt out for a Jupiter native just means that the endless energy they give to others/everything in their life is not reciprocated in the same way because very few people can return the same energy. This results in a kind of emptiness that cannot be appropriately described.

It's part of their nature to give but to always be pouring to others and to soak everything up means there is very little exchange of energies. You always feel like you're "too much for others"; you have too much energy or you don't have the appropriate channels for it.

The Jupiter need for constant stimulation is seldom addressed, without it, a native feels spaced out and "dry on the inside". Jupiter natives when they're out of balance can be prone to substance abuse, hypersexual behaviour and everything else. Virtue is an innate part of a Jupiter native, so they naturally do not possess a taste or preference for these things but that is not to say they are incapable of it. But they still possess the ability to quit things cold turkey unlike say Ketu or Rahu (Nodal people and their tendency to be prone to addictions is a topic for discussion for another day) because they don't inherently have a shadow-y nature that makes them dependant. They just need a direction to channel their energies and they will tire of it/grow bored of it pretty quickly.

Boredom is the most dangerous feeling. It can make people do things that love, hatred and anger can't. Imagine what this is like for Jupiter natives who are already too intense and too prone to feeling the depths of every emotion.

Jupiter natives are often described as "too much to handle" for many people. Especially for certain Mercurial natives, typically Ashlesha since Revati's boundless in its own way and Jyeshta natives come from a place of lack so they're endlessly projecting outwards. Ashlesha natives are the most energetically conservative of all Mercury naks and is in general, one of the most inwardly drawn naks and they feel easily drained by Jupiter natives, especially Jupiter women.

Idk if its ever been described this way but this is how I see it. Jupiter is a masculine planet but its ever expansive nature is supremely Yin. Therefore it manifests differently for men and women. Obviously there is a tendency to be people pleasers but it does not come from a place of negativity or desire to suck up to people, others just can't fathom what its like to process and contain information the way Jupiter natives do, they just naturally absorb the energies of others and project it back on to them. This is also another reason why they are so polarising. They're easy targets because if someone reflected back everything you hated about yourself, you'd be bound to hate them. They're mirrors.

The Pisces urge to dissociate has been covered extensively but no one ever talks about the exhilarating highs and crushing lows of being a Jupiter native. They feel so consumed by stimulation. They're the type of people who after spending time with others or partying or whatever, they come back home and they simply can't chill, they're so restless and manic and hyped up, they can't sit still; they don't feel drained by all that social interaction, they get high off of it, its hard to describe what that's like to someone who feels easily drained by others and needs to remain self contained to avoid feeling burnt out.

Punarvasu & Ashlesha both have Cat yoni which is a very restrictive yoni but since Punarvasu is Jupiter ruled, they have this capacity to be very expansive even if there are external limits placed on them. Ashlesha in addition to having a cat yoni is also Mercury ruled; mercury is the smallest planet, this adds to the restriction and limitations and makes them inwardly drawn and unable to give at all.

Punarvasu is the most grounded of Jupiter naks for this reason; there is a limit or some kind of grounding to their energies meanwhile with Vishaka and Purvabhadrapada, they fully embrace the darkness and intensity of Jupiter. Its interesting how Punarvasu is the only deva gana nakshatra among Jupiter naks. Vishaka is the height of Jupiter and is a rakshasa gana nak which represents how the extremes of anything, even a so-called abundant planet can manifest as villainy. All power corrupts but absolute power corrupts absolutely. Purvabhadrapada is the final Jupiter nak and a manushya gana nak because the culmination of Jupiter's energies is to integrate the evil with the divine and thats what makes us fully human.

Jupiter natives are prone to manic behaviour but when it comes crashing down, simply because others around them probably don't have a good threshold for this sort of hyperactivity, they feel "too out of control" but also "too out of touch" since they truly are in a different sort of reality; Punarvasu delulu behaviour require its own post; its wild that a lot of people interpret that as "innocence" when what it really is this is urge to expand endlessly and consume everything within reach- it may seem like a childlike curiosity to explore and try things but there is a scary and dark side to it.

I've noticed how many Jupiter natives exhibit bipolar- adjacent behaviour (TW!!!!) they are most prone to the manic highs and crushing lows and swinging back and forth between it from day to day.

Obviously I'm not saying all Jupiter natives are like this but I'm talking about ways in which the dark side of Jupiter manifests. Its almost similar to that of Rahuvian people.

If you look at the charts of famous people who've struggled with addiction and/or bipolar disorder, majority of them have Ketu influence but there are numerous examples of Jupiter natives as well since Jupiter natives are not dependent on it in the same way (remember they're not bound to anything, they can quit things cold turkey if they choose to, they just like the mania and the high and only boredom will make them stop).

Here's a small list of celebs who've struggled with bipolar disorder:

Vivien Leigh- Swati Sun, Mars in Punarvasu atmakaraka

Mariah Carey- Punarvasu Moon

Sinead O'Connor- Jyeshta Sun & Venus along with a Vishaka stellium (rising, mercury and ketu)

Mel Gibson- Punarvasu Rising, Mars in Vishaka atmakaraka, Rahu in Jyeshta

Chyler Leigh- Vishaka Moon

She interestingly played a drug addict in the alternate reality episode of Grey's Anatomy and suffered from addiction as a teenager.

Regarding her bipolar disorder she has said, “I was experiencing such a high version of mania and irritability that I couldn’t sleep or eat, and I was angry and reckless,” Leigh says. “I would go to work and use that adrenaline and expend my energy and feelings there, and then I would come home exhausted.”

Halsey, who is Punarvasu Moon (Swati stellium) has been open about her struggles with bipolar disorder and here are some quotes from some of her interviews that I feel like explain Jupiter nature quite well;

“That’s why I tour so much. I release endorphins, serotonin, dopamine, norepinephrine. Like, it’s literally a drug response,” said Halsey

Part of the reason why some Jupiter natives who are more balanced, tend to stay off of drugs or partying or other indulgences entirely is because they don't really need substances to feel high, they experience the highs, lows, relapses, resistance, withdrawal symptoms of drugs just by feeling emotions in the massive, expansive Jupiterean way that they do. I really don't know if I'm driving home this point enough, but really, this biggest goddamn planet, imagine containing that much space and energy within yourself, you're like a defenceless sponge, you pick up on everything whether you want to or not. There's a reason why some of the biggest pop stars, celebrities and people of all time have been Jupiter natives; some people can be in the public eye, facing the projections of millions of people and only go slightly insane and those are Jupiter natives; in fact they need an outlet of that capacity; something that's large enough to contain them.

Here's some more quotes:

“Nobody wants to be my friend. They’re scared I’m gonna pop off about something. I’m drama by association. I put myself out there with my peers; I don’t know if people really ever wanted to do the same with me. So I stopped wasting my energy.”

Other people not meeting you on your level is a big issue with Jupiter natives; few people can match their pace and its vvv easy for them to feel "too much" for others.

“I spent a lot of time being the most exciting thing in everybody else’s life. When they didn’t need me any more, they would thank me then leave. That is the trope of the manic pixie dream girl. This album is about her. Her traumas don’t exist to benefit some other person.”

People are initially excited and intrigued by the explosive energy and enthusiasm of Jupiter natives but they will tire of it quickly if they don't have the same internal space to hold it. This can be very crushing for the Jupiter natives who feel used. Everybody loves a one week vacation in Hawaii but nobody wants to stay in Hawaii forever, they really want to get back to their boring desk job because that gives them a sense of stability and normalcy.

As for being a “bitch,” Halsey doesn’t actually think she is one, although she knows that it can seem that way when she’s been on a manic spree for a week, made everyone around fall in love with her, and then shut them out with little more than a check-you-later as soon as she came crashing down. She can be demanding. She writes her own music. She does her own makeup. She helps design her own costumes, merchandise and album covers. She micromanages. No one can book a flight until she approves it. She will not be “handled."

The hot & cold nature of Jupiter aka "their duality" is what makes them so interesting to others, to the public etc but its also what makes them so polarising because we're all trained to think of things as this or that, therefore their kind of contradictory nature is confusing, alluring and yes, maddening.

Many famous party animals have prominent Jupiter placements but they usually clean up at some point.

Prince William has Rahu in Punarvasu and Kate is Punarvasu Moon; the Moon conjunct Rahu synastry in PUNARVASU makes their relationship a very "theyre doing things you havent even heard of" type one. Kate's party girl era is very well documented.

Ranveer Singh- Punarvasu Sun

In Indian media, Ranveer is quite a character, the man is always acting like he's on a cocktail of several substances and is known for her hyper manic media persona. He's known for being a party animal.

Drew Barrymore is a Punarvasu Moon

She was known for being a wild child in the 90s.

Cameron Diaz is Punarvasu Rising & Drew is Punarvasu Moon

The Weeknd- Vishaka Moon, Punarvasu Rising

Literally all he does is sing about the crushing highs and lows of the party, sex and drugs lifestyle he lives. Take any of his songs, he describes the emptiness of Jupiter better than anybody else.

These are lyrics from his song Gasoline:

"It's five AM, my time again

I've soakin' up the moon, can't sleep

It's five AM, my time again

I'm calling and you know it's me

I'm pushing myself further

I'm just tryna feel my heartbeat beat (beat)

I wrap my hands around your neck

You love it when I always squeeze

It's five AM, I'm high again

And you can see that I'm in pain

I've fallen into emptiness

I want you 'cause we're both insane

I'm staring into the abyss

I'm looking at myself again

I'm dozing off to R.E.M.

I'm trying not to lose my faith

And I love it when you watch me sleep

You spin me 'round so I can breathe

It's only safe for you and me

I know you won't let me OD

And if I finally die in peace

Just wrap my body in these sheets

And pour out the gasoline

It don't mean much to me

It's five AM, I'm nihilist

I know there's nothing after this (after this)

Obsessing over aftermaths

Apocalypse and hopelessness (hopelessness)

The only thing I understand

Is zero sum of tenderness (tenderness)

Oh, baby, please just hold me close

Make me believe there's more to live

Around, around, around, around we go

In this game called life, we are not free"

Scarlett Johansson- Vishaka stellium

She's talked about being a party girl and how much she enjoys clubbing.

Miley Cyrus- Vishaka Moon & Mercury, Mars in Punarvasu

Miley's wild stoner years are well documented and I think her mania during those years post-Liam are reflective of how devastating it is for Jupiter natives to feel abandoned by someone because they can't "handle" you anymore. There's a reason why she was so out of control in that era.

Lana Del Rey- Vishaka Stellium (inc her Rising)

she may be a Cancer Sun who makes melancholy music but the devastation and emptiness and trippiness comes from that Vishaka energy

choice lyrics include:

“And you try to see the bright side when each new day begins But you're not satisfied at the rainbows end”

“You're scared to win, scared to lose I've heard the war was over if you really choose; The one in and around you”

“it’s nice to love and be loved but id rather know what god knows”

“Happiness is a butterfly. Try to catch it like every night. It escapes from my hands into moonlight”.

Leonardo Dicaprio- Vishaka Sun & Venus

this man has been yachting for decades now, i have nothing to add, he's typical of Jupiter's boundless energy gone wrong.

Jennie, Vishaka Moon

in recent years, Jennie's party habits have become mainstay media news.

Katy Perry- Vishaka Moon, Rising and Saturn

Lets just say she knows a thing or two about partying

Asap Rocky- Punarvasu Moon

my king who sings/raps of being faded in every song<3 the loneliness/emptiness of the high life is Jupiter culture af

I will update this post and add more to it but I wanted to publish it rn as it is. Here's some of my thoughts on Jupiter's nature and I hope you find it interesting

xoxo

#jupiter #vedic astrology #astrology notes #vedic astro notes #astro observations #astrology #astroblr #vishaka #punarvasu

176 notes · View notes

steviesbicrisis · 6 months

Text

The Choice is Yours, Steve Harrington

When Steve Harrington starts getting threatening texts from an unknown number, he tries to take matters into his own hands. Little does he know that every choice he makes could have major consequences. His choices matter, and so do yours. So, what’s it gonna be? (An interactive modern day AU! by @steviesbicrisis and @hairstevington)

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Ugh. Hargrove.

The guy was just - he really sucked, and Steve wished he was fucking gone. Now he was threatening Henderson? No way. Steve was going to settle this once and for all. Billy wasn’t going to mess with him anymore, he’d make sure of it.

Of course, Dustin was at the stupid concert. Steve really wanted to avoid it, but obviously he would do anything to protect his friends. He headed off to the Fairgrounds, practicing his speech to Billy the whole drive.

Listen to me, asshole. You’re gonna stay away from me and you’re definitely gonna stay away from my friends, or else. Got it?

By the time Steve got to the concert, it was winding down. People were pouring into the parking lot and speeding away in their cars. Steve knew that the kids planned on sticking around afterwards in hopes of meeting the band, so he figured they’d still be there.

