#fuck i wish i wasn't born where i was born sometimes

[thirrith]

is there a reason why universities in the uk are so much slower at replying to emails than in hk

#life #got an email JUST NOW that says 'we're emailing you for the first time about this form you need to fill BEFORE 1 JULY' #there's also this another email exchange that took me about two whole months to (kinda) resolve an issue and get a promise of getting back #to me 'in the coming weeks'. well. it's been two weeks #so fucking frustrated #my type of passport is taking longer and becoming harder getting visas no thanks to [redacted] & fucked up international relations nowadays #this will literally affect my fucking everything #fuck i wish i wasn't born where i was born sometimes #should i just stay in hk and teach in a secondary school. pays better than being in higher-ed. fuck

[goldsbitch]

can I request a Lando x reader where the reader’s weakness is when people stroke her hair? Her mind goes completely blank and she falls silent immediately when people stroke her hair and Lando uses it at his advantage.

Fluffy pls and ty🫶🏻

omg, i love this prompt so much - thank you and hope you like it!!

This is one is dripping with sweetness a little too much, don't say I did not warn you. No other warning.

Lando was born a tease, oscillating between clueless and shy, to unapologetic and bordeline dickish. It all depended on the setting, his relationship to the person and how much sleep he got the night before. Sometimes your boyfriend was the sweetest little thing, giggling shyly about everything instead of coming up with an actual response, and the other times he was a walking menace actively seeking every opportunity how to get you into a flustered state.

You and Lando were full on deep in the beginning of your relationship, the sweetest part of the honeymoon phase. To put it bluntly - fucking almost non stop. And the desire was never-ending. Blinding sunshine kissed good morning to every day you two got to wake up next to each other. Problems seem to be non existent. Bliss.

It was the way his hair curled when he got a little bit sweaty, his toned body what you were desperate to explore from every angle and the need to know every little secret trick that worked on him. It became some sort of a game, who would get better at knowing the other. Which one of you found all the buttons to push.

Lando rose up that morning and chose violence. Metaphorical one, of course. Snuggling up to you in order to wake you up as well for some morning work out, as he like to call it. Whispering sweet nothings to your ear and touching you all over your body. But you were just incredibly sore from the past few days, physically unable to keep up.

"Why don't you love me anymore," he pleaded jokingly as you murmured another weak appeal for your sleep.

"Lando, you know I love you more than anything," you replied, still half asleep. But it was hard to distinguish as reality resembled a sweet dream everyday lately.

"I remember when you used to want me, physically," he kept going.

"We literally had sex few hours ago, stop whining," you kissed him between your words. He looked at you with his incredible eyes, little devil dancing in each one of them.

"Exactly, too long ago. Wish I could go back in time when you were not sore and get inside you all over again."

You simply laughed, absolutely smitten with this lovey dovey side of him. His words made you melt like butter sitting under direct sun. You brushed your noses together and then he kissed you.

The best part of romantic relationships is the one that you cannot absolutely share with other people, the almost embarrassing pleas, desire and gross goofiness, simping at each other all the time.

"Fine, if you play by these rules, I'll come back with my own revenge," he said finally as you inevitably had to start getting ready to go to the paddock with him.

Today was the big day. You'd been spotted in public countless of times, the "girlfriend" title officially sitting on your head for weeks now. But this was the first time you were to join him in the paddock as a wag. You were trying to hide your nervousness, but he saw right through you. Before you exited the apartment, he made you stop and took your face in his hands. "I'm happy I get to do this with you. I love parading you around, for everyone to see that we're a team." You smiled, his words hitting like first snowflakes of the year. "Poor Oscar, I can't wait to finally trauma dump the shared misery you bring to our lives," you jokes and locked lips with him once again. "God, it's terrifying how much I like you," you said automatically, without having to think about it.

//

It actually wasn't as bad as you'd expected. It was definitely weird and strange, but not necessarily bad. Having Lando by your side as you passed the gates definitely helped. The photographers were lined up as people at a shooting range would and it did feel like that at first. But as quickly as you were initially overwhelmed, fatigue took over you and you blocked their ever-presence out. Trying to chat up those Lando introduce you to and memorizing the names. You knew how much some of these people meant to Lando, so you were trying to be at your best behavior. The thought that his friends would hate you in the same way as some of his fans haunted you.

In the middle of all the rush, you parted for a moment. To be honest, little peace of quiet and chill was something you appreciated. But remember, Lando woke up and chose violence this morning. And his plan was quite simple, yet bulletproof.

"Y/N! There you are, my love," you heard from coming from behind you. "I have someone to introduce to you! I'm very much sure you'll appreciate meeting him." As you turned, you saw Daniel Ricciardo walking your way with your Lando. You were a little perplexed as to why Lando was so cheerful about that. You clearly remembered him getting very upset when you admitted to him that at some point in the past, when formula 1 was a world far away from you, that you had a minor crush on Daniel. Which obviously went out of the window once you met Lando. That did not mean that Lando was 100% ok with it.

"Y/N, as I'm sure you know, this is Daniel, hell of a driver and good friend of mine," Lando continued and you knew him well enough to know he had ulterior motives. Not sure what to do, you smiles shyly and shook Daniel's hand.

"Hi, Daniel," you said, eyes flinching between him and Lando. You were full on preparing for anything. Lando's smirk almost had a life of his own at that point.

"Nice to finally meet you, Y/N. I've heard quite a lot things about you!" Daniel opened, life of the party as per usual.

You chuckled. "All good things, I hope!" And with that, Lando stepped behind you and put his arm around you.

"Only the best," he said, leaned closed and inconspicuously started to stroke you hair gently. Oh, he did not just go this low.

It was slow, yet like tidal wave. You stopped breathing for a moment. Your body relaxing, as if you'd just taken the world's best sedatives. The way his hands made you feel was etherial. It was the same sensation the luckier ones experienced when listening to ASMR and the less fortunate ones sometimes called an orgasm. Shivers slowly traveling around your whole body, every part becoming sensitive out of nowhere. You weren't able to look at Daniel, let alone continue speaking. Lando was more than aware of what touching your hair did to you. He'd discovered this trick quite early on. And it was his favorite one.

"So, where are you from?" Daniel attempted at small talk. But how could you possibly give a fuck at that moment. Not that your body would even allowed you to respond. The only thing you were able to take in from the outside world were the soft slow movements Lando's fingers were doing, blocking everything out instanteniously.

Daniel stared at you, waiting. From his perspective, this was a very awkward meeting.

Lando answered for you, with a smirk you did not see, but could feel from the tone of his voice. "You have to excuse her, she is bit shy in front of new people."

You could not give less of a fuck at that moment of what these two were saying. Your lips were starting to shiver from getting so sensitive. You took a short breath and someone who would be standing close and knew you well would know, that what escaped your mouth was not a nervous laugh, but something very close to a moan.

Lando and Daniel were saying words, but none of that was important, while Lando's fingers were working his magic. He would only leave your hair alone once he saw Daniel leaving.

You wanted to be mad at him. But you were still sort of high from all the sensation bomb Lando dropped on you. You slowly turned around to face him, coming down from your own personal nirvana.

You took a deep breath while he watched you without a blink and biting hims smile away.

"You promised," you let out air that got stuck in your lungs somewhere along the way. "You promised you would not do this in public." Your brain was slowly wiring up to normal again.

"I told you I'd punish you for the morning," he said as if it was the most amusing thing ever. "Also, if Daniel is my competition, I'm going to use all the advantage I have."

Lando had a way of looking at you that made you unravel instantaneously and there was no way of stopping it. There was just something about his smile that did it for you. As anyone who is properly in love, you could not imagine somebody being able tor resist that. In your love soaked mind, he was irresistible. To a normal mind, he was probably just a regular guy, but that idea was unfathomable to you.

"I'm pretty sure that after what I just pulled, you will not have to worry about Daniel liking me," you chuckled, having to accept that Lando won this one.

"I would never let my guard down...But yeah, I think this one is pretty safe," he chuckled once more. You kissed his overly proud face and promised to yourself to get back at him later, in the privacy of his bedroom.

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris fanfic #ln4 imagine #formula 1 #formula one x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #fluff #lando norris fluff #formula 1 fluff #formula 1 fanfic #ln4 x reader #ln4 x y/n #lando norris x y/n #formula 1 one shot #f1 one shot #daniel ricciardo #f1 requests

[teencopandthesourwolf]

He freezes. Doesn't know what the hell else to do. 

He can't picture it: Derek can't remember the last time somebody put their arms around him. 

Was it Laura?

Of course it was Laura. How could he forget that? Derek has gotten pretty good at blocking things out—a little too good, it seems.

She didn't tell him she was going before she left New York. Didn't say a fucking word, just vanished. Derek had woken up one morning and she was gone. She'd known without doubt that Derek would only follow her if she had said a single word to him.

Nobody ever granted Derek’s wishes, no matter who he prayed to. The desperate pleas where he asked to go back and get a chance to fix things, they all went unheard.

Laura left to go back to the place they both wished still existed just as it had; a place they were wanted alive, not dead. It wasn't fair that it was the very same place they would be hunted down if they did return, like the rabid animals the Argent's presumed they were.

Leaving the way they did meant they hadn't gotten the chance to see if anything was left at the house. They couldn't mark graves, or grieve properly. 

That same place also happened to be the place they'd been born, the place they'd grown up and called home.

Derek had never wanted Laura to face all of that alone.

The burnt down house. The nothing where there was once everything.

The thought still haunts him. One of so fucking many. 

Beacon Hills is home—but it's the home Derek had helped raze to the ground with his selfishness and stupidity. Everything he and Laura had ever known, everyone they'd ever loved, it was all gone, now. Derek had taken those things away from his sister and hadn't even had the guts to tell her. Tell Laura they were all gone because of him, tell her that everything that had happened to their family, to them, was all his fault.

In the aftermath of the fire Laura hugged Derek, and had kept hugging him, over and over in those weeks and months and years that followed. She would pull him into her arms hold him tight, whenever she could sense it was all getting to be too much for him again.

Alpha.

Big sister.

But Laura only knew about some of the reasons why it sometimes felt like too much effort for Derek to keep on breathing.

He never told her about Kate.

And Derek, the fucking coward, he'd allowed Laura to hold him, feeling the flames of shame on his cheeks every time, hot as those that took the lives of his parents. His family. His pack. 

Now, he remembers that last time. 

“I'm going out.” 

Laura stood up, walked around the two mismatched armchairs and stopped him by throwing both her arms around his neck, pulling him into her and hugging him, scenting him. 

It always took him a moment to respond these days, but Derek hugged her back. 

“What's this for?”

“You. Because I know whomever's bed you end up in tonight, you won't be asking for one of these.”

Oh, fuck no. Derek couldn't handle that. Did she think he was out sleeping with people? Never again, not after…

He pushed his sister off him, gently; a stark contrast to the harsh words that followed. 

“Don't fucking coddle me. And fuck you, Laura—I don't sleep in anybody's fucking bed but my own.” A single mattress on the floor of the lounge of their shitty one bedroom apartment. Derek had so many shameful memories, and crawling into his sister's bed every night for the first year after the fire was one of them. “Just—leave me alone.”

Laura was the one—the only—person Derek had left in the entire world, yet his guilt was constantly pushing her away. 

“Then where do you go to all these nights, little brother? You might not be clinging to me anymore, night after night, nightmare after nightmare, but you're so rarely in your own bed in the mornings.” She hadn't meant it as a dig. She was his sister and she loved him.

Maybe she thought he was making progress? Seeing people. Moving on.

Derek spent his nights waiting outside of dive bars, hanging around in back alleys and dark places, desperately trying to find scumbags he could taunt who were big enough and hard enough to at least attempt to kick the living shit out of him.

Derek hated being a werewolf, now. He wanted to get hurt and stay hurt.

“Just—out.”

Then Derek turned his back on Laura, leaving her to stand there and watch him walk away as he left her to go out looking for a fight, without looking back. 

That was the last time somebody put their arms around Derek—and the last time he saw his sister alive.

It was two years ago. Derek doesn’t think he has taken a full breath, since. 

Now here he is, standing in his big stupid loft that he bought for his betas—yet another pack he managed to destroy—having given away more than he should, with skinny yet strong arms wrapping themselves as far around his shoulders as they can reach. 

Stiles.