It was kind of scary, being there alone at night. Robin was around somewhere, though, so that gave him some peace. He could probably just say her name three times and she’d appear beside him.

He continued looking for his friends as the place emptied out, feeling chills down his spine with every passing moment.

And then, he heard Billy’s voice. He sounded angry, as always. Steve followed the voice, puffing his chest out and trying to make himself look as intimidating as possible.

“Hargrove,” he said once he rounded the corner. Billy was alone, and he smiled the moment he realized it was Steve approaching him.

“Harrington!” he cheered wickedly. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” Steve rolled his eyes.

“You’re gonna leave us alone,” Steve demanded. “Me, Dustin, my other friends, all of us.” Billy smiled, fearlessly closing the gap between him and Steve until their faces were inches apart.

“Or what?” Billy teased between gritted teeth. “What are ya gonna do to me, Steve? You think you could take me down?”

Steve swallowed. Something about Billy always brought out his worst, most violent urges. Truthfully, Steve knew he wouldn’t win in a fight with Hargrove, and yet - he threw the first punch.

Steve’s fist clocked into Billy’s jaw. He laughed in response, then tried to hit back, but Steve dodged it. He was doing well at first - keeping up, at least - and then Billy got the upper hand.

Steve fell to the floor. Billy got on top of him. There was punch after punch after punch, and then everything went black.

When Steve came to, his ears were ringing and his head felt like it was going to explode. He’d failed. He’d come here to protect Dustin, and now who knew where he was or if he was safe? Steve sat up, and that’s when he saw that he still wasn’t alone.

Billy was on the floor across from him, sitting up with his back to the wall. He wasn’t moving. Steve couldn’t see much in the dim light, so he used his phone to get a better look.

Oh.

Oh, shit. There was blood everywhere, all stemming from stab wounds to the stomach and cuts on his arms.

Billy was dead.

Steve jumped backwards, falling over and skittering across the floor to get as much distance from the body as possible. This wasn’t happening. No, this wasn’t - who could have done this?

His shaky hand went back to his phone, which he’d dropped on the floor upon his discovery. He picked it up to call the police, because that’s what he knew he was supposed to do next. Even in his shock, he knew that’s what he had to do.

He dialed 9-1-1, and then his phone buzzed.

Same poll on Google Docs

The Choice is Yours, Steve Harrington | Ao3 Next

How to follow the story

167 notes · View notes

heartbeatbookclub · 4 months

Text

I think it's sorta weird how the Protagonist (MC, Y/N, Stinky, whatever you wanna call him) is treated within the context of DDLC's meta.

That sentence came out weird. What I mean is that on terms of DDLC playing with the 4th wall (in other words, on terms of its actual existence as a visual novel in universe), the nature of the Protagonist's...well, entire existence, is up in the air.

Dan Salvato literally stated that he doesn't actually see him as a character in the same way as the girls. He's a "blank slate that says whatever is convenient." In a different statement, he's described as the "nameless, faceless self-insert character that you find so commonly in romance games", which I think is a good way of putting it. It's a good way of justifying why he kinda...sucks, because he's meant to be a typical VN protagonist. He's shallow, and responds with little more than what makes sense in context, because he doesn't have much character on his own, which is what makes him pretty bad at dealing with delicate issues like with Sayori.

In DDLC+ (spoilers, I guess?), it's a little bit vague about it, but in one of the mails, it states that Monika has literally "manufactured" a new character to "force interaction between her and the user". This character is heavily implied to be the Protagonist of the main DDLC visual novel that we know, and he is, as stated, noticeably absent from the Side Stories, because Monika didn't actively create him to be there.

Except...he isn't.

He doesn't physically appear, but in Trust, though he's obviously not mentioned by name, it's implied that he does exist, because when asked to act like a "normal person" responding to the Literature Club, she imitates a friend of hers who says "Literature is stuuupid. I'm joining the Anime Club."

...Remind you of a certain someone?

I feel like I'm overexplaining this, but my point is, it suggests that the Protagonist as a character isn't just something Monika invented out of thin air, or at least he's heavily implied not to be.

I think there's a larger conversation on the vague way the game itself treats the world outside of what is defined within the limited scope of Doki Doki Literature Club. Fans have filled gaps of different characters and events, but it's important to acknowledge that they're gaps filled by fanon, not canon. I think those gaps are left very intentionally empty, mostly to play into the conceit of the world, being that literally nothing actually exists outside of its boundaries, because it's a visual novel. It's a limited, constricted reality, where things are implied to exist outside it, but they actually don't.

In other words, Monika did apparently generate all that makes up the Protagonist as a character and vehicle for the player in the main game, based off the limited concept implied by their interaction in the Side Story. Or, rather, probably by something else, since the side stories are inherently a "Control Simulation" where Monika doesn't have any sense of meta awareness. It's a prequel set before the main story, but...well, if you really think about it, it's implied to tie into the main story, but they don't directly link up, do they? If it's not explicitly shown on screen in the main line Doki Doki Literature Club, did it even happen?

Either way, the Protagonist is a character independent of Monika's creation, he's just given absolutely nothing, and technically doesn't even exist outside of what's implied of him. Technically, the character Monika creates as a vehicle for the Player has no real relation to him, outside of being Sayori's friend and wanting to join the Anime Club. Or, depending on your view, he does! Since he's the literal manifestation of that character concept where it didn't exist previously, it's fair to say that he is that character given life!

I don't know, I think it's just kinda fascinating in context. I don't really like a lot of the extra lore surrounding the whole thing in +, but there are plenty of interesting things like this which have been given just enough flavor to be interesting.

Obviously I don't think this means the Protagonist is a complete non-character and any & all fan interpretations of him should be defenestrated (quite the opposite actually, reality can be whatever you want, I have a few concepts with him floating around my head which I find fun to play with), but I think this sort of thing is probably important to keep in mind on terms of actual investigations of canon.

#i prooomise i have some more deeper & more emotionally invested essays on the girls & other things planned #as well as more super epic headcanons & lil fics & art probably #but i do genuinely think MC is interesting to talk about in regards to canon #& how he represents this larger concept that i think makes up the boundaries of monika's cage #musings #ddlc #ddlc mc #doki doki literature club

66 notes · View notes

diseaseriddencube · 3 months

Text

Alastor Has NPD Because I Said So: A Shitty Analysis

Grandiose sense of self-importance. Overestimating their capabilities or holding themselves to unreasonably high standards. Bragging or exaggerating their achievements.

It's pretty clear he thinks highly of himself. I like to think that not only does he love radio, but, being The Radio Demon, he believes himself to be heavily associated with it as if it's part of him. So when he gloats about radio being a superior medium of self expression, he's speaking about himself as well.

He was gone for seven years, and it's pretty blatant that he expects everyone else to care about that. Even if he would most certainly not give a true answer had he been acknowledged, he's desperate for that "where have you been" attention, and gets pissed when it's not received. He just naturally assumes he's important enough that other overlords would be concerned about his absence.

Assuming his smile is something he chooses to do (ignoring the stitch mark theories), it's a very visible high standard he holds himself to, and according to Viv, it's something he judges others for as well. Even alone, he refuses to drop his smile.

Frequent fantasies about having or deserving success

The finale song showcases this well, as he outright states that he wants power/control, to be "holding all the strings"

Belief in superiority. Thinking they’re special or unique. Believing they should associate only with those they see as worthy.

This goes pretty hand in hand with what I wrote in point one tbh. It seems evident that he's picky about who he's friends with as well, for example he only associates with Charlie for power.

Need for admiration. Fragile self-esteem. Frequent self-doubt, self-criticism or emptiness. Preoccupation with knowing what others think of them. Fishing for compliments.

This is more of an internal thing, which can be hard to see in a character that hides his emotions so heavily. But you can see hints of it in his reaction when his commercial is criticized, he's proud and asks for feedback, and immediately reacts negatively and gets defensive upon criticism.

He had a breakdown over the thought of his image being tainted for saving his 'friends', he's less worried about his actual injury and rather the humiliation of being defeated over something so uncharacteristic of him.

Entitlement. Inflated sense of self-worth. Expecting favorable treatment (to an unreasonable degree). Anger when people don’t cater to or appease them.

The first point is basically what I already spoke about, I don't think he really expects favorable treatment (perhaps internally, but he doesn't demand it)

That last point can be showcased with how he reacts to Lucifer, who didn't acknowledge him at all and criticized his work. He was obviously pretty openly pissed when Lucifer wasn't sucking up to him and his work.

Willingness to exploit others. Consciously or unconsciously using others. Forming friendships or relationships with people who boost their self-esteem or status. Deliberately taking advantage of others for selfish reasons.

Do I need to say more than Charlie :/ and also like everyone ever that he interacts with 😭

Lack of empathy. Saying things that might hurt others. Seeing the feelings, needs or desires of others as a sign of weakness. Not returning kindness or interest that others show.

Yeah I don't think the guy who hurts people for a living cares too much about hurting others-

And of course back to the smile thing, he sees anyone who doesn't mask as heavily he does as weak, he looks down on those who display their emotions so openly.

Frequent envy. Feeling envious of others, especially when others are successful. Expecting envy from others. Belittling or diminishing the achievements of others.

I don't actually see too much of this symptom in him, though I think it's more of an internal thing for the most part.

Arrogance. Patronizing behavior. Behaving in a way that’s snobby or disdainful. Talking down or acting condescendingly.

He seems to act most condescendingly around Vaggie, especially in the pilot, he's downright disrespectful. His interactions with Charlie upon trying to cheer her up comes off as very patronizing too.

#hazbin hotel #npd #rave ramblees #long post #i'm probably missing a bunch of scenes with more evidence but eh #i think my point is made #also i feel insane because i swear some of these are basically the same symptom with different wording?#like idk sense of grandiosity and superiority don't really need to be separate symptoms?#okay i got really lazy with this analysis #like i'm sure there's way more to talk about but my fingies hurt #like whatever attention whoring nonsense he does with Vox #or how he always tries to take over everyone else's songs #or how overconfident he was during the battle given that he didn't even bring an angelic weapon????? like bro you couldn't have won

41 notes · View notes

ezlebe · 1 year

Note

If you're still doing prompts - the roys and greg are all vampires but tom is not

“Are you nervous?” Greg asks, turning over the black and gold half mask in his hands, as he paces down the length of the room. “Like. You’re prepared, you know. You shouldn’t be nervous.”

Tom rolls his head back and forth, not quite looking back, and definitely not responding to the question. He threads a cuff link through his shirt, a flash of gold between his fingers, then reaches for the next.

“I mean, it’s…” Greg swallows, thickly, lifting and spinning a hand with a weak lift of his shoulder. “It’ll be easy?”

“What makes you say that?“ Tom asks, in a bright, biting chirp, as he reaches now for the cravat pooled on the vanity. “You didn’t have to go through the wringer, proving to every fang for seventeen generations that you’re worthy of low blood pressure, solar allergies, and eternal hunger – you just hatched.”

Greg grunts low under his breath. “Sort of? But they still tried to drown me when I was born.”

Tom looks up with a blink through his lashes. “What?”

“Because my mom like did it in secret, I guess?” Greg says, looking down while digging his fingernail into the leather edge of his mask. “So you know, I technically did have to pass a test. By like not dying from that.”

“What the fuck – ? No, I did not know that,” Tom says, voice pitching, as he wraps the silk around his neck with a derisive grimace. “I thought that… Jesus, Roman’s said as much, but I thought it was a fucking turn of phrase.”

“Oh,” Greg intones, briefly letting his eyes sweep the ground in discomfort. “Yeah, I mean – No? Obviously, it turned out okay. I don’t remember it?”

“And neither the fuck will I. You’re really not making me feel like I’m standing on any more solid ground,” Tom says, as he looks up, then he sighs, offering a jerk of his chin to gesture for Greg to step close. “Come here. The little chain is all looped across – ” He lifts his hands, gently tugging at the collar chain Greg is using in place of a tie. “There. Now you’re respectable.”

Greg peeks down at the edges of the antlers framing his throat. “It doesn’t look lame?”

“You’re insulting me, Greg,” Tom says, fussily straightening the rest of Greg’s shirt, down his lapels, then flicking at a closure on the vest. “I might not remember you, in an hour, but I think some part of me will just know I’m the reason you don’t look like a schlub.”

“That would be weird,” Greg says, though he’s got his own hopes about cracks in the spell.

“The whole ritual is weird,” Tom says, pulling away with a wide eye roll. He looks in the mirror to straighten his own outfit; it’s an antique silver one, so the space is empty next to him, proving it as little more than a costume piece for anyone else in the manor. “Forget your partner just to choose them, again? In masks? It’s a rigged carnival game – one of truest bullshit, considering the 100% divorce rate in the Roy cauldron.”

Greg feels a tight pull at the corner of his mouth, somewhat ducking his head with a weak lift of a shoulder. “Okay, so you – you’re ready, right? You, um – ”

Tom loudly sucks at his teeth, looking away from the mirror while stuffing his silk cravat into his vest. He stares for a few long, heavy seconds at Greg, then straightens, as he clears his throat. “If you ask if I’m ready one more time, I won’t be responsible for my actions.”

“I-I only want you to pass,” Greg mutters, somewhat irked, and he feels like somewhere over the last couple weeks, as the final test snuck up, he started being the only one to care if Tom went through with it. He shouldn’t even be the one here with Tom getting ready. “Do you want me to go see what Shiv is wearing?”

“It doesn’t matter, bud. But hey, corner me about the rules, after they’ve lobotomized me, will you?” Tom says, rather than answering the question. “I don’t feel like getting sabotaged by the old ghouls on a technicality.”

Greg tips his head back and forth, imagining how it might go meeting Tom a second time; it’ll be different, at least, since he won’t know Greg’s a vampire, so he can’t – probably won’t make a joke about asking for a bite. “Will you… be nice?”

“I cannot possibly promise that, buddy,” Tom says, picking up the last of his outfit for the masque, a gold phantom mask, from the settee with a crooked smirk. He reaches out and claps Greg atop the shoulder. “You’ll just have to get over it.”

It turns out that Greg doesn’t have to explain it at all, because the basis is given to an enthralled Tom and another dozen mortal hopefuls at the masque. They don’t get the truth, since no one is told they’ve been put under a forgetfulness spell, only simply that they’re there part of a singles event and everyone is to exchange a token with their choice of partner at the end of the night. The tokens that Tom and Shiv share are a pair of fine bracelets donated by Caroline, which had been something of a contention, since Tom repeatedly emphasized a desire for a favor more like a silk ribbon.

Or Tom had said as much to Greg, anyway, who admittedly isn’t sure he told this to Shiv, or anyone else.

The whole pronouncement of the ritual by Ewan at the start makes Greg somewhat inexplicably queasy, a feeling that just worsens when Tom and the others are announced and file in at the entrance, so he’s relieved not to have to actually talk to Tom after he begins mingling among the party. He chooses, at first, just to watch Tom from some distance away, but then it starts to sting not to have Tom look back at him, so he begins looking for places that Tom wouldn’t be able to see him from to pretend that it’s just a coincidental sort of disregarding, not that Tom has no clue that Greg is his friend.

He does start to worry, almost an hour into the masque, when he catches on that it seems like Shiv is also in places that Tom won’t happen to see her. It actually seems as if she is outright avoiding him, and Greg grudgingly works himself up to asking about it, after catching her slipping away a second time from a room that Tom happens to step into in an evident wander.

Shiv is easy to catch when she doesn’t know she needs to be watching, though it does mean blood wine nearly ends up down Greg’s black and gold vest. She lifts her unoccupied hand, palm up, in exasperation. “What the fuck, Greg?”

“What are you doing?” Greg says, then winces, as the question emerges a little more sharp than he intends, if not particularly as harshly as he means it. “You’re, like – you’re setting him up to fail.”

Shiv stares back for a pair of tense beats. “I am not,” she says, primly lying, as she takes a quick sip of her wine. “The point is for him to find me.”

“The point is for him to fall in l-love with you, again,” Greg says, clearing his throat, as his voice threatens to break around the reminder. “But he can’t like do that, if you’re totally avoiding him. The whole mask and spell apparatus is the finding part, not like, uh, like a really mean hide-and-seek.”

“He’ll find me if he’s meant to,” Shiv says, a marked tic in her jaw, as her eyes dart away and then back up. “Maybe he’s not meant to.”

Greg feels something lurch behind his sternum. It’s not a fresh memory, exactly, but Tom had made some roundabout… metaphor in a stressful moment that seemed like he was perhaps out of love with Shiv, but that’s not particularly the point at hand. “Do you seriously want him to die?” He asks, because it only really matters that Tom qualifies to be turned before it’s too late. “For Tom to get old, or just sick, and… he’ll just to be gone?”

“No, you dick, but – ” Shiv exhales a harsh breath and glances down with a quick sweep of her eyes on the other side of her mask. “I don’t need you to understand. Fuck off, Cousin Lurch.”

Greg crosses his arms, scratching at his elbows while he shakes his head. “I want to, actually, be-because I suspect that – ” He clears his throat, “I think you don’t even love him, do you?”

“Fuck you,” Shiv snarls, fangs briefly emerging from her gums in furor. “It’s not about love. You don’t fucking get it, do you? How when you turn someone you’re fucking conjoined to them; you’ve got this pulling thing hooked into your fucking soul like a leech.”

“It’s only until they’re… better, or whatever,” Greg says, hunching into his shoulders, as he looks around toward the rest of the party, though no one seems to be paying them much attention. “It never sounded that bad to me?”

“So do it yourself, then,” Shiv snaps, offering a goading jut of her chin. “Shocked that wasn’t your first instinct.”

“I can’t!” Greg says, hearing his voice pitch, tightening his hands around his elbows while feeling his own fangs threaten to rush his gums. “You know you’reTom’s only – ”

A familiar tut sets lifts hair at the back of Greg’s neck. “I hate to interrupt.”

Greg peeks over with a wince to find his mom loitering under a nearby painting.

“Were neither of you listening to my dad?” Marianne asks, typically sarcastic, scratching at the scarf she has tied around her neck in a gaudy crimson. “Or is it just totally wrong impression?”

Shiv rolls her lips tight together, turning them exceptionally pale. “This isn’t your business, Marianne.”

“He said…” Marianne continues, then trails off, as her eyes roll and she tuts, “Not to quote, because I wasn’t listening that close, but I know it was something like ‘should Thomas Wambsgans court an attendant of the masquerade, they may take him as mate’, right?”

Shiv shifts her jaw, then sends a sharp glance up at Greg, as if he’s got any control over his mom. “So?”

“So, Siobhan,” Marianne says, using her wine glass to gesture in a condescending circle between the three of them. “He didn’t say: ‘should Thomas Wambsgans court Siobhan Roy’ did he?”

Greg focuses briefly on Shiv, wetting his lips before looking back to Marianne.

“Hell, our Tommy could court…” Marianne pauses, again, eyes lifting with some too-obvious weight on Greg, then hums a pair of notes, lifting her thumb over her shoulder to wag at the milling party. “Any dolled-up fang, and they would be able turn him tomorrow morning under the decree.” She takes a sip, sucking at her teeth, unashamed about showing her fangs. “You two are still young, but the whole point of these stupid parties was to be a meat market that trapped members of royal families in mildly compatible matches and add their blood to the mix.”

Greg furrows his brow, then rolls his eyes over his mom’s head.

“And Dad would just love to piss off duplicitous Uncle Logan with a technicality,” Marianne says, then gestures with the glass at Shiv with a slight dip of her shoulder. “No offense, hun.”

Shiv sneers while she takes a sip from her own glass.

Greg weakly cocks his head, because… that’s true, except Grandpa Ewan is also steadfast when it comes to digging in his heels to disappoint everyone. He chews at his lower lip, not particularly comforted, but that is fairly typical for getting advice from his mom.

“Now don’t get me wrong,” Marianne says, as her eyes settle and narrow toward Shiv. “I don’t think anyone will especially approve that you brought a potential this far into the fold only to turn chicken.”

“It’s not like I just – ” Shiv all but growls, then visibly swallows, jaw tightening beneath her mask. “That isn’t what happened.”

“Uh-huh. The whole kit and kaboodle isn’t for everyone, obviously,” Marianne says, gesturing at herself while rolling her head back and forth, then exhaling an ugly snort with a short lean forward. “Hell, I’ve heard a lot of stories out of the last year – very surprised m’ athair got the invitation to this masque.”

Greg feels a tightening in his shoulders. “Mom, shut up.”

“I’m just saying that a lot of trying got us to this point, so clearly there’s some forces here that want Tom in the cauldron, alright?” Marianne says, as she takes a step out of their small circle. She gestures away, down the hall beyond the milling guests. “Now, I’m off to go eat my ego and try to convince daddy dearest that changing some parameters here is his idea. You better thank me,little cousin.”

Shiv peeks up at Greg, then focuses hard on Marianne, defiantly cocking her chin. “I will when it happens.”

“Oh, ever the doubter,” Marianne says, as she turns away with a lofty scoff. “Tata.”

Shiv throws back the rest of her wine, then looks up at Greg. “Now you just need to find him someone he could want,” she says, tone rolling in a mocking lilt around the words. “How very convenient for you.”

“Me?” Greg says, hearing temper flare in his voice, ugly from the back of his throat.

Shiv narrows her eyes, staring back for a solid beat, then seems to literally swallow her words, as she shifts a long look to Greg’s right arm. She eventually exhales a sigh, as her shoulders roll back to square. “Yeah, Greg. You.” She throws her hair across her shoulder with a low, embittered laugh. “You’re the one… who cares so much.”

“But I can’t – ” Greg shakes his head, lifting a hand, and nearly knocks his mask off when he unthinkingly attempts to run his fingers through his hair. “I don’t want to set him up with anyone else.”

“Other than me?” Shiv says, flatly, while her mouth lifts in a crooked sneer. “Right?”

Greg wets his lips, feeling his gut clench. “Yeah, uh -yeah, obviously, I meant you.”

Shiv is predictably the first between them to lose her patience. “Are we seriously going to fucking do this, Greg?”

“I guess?” Greg stiffly resettles his mask against his nose with a shrug. “I can’t like imagine to what it is you’re addressing.”

“Oh, you can’t?” Shiv sneers, voice lifting mockingly, as she leans forward on the balls of her feet. “That’s a load of bull. Look at what you’re wearing, Greg.”

“Okay, maybe, but not like…” Greg clears his throat, lifting his nose a little while chewing at the inside of his lip. “You know, like you brought a concubine to your commitment ceremony, anyway, making you seem like not particularly committed.”

“A concubine?” Shiv repeats, while fangs frame a sharp upturn of a hostile smile. “You’re barely three hundred, you don’t know what the fuck a concubine is.”

Greg drops his chin. “I obviously do, because – ”

A throat clears. “Excuse me, gentleman and lady?”

Greg stumbles forward and nearly straight into Shiv, who offers a small, shocked yelp, hands lifting up in his direction with a wide, startled expression flashing across her face. He makes sure his mask is straight, as he looks back, seeing Tom looking bemused between them.

“Are you two in the middle of – ?”

“Cousins!” Greg interrupts, tightly, shaking his head and briefly catching an aghast grimace beside him. “We’re just cousins. The, uh – the totally non-kissing kind.”

Shiv exhales an exaggerated gag. “What the fuck, Greg.”

“Glad to hear it,” Tom says, brightly and bewilderingly, then thrusts out a hand, first to Greg, then to Shiv, nodding between them with a friendly, polite sort of smile. It is odd to be on the other side of it, since this isn’t really an expression Greg gets very often, or ever, and a glance over confirms that Shiv is just as discomforted by it. “Nice to meet you. I’m Tom Wa – Or, just Tom, right? No surnames.”

Greg nods with a weak hum to echo the sentiment. He is very quickly confirming that he doesn’t particularly like Tom not recognizing him; it’s been two blatant missed opportunities for heckling, and the air feels a little empty for it.

“I just have been seeing you around, actually, and I want – ” Tom pauses, oddly shaking his head. “I wanted to – ” He abruptly inhales a sharp breath, interrupting himself while lifting a hand to his forehead in evident pain. “Fuck.”

“Tom?” Greg says, feeling his voice pitch tight against the back of his throat. He can’t remember Grandpa Ewan mentioning any side effects, but no one really tends to pay attention to how magic affects mortals.

“Is your head okay?” Shiv demands, her voice rising urgently between them.

“Sorry, hah,” Tom says, voice tight, as he stiffly attempts to dismiss the question. “I’ve had this little ache starting up since I got here, but it’s nothing.”

“Does it feel like you’re having a stroke?” Shiv asks, tensely, as she lifts her empty wine glass and curls close to her chest. “Or is it more like a migraine?”

“O-or an aneurysm?” Greg says, flapping his hands up near his own head with a high lift of his arms crooked at the elbow. “Like, your head is actively exploding?”

Tom glances between blinks to Greg and Shiv, slowly pulling his hand from his brow. He offers a crooked, bemused smirk. “I really think it’s just that purple liquor, but I’m… flattered at the concern.”

“Sure,” Shiv says, reaching up and scratching at her brow. She looks at Tom for a beat longer, then back to Greg, expression tightening and conflicted, then it smooths out. “Fuck, Greg, I – ” She shakes her head, as she takes a step away, plainly again hesitating on her heel, but eventually does take a full stride away.

Greg slowly, carefully looks back at Tom, only to see he’s staring at him, rather than at Shiv’s retreating back. He blinks and feels his face color, scratching at the base of his jaw. “I’m, uh – I’m sorry? Did you… were you trying to ask to dance with her?”

“Not quite…” Tom winces, making a toothy, near-parody of a grimace, before he peeks back up as his lips shift into grin. “Actually, I was talking to you.”