“You don't have to hug back. But you can, if you want to. I won't tell,” the kid jokes. It's his way to connect, his connection to the world. A coping mechanism, Derek thinks.

He knows all about those.

“I…” he doesn't have the first fucking clue of how to handle this. Or how to admit he needs it—to himself, let alone somebody else. He doesn't know how to admit that he wants it. 

But this is Stiles. The one person in Derek's life who seems, for some unfathomable reason, to give a fuck about Derek. To care about him.

Slowly, very slowly, Derek lifts an arm and awkwardly rests a hand on Stiles's upper back, feels the muscles jump slightly under the kid's baggy clothes as he tentatively spreads his fingers and finds the back of Stiles's neck. 

Stiles's voice hitches just a touch as he says, “These can be on tap, you know. If you want them. Stilinski hugs are the best hugs, dude. Believe.”

And Derek finds he does believe. For the first time in forever, Derek believes there could be something good in his life again.

More confidently, now, he brings his other arm up to wrap around Stiles's waist and hugs Stiles tighter, properly, and allows himself to be hugged back.

Derek wonders how he has gone so long without this kind of closeness. Lived without this kindness.

He decides to let the 'dude' pass. Because maybe—maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all, to be somebody's dude? 

Stiles's dude.

It's a fucking ridiculous moniker and yet Derek suddenly couldn't care less. 

“I think I'd like that,” he whispers into the forbidden place where Stiles's jaw meets long, pale neck. "Dude."

Derek can feel Stiles's smile as the kid squeezes him harder. And, ironically, Derek feels as if he can breathe again. 

.

for @greyhavenisback bc i want to hug you in person and can't <3 (unedited, forgive me!)

#sterek #sterek ficlet #sterek fic #sterek oneshot #POV derek #derek hale #stiles stilinski #derek x stiles #stiles x derek #m/m #queer fic #teen wolf #teen wolf fic #sterek fanfic #sterek fanfiction #teen wolf fanfic #teen wolf fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #laura hale #derek and laura #hale pack feels #angst #hurt/comfort #hugs #derek hale deserves nice things #stiles stilinski is a nice thing #tcats writes #teencopandthesourwolf

[dreaming-tonite]

Pierced (through the heart)

A/N: my last time writing anything of any kind that isn't academic was 2 years ago and if I say I'm not rusty that would be one major fucking lie but the brainrot is real and I just need to get it out LMAO

Pairing: Hobie Brown x afab!reader

Warning: pwp, my Hobie Brown body (dick) piercing agenda, very brief oral (giving), I’m very horny for this man and it isn’t very hard to tell

Word count: 1.3k

Hobie Brown had a penchant for putting holes in himself, quite literally, and if anything, it was perhaps one of the first things you noticed about him.

(You told him the piercings were what got you, but even he would know that it was a pathetic attempt of a cover-up on why it seemed so hard for you to peel your eyes off of him. But bless his heart, he only took your deflection with a knowing glance and a slight, smug tug at the corner of his lips.)

(Since we all knew, the piercings were just the tip of your downfall when it came to this man.)

You probably knew where each stud was placed better than you know your own face — two on both brow bones, several running up the curve of his lobes, an industrial of his left ear that he got after a drinking game at the pub which he usually left empty.

He had made sure to tell you that it was, in fact, a drinking game that he won, but decided to do it anyways for the spirit.

Hobie was anything but a lightweight, which you would have believed even without much convincing, but there was something about the way he had to let you know that simply made you want to pretend otherways just to rile him up.

There was the one at the side of his nose that appeared out of nowhere one day but suited him so well it almost seemed like he was born with it. This was where you slipped, when you pretended to notice it sometime into your conversation, as if you didn't pick it up as soon as you took your first proper look at him that day, and asked as nonchalantly as you could if it was new.

But he left you no mercy that time, because he too would be lying if this wasn't exactly what he wanted.

"Huh," he hummed, the sound rumbling from the back of his throat and sending shivers down your spine as he looked at you straight. The glimmer in his eyes was evident even under the dimmed lights of the noisy pub, the drumming of your pulse louder than the bass pounding in your ear when his lips split into a teasing grin, "someone's been keeping notes on me, hm?"

He wouldn't admit the fire that set off when you looked away shyly, confirming that it hadn't just been wishful thinking on his part that you looked at him differently than you did anyone else.

Then there was the truly distracting one, your one true vice. You melted into puddles the first time you felt his lip ring on you in the form of a sloppy, heated kiss at the alleyway after one too many shots, the explosion of one too many stolen glances and lingering touches until the tension finally broke.

His hot breath fogged your sense until all that was left was him — the mix of beer and liquor in his mouth; calloused hands from years of guitaring grabbing you at the waist and holding you flat against him when your knees got weak; the slight chap of his lips reminding you that this moment was so, so real when you were starting to wonder if you had simply dreamed this all up.

Your fingers clawed at the fabric of his sleeve, bodies curving into each other.

And there it was, that darn lip ring in the middle of all this.

He swore he could have combusted when your teeth tugged at the ring slightly as you parted, your eyes hazed over and glassy from desire.

It glistened under the lights and you nearly let out a pathetic whimper when his tongue ran across his bottom lips, pushing the ring to the side in the process.

"My place or—"

"Yes," you felt braver than you had ever been and your hand tugged at the front of his vest as you repeated, lips just hovering next to his, "yes."

Hobie Brown usually had a lot to say about most things, but even he could not spare one more second to utter another word in that instance.

You thought that he already had quite a few going on above the neck, you had no idea what you were in for until the clothes come off.

His shirt was the first to go in a messy tugging of hands, immediately revealing the several studs lined up at his collarbone, prominent and calling out for your attention. You would have spent your sweet time sucking and nibbling on him if he would let you, but neither of you was in the mood for all of that pretence after such a long wait.

Next time, you thought to yourself, lips trailing down the center of his chest as he leaned against the mattress, head throwing back when he felt your hands grabbing impatiently at his belt.

The buckle clamoured before coming undone and with it the thick, studded belt that he always had on. One thumb hooked under the elastic of his underwear, the faint happy trail lined up under his naval beckoned your eyes lower as he pushed his skin-tight trousers down.

Nothing could have prepared you for what you saw.

Two more, sitting at the crook of his pubic bone, as if the sharp line that made up the downwards V was not enough for the eyes. You gulped as your gaze drailed further south, your face heating up as you took in his half-hard erection.

There was no way this man didn't know what he was doing with all of this.

The bar nuzzling underneath the base of his shaft was just the tip, you could not help but press your thighs together when you saw the many silver studs lined up on the downside of his pulsing cock, a thick vein popping just underneath that glaring ladder of bars.

There you were, on your knees between his thighs as fabric pooled around his ankle, warmth pooling up in your mouth and traveling to your core while he stared right at you. Dark eyes hooded with lust, you wanted to whimper when his palm reached down to your head, tipping you back just so gently that you were facing him directly.

The other hand found its way to the base of his cock, fisting it in his hand. He could be so show off sometimes, lips curling when your eyes widened at the shiny silver at the crown of his tip.

You darted your tongue out when you followed the silver ball to see the bead of pre leaking from the slit.

"You gonna do something, or you're just gonna stare?"

He did not have to ask twice, and the loud groan he let out when you took him into your mouth almost made you cum without being touched right then and there, the bumps under your tongue as you started bobbing your head made you wonder just how heavenly it would be when you felt it inside you.

And as he usually did, it absolutely blew your mind.

—

Hobie Brown had and continued to have you in the centre of his palm, which you no longer cared to deny anymore. But even then, it was still completely out of hand when he just wandered in one day and tugged you to the side to a corner away from the crowd before rolling his tongue out without a warning.

The last thing you needed on this man is a tongue piercing, as if he wasn't already very good with his mouth already.

"You like?" he asked, smug and knowing.

Hobie let out a laugh when you tugged at him by the arm straight out of the door, not bothered at all when you turned around to send him a sharp glare.

#hobie brown x reader #hobie x reader #hobie brown smut #spider punk x reader #spider punk smut #atsv x reader

[readerthatreadsss]

Sweet Fantasy | Dean Winchester

GIF by born-to-be-his-baby88

(gave myself an actual pat on the fucking back for finding this gif like y'all are gonna see how perfect it is in a second!)

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem! reader

Word Count: 3.9k

Summary: Dean won't eat his vegetables...until you offer to cash in on a very recent fantasy of his, that is.

Warnings [18+ MINORS DNI]: P*rn w/ some solid plot action actually, a bit of domestic fluff sprinkled in, reader and Dean are married (don't know if that's a warning but you should know?), reader dresses up in a sexy Zorro costume with the hat and mask included, handcuffs (Dean receiving), mentions of a safeword but not used, fingering/masturbation (reader receiving), oral sex (brief Dean receiving), a whole lotta teasing (Dean receiving), p in v sex (cowgirl, missionary), unprotected sex (wrap your willy before you fuck her silly!), dirty talk, switch! Dean, switch! reader, very vocal Dean, brief choking (Dean receiving), creampie.

A/n: Hey! Sorry for disappearing for 3 months again...So classes finished almost 2 months ago and I've been wracking my brain about what to post. I tried finishing some of my drafts and it just wasn't working for me idk. Then, like any normal person, I was randomly watching some SPN bloopers this morning and it got to a scene where Dean said sometimes he wants to get spanked during sex by a girl wearing a Zorro mask and my brain ran with that shit IMMEDIATELY. Now, I'm so sorry I couldn't actually write him actually getting spanked without it sounding corny and just wrong to me? But I did write all of this in 7 hours without stopping so I'm honestly proud of it regardless.

Enjoy...

It was a Sunday evening in the bunker, meaning you were responsible for dinner. With that task came the additional task of getting Dean to eat whatever vegetables you cooked without complaining and engaging in a rant that would end with him calling himself the “meat man”.

It’s not that you were concerned about Dean's weight or appearance, after 7 years of marriage you were confident that there was nothing in the world that could make you love Dean Winchester any less. But having a steady diet of beer, beef, and pie was a surefire way to kill any man of Dean’s age faster than any monster or demon.

And God knows you’d do anything to ensure he didn’t die before his time.

Hell, you have before.

Which is why you made Dean agree to eat a side of only vegetables with whatever meat he wanted at least once a week. This week it was string beans and sautéed mushrooms, aka his least favorite vegetable.

But you didn’t have the time to make the 45-minute drive to the grocery store earlier that day so he would have to deal.

Or you wish he would deal…

“Mushrooms? Baby come on,” he complained when you placed his plate before him.

“Hey, it’s all that was left in the fridge. Eat up,” you shrugged, placing a kiss on the crown of his head.

“You know, we could always do no vegetables,” Dean offered with a wide grin.

You chuckled and used a finger to squish his stubbled cheek. “You wish, Winchester.”

He sighed in defeat and turned to pick up his fork.

You looked to make sure Sam was out of earshot before leaning down to where your lips grazed Dean’s ear. “Tell you what, if you eat those vegetables I’ll do that thing you told me about…later” you whispered.

Dean’s eyes lit up immediately, “The thing?” he harshly whispered.

You nodded with a smile.

“Costume and everything?” He made a gesture with his hands.

“Yup, I’ve been hiding the costume for weeks.”

“I’m game” Dean agreed, digging into the mushrooms first.

You turned away to share your own plate with a smile.

“I’m gonna go grocery shopping later,” Sam announced as he sat beside Dean with his plate. He met your eyes, “Anything else you forgot to put on the list?”

“Yeah stop at the liquor store and grab me a bottle of red? I ran out,” you answered sitting across from the boys with your plate.

Sam grabbed a pen and a piece of folded paper from his pocket and added it to his list, “Yeah, no problem. What brand again?”

You swallowed a piece of your chicken with a smirk. “I’m sure you already know seeing as you’re the one who emptied the bottle to the very last drop,” you addressed Sam.

His pen slipped from his grip, his green eyes widening to meet your narrowed ones.

“You drink red wine?” Dean pointed at Sam in disbelief as a laugh rumbled in his chest.

“How did you know?” He asked you, ignoring Dean’s quip.

“I saw you passed out in the library clutching the bottle the other night.”

“Listen Dean finished all the beer and it was the first thing I saw,” he defended himself.

“Oh, you’re getting more creative with your excuses. I'm impressed!” You gushed, sarcasm evident in your tone, “What was it again last week? ‘Oh Eileen wanted to taste some’ " you mimicked his gruff tone causing him to roll his eyes and Dean’s laughter to grow louder. “-when we all know that Eileen is a white wine type of gal.”