Greg stares back for a pair of beats, feeling heat prickle more sharply under the mask. “You were?”

“Is that okay?” Tom asks, raising the brow not behind his mask, seeming more wry than particularly concerned.

“Yeah? Y-Yes,” Greg says, exhaling a brief stutter. “Of course, that’s – ” He should like probably chase Shiv back down, but… Tom is looking at him. Just him. “Yeah. It’s totally fine.”

Tom stares for a markedly charged beat, then his head tilts, as he wets his lips. “You still haven’t told me your name?”

“Oh, sorry,” Greg says, sweeping his hair awkwardly across his ear. “Greg?”

“Greg,” Tom repeats, in a fond, familiar sort of lilt – and a bit of a shock, since he’s not supposed to remember him. “As in Gregory, then? Suits you.”

“Does it?” Greg says, lifting his brows, as he looks away with a jerk of a nod. “I-I mean, thanks.”

The main ballroom swells with music, as they approach, and is filled with dancers of varying talent; slow and clumsy, to quick and spinning. It’s a comfort not to feel pressure to perform well, since Greg isn’t a hugely talented dancer, despite the cauldron’s best efforts through exposure, and Tom can’t remember that means he has had centuries to fail to practice.

“Would you like to – ?” Tom gestures his hands in a position further up than expected.

“No, no… Um, you can lead,” Greg says, hesitantly reaching out to wrap his hand at Tom’s shoulder.

“I thought so,” Tom says, breezy yet pointed, while he tips his head with a marked smirk. His hand settles solid and wide against Greg’s ribs, holding there in a way far different from the usual poke and prods he affords in general. “You look like you prefer to ask where to point.”

“Hah,” Greg mutters, rolling his lips together with a jerky nod. He feels something unspool beneath his ribs, as he realizes it’s definitely Tom underneath all the polite action. He is, briefly, a bit irked that he’s never really experienced polite Tom before; he definitely should have been given the opportunity the first time, but it… is what it is, and sometimes the deep end is the best place to fall.

“The costume really flatters you, Greg,” Tom says, voice low, in plainly some, fairly successful, attempt to flatter, as they begin to move with the music. It’s as close as they’ve ever been without some pretense, so distracting and unexpected, and the degree of their touch almost, somehow makes Tom hard to hear. “I don’t mean the mask. The brocade here… it was a superb choice – it’s like we came all ready to match.”

“Oh yeah, I know,” Greg says, absently, as they glide and step around other dancers, only to quickly find himself stiffening under a dubious stare. “I – I mean, thanks, but I didn’t actually pick it out? I’m mostly ever worried stuff won’t fit.”

Tom narrows an eye. “Your date?”

“No,” Greg says, shaking his head, feeling a harsh croak at the edge of his voice. “No date.”

“Just making sure,” Tom says, quirking a brow, then he tips his head, as he glances around them at the rest of the dance floor. “You’ve been talking to a lot of pretty masks tonight.”

Greg feels his face color, again, and worries he’s going to have to find somewhere to feed at the waste of energy. “I guess… you know, it’s important to blend in.”

“It’s definitely a formal fucking event, like playacting one of the paintings in this badly decorated museum,” Tom muses, as the music slows, prompting them to move slower and somehow closer, as piano gradually swells around them. “But you agreed to a dance with me, didn’t you?”

Greg offers a small lift of his shoulder. “You’re pretty, too,” he mumbles, then immediately wants to swallow his tongue. “I-I mean… You’re handsome? From, uh – from what I can see.”

“I’ll take either,” Tom says, smirking, as he offers a cocky tilt of his head.

The song blurs into another, and they keep going, easing Greg into some space where he can pretend the masque is going well, rather than having totally fallen apart. He catches Roman and Connor at the edge of the floor, but ignores them, turning his head while instead concentrating on counting the warm puffs of breath across his neck. He can imagine that it’s actually going to work out, standing so close, hands clasped together, like it was supposed to turn out this way.

The tactic doesn’t quite work for long, as his thoughts regroup to form another attack. What if Tom gets pissed? It would be okay, maybe, if he wasn’t going to remember tomorrow. It’s not a lot of time to come up with an excuse for what’s happening that doesn’t just make it more obvious that Greg leapt at the chance to essentially ruin Tom’s chances at becoming part of the cauldron.

“Hey,” Tom says, as his hand lifts across the back of Greg’s shoulder with a squeeze. The music around them is fading quickly, and his voice is consequently barely a mutter, as he lifts his chin to speak in Greg’s ear. “You need a breather, there?”

Greg feels a bit like that’s giving up, but he manages a jerking nod. He looks down, when Tom tugs him by the hands they had been holding to dance, and sees Tom’s is squarer than his, but just as large, and realizes with a hard swallow that he’s got a lot of thoughts racing that he’s been trying to avoid.

It turns out that Tom had actually meant air, not simply stopping their dance, as he leads Greg out onto a stone patio. He even takes a deep breath of the cool air, remarkably literal, as he lets go of Greg to lean on a stone half wall.

Greg stares at Tom’s back, rubbing absently at the lingering warmth in his hand. He lets his eyes trace across Tom’s broad shoulders, then down the seam of the jacket to his waist. It feels a little more lecherous than it normally might, more one-sided, since Tom would usually look back, then they’d both look away and pretend they hadn’t shared a thing.

“This is going to make me sound like some hopped up stalker,” Tom says, after a few moments of staring out across the green; he doesn’t see it though, it’s just dark for him, and now always will be, which feels like another point of failure. “Or a fucking moron addled by romance novels, but I… I’ve been drawn to you all night. Like a super powered magnet.”

Greg feels his jaw actually drop somewhat open. “You have?”

Tom hums a low confirmation, then he turns around to face Greg with an exaggerated, puffing sigh. “But maybe you’re just that tall.”

“Hah,” Greg mutters, dropping his head with a weak tilt of his chin. “Maybe.”

“Honestly, though,” Tom says, stepping closer, pushing away from the wall with a frustrated gesture of both his hands. “It was like my eyes went right to you whenever we were in the same room.”

“Oh, I – ” Greg shakes his head, but he really can’t remember Tom looking back at him. “I didn’t notice?”

“I hoped you wouldn’t,” Tom says, mouth flattening, as he offers a dismissive, flapping gesture. “It was…” He laughs, low, “It made my head hurt just a little. Literally.”

“I thought it – ” Greg takes a frustrated breath, as he shakes his head. “You said that was the, like – the plum wine?”

“I haven’t had that much,” Tom says, really seeming not to care enough, though he might if he knew about the spell. “But I really don’t think it’s a fucking aneurysm. I just keep… thinking about Romans, for some reason, as in the emperors.”

Greg briefly forgets about his own concern, as a croak of a laugh escapes him. “Really?”

Tom hums a confirmation. “Did you know the emperor Nero had a legion of men over 6 foot?”

“No,” Greg says, shaking his head while biting at his lower lip. He wonders if Tom had been saving that up and has accidentally just ruined it for himself. “I thought Romans were… sort of short?”

“They were a bit prejudiced when they were writing about Gauls, yes,” Tom muses, rolling his head back and forth, as a familiar condescending sort of smirk curves his mouth. “But Nero is a hundred years after Caesar kicked them hard.”

“Right,” Greg says, nodding with a weak lift of a shoulder. “I, uh… I really only know the history I live through.”

“That’s a pretty narrow window, bud,” Tom says, raising a brow, as he offers a plainly judgmental tilt of his chin.

Greg feels a wry smirk pull at the edge of his mouth. “…Sort of, yeah. But it’s getting wider.”

Tom holds his dubious expression for a beat, then breaks into a laugh with a shake of his head.

Greg can’t help when the smile grows wide and unwieldy across his lips.

“Look,” Tom says, taking a step back, then forward, lifting a hand oddly across his chest with a short lean into it. “You can take it or leave it, but I feel like I’ve got…” He exhales a weak puff, dragging his teeth hard across his lip. “I have to ask if you’ll take the stupid thing I’m supposed to give to someone I like, as if this is some rose exchange in middle school.”

Greg feels his expression collapse with surprise, hurriedly closing his mouth before his instinctually erupting fangs are visible along his smallteeth. He can’t help but think that it’s only been a dance and a conversation to Tom, and barely that, yet he already wants to exchange tokens? Greg isn’t sure if that … Is that normal? It can’t be.

“I know, I know, it sounds like I’m taking the cart here, and the rules said at midnight, yadda yadda,” Tom says, pacing a few steps one way down the patio, then turning and walking back, his hands spinning between them in a fussy gesture. “But I already know you’re the only could-be I’ve met tonight that I want to see again.”

Greg wets his lower lip, offering a weak turn of his head. “Are you sure?”

“I am,” Tom says, a sincere, tight sort of smile pinching at his mouth. “I really am, but… My ego can take it, if you want to do a little more looking.”

“I don’t, really,” Greg admits, scratching hard, then yanking into the small hairs on the back of his neck. “An-and I do feel the same, really, about like knowing you and looking at you, but… It’s just, uh… It’s complicated?” He shakes his head, slumping down onto a stone bench that the night makes cold through his thin trousers. “I didn’t even… I didn’t think I’d meet anyone.”

“Look, how about – ” Tom kneels down, which is absolutely awful, and then he makes it worse by pulling the actual tokenout of his inner jacket pocket. “We just do it, then figure it out later?”

“I – I don’t have a – ” Greg gestures, at a loss, as he stares at the bracelet with a tightness growing at the back of his throat.

Tom spins the bracelet around his fingers. “You really didn’t expect to meet anyone tonight? You’re hardly ugly, Greg. I can’t see enough of your face, but I think you’re probably put together just perfect.”

Greg bobs his head while he exhales a weak croak to clear his voice. “Okay, uh-uhm – ?” He lifts a hand, clumsily tugging at the pins holding the chain across his shirt collar. He looks down at the antlers, then up, offering them. “Is this okay?”

“Only if you’re willing to part with it,” Tom says, quiet and sincere, then he breaks the tension with a small snort. “Those’re definitely more your style.”

Greg answers with a weak huff. He only has them because of Tom, who he had been shopping with when he had seen a similar set in a display apart from the other jewelry. He had been interested, but concerned they were silver, so waved off the offer to pull them from the case; he’d gotten a surprise weeks later, when Tom presented him a near identical set cast in platinum.

He weaves the antlers between the chain and leaves them bound at Tom’s wrist. The points dig into his skin, leaving little rosy scratches of pressure, but Tom doesn’t seem to notice. “You can give them back.”

“Sure, I can,” Tom says, then he wets his lips, as he seems to hesitate with the token in his hand. He narrows his eyes at it, then throws it onto the bench. “You know what? I hate that.”

“Um?” Greg says, staring at the bracelet on the bench.

“If we’re using whatever, you can take this,” Tom says, as he begins to pull at his cravat, yanking it from his throat and leaving it somewhat indecently exposed for company. Of Greg. “A traditional sort of thing, like a knightly favor. I can’t even remember why I have that… bracelet.”

“Oh,” Greg intones, nodding in a jerky drop of his chin.

“No, no – Up,” Tom says, as he shakes out the cravat, only to just as quickly twist it back up. “You’re looking naked now.”

Greg slowly tilts his head back, anxiously wondering if he can have a heart attack, because it feels like it’s making a go for crawling up his throat. The feeling becomes especially bad when Tom straightens his shirt, as he ties the silk around it, because it feels… just like it had earlier in the night when he straightened the antlers.

“That’s funny,” Tom says, quietly, as he finishes tying the knot.

Greg hums a confused note.

“I thought it was just your hands, but you run pretty cold,” Tom says, as his knuckles gently press against Greg’s jaw, swiping up to the point of his chin. “Are you chilly?”

Greg feels his eyes widen. “Uh – ?” He slowly drops his head, wincing while he looks into Tom’s openly curious face, as he fails to come up with an excuse. He finds himself swallowing hard, thud getting worse, then he leans in and clumsily presses his mouth to Tom’s before he can think any more about it.

Tom inhales deep, pushing back with a rock forward on the balls of his feet. He seems to nearly lose his balance, as well, hand flattening on the bench beside Greg, while the other that had previously been across Greg’s jaw settles heavily onto his neck. He turns his head, seeming to try to deepen the kiss, mouth opening in a gasp between them, only for their masks to clatter together with dull thunks of leather and metal.

Greg pulls away with a small duck of his head, a flush in his face that’s probably the worst he’s ever had it.

“God, these things really get in the way, don’t they?” Tom says, reaching up and knocking a pair of knuckles against the cheek of his own. He stands from the ground, shaking out his hands with a shuttering sort of a laugh. “I’m glad to have met you and all, Greg, but I must have been real lonely and schnookered to sign up for this costume party.”