"I-" Sam tried to come up with a retort but eventually gave up. “Whatever.”

“Yeah pick up 3 bottles this time in case Eileen wants a taste,” you replied with a grin.

“Three bottles?!” He exclaimed.

“You aren’t the one paying for it, genius,” you reminded him, referring to the unlimited card Charlie hacked for you all those years ago.

“Yeah but I’m gonna have to lug it up here,” Sam mumbled as he stuck his fork into his chicken.

Dinner continued mostly in silence with Sam thinking about the two lousy trips he’d have to make between his car and the kitchen once he returns with the groceries, Dean thinking about the reward he’ll be getting for the vegetables he’s actually grown used to eating, and y/n thinking about all the ways she’s gonna make Dean squirm later.

~ ~ ~

Hours had passed since dinner and Sam was now on his way to the grocery store leaving just you and Dean in the bunker.

To say he was excited would be an understatement.

Dean first told you about this fantasy of his after a case you had months ago required you to take a trip to an adult costume shop to question the owner. It took mere seconds for the image of you in the very specific costume to cross his mind after laying eyes on the packaging.

You laughed at the idea when he told you and silently decided you would try and find the costume.

Of course, he didn’t believe you would actually indulge him but you were actually excited too. Costumes and toys weren’t new territory for you and Dean but they were few and far between with your unpredictable hunting schedules.

Dean now sat at the edge of your shared bed wearing pajama pants and a t-shirt waiting for you to return like you had promised.

But it had been almost 20 minutes since you left to get changed and his patience was wearing thin. He was seconds away from getting up and coming to see if you needed help or if you were even hurt.

Which you predicted would be the case.

So you had been standing out of sight by the doorway for less than a minute now waiting for him to try and leave.

“Damnit,” Dean eventually gave in to his worries and began to make his way to the door.

You smirked once you heard his determined steps drawing closer.

Dean’s eyes widened once you spun from your hiding spot against the wall to stand before him. “Looking for me?”

You watched his throat bob and his pupils dilate as he took in your full look.

Atop your head and face rested a sexy black Zorro mask and matching hat. You were also wearing a black sleeveless leather top that stopped in your midriff region and had strings tied between your breasts that allowed a whole lot of cleavage to be on display. The leather skirt that accompanied was low-waisted and stopped at your upper thigh, matching the black thong you were wearing beneath.

You had stretched the thin straps of the thong along your hips above the skirt for added flair.

In your right hand, you held a fake silver sword similar to the one Zorro held in the movies, and hanging from the left side of your skirt were two handcuffs ready and waiting to be used.

You were sex on knee-length boot-covered legs.

Dean felt himself growing hard already.

You bit your bottom lip at the way your husband’s eyes roamed your body, hoping the dark red lipstick covering it was as transfer and waterproof as the box advertised.

“You look...stunning,” Dean marveled. The model on the packaging of the costume didn’t come close to how it looked on your body.

Your heart swelled at the compliment before remembering the persona you had practiced for the night ahead. “Oh I know,” you took a step closer and leaned against the doorway. You pointed the sword in Dean’s direction. “Why are you still dressed, Dean?” you asked with furrowed brows and a smile.

A chuckle almost left your lips at the sight of Dean fumbling with his pant strings and tripping over his own legs to send the pajama bottoms flying over to a random corner while throwing off his t-shirt with record speed.

He stood before you in only his boxers, his enjoyment of your costume evident by the bulge in the center.

“Get on the bed.” You told him, your tone not excessively commanding but sexy enough to make him obey immediately.

“Yes ma’am,” he smirked, quickly sitting and sliding up to the headboard of the bed.

You walked further into the room and placed your sword down before climbing onto the bed and slowly crawling to where Dean sat. His green eyes followed your every move as you moved to straddle him, but not fully.

You then grabbed the two pairs of handcuffs attached to your hips and twirled them around your fingers. “How you feeling Dean?” you checked in, your hips hovering above his thighs, making sure to not touch his erection just yet.

“Oh, I feel great. Real great. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this great,” he nodded eagerly as you cuffed each of his hands to each bedpost, getting a face full of your boobs in the process.

"You sound nervous," you teased him, "Am I making you nervous baby?"

"Me? Nervous? Pfft!"

You scoffed, not believing him one bit. "What's our safe word?" you asked him gently.

Dean leaned forward as much as his restraints would allow to press a sweet kiss against your stomach. " 'Oklahoma', baby," he grinned.

You then let your clothed ass sink down on his covered erection. Dean groaned and tried to reach for your hips instinctively only to meet the restriction of the handcuffs. “I hope they aren’t too tight 'cause they’re gonna be on there for a while,” you nearly bust out laughing at the look Dean gave you.

“A while?” he repeated, dreading not being able to touch you at a time like this.

You shrugged, “If you behave I might change my mind.”

Before he could argue further, you leaned forward and connected your lips in a searing kiss. His breath was hot against your face as your lips drifted to his neck while your hands found themselves in his hair.

A breathy groan slipped past his lips when you nipped a specific spot beneath his ear lobe. “You’re so loud. Maybe I should’ve bought a muzzle,” you whispered in his ear teasingly, feeling his dick jump beneath you at your words. “I'll remember that next time,” you replied to his body's response.

“Baby, do you have any idea how amazing you look? ” Dean gushed, struggling against his restraints as you began to grind your hips against his covered cock.

You smiled and met his lips in a kiss once again. He slipped his tongue between your welcoming lips, allowing his taste to flood your mouth. You pulled away seconds later, nipping his bottom lip, and removed yourself from his lap.

He watched nervously, awaiting your next move while you scooted farther away from him along the bed. You slowly slipped off your boots, your confidence unwavering as you held Dean’s hungry stare.

He watched you use a hand to hold yourself upright before spreading your legs open to reveal the lace thong covering your already-drenched pussy. “Are you about to..." he trailed off, jaw clenched as he spoke.

"Hmm mhm. And there is not a damn thing you can do about it...except watch," you slowly removed your thong and threw it at Dean’s lap. He immediately became hyperaware of the feeling of the wet lace draped over his dick.

You slowly brought two fingers up to your lips and sucked them even slower to coat them in your saliva and give Dean a show before bringing them down to where you needed them the most. You began slow ministrations against your aching clit, pulling moans from yourself that made Dean impossibly harder.

He took a deep breath at the sight, imagining his own fingers parting your folds and rubbing at your swollen clit.

“You are a menace,” Dean laughed in obvious distress, licking his dried lips. He couldn’t handle watching you touch yourself without being able to touch you any longer so he looked away, swallowing harshly at the sound of your wetness against your fingers.

“Look at me Dean,” you mewled, continuing to rub your pussy in small quick circles. He turned reluctantly, watching as you slowly pushed two fingers inside your dripping hole. “See this, baby? It’s all for you,” you said, melting into a moan when your fingers grazed a spot inside you that drew your orgasm closer.

“I gotta taste you, baby,” Dean pleaded, “Open these and let me taste you, please,” he rattled the handcuffs against the bedposts.

The pure agony in his voice had your fingers and breathing speeding up and soon your climax was approaching. Dean’s breathing picked up in response. “Fuck, Dean I’m gonna cum,” you moaned, pressing a thumb to your clit while your fingers kept working inside of you to bring you to the edge.

A thin layer of sweat appeared on Dean’s forehead as he watched you keenly. He bit his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, his self-control draining by the second.

Your eyes remained open and locked onto his, your moans growing louder and borderline pornographic. You were putting on a show and he was losing his mind.

“I’m cumming, fuck-“ you panted as your first orgasm of the night slammed into you and caused you to make a small mess on the sheets beneath you. Your body shook sporadically with aftershocks of your own work

Dean’s head hung low. “Jesus baby,” he huffed, his own voice strangled, “you’re trying to give me a heart attack aren’t you?”

You smiled as you crawled back up to sit on Dean’s lap, taking your thong and throwing them somewhere unseen. “Ehh maybe,” you replied coyly, straightening your hat and mask. “And since you behaved so well,” you reached a hand down to touch his clothed cock, “I think you deserve a reward,” you pressed a quick kiss to his lips.

Dean allowed you to pull his boxers off his body, watching you wrap a hand around his painfully erect cock. “Fuck,” he groaned at the feeling of your hand wrapped around him.

You slid down to where you could lay flat on your stomach between his legs and leaned down to briefly swirl your tongue around where precum was gathered at the tip.

“Take the hat off and look at me pretty girl,” Dean said.

You complied, throwing the hat off to the edge of the bed before diving down and licking his tip once again, but this time keeping your eyes locked onto his.

“Holy shit,” Dean groaned, his hips twitching upwards. You then opened your mouth and wrapped it around his length, slowly sliding down until your nose was nuzzled at the base, staying there for a few seconds before coming back up for air. “Hell yes, baby that's perfect,” he panted as you began sucking faster along his length, a few lone tears flowing from beneath the mask from the familiar stretch of his cock in your throat.

Your head continued to bob up and down Dean’s length for some time, drawing shallow moans of your name and grunts from him before you finally let up and pressed one last kiss against the side of his cock.

Dean’s chest heaved as you licked your lips and used a hand to wipe your face clean. “Goddamnit," he whined at your sudden stop, feeling his impending orgasm return to its hiding place.

You grabbed your previously discarded Zorro hat and placed it back on your head before hiking your skirt up to allow you more room to move your legs around Dean’s lap. “Can’t have you cumming before I’m done with you sweetheart,” you replied while untying the strings of your top and removing it.

The keys to the handcuffs dropped onto Dean’s lap from where you previously hid them in your top. You had honestly forgotten you put them there but it just presented yet another opportunity to get Dean all whiny and desperate, which was a rarity that you rather enjoyed.

“Oops would you look at that,” you exclaimed playfully, taking them up and dangling them in front of Dean’s eyes.

"Alright baby you broke me. Come on, just let me go, and trust me, I will make it worth your while,” Dean bargained with you.

"As enticing as that sounds," you paused and brought your hand up to caress Dean’s cheek before pulling him in for a sloppy kiss. You pulled away with a grin. “I love hearing you beg, so no,” you whispered against his lips.

Dean loudly groaned watching you gently place the keys down on the closest nightstand. “Shit,” he shut his eyes.

But they shortly shot open once you used a hand to grip his length and bring it between your dripping folds.

A pleased hum left your lips once the tip glazed your clit causing Dean to swallow harshly. “Aren’t you sick of teasing me,” he hissed.

Fuck no.

You used a free hand to grip the back of his hair. “Take a deep breath for me, Dean,” you told him, feeling his chest rise against yours soon after. And as it fell, you slipped his cock inside your entrance.

You slowly sank down onto his length until it was fully buried inside you, groaning at the welcomed stretch.

“I love those sounds you make for me,” Dean whispered against your lips.

“Oh you’re gonna be making some of those sounds too,” you smirked, clenching around him causing a sharp grunt to reach your ears.

You guided your hips up and down Dean’s length, riding him at a quickening pace. He jerked his hips upward to match your cadence drawing a gasp from your lips when his cock hit that spot inside you that had you seeing stars. “There you go baby,” Dean groaned, “you look so fucking good riding my cock.”

The hat and mask from your costume managed to stay in place as you slammed down on Dean’s cock repeatedly. And it was an image that he would never forget.

Your hand released Dean’s hair and instead found itself wrapped around Dean’s neck as you rode him faster. A whine that shot straight to your cunt escaped his lips when your fingers slightly tightened their grip around his throat.

You suddenly slowed down and instead began to grind your hips against his, moaning loudly when your clit grazed his pelvis. “I’m gonna cum again shit!” You threw your head back in obscene pleasure, releasing Dean's throat and holding onto his shoulders to steady yourself.

“Fuck yes. Use my cock to get off, sweetheart,” Dean urged you on before leaning forward to suck one of your nipples as best as he could.

This soon pushed you over the edge, your climax tearing a scream from within you as your hips faltered around Dean’s cock, your hat flying off your head once more. Dean relished in the way your cunt pulsed around him from your orgasm as well as the look of sheer pleasure that crossed your face at that moment. “You’re so beautiful,” he smiled up at you, meaning every word.

You kissed his forehead with a smile and reached for the handcuff keys. “I think I’ve tortured you enough,” you freed his right hand first, pressing a kiss against his wrist, then did the same to his left, “This is supposed to be a reward after all.”