Tom jolts awake to a sharp series of honk from a car outside the window and covers his face with a groan, only to feel a dragging weight across his wrist. He peeks open his eyes, staring blearily at a pair of familiar platinum antlers locked across their chain. “Oh,” he chokes, shoving himself up on the mattress in a fumbling hurry. “Shit. Shit.”

The hazy memory filters in and what happened, how it happened, is all good, in a way – maybe even edging into great – but it’s so totally fucked. He let his heart get in the way of a plan he’s suffered and bled over for half a decade; how goddamn romantic.

He slumps back, playing with the chain, and manages somehow not to immediately reach for his phone. It eventually rings, anyway, as he’s spiraling with his eyes following the spinning ceiling fan, and it nearly startles him into the other side of the bed.

“Thomas,” greets an aged voice, once the line connects, tinged with ever-present gripe.

“Sir,” Tom says, closing his eyes for a few beats; evidently, his failure is worthy of a personal boast from the great hermit himself. “Good morning.”

Ewan grumbles out a rasping sigh. “Congratulations. I have been…” He pauses, exhaling another lengthy breath. “Convinced that you’ve passed.”

Tom peeks up at the shifting shadows of the curtains and the fanblades. …He what? Wait, does that mean he’s –

“I do not envy your position,” Ewan continues, “Gregory is not particularly… accountable, so you will likely have to be very explicit with him during the acclimation period if you want your needs met.”

Tom covers his face with a hand, breathing hard into his palm, then cracks his fingers open across his mouth. He’s pretty sure his smile would put the Joker to shame. “Shouldn’t be any trouble.”

“I’ve been convinced of that, as well,” Ewan says, in a way that might be wry, if it contained any particular humor.

Tom taps his fingers heavily against the side of his cheek. “Could I risk it all by asking why the special case?”

“No special cases,” Ewan says, sternly, setting hair up on the back of Tom’s neck from miles away. “The masque was used this way for centuries, not wasted on a single potential.” His voice resettles into an apathetic note. “And Marianne is to be head of the family, eventually, she’ll need backing unrelated to my brother, when the time comes.”

Tom raises brows with a bitten back choke of laughter. He thinks Logan must love that succession plan, after spending centuries grooming his own spawn. “I can… understand that position.”

“Good,” Ewan says, decisive, “She will also schedule and handle your conversion.”

Tom thinks he hears a protest in the background, just before the line goes dead, which explains a lot – he’s a test in responsibility, how fun. He’ll be shocked if the upcoming most-painful-experience-of-his-life-bordering-on-actual-death is any more formal than her showing up at the door with Greg at some random time between today and two months from now.

He rolls the phone in his hand, then tosses it up, grabbing it, and switching between apps until he finds the right name to tap. The phone rings in his ear far longer than usual, and that’s to be expected, but it finally connects on what must be the final ring.

“Gregory, hello there,” Tom says, raising his voice over a familiar mumble attempting to greet him down the line. “Tell me, did I suffer a wet dream, or did you really kiss me like a damsel under the moonlight?”

“Um, I…” Greg sighs, and it’s too easy to imagine his conflicted expression while he weighs his options. “It was a new moon?”

Tom exhales a quiet laugh through his nose.

Greg continues to hem and haw, to some concerning degree. “Sorry.”

“Are you?” Tom asks, pitching his voice in a taunt, trying to cover the small lurch in his gut.

“Yeah? I… I want you to be one of us, too, but I –” Greg exhales, rasping and harsh, down the line. “I didn’t try hard enough to…” He pauses, again, then clears his throat. “To shift your, uh – your amorous attention.”

Tom shoulders the phone, looking down and toying with the chain at his wrist. “Have you talked to your esteemed head of bloodsucking bastards?”

Greg is quiet for a beat. “Like, ever?”

“Like today,” Tom says, rubbing hard between his brows.

“Oh,” Greg intones, then clears his throat, preemptively weedy in the act. “No. My mom said she would. I-I don’t think he’s… he’ll really care about what I have to say? I can try, though – I should try, I mean. Yeah.”

Tom can hear the same note that Greg had in his voice last night, as he’d put the chain around his wrist. “I’m getting offended by how much you sound like the world is ending, bud,” he says, quirking a brow with a short click of his tongue. He knows Greg kissed first last night, which is doing a lot to bolster. “Was it that bad last night?”

“No, Tom, but if you’d… You know, pursued Shiv, then it wouldn’t matter, because after the setting period, we’d – ” Greg stutters into a pause, somewhat hissing into the receiver. “We could’ve probably worked it out sometime in… you know, essentially forever, but you didn’t, an-and now…”

Tom scrubs his face and is astonished how Greg can be both naïve and an absolute viper at the same time.

“Shiv was… really lame, too,” Greg continues, low and as derisive as he ever gets, being an enormous, centuries-old killing machine ever concerned someone might overhear him being unkind. “She likes you, she said, but she couldn’t do it. She said it would be – be like, a suckling on her soul, or something, like she was scared of having a mate like that. She didn’t even want to give you a chance.”

Tom drags his lip harsh against his teeth, a bit stung, a bit annoyed, too, but not exactly surprised. “Would you?”

Greg is quiet a few beats, then exhales a sullen, offended grumble. “I gave you a token.”

“And…” Tom says, slowly, dropping his voice into what he likes to think is a fairly friendly sort of patronizing developed just for Greg. “I didn’t give Shiv a second glance when you were standing next to her.”

Greg is quiet for a few seconds. “I guess.”

“Honestly, I…” Tom shakes the chain back around his wrist with a tut. “I think Shiv and I might like each other about the same.” He rolls his eyes across the room to the door, then over toward the window, exhaling a humorless laugh. “We don’t even sleep in the same room, anymore. It was iffy that we even applied for the masque.”

Greg mutters something tiny and unintelligible down the line, but it sounds a little derisive.

“But I’m ecstatic to hear you’re not wary of having a suckling babe on your soul,” Tom says, spinning the antlers around his wrist, delicately trying to unwrap them without further turning his skin patchwork or bending a delicate chainlink. “Because I have spoken the grand poobah treant – I passed.”

“Y-You did?” Greg says, voice pitching through the speaker, plainly blindsided by the news.

“He also implied it was mostly so I could white knight your mother, but that’s…” Tom feels a wide grimace pull at his mouth. “Pretty far out, one can hope.”

“No, but he – ” Greg exhales a breathy, hitched laugh. “Like, with me?”

“Yes, Gregory,” Tom says, leaning his head up and wedging his forearm against the pillow beneath it.

“I, like – I’ve never totally drained anyone,” Greg says, in a quiet, thoughtful mutter. His voice pitches, “What if I can’t stop… What if I like kill you?”

Tom rolls his eyes, as a bark of laughter edges around his voice. “Could we have a single good thought this morning?”

“…Sorry.”

#tomgreg #i stole the memory loss premise from a reaper76 fic so credit to that #this is so random but ive been working on it a while so now you all suffer

127 notes · View notes

fangirlingfromdownunder · 1 year

Text

Late Night Comfort

Summary - Part 6 in the Comfort series

Pairing - Dean Winchester x Reader, Reader x Sam (platonic)

Warnings - mentions of periods, nausea, smut, mild swearing

Word Count: 1806

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

A/N - G’day guys, I just wanna start by thanking you for all the likes, reblogs and follows since my last post, I really appreciate it. I hope you like this one too. This one gets a little emotional, I literally cried while writing it. And remember my inbox is always open for requests or even if you just wanna chat. Until next week, enjoy!

You wake up to an empty bed, and a spread of crackers, soup and an electrolyte drink on your nightstand. As you slowly try to fill your stomach your mind drifts back to when Dean was holding you and feeding you this same meal just days ago. You reach for your phone and call your caring, green-eyed fiancé to thank him for the meal; he answers on the second ring.

“Hey baby, where are you?”

“Just out … I thought I’d uh give you some space. But uh, make sure you eat and drink as much as you can. I’ll come back soon and pick you up and we can hit the road again,” he says before hanging up.

You really were pushing him away, you wonder just how long before he leaves you completely.

What if he asks me to move out of the bunker? Where would I go? I’d literally be barefoot, potentially pregnant and on the street with all the evil. At least if grief doesn’t kill me something else will. I wouldn’t suffer long.

It’s not long before Dean walks in, interrupting the voice in your head. He notices you’ve barely touched the food or drink and almost slips onto the bed beside you, but he stops himself a few steps short.

“You ready to go?”

You look down at the food and drink in your lap hoping he’ll take the hint and come and hold you like the other day, but when he stays put you just nod and move it all back to the nightstand.

“Where’s Sam?”

“Waiting in the car. Get dressed and you can meet us out there, and you’re riding shotgun so I can keep an eye on you. You can push me away all you want and I promise I’ll try to stop being so smothering, but you can’t ask me to stop worrying about you.”

You look up just in time to see his red-rimmed eyes before he turns around and walks outside. Leaving you naked, nauseous and alone in the cold room. You quickly stand up and get dressed, grabbing the drink and crackers along with your bag before leaving.

You curl up and lean against the window, cradling the drink and crackers in your lap as you let the classic rock music and steady purr of the engine wash over you for the next few hours. You keep your eyes fixed on the road ahead of you, not daring to look at your concerned fiancé. But you can feel him looking at you every so often, but he never makes a move to touch you.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

It’s well after dark when Dean finally parks the car in the bunker’s garage. You’re slow to get out, stretching every one of your stiff, sore muscles as you do. You toss the empty packet and bottle in the bin as you pass, moving to your and Dean’s room. You almost stop a door short debating whether to sleep alone. But you can’t pass up the comfort of having the older hunter beside you, even if he refuses to cuddle. When he joins you in your room moments later the tension in the air is thick. You can tell there’s so much he wants to say but like you, he’s too scared to open his mouth.

You turn to grab one of his flannels and a clean pair of underwear from the drawers when he finally breaks the silence. “Please, just tell me where I went wrong?”

Your heart sinks at his words. Dropping the clothes you rush over to him with tears in your eyes, taking his hands in yours. “Nothing, nowhere, baby.”

“Really? Because you can barely look at me anymore, let alone talk to me. I had to all but beg you to touch me. I know I suck at the dating thing, and I’m obviously even worse at the fiancé thing. Just tell me what to do. Please … please just tell me how to fix it.”

Tears fall down both of your cheeks. “You can’t …” As the words leave your mouth he tries to pull away but you tighten your grip. “You can’t fix it because you didn’t break us … I did. I’ve been so scared of losing you that I didn’t realise how much I’ve actually been pushing you away.” You lead him towards the bed urging him to take a seat beside you. You turn to face him as he follows you, never letting his hands out of yours.

Unsure how else to fix the rift growing between you, you breathe out, “I think I’m pregnant.”

Dean looks up at you but stays silent, giving you a chance to elaborate.

“I’ve had this feeling for a while now, and then the morning sickness started, and the mood swings … and I am just so scared, Dean. I don’t know what to do. I’m not ready and I don’t want to trap you into something you don’t want …”

“Trap me?” He can’t stop himself from pulling you into his lap, his hands wiping away your tears as they continue to fall. “No, sweetheart, a baby would be a blessing, not a trap. Sure it’s sooner than expected but it’s on the path we planned to follow eventually anyway, right?”

“I don’t even know for sure. I mean, I haven’t tested or anything, it’s just a hunch.”

“Well, how about we do that first thing in the morning then? Once we know for sure, we can start moving forward accordingly.”

You nod and Dean picks you up and carries you into the bathroom. He sits you on the counter while he moves swiftly around the room running a bubble bath. Once the tub’s almost full he helps you strip before setting you down in the water. You watch as he strips himself and slots in behind you. You just sit there enjoying the warmth and comfort in silence for a while, until Dean breaks it quietly.

“How long have you known, or suspected?”

“A few weeks.”

“Before I proposed?”

You nod as you play with his fingers under the water.

“We talked for hours that night, we even talked about children and our future. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I … I guess I was just scared. I didn’t know for sure, I still don’t. And I was really enjoying the night and your company and I didn’t want to ruin it. In hindsight, if I did, you probably wouldn’t have proposed.”

“I disagree. I think I would have. It just would have given me even more reason to.”

“You would have done it for the wrong reasons. You would have done it out of duty.”

“I would have done it because I love you. The same reason I did do it.”

You turn around in the tub, straddling your fiancé’s sexy bow legs. You bring your lips to his as your hands roam his body from his head to his waist, his hands doing the same to you. You make out until the water starts to feel cold against your skin, and then Dean lifts you out and carries you back to bed, your legs wrapped around his waist. Your bodies barely separate as he lays you both down on the soft memory foam mattress. His lips start to explore your neck searching for your sweet spot as you grind your hips against him. When he sucks the skin right below your ear you let out a moan, causing him to suck harder and rut his hips against yours.

He whispers a groan by your ear, “I’ve missed you, baby. I’ve missed this. You’re so perfect.”