Dean’s lips curved into a smirk at his newfound freedom. “Yes it is, sweetheart.”

A surprised yelp left your lips when Dean gripped your hips and flipped you onto your back. He grabbed your hat and placed it on his own head before sending you a wink. “And I’m not feeling rewarded just yet.”

You nearly came just from the sight of Dean hovering above you in only that hat. “We’re gonna have to talk about my sexy cowboy fantasy when we’re done here,” you raised a brow.

A low chuckle echoed from Dean’s chest. He reached up and tipped his hat in your direction, “yes ma’am.” He replied with a deep southern drawl.

Your pussy clenched instantly.

“That was hot as fuck,” you breathed.

“Thank you darlin’ “ he replied in the same accent with a wink.

You giggled before pulling him down for a kiss. He pulled away and touched the mask still wrapped around your eyes. “And thank you for doing this for me, baby,” he smiled down at you, “It was so so much better than I imagined.”

“It was definitely my pleasure,” you nodded happily, feeling his hands glide down your sides.

“Was?” He protested playfully. “The night is still young, sweetheart!” He threw your legs over his shoulder causing you to exclaim at the sudden move. He placed a kiss on each of your thighs and lined himself up with your entrance before entering you once again.

“FUCK” you cried out at the sudden intrusion, feeling your eyes well up with tears of pleasure in record time.

Dean pulled out and slammed into you once again, his grip on your legs tightening as he eased into a quick pace.

“YES-Dean holy shit,” you moaned, eyes quickly rolling to the back of your head and back arching up and off the bed as he fucked you with reckless abandon.

“How’s it feeling baby?” Dean said, bringing a hand down to play with your clit.

“So good, Dean, so fucking good,” you rambled, your skin buzzing with pleasure, “Harder, please, I'm almost there,” you found yourself begging.

“You gonna cum for me already pretty girl?” He sped up his slaughter on your cunt, "Maybe I should make you beg for it?" his voice was low and demeaning but only spurred you on more.

You shook your head adamantly while your hands fumbled around Dean's waist for a solid grip. So he simply released your legs and grabbed your hands before holding them down above your head, driving his cock into you even harder at this new angle.

“Dean!" you broke off into a strangled moan.

Dean’s lips attacked your open neck. “I wish we had neighbors so they could hear you screaming my fucking name,” he all but growled as the sounds of your moans and skin against skin plagued the air.

You came with a yell seconds later, your release coating Dean’s cock and the sheets. “That’s my girl. There you go baby,” he released your hands and held your face, guiding you down from your high.

Your hands gripped Dean’s hair harshly as you kissed his lips and his hips stuttered, his cum coating your insides soon after. You swallowed his grunts as his cock continued to leak and twitch inside you.

Broken pants befell both your lips in between sloppy kisses while your orgasms passed and your shared spend flowed between your legs. You eventually released his lips for air, “That was-“

“-Incredible,” he mirrored your thoughts, removing your hat from his head. Dean used a hand to remove your mask and brush a few strands of hair behind your ears once he moved to lie down beside you.

“Hi,” you grinned in awe of the man you called your husband. “Hey sweetness,” he grinned back, adoration evident in his deep green eyes.

Your cheeks flushed as he pressed a kiss against your forehead. He quickly grabbed his previously discarded t-shirt and used it to clean up the mess between your legs before throwing it in the laundry basket nearby.

You snuggled into his side once he returned to the bed.

“So uhh what was it you were saying about your cowboy kink?” Dean smugly asked after a few seconds.

“Goddamnit Dean,” you shamefully groaned into his side, gaining a chuckle from him.

ANDDD SCENE!

Hope it wasn't too bad seeing as I gave up on editing it like 75% through it.

Tbh I highly doubt more than 20 people are gonna see this because I have no idea how strong the Supernatural fandom's presence is on here, which also means that I don't know if anyone has used a plot like this one before so don't be afraid to let me know if that is the case and I will make changes as I see fit!

(Also let me know if you want a sequel one shot with sexycowboy! Dean and reader. Or feel free to make any other requests)

Reblogs, likes, and comments are ALWAYS appreciated :)

divider creds : @cafekitsune

#smut #oneshot #supernatural #dean winchester smut #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester #dean x reader #jensen ackles #jensen x reader #spn smut #spnfandom #spn #supernatural smut #supernatural one shot #fluff #jensen ackles x you #imagine #supernatural imagine #spn fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction

[setokaibapetty]

5 + 1 Fic Friday Roundup: Surprise Relative

Some fics where a surpise blood relation pops up. Like, sometimes the guy who raised you was lying about being your dad, sometimes a Pit gives you a baby, etc.

Imprint (AO3) - "He screwed his eyes shut, held his breath, desperately wished that he was back in his safehouse, alone and blissfully unaware. But the weight in his hands remained, and when he opened his eyes, it was to the bean-shaped 'fuck you' the Lazarus Pit had kindly bestowed upon him, arms and legs folded up against his front beneath off-white muslin while tiny lips smacked softly.'

Red Blood, Blue Blood (AO3) - "Jason Todd was living a very ordinary life in Crime Alley before his mother gets sick. Then, suddenly, Jason and Catherine have to grapple with the secret everyone has known since Jason was born with black hair and blue eyes—Willis Todd wasn't his biological father. Bruce Wayne is, and not only is he the richest man in Gotham, he has three other children who may not be glad to have an interloper in their midst."

Going Off-Book (AO3) - "Dick winces. “Tim, meet Damian Wayne. Apparently, his mom told him who his dad was when he turned eighteen and the first thing he did after finding out was enroll in the nearest police academy. He served for a couple of years and just arranged a transfer here from Metropolis.” He directs a pleading gaze at Tim. “Like I said, Bruce had to go out of town for a while, but he asked me to show Damian the ropes. Tim, I’m sorry, but—"

when the dead tree flowers (AO3) - "It wasn't solely Jango Fett's DNA that went into making Domino Squad. Palpatine had other plans for them. Thankfully, so does their second genetic donor, and he has just as few qualms about murder as a Sith Lord."

Open Arms (AO3) - "The story starts when Quinlan get's a call from the hospital; an old girlfriend has given birth and named him the father, leaving the baby at the hospital. This triggers a series of events that bring Fox back into contact with his bio family, who he is not as distant from as he might like to think."

Bonus: welcome all your bastard actions home (AO3) - "Daenerys had arrived at Winterfell three days past, a great host of dragons and roses and suns and krakens, clearly expecting Jon -- the King in the North, as uneasy that title rests on his shoulders -- to bend the knee. Instead, he takes her to the crypts to speak of ancient history."

#fic rec #fic friday #fandom friday #ao3 #links #jason todd #dc x dp #fright knight #bruce wayne #tim drake #cop au #modern au #opps baby #adopted #surprise #blood related #clones #star wars clone wars #omega granta #custody #cc 1010 #commander fox #Quinlin Vos #vos #jon snow #r + l = j

[josiesullysblog]

Heart of mine

~AGED UP Neteyam x Na’vi reader

~ANGSTTTTTTT, Lil fluff if you squint

~Proofread?-no

~Summary-idk how to describe this :( but [Y/n] goes to great lengths to keep her sister happy.

~Note-tough topics are talked about and mentioned throughout, please read at your own discretion.

***



“My sister!” the day you were born was a very happy day. Your older sister, Nova, sat by your mother looking at you as if you were her own kid. “Say hi, [Y/n]!” your mother grabbed your small hand and made you wave at your sister, “hi, [Y/n]!”

Your mother smiled, “you two are sisters, you’ll always have each other,” your sister smiled big as she watched you, “always and forever!” such a sweet moment, you’d be shocked to find out what became of your older sister.

Your sister took being your older sister very seriously. She constantly had tabs on you, always knowing where you were and who you hung out with.

Your best friend was Neteyam you two did everything together, it was an ongoing joke you two would end up marrying each other.

“You have to promise me, we’ll always be best friends!” you gave Neteyam a gummy smile, “I’ll always protect you, [Y/n]!”

Your family dynamic was always different. First of all, you didn't have a dad he left before you were even born. Since you opened your eyes it was always your mom looking out for you and your older sister.

Your sister remembers your dad and often you caught her crying about him, “I miss him,” she’d cry in your arms.

She was a good person, she was a kid herself she didn't know how to take her anger out so sometimes it fell onto you, “you never even met him!” You didn't like seeing her so sad, so you’d try everything to make her happy, but it never worked.

As she got older, she became more distant she started spending less time with you, and more time with friends. You didn't like her friends every time they came over, they were rude and smelt funny. “You won’t snitch, right?” Your sister smiled at you.

You just wanted to spend time with your sister, “I won't!” she ruffled your hair when her friend pulled something out, “this is life, wanna hit?” Your sister immediately took the rolled-up leaf out of your face, “she a fucking child, bro.”

You shook your head, “i’m not! I turn nineteen in two months!” your sister laughed, “sounds like a fucking child to me.”

You had never heard your sister use such words, “my bad,” her friend backed off but your sister quickly brought it to her mouth, “go lay down or something,” you shook your head, “but I wanna hang out with you!” She rolled her eyes, “I’m with my friends, [Y/n] go somewhere else!”

You sat in your bed, tears brimming in your eyes, she was never mean to you why was she acting like this?

You ended up falling asleep but woke up to screaming coming from the kitchen, “you’re doing this with your sister in the room?” you heard anger seeth from your mother, “mom calm down it wasn't like she was near!”

They kept going back and forth, you got up and snuck out you didn't want to hear them keep fighting. “Teyem?” you walked into the Sully’s tent, “why are you here, honey?” Neteyam was quick to hug you and check for any scratches.

“I couldn't sleep,” you yawned as he made you lay down next to him, “it's okay, you can sleep here,” he knew there had to be more to the story but at that moment he knew you just wanted to sleep. “I love you,” you kissed his nose while he smiled, “I love you, too.”

From that day forward, you were always at the Sully’s. Your mom and sister fought all the time, over what your sister was doing, the people she hung around, and everything else in-between. You cried a lot more, you wish everything could go back to normal.

Neteyam and you became very close if it was even possible. You didn't want to tell anybody about your home life, always having an excuse as to why you didn't want to be home.

It all came crashing down, your mother and you were at the Sully’s when you wanted to go grab something, “I’ll be quick!”

your mother nodded as you ran out, you and Neteyam were making each other bracelets, you had wanted to add a flower bead, but when you got there you saw your sister.

“Nova?” she lay on the floor, unresponsive so you walked closer, “Nova? Are you alright?” you gasped as you saw her full form. She looked like she had died, you quickly pull yourself together and run back to your mom, “momma,” you yanked her arm, “[Y/n], i’m talking,” you yanked harder, “somethings wrong with Nova.”

Your mom finally looked at you, “what?” you started crying trying to yank her out of the tent, “she needs help! Momma hurry!”

Neytiri immediately listened to you, heading towards the tent. Neteyam wrapped his hands around you, “it's okay, I promise she’s okay.” he tried comforting you, but you weren't listening. “She looked dead, Teyem!” you cried as if she was dead.

You stood outside Mo’at’s tent as you heard your mother speak, “will she be all right?” Mo’at nodded, “you brought her in at the right time, or else she would've died. Who found her?” Your mother's voice cracked, “[Y/n].”

Tears fell as you looked at your sister's body, “hey, [Y/n],” Neteyam sat next to you as Jake and Neytiri smiled at you, “how are you holding up?” Jake asked you just shrugged. “How about you come with us, while you wait for your mom?”

You looked back at your sister, “I know it's going to be hard, but I promise she’s going to be alright,” the woman’s soft words gave you small comfort, “okay.”

As you walked away, you looked back once more, “please, Eywa don't take my sister.”

No one knew the real reason why your sister blacked out, your mother didn't want anyone to know. So, she told you to lie anytime someone asked, and you listened.

“Her immune system is weak,” you told the Sullys, “oh, i’m glad she’s doing better!” you nodded. Your mind constantly revisits that day, it was always replaying. Her body was lifeless on the floor, and your feet can't move you can't go get help.

You didn't tell anyone about your terrors, you didn't want them to worry, they were all on your sister making sure she was alright.

The arguing stopped, and for the most part, your mother's attention shifted completely onto your sister. You knew your mom felt guilty, that your finding your sister was her fault.