He continues his journey down your body, leaving wet kisses along the way: over your chest, paying special attention to your tender breasts before moving down your stomach and hips, he skips over the place you want the most and trails down the inside of your thighs, calves and even your feet before moving back up to your throbbing core. He leaves a few tender kisses there before moving back to your lips.

“I love every inch of your body, you’re so beautiful and perfect. And you taste amazing! I still can’t believe you’re mine,” he says as he reaches for the nightstand drawer blindly. You run your hand along his arm bringing it back to your body.

“I’m pretty sure it’s too late for that. I just want to feel all of you tonight, Dean. I need to feel you.”

He leans down and catches your lips in a deep kiss and he reaches down and lines himself up and smoothly enters you in one move. You let out a low moan against each other’s lips as he starts to move. You both know this won’t last long; it’s been too long.

It’s not like anything you’ve ever shared before: it’s slow and tender and each movement is filled with all the love and devotion you feel for each other. You’ve never felt so in love or connected to the man above you.

After a while, his movements start to stutter. “Come on, baby, I need you to cum with me.”

You let go at his words, letting the waves of pleasure wash over you as he rides you through it before joining you. You’re not used to the sensation of him exploding inside you like this, the only other time it’s ever happened you were too drunk to remember it, but you know you’ll never forget tonight. When his hips come to a stop he rolls you both over, laying you on his chest as you catch your breath. Feeling fully content you drift off to sleep in his arms.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You wake up naked in Dean’s arms. You glance up at his sleeping features as you reminisce on the passionate night you shared. And for the first time in years, you actually let yourself believe that everything is gonna be alright. No matter what curve balls life throws at you, you know you and Dean will catch them and ride them out together.

After a while, you start to leave kisses along his chest causing him to stir. “Good morning, beautiful,” he says without opening his eyes. “Are you angling for a round two? Or are you gonna let me take you out for breakfast?”

“This feels like Deja Vu… except this time the answer is yes.”

“To which option?”

“Both?”

“That’s the perfect answer, let’s take a shower and then we can head out.”

“Perfect.”

Dean kisses the top of your head before tilting your face so your lips meet his. He lifts you swiftly, his lips barely leaving yours as he carries you into the shower, your legs wrapping tightly around his waist.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Tag list: (Leave a like or comment on this post or let me know below if you want to be added to the tag list for this series)

@bitchwitch1981, @muhahaha303, @justrealizedimmascifygurl, @mcdowell-123, @leigh70, @marvelsmarauder, @losa12308

#dean winchester x reader #dean x you #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fluff

159 notes · View notes

xerith-42 · 4 months

Note

Hello, you were open to asks right ? Do you have any head cannons about Shad and the shadow knights or how the Nether can affect the beings living in it ?

Obligatory reminder that I'm going to make it a habit to rename Shad to Araphel in all my posts until I don't have to put this reminder here.

I already touched on a few of my Araphel specific headcanons before (though there will be more), and I've made quite a few posts about Shadow Knights. The Nether on the other hand--

So obviously MCD was made long before the ever important Nether Update, but I think we should incorporate that into our ideas of this series. I'm just saying that a Bastion would be even more absolutely terrifying if the mfs hunting you in there were vicious Shadow Knights with a taste for blood that hasn't been satiated in Irene knows how long.

Warped forests are the most relaxing biome of the Nether, the colors of it often being a relaxing presence for Shadow Knights. Basalts are the worst to navigate, and even if they're immortal, dragging yourself out of a pool of lava you got concussed falling into because you made a single misstep just sucks no matter what.

Also, Shadow Knights aren't the only creatures of the Nether. Obviously I want all the Nether creatures that are there to be there, though I'd take Enderman out of Warped Forests and make Piglins a sort of shadow variant that makes it clear they were a race that existed in the Nether before, but Araphel's influence spreads like a plague. I think Wither Skeletons totally fit the vibe, I could see them just being the reanimated and smashed together bones of those who have fallen in the Nether but weren't worthy of becoming a Shadow Knight.

I think that Shadow Knights are adapted to live in the Nether. They're designed to sustain constant heat that's mostly dry (so living in Southern Arizona), and not much else. This means that the cold has a much more severe impact on them, and they really don't do well when it gets humid, girls are not built to sweat it feels so weird on their fucked up skin.

And there's those Shadow Souls! Those are a thing Jess wrote into the series! I think they're like the lost souls of those who died in the Nether who want to find bodies so they can become Shadow Knights...? Hold on Imma check the wiki.

Okay I was close, they're Shadow Knights who lost their physical forms and seek out a new host which... How does a Shadow Knight lose their physical form? Great question! I'd like to know the answer too! The solution to this problem is that they're both of the definitions I put above. I think they're great and totally seem like something Araphel would enjoy watching the pitiful existence of.

Because that's all the Nether really is to him. Another part of his game with Irene. Another playing field, an empty worthless world full of life that is only good to kill, maim, or take as his own for those same purposes. The life of the Nether never had a chance to fight against Araphel. Once he was able to return to partial power there was nothing that could stop him from spreading his miserable influence to the rest of this wretched realm. It's not like it was doing anything good to begin with.

I think the being known as Araphel that currently lives in the Nether is removed from the physical body he once inhabited, instead just being the worst parts of his soul banished. When Irene banished him she, and I quote "Shattered his relic". The relic is tied to the divine warrior in a very direct way, so I'd like to think that when his relic shattered, so did Araphel's soul. The better parts of his soul managed to find one another, refine, and reincarnate. Eventually.

The soul that lives in the Nether is the embodiment of his hatred, his jealousy, his rage, his resentment, all of the worst parts of his being condensed into a single irradiated spectre that refuses to rest. It seeks out the other parts of its soul, he seeks to be whole again. If Araphel can reform his soul and get his hands on that relic, then it's all over for anyone who dared to stand in his way.

When he wasn't in this miserable state, Araphel was once a man worth loving. He was known as the destroyer, but those he destroyed were those who threatened his loved ones. He destroyed tyrants, those who would abuse their rule, those who would harm his friends, and he would show no mercy to any being foolish enough to even think of laying a hand on Irene.

He had a rather dry sense of humor, one that bounced off of Kul'zak's endless ramblings and Menphina's sarcasm very well. He often sat with them in their little meadow, lamenting his woes of missing Irene while she was off saving more lives that he couldn't care less about. Araphel was the first to become disillusioned with humanity entirely, the near immortality of the relic weighing him down constantly. It was only a few years after he got it that he came to the conclusion only other relic holders could understand him.

The only reason that changed was when he got a whiff of betrayal. When he realized that something was wrong with how long Kul'zak and Enki had been gone, how Menphina was suddenly nowhere to be found despite eagerly answering his requests to see one another before. It was then that he retreated to the forest by O'Khasis with a mortal woman who held similarities to him. He wanted their descendants to look as much like him as possible.

He got his wish.

#text post #minecraft diaries #aphblr #aphverse #mcd headcanons #shad the destroyer #irene the matron #the nether #shadow knights #divine warriors #ask answered #queued post

23 notes · View notes

skhardwarevers1 · 3 months

Text

Okay I know I just went over this earlier and a did make a tutorial on TikTok but I feel like saying it here,

burning CDS is easy as FUCK

Or, a little explanation on how I make custom CDs

disclaimer: I use windows so if you use anything else I’m so sorry

I’ll add pictures to go along with this later!!!

things you absolutely NEED

a computer/laptop

(If said computer/laptop doesn’t have a built in disc drive) an external disc drive (there are pretty good ones for like 20-25 dollars!!)

CDs/DVDs obviously (either R or RW, the only difference is that you can rewrite RW CDs and DVDs)

also! DVDs obviously hold picture and video as well as audio, so do what you want with those

Technically step one

if you thrifted CDs like I did, or found really old ones in a box in your home somewhere, MAKE SURE THEY ARE EMPTY!!! If you want to keep the stuff on them, there’s an option to rip them in windows media player legacy (which is what I use to burn them as well)

then to erase it, open file explorer, click on the CD/DVD in your disc drive, click the three dots on the toolbar and select “Erase this disc” (this usually doesn’t take too long)

Actual Step One

if you want to make a mixtape, make a Spotify playlist of all the songs you want and copy the link to it (or any other platform, I just find it easier to make a Spotify playlist because I can download it), if you’re just doing an album then get the link of that album instead (make sure both of them can actually fit on the CD you have! Mine can hold like…74 minutes of music)

then use this handy little Spotify downloader to download a zip file of all the songs (sometimes it messes up and will exclude some, make sure to double check they’re all in there…if not you can download them individually too)

Step Two

in your files, open up the zip file of all the music, select them all, and copy them to music (there’s a whole section for it that media player uses, trust me you’ll see it)

then open windows media player legacy and double check it’s in there—usually it’s gathered by artist

step two and a half

Okay so most of the time I go to organize -> settings -> privacy -> and uncheck all the top boxes. You don’t have to, I just do that…idk why I just have.

Step Three (the easy part)

first make sure the CD is set as an audio CD (and also that it’s actually in the disc drive), and click the burn tab

drag all the songs you want on the CD into the burn list, and reorder them however you’d like! There are options to shuffle them and organize them specific ways if you’d like. Once you have everything all set you can click start burn and all you have to do is wait! It’ll eject once it’s done

Step 4 (optional)

If you have a jewel case, you can print or draw your own custom covers and backs!!!! You can also draw on CDs with a sharpie marker if you’d like. Just remember that slim cases have different sizing than standard cases. There’s also stickers for CDs that cover the fronts of them(? Or so I’ve been told…)

Step 5

make sure the CD actually works, try playing it on a different device if you can, and enjoy!!!

Step “what if I don’t have a CD player?”

well I’m gonna tell you you probably do and just don’t know it! do you have a DVD player laying around your house? That’s a CD player! do you have an old ass computer that would suck with burning the CDs itself but still has a disc drive an everything? That’s a CD Player!

do you have a shitty old karaoke machine? Chances are it has a spot for CDs! THATS A CD PLAYER!

Of course you can get a new one if none of these are functional devices for you or you just don’t have them, but I just wanted to point out that a lot of things can be used to play CDs

or you can help me bring back Walkmans and discmans….if you’re listening to music on the go…./silly

Also! Some cars have spots to play CDs in them!! Your CD doesn’t have to be limited to your home!!!

also also, I’m 70% sure that a lot of game consoles can play DVDs but not CDs. Saying thing incase the information is valuable for someone who wants to watch a good movie on DVD or something….

#S.K thinks #Made an edit to point out that a lot of things are CD players

16 notes · View notes

tongueofsailor · 2 years

Text

Eddie, My Love

pairing: eddie munson x reader

summary: eddie has a rough day at school and comes to you for comfort

wc: 1.5k

requested: by anon! "could you write something about Eddie being sad and down and fem reader sings him "Eddie My Love" by The Chordettes and it makes him happy"

an: this is posted on both my main blog (@sailortongue) and this one bc tags aren't working on my main

masterlist | stranger things masterlist

Eddie had finally pushed Jason to his breaking point. He’d been on his usual spiel criticizing the social hierarchy when Jason stood from his table and snapped, “All of this philosophical bullshit is coming from the guy who couldn’t pass English to save his god forsaken life. Come on, Munson, you’re damn near twenty and still in high school. When are you gonna stop spewing shit and buckle down and study?”

Eddie’s facade faltered for a moment, but was instantly replaced with a shit-eating grin. “Looks like I’ve struck a nerve, Carver! What a rare outburst of emotion! Aside from your daily Shakespearean love confessions to your girlfriend and your presidential candidate speeches in the middle of school functions, of course.”

Jason laughed humorlessly, irritation visible through his now red cheeks. “At least I act like I love my girl, all I’ve ever seen of you and Yn is her sitting at your side at your little circus show over there, like a dog. Maybe I’m not well-versed in freak etiquette, but I’m pretty sure that makes you a loser and a shitty boyfriend. Come to think of it, I don’t see her here. Maybe she realized she was too good for a stupid asshole like you and ditched. Can’t blame her really, it was bound to happen sometime.”

Without a response from Eddie, the blonde sat down again and continued to eat, receiving pats on the back from his teammates for his insults. Eddie remained silent, even when his friends tried to ask if he was okay. He obviously wasn’t, but they just didn’t know what else to say.

After the last bell sounded, Eddie closed his locker only to come face to face with none other than Dustin Henderson. He plastered on the biggest smile he could muster. “Henderson! Hey man-“

“Cut the bullshit, man. I know you, and I know you feel like shit because you let a guy who ‘throws balls into laundry baskets’ get to you. Look, dude, with you in such a bad mood, the campaign’s gonna suck tonight. So, why don’t you just go home and maybe see what Yn is up to. None of us have seen her all day and we were wondering if she was out sick or something.”

Eddie intervened. “But the guys-”

“I already told everyone to go home, Eddie. Go take care of your sweetheart or whatever. If it was Suzie-”

Eddie scrunched his face up and shook his head. “Dude I do not wanna hear about you and Suzie. Ok, I’ll go. But only because I need to take care of Yn.” He started off, and Dustin was left standing in a mostly empty hallway. The younger boy knew that his friend needed Yn more than she needed him right now, but he also knew him well enough to know that he’d rather die than ask for comfort. But that didn’t stop him from being peeved at being brushed off so quickly.

“Thanks, Dustin! You give the best advice, Dustin! I’d love to hear about your healthy relationship with your beautiful girlfriend, Dustin!” He shook his head and scoffed. “The things I do for this kid.”

Eddie wasted no time after leaving Dustin in the hall. He headed straight for his van with every intent to go directly to your house. Upon his arrival, he clambered out as fast as he could. He didn’t want to show it in school, but Jason’s words had struck some insecurities. What if Jason was right? What if you didn’t want anything to do with him anymore. Waiting for you to answer your door felt like an eternity. When you finally opened the door, Eddie pulled you into a hug before you got the chance to even ask why he was there. The act he’d maintained since lunch cracked, the first tears trailing down his face.

You hated to do it, but you pulled away from him. The hurt look on Eddie’s face broke your heart and you tried to reassure him as quickly as you could. “I’m gonna hug you, I promise. Come in so I can shut the door, ok?” He nodded feebly. Once you had him off your doorstep, you grabbed his hand and led him to your room. You sat on the bed and he followed suit, sitting next to you, the bed dipping under his weight. “Do you wanna talk about it or do you just want a hug?”

Rather than give you a verbal response, he pulled your body into his, arms wrapped firmly around you. You melted into his embrace as he laid his head on your chest, hiding his face. You two laid in silence for what felt like hours, but was probably only 30 minutes or so, until he lifted his head and looked at you.

“Hi.” He croaked, voice dry.

“Hey, baby.” You pushed his bangs out of his eyes and brushed your fingers across his cheek. “Wanna tell me what’s got you all upset, huh?”

He stayed quiet for a moment, choosing his next words carefully.

“Do you-“ He looked strained, but you nodded him on encouragingly. “Do you ever regret being with me?” When he saw your face drop, he tensed.

“Not that I think you do! You don’t act like you do, you act like you care about me and you tell me you love me a lot! It’s just that, y’know, I’m not the type of guy girls like you settle for.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “Girls like me?”

Suddenly, his attention was grabbed by your sheets. “I mean, you get what I mean. You’re perfect. You’re crazy smart, you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, and people just respect you so much. You’re intimidating, but you’re so good, you know? And-”

You felt your heart shatter as you took in his frantic state.

“Eddie, sweetheart,” You intervened gently. “As much as I would usually love your sweet compliments, I have to stop you there.” His attention was still on your bed, so you took his face in your hands and forced him to look at you.

“I didn’t settle for you, first of all. You’re the best thing that’s ever come out of living in this miserable little town. You’re my favorite person, okay Ed? And yeah, I am smart, and good, but-“

“And beautiful and intimidating.” He interrupted.

You softened and smiled at him.

“-and beautiful and intimidating. But you are all of those things and more, do you understand that? You literally create worlds out of sheets of paper with made-up stats on them. And as if that’s not impressive enough, you share that with people. And they look up to you, Eddie. So what-the-fuck-ever if pricks at school think it’s stupid, it’s just what you like, ok? Are we clear? I don’t know who put these doubts in your head, but they don’t know you like I do, ‘kay?” He released a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, and finally fully relaxed back into you. “Okay.”

As you stroked his hair, you listened to the sound of his breathing. Soon enough, it calmed, becoming even with yours, but the tension in his muscles had yet to dissipate. You two laid in silence for a comfortable time, until you began to hum a tune softly, hoping it would help him to relax more.

Eddie shifted curiously, but didn’t lift his head. As you continued, he felt you gently tracing soothing shapes on his back, where your hand had ended up under his shirt. “Eddie my love, I love you so-”

Finally, his eyes met yours, confused, and you smiled softly before beginning to sing the words.

“How I’ve wanted for you, you’ll never know.” You brought the hand that wasn’t rubbing his back up to his face and cupped his cheek carefully.

“Please Eddie, don’t make me wait too long, oh Eddie, Eddie, I love you so.” Entranced, he leaned into your hand and kissed your palm, all while still staring in awe at your face.

“Eddie please write- just one line, tell me your love, is only mine.” In between lyrics, you moved your hand to the back of his neck, and landed a gentle kiss on his temple.

“Please Eddie, don’t make me wait too long, oh Eddie my love, I love you so.” Finally, you brought him in for a sweet kiss. As you pulled away, a goofy smile appeared on his face.

“Where’d you hear that song, sweetheart? ‘Cause I know little old me didn’t introduce it to you.” You giggled and shook your head.

“No, you didn’t. I found some records in my parents’ old stuff and I’ve had it on repeat. Apparently my mom almost sang it at their wedding, just with my dad’s name. You like it?” He smiled and pressed another chaste kiss on your lips.

“I think we should take after your folks.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things x reader

269 notes · View notes

kiki-venus-fics · 1 year

Text

Can’t Wait To Tell Harrington

Eddie Munson x fem/afab!Reader

Summary: Something unexpected happens when the reader and Eddie are having some fun.

Note: A spider literally jumped on my computer as I was writing this and when I went to turn on my light, I came back and it was gone. I thought it was pretty ironic considering who this is about lmao. I bet he'd get a kick out of that. Anyway, enjoy!

Word Count: 950 words of pure smut

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, go away minors (I mean it), smut, that’s it, just jumps right into it just like that spider jumped onto me, squirting ;)

Stranger Things Masterlist

And this is my first smut so constructive criticism is always welcome!

“Fuck.” Eddie sighs as you place a kiss on the tip of his dick. You push forward and let your mouth slide over his cock, pushing yourself as hard as you could go before letting up and sucking it into your mouth. “Just like that,” He groans, “You're doing so good.”

“You always do so good for me.” He says, lifting one of his ring adorned hands to move your hair out of your face, tilting your head to the side a little to get a better look at you. “ My pretty girl.”

You continue to bob your head up and down while Eddie continues to shower you in praise. He then gently pulls your head back, sliding himself out of your mouth.

“Wanna try something else?” He says smiling at you like a crazy person. His smile makes you wonder what's gonna happen next but you chuckle slightly, nodding your head. “Okay. Get on your knees.”

You move to get onto your knees and feel his body move behind yours.

“You doing okay?” You hear him ask as you feel the pressure of his hands on your back. You nod your head, mumbling out a small ‘yeah’.

Suddenly you feel the heat of his body radiating onto your backside and his voice echoing louder than before, “Gotta use your words, Hun,” He says, placing a couple kisses behind your ear, “Can’t see you noddin’ your head from all the way back here.”

You ignore the contradiction in his words, because he obviously did see you nod if he was able to point it out, and just give him what he wants. Clearing your throat so he can't give you shit about not being able to hear you because you're too quiet, which he has definitely done before, you say, “I’m okay.”

“Atta girl. Listen so well.” He chuckles, almost as if he knew what kind of inner turmoil that was running through your thoughts just now. After his lips pressed another kiss into the skin behind your ear, you felt his body move away from yours. Goosebumps rising from the sudden cold air hitting your warm skin.

“Behind your back.” Listening to Eddie, you lay your head down softly on the mattress and move your right arm to lay across your back. You turn your head slightly to look behind you and see him standing there in all his glory. A glow illuminating half of his body coming from the only lamp in the room. A playful smile spreads across his face. “Good girl.”

You feel his left hand loosely lay on top of your forearm before feeling his fingers prodding at your entrance. He carefully pushes in one finger before pulling out and slowly adding another one. He keeps his fingers there inside of you for a moment letting you adjust. You let out a sigh as he starts pumping both fingers in and out you slowly.

“That feel good?” He asks, keeping a steady pace.

“Feels so good.” You say through a sigh. Your eyes closing out of pleasure, feeling yourself get wetter making it easier for Eddie to thrust in and out. “Please… faster.”

“Hold on, baby. Not yet.” He pulls both fingers out and your eyes flicker open at the sudden feeling of being empty. You start to open your mouth to let out a noise of complaint before you feel the tip of his cock pressed against your clit. He taps it a couple of times then giggles at the whine you let out. “You ready?”

“Yes, Eddie.”

His grip on your forearm tightens while he slowly pushes the head of his cock into you. Eddie lets out a groan and starts pushing in and out, your slick making it easier for him. “Rub your clit for me, babe.”

He makes you want to listen to every word he has to say, especially right now. “Oh fuck, Eddie.” You moan out his name.

“It feels good, doesn't it?” Eddie teases, his breathing getting heavier.

The room around you feels ten degrees hotter than it was before. Sweat dripping for your skin. You groan, feeling yourself tighten around him, “Mm, mhm. Eddie, please. I wanna cum.”

“You wanna cum, baby? You wanna cum on my dick?”

“Mm, yes Eddie, please.”

“Go on then, be a good girl and cum on my dick.” He growls out, delivering a smack on your right ass cheek.

You start rubbing your clit faster, “Ahh, thank you, thank you…” You can feel the pressure building. Only this time, right as you’re about to tip over the edge, a bit of panic fills you. What the fuck is-

“Ah, shit,” Eddie chuckles slightly in disbelief, “ Did you just…”

“Shut up.”

“Oh no, Baby. That was hot as fuck. I'm never shutting up about this.”

You don’t doubt him when he says that. The first time he made you cum, he wouldn’t shut up to Harrington about it for a week. Saying “well at least I can make my girl cum” as an insult every chance he got. It was the most embarrassing week of your life. You could only imagine what he would say about this. You loathed to hear any future conversations bringing up how he just made you squirt.

“I can’t wait to tell Harrington.”

“Eddie!”

“What?”

#kiki-venus-fics #stranger things smut #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x afab reader #kiki-venus-fics-18+

67 notes · View notes

sailortongue · 2 years

Text

Eddie, My Love

pairing: eddie munson x reader

summary: eddie has a rough day at school and comes to you for comfort

wc: 1.5k

requested: by anon! "could you write something about Eddie being sad and down and fem reader sings him “Eddie My Love” by The Chordettes and it makes him happy"

masterlist | stranger things masterlist

——————

After the last bell sounded, Eddie closed his locker only to come face to face with none other than Dustin Henderson. He plastered on the biggest smile he could muster. “Henderson! Hey man-“

Eddie intervened. “But the guys-”

“I already told everyone to go home, Eddie. Go take care of your sweetheart or whatever. If it was Suzie-”

“Hi.” He croaked, voice dry.

“Hey, baby.” You pushed his bangs out of his eyes and brushed your fingers across his cheek. “Wanna tell me what’s got you all upset, huh?”

He stayed quiet for a moment, choosing his next words carefully.

“Do you-“ He looked strained, but you nodded him on encouragingly. “Do you ever regret being with me?” When he saw your face drop, he tensed.

You shook your head in disbelief. “Girls like me?”

You felt your heart shatter as you took in his frantic state.

“And beautiful and intimidating.” He interrupted.

You softened and smiled at him.

Finally, his eyes met yours, confused, and you smiled softly before beginning to sing the words.

“How I’ve wanted for you, you’ll never know.” You brought the hand that wasn’t rubbing his back up to his face and cupped his cheek carefully.

“Please Eddie, don’t make me wait too long, oh Eddie, Eddie, I love you so.” Entranced, he leaned into your hand and kissed your palm, all while still staring in awe at your face.

“Eddie please write- just one line, tell me your love, is only mine.” In between lyrics, you moved your hand to the back of his neck, and landed a gentle kiss on his temple.

“Please Eddie, don’t make me wait too long, oh Eddie my love, I love you so.” Finally, you brought him in for a sweet kiss. As you pulled away, a goofy smile appeared on his face.

“Where’d you hear that song, sweetheart? ‘Cause I know little old me didn’t introduce it to you.” You giggled and shook your head.

“I think we should take after your folks.”

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson #stranger things x reader

166 notes · View notes

faithfromanewperspective · 7 months

Text

Religious hurt, ministry burnout and all in between set to 5sos5 // Prologue: You don’t go to parties

I realise this is a rather strange thing to do, what I’m doing. I realise most listeners to songs don’t apply them to the things that I do. But I went through a lot, and this album is like none I’ve heard before: it celebrates and laments and everything in between the power of simple human connection and I won’t lie: it changed my life. It gave me back the pieces and tools to take my life back from a rogue machine of parts that was sucking me dry yet I couldn’t find head or tail of nor differentiate it from the hand that was feeding me, keeping me alive. In some ways, I owe it nothing: the $19.99 I fully paid on my debit card to iTunes that probably gave the four dear humans who created this album maybe a dollar each. In some ways I owe it everything. And so this letter is for you, the strange conglomeration of fandom and random humans I’ve connected to and who don’t know my face or my real name but I enjoy baring my whole heart to. It’s the mark of an artist I suppose. It’s the early symptoms of the fever dreams that allow practical neighbours with my childhood to come up with the visceral imagery that makes up these masterpieces: four voices, and a handful of instruments. I don’t have something nearly as brand-new and original, but this is my voice. And this is how YDGTP gave back my life.