“She loves you a lot Nova,” you heard your mothers weeping, “I know mom,” you silently cried as you pretend to sleep, “to have her be the one to find you,” it wasn't her fault you wished you could voice this, but she barely spoke with you. “It breaks my heart, Nova.” Your sister cried, “I know, mom.”

She was too busy, but you were okay with it. You had Neteyam, he was the center of your universe. You loved him so much, and you knew he loved you. He voiced it all the time, but a part of you felt like you were lying to him.

Like he was going to figure out what actually happened to your sister, and leave you. “After your ceremony, I and you are going to mate,” Neteyam kissed you as you smiled, “I can't wait!”

You were ready to move on with this chapter in your life, and Neteyam was the only person you wanted to do it with.

You and Neteyam would just chill in his tent, it wasn't very often but it was enough time where you and he could spend time alone.

“Bro, [Y/n] your sister is so much fun!” Lo’ak walked in, interrupting the calm atmosphere. “What makes you say that?” you smiled at the boy, “she got her plug to give me a lil something!”

You immediately stand up after hearing him say this, “she still talks to him?” Neteyam looked at you confused as Kiri and your sister walk in, “hey, lil sis!”

You looked at the girl as if she had two heads, “do you still talk to your plug?” Kiri laughed as she went to sit down,” Lo’ak you actually went through with it?” the boy nodded his head smiling.

“If dad finds out you are as good as dead,” Neteyam watched your mannerisms, “yea I still talk with him!” your sister lay down. “Why?” you felt like she didn't even care. “Cus I have anxiety and shit,” you rolled your hands in a fist, “you're so fucking selfish.” You walked out of the room immediately, Neteyam wanted to chase you but your sister stopped him, “I got her.”

Neteyam knew something was off, you wouldn't just say that to say that. He wanted to give you space but he also didn't know when to intervene.

He loved you, more than you could even wrap your head around it. It hurt him to see you so, hurt and he wanted to help he just didn't know how to.

“[Y/n], it helps me, bro,” you rolled your eyes, “I don't wanna talk with you,” your sister groaned before grabbing your arm. “Just fucking listening,” you immediately took your hand back, “don't fucking touch me!”

“I HAVEN’T EVEN DONE IT YET,” she screamed in your face. You scoffed, “you're a lair, Nova. You think I believe you?” your sister rolled her eyes, “you're just like mom. You know I have my reasons, you two are just too fucking full of it to hear them.”

You looked at her, “tell me them,” she looked at you shocked, “tell me one good reason as to why because none of them matter Nova!”

You broke out into a sob, “when you do drugs, it's not like it's Lo’ak who can just stop when he wants to,” your sister set down breaking into tears, “it's better than killing myself.”

You sat down next to her, “you don't know how bad I wanna kill myself, but I stick around for you,” tears ran down your face. “Nova,” she looked at you, “[Y/n], you can go tell mon, but I promise you I won't be around for longer.”

You sobbed hard, “you can help me though,” you looked at her, “how?” she wiped your tears, “when I was with Mo’at she had this pill, that helped cool my nerves.” you looked at her confused, “you want me to go get them?”

She nodded, “but I can't, Mo’at only gives them to,” she cut you off, “steal them,” your eyes grew wide, “I really can't do that! That's Neteyam’s grandmother if I plan on being the next Tsahik, I can't steal from her!”

Your sister gave you a sad smile, “then you can't tell mom about this,” you sighed as you looked at her, “I’ll see what I can do.” she hugged you, “thank you, sissy.”

From that point on, you snuck her pills. You wouldn't take the whole thing that is too obvious, you take four pills and give them to her.

“Thank you [Y/n]!” You felt terrible how could you call yourself the future Tsahik and do such things? “Hey, are you feeling okay?” Neteyam became more worried day after day, “yeah i’m great!” you didn't know how much longer you could keep living like this.

“You know if anything is ever bothering you, i’m right here,” you kissed Neteysm, “I know,” you were going to tell him but you didn't know how. But you knew you needed to stop this thing, your sister needed real help.

“[Y/n]! Great, I was just going to look for you!” your sister hugged you, “Nova, I need to tell you-,” her excitement stopped her, “I need you to get me a full bottle,” you gave her a sad smile, “I can't. I mean I can't keep giving you those pills.”

“Why?” you fidgeted with your fingers, “it's not right, you need actual help Nova!” she sat down on the floor and began crying, “you don't care about me! Do you want me to die?” tears rolled down your cheeks, “I do care! It’s just I can't keep doing this!”

“I’m going to kill myself, do you not understand this?” you sobbed, “please let's tell mom, we can help you,” she pushed you to the floor, “WE AREN’T TELLING ANYONE, listen just one more time, then I’ll stop.” You sighed before nodding, “one more time.”

You walked into Mo’at’s tent, usually, no one is in there during dinner but today Mo’at was there. She greeted you with a smile, “my future Tsahik! Come here!” she wrapped you in a hug, and you knew at that moment you couldn't take the pills.

“What brings you in here honey?” you just shrugged, “I can't remember!” You were going to leave when Mo’at said something, “how are you?”

You smiled, “i’m good,” she shook her head, “no, how are you really? You looked at her confused, “I just mean you have been going through something pretty traumatic,” your breathing hitched, “I just imagine what it does to a child, a little girl who finds her sister overdosed.”

Neteyam looked at you confused, “overdosed?” your head turned quickly towards him. “You don't deserve it, [Y/n].”

“I know she’s the reason you’ve been taking my pills,” Mo’at said as she got closer, “it's okay, i’m not mad at you.”

You felt tears fall as Neteyam engulfed you in his arms, “it's okay, you can tell me.” you sobbed as he hugged him back, “I just don't know what to do, Teyem.”

He held you tight, Mo’at taking this as her leave to go. Neteyam sat down with you, “whenever you're ready to talk, i’m ready to listen.” you sobbed in his arms, “you’ll hate me.”

Neteyam grabbed your chin making you look at him, “nothing you can say or do to make me hate you.” you looked at him to see if he was lying but he looked serious. “I love you, [Y/n] I always have and always will.” he wiped your tears, “I love you too.” You knew this was the time to tell him everything.

***

Heyyyy everyone! Sorry for the rushed ending, I was just writing this one since it's been on my head since forever! But hopefully you all like it.

#avatar way of water #neteyam #avatar loak #jake sully #avatar #neteyam x y/n #avatar neytiri #avatar tuk #neteyam sully #sully family #avatar neteyam #protective neteyam #neteyam x you #neteyam x na'vi!reader

[psalmsofpsychosis]

"#Alfred basically catches a lamb and goes

#''you're a beautiful wolf; i know you are; now you're gonna bite my hand until you draw blood so we both believe it;

#because that's the way we know how to be men.''

#and then 10 years down the line he looks at Bruce and he whispers in horror; ''that's a wolf''

#GIRL YES HE IS; YOU MADE HIM ONE. IT WAS YOU"

Your tags are so- Idk I don't have the words. No wait I DO-

THIS IS FREAKING BEAUTIFUL OMG

The way Bruce wasn't born with sharp teeth and claws to defend himself against the world. The place he was born into removed any need to grow them, but at the same time the place he was born into was the catalyst for him to turn into stone. Hard, unyielding to pressure and with its own jagged edges that you can hit until your knuckels bleed.

But the thing about stone is that you can chip away at it until it looks like what you want.

So Bruce was a lamb at the beginning, possessing talc for a heart, easy to rub to dust, but after the murders, he was molded into something different. He grew teeth and claws so big and strong it became difficult to be gentle, his heart was rubbed to dust and reformed and compressed and rubbed to dust and reformed and compressed until it turned into a diamond.

Alfred taught him how to be a wolf but didn't account on what would happen once Bruce's claws were bigger than his own.

CAN YOU TALK MORE ABOUT BRUCE AND ALFRED'S DYNAMIC PLEASE? You're literally rearranging my brain chemistry as I'm typing, wow. This feels so freaking strange. Thank you so so SO much

I wish you an AMAZING day

GOOD MAD MONDAY NOON TO YOU ANON YOU'RE KILLING ME. Like i'm over here lying face flat on the ground, head fucking full 99 thoughts per second this ride is going straight to hell—

You actually made them sound a lot like the Pygmalion myth, which is so right and true and also a very delicately apt interpretation of the way Bruce and Alfred's dynamic unfolds, particularly in Bruce's childhood, and particularly as portrayed in the Gotham series (which is my all time favourite Bruce&Alfred dynamic anyway, so excuse me for being annoying and immediately nosedive down that rabbithole)

See, to me the thing is, i dont think Bruce and Alfred understand each other at all. They're cut from very different clothes, and Alfred doesn't understand what Bruce /is/, but he understands what Bruce /can become/, maybe even what he's supposed to become, Bruce is the fifth element to him. Combine that lack of understanding and all the love and affection Alfred holds for Bruce and of course he makes a project of perfection out of him; Alfred molds and makes Bruce. Batman as a persona and as a purpose precisely exists *because of the way Alfred raises Bruce*, this is something that Gotham TV puts extra emphasis on. In many ways Alfred does carve Bruce into an idea of perfection, *his* idea of perfection, and Bruce lets him too. This is where stuff get a bit complicated though; Alfred is someone who struggles with his own humanity and darker side. He's so loving and loyal, but he's also bitter and mean with a vicious bite and he handles Bruce with such cold hands sometimes, and he hates every second of it, he hates his own humanity. So he pushes Bruce to get rid of his too, and they have this constant push and pull because Bruce has those exact traits. they're similar not in what they own about themselves, but in their shadows, when the sun shines on them their flawed humanity has the exact same shape and they both don't want a shadow; eventually the way they resolve this is by standing back to back and protecting each other and now they share their shadows and it's not so scary anymore. The Pygmalion myth as a parallel interpretation of their narrative fits so darn well because you are right, Bruce is made into stone and Alfred sculpts him to something beautiful and almost horrifying, almost inhuman, he sometimes forgets that Bruce is a person and not an idea, and it shows. But Bruce breaks mold, he always does, he forces Alfred to live with his own humanity and Bruce's, and this brings up a lot of grief for Alfred, but he loves Bruce so he finds a way to live with it and he does.

The Lamb/wolf metaphor is a different face to this same transformation process; in the early years Alfred has little space for Bruce's terrifying softness, but neither does Bruce. Bruce is scared of his own vulnurability and tenderness, this lamb *wants* to become something else, something less weak and helpless, something that could've saved his parents. He doesn't want to become a wolf persay, but the thing is, he has the makings. This is the reason Alfred can bring it out of him; he very much has the makings of a wolf. to juxtapose it with the pygmalion allegory; you cannot carve out of the stone what is not already in it. (this does bring up the question wether Bruce was ever a lamb at all, but that's a different topic for another day✨️)

anyway yep, i love your mind Anon, and thank you for the question! Hope you have an absolutely wonderful day too ❤️❤️

#i'm gonna put my brain in the Bruce&Alfred vibe juice and put in the lab fridge #let it soak for 79 hours i need to THINK #this is so so good so many good ideas happening here #and i'm always a sucker for Gotham!Bruce&Alfred talk 😩😩 #Bruce Wayne #Alfred Pennyworth #Bruce Wayne meta #Alfred Pennyworth meta #Batman #Batman meta #batfam #Gotham #Gotham TV

[intheholler]

What makes you count as Appalachian? I was born outside the Appalachians but my family has a long history there and used to live there for the early years of my life but haven’t lived there since.

I hesitate to call myself Appalachian truly but I do feel most at home there and miss it greatly. I wish I was better connected with the culture overall.