Picture this: it’s 5am. Somewhere, certainly not where I am, but it might as well be when I’m far too tired for 10, 11pm when I’m barely over 20. I’m feeling stuck, overwhelmed, unable to go home, clock off, head to bed. I’d say I’m on my couch but that’s an optimistic statement to assume I have the ability to make it to something soft to lay down my head. I don’t even own a couch.

I’m supposedly somewhere that’s home to me, but if I had any sense in my head I’d kick me out. Out to where? I have no idea.

I wouldn’t even admit it to myself then, but I knew somewhere that I was happiest when I got up before the sun. 5am, after seven to eight hours of sleep. Maybe more, when I’m so tired and drained. In the early hours of the morning (and I feel like I’m betraying this song by saying it) before the world has risen with its expectations, if I can get my life together then, I’m prepared for when I have to interact and feel their energy. I’m also prepared to get my needs met, which they obviously aren’t, or I wouldn’t still be here now.

How am I feeling? Don’t get me started on that. I’m starving, empty, longing for something I haven’t felt satiated in for quite a while. Longing for a bygone time that wasn’t any good, because if I could go back now I could do better with the information I have now. And yet, the world is moving past, the people from that era drifting further and further away. Whatever it is I’m holding my breath for, is starting to feel like I’m waiting at an intersection where the gaps between the cars are getting smaller and smaller and each time I see one I could maybe go in I don’t. I wish I had gone in the previous one, because it was much safer compared to this. That’s basically what my life’s like. I’ve got the last five years running out my mouth. Won’t you relive it with me? Won’t you fix them with me?

Because I still think about the times we were heavy. It sucked, but at least there was connection, something that I’ve run completely dry on now. Racehorse tripping on the dirt that you’ve got on me. I never felt included, loved, but sometimes being insulted is just as good as it means I’m part of the gang. They don’t do that anymore: is it because I’m too fragile now, or because they’ve moved on from me? Vulture circling above of what’s left of me. Because I’m a carcass in the hot sun, at least that’s how I feel. Slowly, not slowly at all actually, rotting.

We go stupid every night, and it was meant to be fun. But.

What a tragedy. Because I’m still here in the darkness, back where we started. It set everyone else up to move on, why can’t I? Everyone else goes home and goes to bed and doesn’t suffer the consequences of the night disabling them forever, going back to the start again and again and re-living it and changing what they’d do because I know better now than I did then, time ticking by me and getting more and more behind. I can’t help the fact that I’m behaving the way that I am.

You make me a heartless monster.

So set this to a fun beat and go dance. Everyone I ever knew is standing in my house. (Are they real, or are they ghosts of people I feel like I failed, when I was never given the resources to be everything they needed?) Maybe I’ll be alright, maybe I’ll be able to put together whatever makes me feel better, maybe, maybe, I said as I invited them, filling up my heart again and again with relational one-night stands and superficial connection just to feel the high for a little while, it’s kept me going for decades. Kept me moving so I can forget that I had it the way I liked it once and I never appreciated it, I didn’t know that I had to. I didn’t know how much it meant until I lost it. I thought I was just fielding distractions, fatal attractions, but maybe the only attraction that was fatal was the one to the world of ableism and the solutions that they said worked for them when I know I need more connection than this superficial world, even one that says they worship something else, lives for something more, can offer. I wonder who I’m looking for.

But you got out. You don’t go to parties anymore.

It’s easier to get manic than depressed sometimes, maybe because I’m already depressed and I learned from young to act like I’m not feeling it. To think of others, think of ways I can help, prioritise hope and isn’t this what I’m doing here? Working towards solutions, why oh why did it go so badly? So I focus on the ideas, I let them stack up in my brain like a tap that’s running at full blast into a tiny plastic cup and when it drowns me just for a little while I get high and life is exciting and come up with good ideas of the world I imagine could be where I’m not alone, up in the clouds I’m not the only one dreaming of this dream. All my friends are up on mars. We’ve been travelling. It’s such a simple explanation and so exciting and it’s exactly how I should be feeling when I’m pouring myself out into something I care so much about, something centred on helping people, as if in a divinely inspired book we have all the solutions for all the world when we read it through a lens of science and adaptive management that constantly re-evaluates the fruits of what we’re doing and doesn’t let silly traditions that sap our energy get in our way. Shoot for mars. Why, oh why, does no one else stand with me here? Why am I still longing for that kind of teamwork, belonging, purpose?

So I lost my limit. It’s hard to find it when I’m so perpetually starved for the thing I need, that I try to make sure everyone around me gets. I’m dumb and I’m passionate. I care. And what’s the sacrifice of one person in the scheme of things? It’s not an accident. I was the one who took my foot up off the brake. Another lonely night.

It’s easier to put a smile on my face and go through the motions to this happy beat, yearning, pouring out the passion and love I wish I received on others.

Fill it with the best country drum solo I ever heard.

And remember where I am. Longing for connection. Where are you? Where is the one who I’m looking for?

But I know. You don’t go to parties anymore.

And that’s why I need to leave.

#personal mental health tag #burnout #ministry burnout #bipolar awareness #ydgtp #you don't go to parties #5 seconds of summer #5sos5 #if you're here because of the 5sos tags try not be too weirded out #i kinda can't believe i did this but it's a whole thing. more to come #youth ministry is actually just a party #that is built to be supportive #until you're giving of yourself i guess and that was me

6 notes · View notes

randoauthor · 2 years

Text

Hurt (P.M)

Pairings: Pete Mitchell x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Car accidents, mentions of death, injury, swearing (Maybe?)

Word Count: 1.4K

Author's Note: I'm back! (*again*) I was fighting a massive cold + starting school back up so I think I now have a pretty set schedule and will hopefully be back to posting regularly!

Summary: Car accidents suck, but sometimes even with the most hurt in the world the best things tend to blossom

MasterList!

It all happened so fast.

One moment we were listening to music in my car, the windows rolled down as I stared at her. Her hair flowed freely in the wind, her smile so genuine it made my heart skip a beat.

But that was one moment.

This is now.

Now I am lying on the ground staring at the stars.

How was I staring at the stars?

I was just in the car with her, why am I now here?

More importantly, where is she?

I remember the tires screeching.

I remember the shatter sound of glass against the pavement.

I hear her screaming for me, screaming in pain.

I can't feel my legs.

My head is pounding, she is screaming, and I can't feel my legs.

What the fuck happened?

"Pete?" she calls frantically, "Pete Steven Mitchell you better respond to me or else!" she called again, in between sobs of pain. The faint noise of sirens wailing in the distance, mimicking the noises she was making.

Is she okay?

That has to be a loaded question, she is obviously okay to an extent but until I lay my own eyes on her I won't know for sure. I groan as I try to move.

I have to move.

Slowly I move myself around, the lack of feeling in my legs proving to be unhelpful in this moment in time. Swinging around to my belly I finally have eyes on her.

She's okay.

Well, mostly. She seems to be bleeding but from where I don't know, a slight limp indicates that she has some form on an injury there. red marks on her face an arms suggest bruising will appear in the next day or two.

But she's okay.

The lights of the ambulance and firetrucks become more visible as they light up the scene around us. Did we get into an accident? Is anyone else hurt?

I glance around the scene a bit more. A car seems to be flipped on its side angling more towards a ditch, our car seems to be relatively fine besides a smashed hood and a shattered windshield.

Did I go through the windshield?

"Pete!" She yells, rushing to me as well as she can, collapsing next to me she takes my hand in hers. "There was an accident, another car swerved and hit us, I think you went through the windshield." She let a few tears slip. I glance at her up and down trying to find any more injuries that I missed from afar.

There's a giant blood stain on her stomach, oh my god she's bleeding from her abdomen.

I can't speak. I try my hardest to motion to her abdomen but she isn't paying enough attention to herself. She needs to look down. How do I get her to look down?

It doesn’t take much because as soon as the paramedics took one look at her she was take away, despite her protests.

"He's hurt." She tried.

"Darling you are way more hurt then him." The shorter paramedic responds, she reminds me a lot of my mom, constantly disregarding stupid protests, regardless of how hard the person tried to fight.

They eventually convinced her to get onto the stretcher, half empty promises of me following soon after. She took one final glance at me before climbing on, eventually being wheeled away from me.

Then it goes dark.

There's a steady beeping, it is the most annoying beeping I have never heard. There's a figure next to me in a chair, upon closer examination I find it to be Goose. His hair seemed to be a mess, his eyes seemed bloodshot.

God he looks worse then when Bradley was first born.

"Pete, hey buddy," his voice hoarse, tired, full of emotion.

"Hi," I say back softly, my throat feels like its on fire, "how long was I out?"

Goose gives me his signature smile, "a week."

I nod a soft response as we continue to talk.

"What happened?" I question out loud, hoping he'd be able to answer that for me.

He looked up sadly, "drunk driver." He shook his head. "There was a kid in the back too, not much older then Bradley, the driver was dead by the time everyone reached the scene. The little girl is three floors above you in intensive care."

I feel my heart ache, and I know if my heart is aching so is his.

"He swerved, they couldn't tell if it was a malicious act or just plain dumb luck that you two were picked to be the victims." I look up at Goose his final few words striking a memory I had forgotten about.

She was in the car with me.

"Is she okay?" I ask frantically, my health and well-being not important at all anymore.

I am finally thankful for the use of my legs, swinging them over the bed I ignore the throbbing is my head as I go to walk, I don't make it very far though as Goose grabs me and put me back on the bed.

"She is fine Mav," Goose says reassuringly, "She had to have surgery, but she's fine now, she's resting. She is almost completely in perfect health unlike you." He looked me up and down and I suddenly became very aware of my situation.

My legs were fine besides some cuts and bruises that were a lovely shade of purple. I had a few bandages on my arms and upon further inspection a large wrap is places snuggly around my chest and shoulder, covering what I can only imagine to be stitches.

"You had to have surgery too," Goose started, "the glass punctured a lung, you were struggling to breathe, they said you could barely speak. And you have a lovely amount of stitches along your shoulder from the glass cutting you, 387 I think they said, Carole would know she has been such a saint through all of this." I look back at Goose and realize the true state he is in, his hair was more messy then usual and he had clearly been crying.

"I'm gonna take you to see her Mav, I just need to get a wheel chair." He said heading out the door to grab one, "oh and one more thing you need to know, which I would let her tell you but she hasn't woken up yet." I look up as Goose smiles and sheds a singular tear.

"You're gonna be a dad."

Five simple words, five. Five words I can't seem to get out of my head, the ride up to her was quiet, I assume thats because I clearly need a moment to process this.

Goose was right when he said she looked bad, she was hooked up to so many different machines but the one that stood out to me the most was the one attached to her stomach.

The steady beating of a drum echoing through the room, cus that is our baby.

Goose gave me the room to let it be just us, he muttered something about having to call Carole to give her an update, so I found myself settled into a chair next to her speaking softly to her belly.

"Hi baby," I start, "I'm your dad, and your mom has done an amazing job of protecting you from this crazy world so far." I smiled, "your heart beats for the two of us peanut and I promise we are gonna spoil you so much."

Her hand moved slowly to place it on her stomach and I look up in a shock to meet her eyes.

"Damn right we are." She said with a smile.

I try my hardest to get to her quickly but with the state of my own body and the fear of injuring her more then she already is I move at a fast paced caution. I kiss her passionately before moving to kiss her stomach, the safe space for our baby.

We remained in the Hospital for another week, I ended up home sooner then she did for obvious reasons. I took my time to prepare my home, the both of us agreeing that while three weeks ago we thought moving in together was jumping the gun a little bit, it seems perfectly reasonable now.

So when I brought her home, I got to see the look on her face when sitting on our bed was a small pair of white booties for our baby to wear one day.

And that made it all worth it.

Taglist!

@itscheybaby

@turningtoclown

@daryldixonstorm

@Dilfsandtherapy

@Nickie-amore

@malindacath

@luckyladycreator2

@sadpetalsstuff

@Shanimallina87

@Wishingwell-2

@Xoxoloverb

@Majormaybe1

@Mizzy-pop

@Saramaple

@Hope-love-equality2

@toothhurtyam

@beaner-life-23

@fogle97

@justanothermagicalsara

@tallrock35

@callsigns-roo-and-bag

@marchingicenotes7

@scoopsahoy008

@oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo

@malindacath

@calsjack

@notanordinaryprincess95

@fxngsfxgxrty

#goose top gun #top gun: maverick #top gun maverick #tg:m #maverick top gun #top gun #maverick #top gun headcanons #top gun imagine #top gun 1986 #pete maverick mitchell #tgm #pete mitchell #top gun movie #pete mitchell fanfiction #pete mitchell x y/n #pete mitchell imagine

95 notes · View notes