Even if I wouldn’t be considered Appalachian, this blog is a great comfort and I thank you for running it! :)

(another identity-questioning anon, another long ass answer bc i feel for you)

first, i wanna say that no one gets to define who you are but you, and especially not me. that said--i hope my opinion benefits you in some way.

when you say what 'counts' as appalachian, it sounds like ur holding urself up against a set of strictly defined traits, and that isn't fair to you. try to shed that mindset.

now. my idea of what makes a person appalachian is this:

direct ties to the region. period.

either you live here now, grew up here but moved away at some point, even just spent the bulk of your childhood visiting family here--whatever steeped you in the land and the culture for long enough for it to become an authentic, meaningful part of you.

spending the "early years" of your life here and being raised by appalachian folks outside of here definitely qualifies (in my eyes, which, again, aren't the defining lens).

and location isn't all, bc culture isn't a static place.

when i was dealing with my own appalachian identity crisis(TM), i learned about the appalachian diaspora. i don't mean to 'splain, but, just in case you aren't familiar with the term:

di·as·po·ra /dīˈasp(ə)rə/ noun the dispersion or spread of a people from their original homeland

there are any number of reasons why we as a people leave our homes even if the roots done grown thick and intertwined. economic or socioeconomic reasons, usually.

mine was economic. (not to make this about me, but i always hope my experience can provide some helpful perspective)

i was born in nc and grew up poor as hell. my dad was a contractor, so we moved around wherever the money was. usually didn't stay in one place more than two years but always either lived in the mountains of nc or in the piedmont region of SC.

i have spent over half my life in appalachia, and a little under half on the outskirts. the times where i didn't live here used to make me question everything, since i'm not a cradle-to-casket, never-left-never-will appalachian.

but i came to see that's really fucking unfair to do that to myself, because it was never my choice. it wasn't yours, either.

appalachia informs every single part of who i am, from my values to my queerness, from my education to my (leftist) politics, from my beliefs to my worldview.

my family has been here for centuries, and grew up on the same soils in scotland. i spent my formative years here. no matter what, i was raised by appalachian women, speaking the appalachian dialect, eating appalachian food, and living the appalachian way of life, for better or worse.

some time spent elsewhere don't change that. neither does it for you.

all of that said, i get it, bc i still sometimes struggle with The Crisis. moving around so much means i never had one exact place i can call my hometown the way most people do, that i never had a place to plant permanent roots.

so, being "from appalachia" as a region is deeply, deeply important to my identity and sense of self. and that's all that matters. if it's important to your identity, then that's all that matters.

and like hell does anyone get to tell me one way or the other. lord help em if they try. they don't get to tell you, either. you spent your childhood here. if feels like home, then it's home <3

#asks #appalachia

[curlygirlybitchachos]

The sad reality

- Cody? - Y/n's voice were so quiet, that Cody wasn't sure they really called for him.

He knows the padawan was always loud, cheerful, full of life. This little, cracked, lifeless voice can't be his chi- his Commander voice.

The padawan was sitting on the floor, their eyes full of unshed tears, looking straight at Cody. Like they were waiting for something. Like they were waiting for Cody to do something, anything. He thought about searching for Obi-wan, he was their master. He wanted to find Ahsoka, the two padawan were always together if they can. Even finding Skywalker be a better choice than Cody himself.

But there was only Cody, nobody else. He needed to choose. Be a good soldier, leave the padawan and find some help, or let himself be more than a meet droid, and take care of the kid himself.

The kid who was an of the very first people who treated the clones like living beings. The kid who spend months to memories all the names of the men. The kid who eats, sleeps, speaks, laugh with the men. The kid who help him paint his armor, who helps him with the paper work, who brings him food when he forgot to eat.

Sometimes he thinks about when the "Commander" became "Kid". When the " Good morning Sir " became " I hope you slept well, because I didn't. You kicked me all night". When the " Sir, for a minute " became " Pss... Kid.. Get over here". When the " Be careful Sir " became " Don't you dare die out there Y/n Y/l". And when the " They just another Jedi " became " They are my Jedi, my kid".

Cody looked at Y/n again, carefully. Sometimes he forgets that Y/n only a year older than him. Such a weird case, isn't it? The difference between nat-borns and clones sometimes fascinated him. He know Y/n will outlive him of course. But he wished he had more time with them. He needed more time, he wanted more time and look at him now! Instead of enjoying that little period of time a clone can live, to spend that time with the people he want, he just standing here doing absolutely nothing at all.

The sudden sadness that takes over his heart surprise him. His heart cry for the little kid in front of him. He is a clone, a high ranked soldier. How he could be so weak? How he could feel like this when he shouldn't? How is it possible for him, to dream about a little home, where Obi-wan, Y/n and him can live? Be happy? Why he can't have that? Why?

The quiet crying broke his thoughts. The little sniff and heavy breathing. His heart made the choice, there's no coming back. He approaches Y/n, he crouches down and takes Y/n face in his hands. It's so little, it's so sad. His heart hurt.

-Oh, little one. What happend? Why are you here? - he asks as comforting as possible.

But instead of an answer he gets an even sadder face, more tears and a little, broken padawan in his lap. He knows his chest plate must be uncomfortable to hug, but it's looks like Y/n just doen't bother at all. He trys to move a little, to take of the armor, but the two little hand can't let him.

They stay like that, until Y/n is in a deep and dreamless sleep in Cody's arms. He stands up with the kid and heads to his room. Halfway through he notices his General, his Obi-wan. The Jedi is a mess, his eyes are sad, worried. His posture is tense and it's looks like he is searching for something. When he notices Cody with Y/n, he let's out a big breath. Slowly, so so slowly he comes to Cody. The look he gives to Y/n is full of regret. Carefully he touches the padawan tear stained cheeks.

-I'm such a terrible master for them. Sometimes I forget they are not Anakin. They can't be... treated like him. - Cody can see, how Obi-wan is trying to swallow back his tears.

- I'm trying not to do the same mistakes I did with him. Attachment. Be indulgent. I feel like such a monster sometimes. I wish they would know how much I love them. - He looks at Cody, with all the love he can allowed for him. - But here you are my dear. Making sure I'm not fucking up everything.

Cody decided he got enough emotional damage today. He takes the jedi hand and starts walking.

-Cody?

- We are going to take a long nap. The two of you need it, I need it. - He opens the door with the code and pushes Obi -wan in. - And after the nap, we are going to talk. - Cody puts Y/n down and takes off his armor. He looks at at Obi-wan, pleading. How could Obi-wan resist? He puts his robes on the nearby chair and he lays down next to his commander and padawan.

Cody is in the middle, hugging his two Jedi like his life depends on it. Obi-wan falls asleep quickly, nuzzled into Cody chest. On the other side Y/n is holding Cody's arm in a death grip.

Cody couldn't fall asleep just yet. Finally in his little paradise he wants to savor the moments. Like this he can feel peace taking over his soul. He knows when they wake up this little safe place is gone. The talk will be destroying but without it the silence could cause more damage. He believes that they can fix it. He can count on his men, Rex, Ahsoka, even Skywalker.

When Cody finally falls asleep he dreams of the little house, maybe on Naboo, where the three of them can finally have their happy ending.

Unfortunately, deep down, where his inhibitor chip connect to his brain, he knows that future never comes.

---------------------------------------------------

Okay, so maybe i'm gonna regret this but we live once I guess. So finally a get my shit together and wrote a fan fiction. Not just a quote or a dialogue one. A full ass fan fiction. And yeah, maybe this is my first one and the little one have some flaws but I'm proud of it. So I hope all of you enjoy it, and do not forget. Without you, your comments, you like, your share I never started or tryed to write this. So thank you guys. You are the best. 💕

#star wars #clone wars #commander cody #padawan reader #obi wan kenobi #obi wan x cody #codywan #angst #sad #anakin skywalker #ahsoka tano #captain rex #fanfic #inhibitor chips #feelings #pure angst #codywan angst #angst with a happy ending #not really happy ending #order 66

[thedelusionreaderbitch]

Catra x gn! Reader - Masks

A/n: I was going to make this into angst but I didn't you lucky fucks

Summary: Catra has always found a way to break your mask, and you always return the favor though

Warnings: allusions to brutality/killing in war, abuse mentions (shadow weaver,) I think that's it? You have been warned!

The three p's:

[pronouns: you/your] [pov: 2nd person] [pairings: (romantic!) catra x reader, (platonic!) adora x reader, (platonic!) adora x catra]

The hoard wasn't all bad.

Sure, the hoard wasn't good and they were raising child soldiers but there was still so many good memories. Mostly because of the people that were in them.

You missed the days were Catra, you, and Adora were all together, you missed Catra most of all. You wish above all else that she would come to the side of the Rebellion and just see what you were seeing. Though Catra probably wouldn't even if she did, because sometimes she is just so involved in herself that she doesn't see past some things like how she thinks she isn't good enough.

You can thank Shadow Weaver for that one.

Shadow Weaver truly did love Adora even if it was because she honestly thought Adora was special (she wasn't wrong to be fair.) It was for selfish reasons, but she did in her own terrible abusive ways.

Then there was you.

She didn't treat you differently than she treated Catra at first, because at first you weren't special, you were the unspecial to the second unspecial one. When she found out you were naturally born with dark magic though? The world was turned upside down.

Training with Shadow Weaver was grueling, plus you didn't have a connection with her like Adora (and even a little bit Catra) did. You were just power to her, and she was so wrong to train you.

Because you are stronger than ever now.

Your magic wrapped around the horde soldiers as they scream in fear as you move them towards you and the other princesses with a bored look on your face. This isn't even that hard, these idiots should see what you are really able to do.

Frankly, what grabbed your attention was the growling of a cat that was also caught in this tornado of darkness.

Catra.

You drop the rest of the people and only held Catra now in the tornado. You knew she probably would have escaped if it was her and others in there, with just her she was truly alone and couldn't manipulate anyone to get her way.

"Let me go!" She screeches.

There was also the fact that you didn't really need the others.

____________

The cat's locked up in a room in Brightmoon and you can hear her scratches at the door and her screams to let her out.

For some reason they placed her in the room right next to yours so you had to listen to her all night, and all you want to do is sleep.

Glorious sleep.

You nearly got there, to dreamland where you could run free and let your emotions go, pretend like there wasn't a war. As if you had no powers, and find yourself surrounded by friends that didn't glance at you nervously all the time.

You see it, the way that Glimmer would glower at your powers, how the other princesses would stare at you with a little bit of fear, the manner that Bow would always step a little bit in front of his friends when you're around. Then there's Adora who's eyes would glaze over and her hand would go to her sword ready to strike.

That's why you found bittersweet comfort in your dreams, because you always had to pretend like the world couldn't touch you, you had to be the stoic one that would do the dirty work in the war. The one who would go with the people and see the blood and gore that came with it, to see them die knowing that it would break anyone else.

You value your escape, that's why you didn't care that Catra is maybe even scared, she needs to shut up.

You stomp out of your room and slam open her door before quickly closing it back up.

Catra couldn't get out as the room is sealed with dark magic courtesy of you, and if she tried to attack you, you would have the upper hand.

Besides, you know Catra probably better than she knows herself even with being away from her for so long.

"Oh look who it is." Catra laughs sarcastically with an almost pained look in her face. As her hair was a strangely frizzled mess, and there were bags under her eyes, yet she still looks as gorgeous as ever. As she always does.

"Someone else who abandoned everything for nothing."

"I'm assuming Adora already talked to you."

Catra scowls, "She did, and I don't need another hero complex talk."

You raise your eyebrow at her and cross your arms over your chest, the memories of the past flicker through your mind as this reminds you so much of your past banter. Even if this was dry and dark, nothing like the light atmosphere that it once was.

"I'm not here to give you one."

Catra rolls her eyes. "Then what are you here for then? That's what it seems like all you Rebellion people are useful for."

She narrows her eyes at you as if observing every part of you and trying to commit it to memory. "Although you aren't quite like the rest of them are you?"

Ah, here it comes, the moment she tries to recruit you back.

"I know you see the way they treat you, as if you're dangerous."

You roll your eyes, of course she's going this route, she may not be wrong but that doesn't mean she had good intentions.

"Well then spare me the Villain talk, Catra it won't work."

"Then why are you here? Why else then if you're not doubting your place in the rebellion?" She interrogates you, almost innocently looking.

That's where Catra is incorrect in her facts, you don't doubt your place in the rebellion because you know it's the right choice. Just because people assume you're dangerous doesn't mean you're going to cry back over the horde because they "don't understand." You would be a weapon over there, at least here you can use your abilities for what you would like.

"I'm actually here to tell you to be quiet, I would like to get some sleep tonight and you meowing like an injured kitten isn't helping." You deadpan.

Catra glares at you. "Did I really mean that little to you, did what we use to have mean so little to you? That you just came in hear to tell me to shut up?" She's says, offended as she balls her hands into fists at her sides.

Sighing you run a hand through your hair, Catra is the most difficult person to have a conversation with that doesn't make you want to actively to pull your hair out. One moment she's the enemy and in another she wants to be your lover.

"Of course it matters, but you made your decision and you broke my heart when you stayed. Why would I ever come into this room to have a lovely conversation to reminisce about the past?" You scoff. "Trusting you, is out of the question."

You turn on your heel once you realize it's silent, you have completed your original mission and unfortunately gave yourself more to keep yourself up at night. Catra may be silent tonight, but she still managed to find a way to invade every corner of your mind.

"Y/n wait-" She goes to grab your hand but you knock it out of the way before she can.

"What are you going to say Catra? Sorry, I doubt it. I can't stand when you're lke this, it makes the different colors of your eyes a true story." You glance at them once before looking away. "Two faced."

"Please." She tries again. "Come back to the horde, I won't force you to do anything just come back."

"I said no, I'm not going to sacrifice my morals for you."

Then there's the shift, you see it, the moment those words (the truth) come out of your mouth she's the enemy again.

"Oh, stop it!" She laughs at you. "I've seen you on the battlefield, what would the princesses think if they truly see what you do? Do you think there will be any chance of them accepting you then?"

The dark magic swirls around for a split second you but you close your eyes and calm yourself from using it. It would trigger to much of Shadow Weaver for Catra, and then you would have a real problem.

You have to be the stoic one again, you can't let your emotions get the best of you. Not even with your lover.

"You need to listen to me very carefully Catra." You start. "The princesses already know what I do, and although you might think I will flatter on the battlefield when facing you." You pause as you see her eye twitch.

"I will not, you said it yourself, you've seen how I fight. I don't want to live without you, but that doesn't mean I can't. Don't make me prove."

"What does that mean?" Her voice wavers at the end despite her false bravo.

"It means you have to make a choice. Join the rebellion, or you'll loose me forever."

"I can't just let go of everything I've built!" She hisses and stalks up to you so you're chest to chest and everything you tried to coach yourself into flies out the window.

"Who are you proving a point to? Adora? Adora just wants her friend back. Me perhaps?" You pretend to think before rolling your eyes. "Oh wait, I know! Shadow Weaver."

"I'm not-"

"How many times do you have to suffer before you realize giving up is sometimes the strongest thing you can do." You whisper as you brush lock of hair behind her ear and she gazes at you with wide eyes.

"Join the rebellion, Catra." You breathe out, as your faces grow closer.

She squeezes her eyes shut tightly before finally collapsing into your arms, her red mask clattering to the ground.

"Yes, I'll join you."

For the first time in a long time you smile.

Words 1679

-thedelusionreaderbitch

she ra taglist: no one yet! (Just comment, dm, or send me a message and I'll add you!)

#Catra x reader #catra x reader #spop #adora #adora x reader #spop x reader #delusion writes #catra #the horde #catra x gn! reader #masks #catra imagine #she ra #she ra x reader #spop catra #she ra spop #she ra and the princesses of power #spop x you #x reader #spop imagines #she ra fandom #catradora

[historia-vitae-magistras]

4, 14 or 25 for Jack?

4) What they would do if they had one month to live. 

I can't answer that because the lad is immortal lmao.

14) How they did in school

Poorly. Jack is the definition of 'does not do well in authoritarian institutional settings.' He did very well one on one with his uncles or his father or the many, many intellectuals who visited australia and impressed upon him his absolute adoration of natural history, botany and the natural science at large. He also did pretty well in university after everyone calmed the fuck down post-war, but his actual early education? Oh god, he did not do well. Like the only running theme I can see about children born in Australia in the British schools was pure unadulterated misery.

He got the shit bullied out of him the one or two times Arthur tried sending him to one of the 'public' schools like Eton or Harrow. He was a clumsy child, and before the era when sports became a mainstay of the Anglophone school systems, it was just open season on the poor fuck. He probably would have done better later when rugby or cricket was a part of the public school culture. Still, as it was back then, in a rigid hierarchy with corporal punishment and freezing dormitories, he was absolutely fucking miserable. He got into fights constantly, didn't eat, couldn't adjust and cried himself to sleep for however long he was stuck in there before one of his letters actually got where it needed to be, and he got the fuck out.

Jack has never held a good relationship with institutions, being born in what was an extension of the British prison system and he rages against confinement too this day but his schooling was a large part of that. It also made it a lot harder for him to bond with anyone from the ruling classes and kind of firmly put him in the realm of the privileged sav blanc socialist and labour organizer. Bit ironic for the born-in-the-purple son of the British Empire but it suits him and the history so I'm rolling with it.

25) What other people wish they could change about them

God help me. I love this boy but thats a lot. I think for Zee its a lot of wishing he wasn't so fucking reckless or distractable for one. She's crossed thousands of kilometres to drag his ass out of a deadly situation. She wishes he was a bit less in her space sometimes. He's very physically affectionate, and she's not so much. She doesn't always like being picked up and squeezed randomly because he's emotional. He has gotten better about that but sometimes he still gets good news and suddenly she's in the air against her will. He also tends to get extremely salty about people in better circumstances than him especially if its something he doesn't think they deserve. He has something of a hard time apologizing to anyone who's not her. He's also extremely bad at keeping anything on the down low. Arthur had to prevent him from being prosecuted for various queer activities when he was younger because he tried to quash it down until it exploded. And Zee probably threatened to kill more than one person after he was very unaware of his giving googly eyed looks to every pretty greek in sight.

#the ask box || probis pateo #jack || a land of summer skies #jack and zee || pieces of me across the tasman sea #zee

[mingisdoll]

Ateez and Kirby

This list includes the members as Kirby characters. I totally wasn't inspired by old memories of playing the Kirby games lol anyways. This will include games I played on my old DS and my Switch lol

@newworldnet

Hongjoong - Dyna Blade

In Kirby Super Star Ultra, Dyna Blade is a huge colorful bird that will do anything to protect her children. You can fight her after fighting King Dedede in Spring Breeze. Hongjoong is similar to Dyna Blade since he'd do anything for his fellow bandmates kids. His hair has undergone so many color changes. I don't know how his scalp is holding up lol I'm surprised he hasn't pulled a Sehun yet. Only Yunho lol

Seonghwa - Dark Nebula

Originally, I had him for Dyna Blade since he was told he looked like an angry bird back in the days plus he's more motherly so it would make sense. However, I remember that his name roughly means to be a star and his name backwards means Mars. In relation to this galaxy themed thing we got going on here, I decided to choose Dark Nebula. Dark Nebula is the final boss in Kirby Squeak Squad. He's a huge black star with a single pink eye in the middle who gave Daroach ultimate power towards the end of the game. Seonghwa's long black hair is literally giving me life ever since I saw those Coachella pics and vids so I wouldn't be surprised if he put on pink eye contacts and cosplayed as his own version of Dark Nebula. Sometimes, even the brightest stars can suck you in.

Yunho - Void Termina

Void Termina is the final boss in Kirby Star Allies. I honestly had no context behind this other than the fact that Yunho is tall and big and scary only when he's mad though.

Yeosang - King Dedede

Yeosang literally looks like a fucking prince so it shouldn't be a suprise that he's King Dedede. I still remember that one video where he was able to hammer down a shit ton of nails in mere seconds. Homie is strong af so I'm sure he'll be able to swing around that huge hammer that Dedede has.

San - Marx/Marx Soul

Oof. I remember fighting Marx in Milky Way Wishes. He was this innocent little bean until he revealed his plans to control Pop Star and he turned demonic after that. This is literally San when you plant him on stage. Marx Soul is utterly fucking worse and I remember having major difficulty fighting him. I feel like demon mode San fits perfectly with Marx Soul. His stage presence is insane. Marx insane lol

Mingi - Galacta Knight

This motherfucker has had pink hair and now has white hair so I decided to put him as Galacta Knight. In addition, when I imagine Galacta Knight as a human, I envision a tall man with huge angel wings sticking out his back and the tips touching the floor, the white shield with the huge pink star in the middle roughly being the same size as Captain America's shield, the pink lance being larger than life, and the mask covering his entire face so you only see the sharp wolf eyes through that mask slit. Yeah I envision Mingi being the human version of Galacta Knight. Will he have his short pink hair or long white hair though? It's up to the imagination ig lol

Wooyoung - Kirby

You cannot fucking tell me that this man is the personification of Kirby. He's just a sweet boy with a huge damn mouth. He is softness and cuteness personified. The only difference is that he doesn't inhale everything in his path. He only screams. Maybe he can inhale San's di-

Jongho - Meta Knight

Ngl, I originally thought of Mingi being Meta Knight since he's my ult and Meta Knight is my favorite Kirby character of all time. However, I remember playing Meta Knightmare Ultra and this one scene popped up. Galacta Nova asked Meta Knight what his one wish was and of course, in true lone swordsman fashion, Meta Knight answered that he only wishes to grow stronger. In that Vanity Fair video, Jongho revealed that he was born with power and as he talked, he exuded that damn power. That's when I knew that he was more fit for Meta Knight rather than Mingi. Also, now I'm imagining Jongho as the human version of Meta Knight with his lilac hair and hands gripping Galaxia (the name of Meta Knight's gold sword) with that 49.1 kg strength, and piercing yellow eyes through the mask. In addition, I now want Jongho to dye his hair an indigo color since technically, Meta Knight's Kirby form is indigo colored in the DS version of the Kirby games.

#newworldnet #ateez #ateez imagines #ateez fanfic #kirby

[aikoiya]

LoZ Prompt - The Heart of the Heroine (Yan!GanonxFem!Half-Sheikah Link Reader)

TW: Noncon, Stockholm, Lima, brainwashing, death, panic attacks, & madness. Possible tragic end.

Where Ganon has won, both Zelda & Link are dead, but Link took his Triforce piece with him in death, so Ganon has to search for it. He uses Black Magic to stay alive, young, & strong.

The Reader was born with the Triforce of Courage bound to her more tightly than any before.

When he finds her, he senses the Triforce in her & kidnaps her, but no matter what he does, he can't remove it from her & it isn't responding to him.

Ganon learns from his sorcerers that the Hero placed a seal upon the piece with his dying breath that would make it so it can't be retrieved from a corpse, so if he ever plans to get it, it must be with her alive or he'll have to go looking for it again.

So, Ganon decides that if he cannot have the Triforce of Courage, then he will simply have to settle for possessing the Heroine as his slave.

Which is what Reader becomes.

I see this becoming something of a Beauty & the Beast meets Stardust situation, but much darker.

Reader is spunky, determined, & defiant with eyes sharp like a predator. Sometimes even downright feral & is likely to try & bite & claw at Ganon for his troubles. (I can definitely see them bickering like an old married couple in the end.) A real spitfire that bears the unnatural talent for fighting & the understanding of weapons that all past Heroes were known for. Though, while she is strong like past Heroes, she is not quite as much so as previous ones due to her sex. However, she makes up for it with an unnatural agileness, flexibility, & stealth that makes her difficult to keep a hold of & fight back against.

Perceptive & observant, Ganon often feels like she's dissecting him from a distance & it makes him uneasy.

She's also quite intelligent, logical, & a master debator.

A year or so later, his sorcerers discover that the only way he can obtain control of the Triforce of Courage is by possessing her heart.

As a sick fuck, he naturally assumes that it means he needs to cut out her heart & eat it while still somehow managing to keep her alive, but by that point, he'll have developed an obsession with her & taken her into his bed, making her his favored concubine. (Yes, I do mean rape. It's gross-nasty, but in this situation, I see Ganondorf being the sort who would get a sick satisfaction out of dominating the Heroine who was meant to kill him.)

He sort of waffles about it before deciding that he can simply wait for her to grow old & lose her beauty & usefulness as a bitch before doing the deed.

Eventually, more will be learned & it'll be revealed that the requirement wasn't literal, in so much that he needs her to fall in love with him. At which point, she'll freely give her heart to him in a figurative sense, thus giving him ownership of the Triforce piece bound to it, which will let him make the wish he wanted. However, making said wish will kill her.

Asshole doesn't even hesitate.

Initially, he uses a love potion on her, but all it does is make her adoring, submissive, & obedient. Turns out, the love must be genuine & such potions are, by their very nature, false & effectively halt the development of actual emotional attachments, so he's forced to have an antidote made. (Which takes at least a month, during which he finds that he has mixed feelings about the enchanted infatuation. On the one hand, he likes how affectionate, agreeable, & downright eager she's become to please him. On the other hand, he'd liked her feistiness, biting wit, & how she used to challenge him.) Which, once Reader realizes what the asshole did, she'll be pissed!

Either way, Ganon really switches gears upon learning how he can get his wish. Still abusive & dominant, but he's at least trying to make an effort to be... agreeable? He also makes an effort to be flirty & charming. Dude even takes advice from the few subservient to him that are in successful relationships to try & exploit how such love works. Which include several Gerudo & the entirety of the Yiga.

Who have basically replaced the Hylians as the majority while the Hylians & Sheikah have been made into slaves. Their males tend to only have 3 options in life: serve Ganondorf as part of his army, menial labor, or breeding studs for the next generation of Gerudo. This typically results in them becoming sex slaves, prostitutes, & concubinusi (male concubines).

And those men who join the army & catch too much attention as warriors are still liable to be made into a concubinus in the harem of a high-ranking Gerudo in an effort to make strong Vai for the next generation. In many ways, if you are born a male Hylian or Sheikah, you're effed.

Most men upon being selected for a Gerudo's personal harem, can only hope to woo her so that she may choose him as her husband.

Interesting thing, the conquering of Hyrule wasn't just bad for Hyruleans, but also the Gerudo culturally. As it has resulted in them losing sight of one of their most sacred beliefs: monogamy & partner exclusivity. Though many of the lower & middle class Gerudo still practice these things, the Gerudo elite have become swollen with arrogance & pride, thus resulting in them forsaking their race's beliefs in pursuit of their own pleasures. As such, more & more Gerudo have begun to take multiple husbands. Beforehand, even just 2 spouses were enough to get side-eye & whispers, while 3+ was considered folly. Now-a-days, it isn't unheard of for most elite Vaien to have 3 husbands.

One thing that is still sacred is the dismissing of one's harem upon engagement. Though there have been 1 or 2 who have tried to keep theirs even after marriage which, in the past, would've been unheard of & the sign of an addled mind. They would literally be condemned for insanity.

See, the Gerudo have always been sex positive, but culturally-speaking, there was a big difference between having fun & being lose with your body. And concubinusi & harems were considered perfectly fine so long as you weren't married, as marriage is considered a sacred commitment not to be trifled with.

The reason for this is due to infidelity being seen as a huge taboo amongst the Gerudo. To the point of death being considered an appropriate punishment. Which led to them accepting the Hyrulean goddess of love, passion, & pudicity, Karina (called Vah Kàvtrïna by the Gerudo), a long time ago.

Though, some good things have also come of it. Such as the Vaen of Talthïrï now being allowed to marry. (To learn about Vaen & their effects on the Gerudo culture, go to Vae & the Spring of Talthïrï. Be warned, it's kinda weird.)

Which, the sex industry is, unfortunately, flourishing. And the ancient Gerudo practice of Feminizing the Enemy is still alive & thriving.

Not to mention how Ganondorf has gone full colonialism. As in, he's burned Hyrulean churches & all their books. He's basically destroyed all Hyrulean religion & replaced them with Gerudo theology & books & temples. Though, he didn't even try to rewrite history. In fact, he makes it very abundantly clear that Hyrule was conquered & rather arrogantly dares anyone to even try to rebel against him.

Ganondorf very publicly revels in the fact that the Hylians know that they were once something more than what they are now & have since been reduced to slaves.

This was a full-scale hostile takeover where Ganondorf now rules as the God-Emperor of Hyland (the continent on which Hyrule can be found).

Anyway, in the course of making the Reader fall for him, Ganondorf will slowly grow to become more attached to her, enjoying her company & conversation, to the point where he's actively contemplating not making the wish. At times, he even feels slightly guilty for what he plans to do to her.

And it isn't even as though his plans are a secret. I mean, he never kept it hidden from her & neither did the Gerudo or Yiga under him. So, Reader is very aware what his goals are. And even though he hasn't said that he plans on killing her once her usefulness has ended, it's pretty damn obvious & Reader ain't naive or stupid.

Besides, Ganon's loyal minions often boast about how she'll be made an example of.

Moving on, this can either result in Lima Syndrome (for the good end) or full-on Stockholm (very bad angsty yandere, slightly psychological horror end). Or possibly starting off with Reader's ardent defiance, before going Stockholm, then slowly Lima works itself over on Ganon, but Reader becomes a broken shell of her former vibrancy & spiritedness due to his abuse & obsession. However, Ganon finds that he doesn't like this new, sad & emotionless, obedient version of the Vai & that he misses her lethal bards & fiery witicisms. Part of what initially sparks this dislike for her obedience & submissivness being that he can't get a good fight out of her anymore. She no longer even tries & essentially let's him win.

Same with whenever he has her play strategy games with him & even when he breeds her. She's just become a doll in his hold, one that keeps her eyes shut tight & bares with it until it's over even when he makes her look at him, it's evident that her vigor is gone. Keeping herself silent all throughout. Which, if he's being honest, actually freaking stings his pride as he comes across as the type who takes a lot of pride in being a spectacular lover who can drag the most wanton of sounds from his partner. He'd especially taken joy in hers.

As such, Ganondorf finds himself beginning to try & put her broken pieces back together & through that, he begins to legitimately fall in love. But this might become a double-edged sword as, by beginning to actually care about her, he could become all the more possessive of her & begin to become extremely protective of her, to the point where he might become a different kind of abusive. The more subversive & devious kind. In such a situation, he turns from an unrepentant & sadistic yandere to what is termed a "soft" yandere, meaning he begins to feel guilty for the things he does to her. (Though, that doesn't mean that he stops.)

Either way, he claims her as his property outright.

Or, if we wanna go super-duper angsty, maybe he still decides to go through with his plan, but if the writer goes that direction, I'd kinda like to see Ganon regret it to his dying day. (Not for abusing her, mind, just for killing her. That'd be way too much of a heel-face turn for this specific Ganon.) Like, make it a Pyrrhic victory. Whether because him being in charge eventually leaves him as the king of a barren wasteland or because Reader's memory haunts him. Or possibly both. Like, make him legit mourn for her & feel deeply guilty, but perhaps too proud to acknowledge it or even understand that he does feel guilty. Maybe he goes more than a little cray-cray & sees her everywhere like how Jinx from Arcane sees Mylo & Claggor. Then, when the next Link appears, all he can do is compare the Hero or Heroine to Reader (mentally & verbally) & it really makes him look off his rocker. Hell, maybe he goes looking for the other Triforce pieces again specifically to bring her back to life so he can keep her for himself? Which, let's be honest, would just be salt in the wound.

It'd basically cement how she'd be unable to escape & her only hope was that she'd grow old or sick & die. She may even go insane.

Whatever the writer prefers.

Either way, I'd like to see him take her as his queen at some point. Whether or not it's of her own free will & if it's become a semi-healthy relationship by that point is entirely up to whoever's writing.

I imagine it taking between a decade & several hundred years to get to the end if you go the extra mile.

---

In the case that Ganon goes through with it, the moment he obtains the final piece of the Triforce, he feels a surge of triumph. Of accomplishment & adrenaline. And in that moment, he sees the expression on the would-be Heroine's face. Though oddly stoic in the same way her predecessor had been where she normally wasn't.

Even still. He'd known her so long that he could read the minute signs of what she was feeling.

Sad acceptance. Pained defeat. Expectancy. Heartache.

Coming doom…

He'd placed that look upon her face & it caused his heart to clench strangely.

Irrationally irritated, Ganon turned away from her. “You knew this was coming. It's your own fault for falling for the enemy…” He said dismissively.

“... I know…” The tiny sound of her voice was paradoxically emotionless & broken. It caused an odd stutter in his chest.

With that, Ganondorf makes his wish & the moment after the words left his lips he could feel the power sweep over all around him & with it came elation. Instinctively, he prepared to turn to his little Heroine in a gilded cage to boast to her as he always did when he was successful at something, but then a heavy thud sounded behind him, causing his mind to pause & catch up with him. There was suddenly a strange feeling of loss & absence.

The giant of a man almost couldn't look at her, but when he did, he found her crumpled on the ground & unbearably still as he knew she would be.

And his heart chipped. It seemed that her face was frozen in a position of crestfallen resignation in preparation of a forseen & dreaded, yet inevitable occurrence.

He swallowed thickly, shaking slightly from some heretofore unfelt distress before turning away & leaving her body there in the dark.

In the end, Ganon had one of his Yiga assassins deal with her. But then he'd caught sight of where he was headed with a bundled white sheet.

The furnace…

And an odd, primal panic & fury came over the now king of all.

G: “Did I tell you to burn her?!”

Y: “N-no, my lord.”

G: “Then, what did you think you were doing?!”

Y: “I… my apologies, Sire. I just assumed… She was the Hero destined to kill you, so I was following the procedure for disposing of enemy corpses.”

Dark power exploded around him like fire. A living shadow.

G: “She was MINE!! I WON'T HAVE YOU TREATING HER LIKE FILTH!!! HOW DARE YOU TREAT WHAT WAS MINE WITH SUCH DISRESPECT!?!?”

And he slaughtered the assassin before gently taking the sheet-covered body into his bloodstained arms.

As he lifted her up, the sheet fell off her head & he saw that she was beginning to show signs of degradation.

It was like an icicle shot through his chest as he looked down at his dead concubine. She was so cold now where she'd once been warm & so very alive & vibrant.

And she appeared so much smaller than she'd ever seemed before…

She'd always felt so much larger than life.

It was… disquieting to see her so still & quiet.

Ganondorf trembled silently as he stared at her.

…

He shook himself.

She'd been a means to an end.

Always had been. From the very beginning, thus was what he'd planned to do.

And it'd been worth it.

He was King of Hyrule.

Not just king, but the Emperor of Hyland. Practically a God! The whole continent bowed before him or ran in fear.

It was worth it.

—

Ganondorf buried her in the garden. In her favorite spot. Where he'd often found her sitting beneath the Satori Tree, just listening to the birds.

He held no funeral, but his heart seemed to mourn all the same.

Ganon almost immediately noticed how different the castle seemed without his little prize.

Had it always been so quiet before her?

And his bed seemed so much bigger & emptier &... colder now…

Had she really become such an enormous part of his life?

He suddenly didn't know what to do with himself without her there. He could always conquer another kingdom but... It was just more of the same...

It was like he'd lost something vital. Something that had become an integral part of his life was now glaringly absent.

He struggled with sleeping. Whenever he closed his eyes, he saw her crumpled form & face in death engraved on the inside of his eyelids.

Holding the pillow she used to use helped somewhat…

Until her scent faded from it. Then he went searching for anything that she'd come into contact with.

All the clothes she'd worn, her scented oils, her jewelry. All of it.

And he placed a spell upon them all to extend the length of time that they'd retain her smell.

Before long, he began using the bathing products that she once used in an effort to keep some semblance of her scent with him.

Even wearing some of her jewelry.

—

Ganon had his minions diligently keep the garden well taken care of. Especially the area around her grave.

At some point, it struck him.

Why was it that he was more miserable after achieving his life-long goal than he was before?

Why could he never be happy??

She was the closest he ever really got.

Slowly, over the coming years, her scent began to fade, though the time it took was supernaturally extended.

And Ganondorf found himself falling into a sort of fog where he refused to think about her.

Yet, at the same time, desperately clung to items that she'd been fond of or that reminded him of her.

To the point of hoarding them in her old room from before he had her relocated to his.

Almost turning it into a sort of very sad, twisted little shrine.

—

Then… her scent faded altogether… That's when it struck the Gerudo square in the chest with the force of a Lynel's kick.

She was gone…

And he'd killed her…

A Gloom fell upon him.

He suddenly couldn't breathe.

Sound began to get fuzzy.

Then he remembered that hers was the soul of the Hero. To whom he was eternally bound as enemies. It was her destiny to find him again to try & take from him his kingdom.

Maybe. Perhaps.

He could see her again?

From that moment on, he anxiously awaited the coming of the next Hero.

Only for when the time came, to find a Hero, not a Heroine.

One so completely unlike his caged bird that Ganon had to push down his disappointment.

Then… for some reason. All he felt was rage.

He didn't even wait for a sporting fight, Ganon just executed the boy & began to wait for the next Hero & hoped for something that he knew deep inside would not happen.

Lifetimes passed with multiple Heroes & Heroines, some like her in some ways, others in other ways, & others not at all. But not a single one had that same spark that Ganon had so admired.

There was always something just… not quite right about them.

And he always made such abundantly clear to the new “Heroes.”

He honestly sounded quite mad in his ramblings.

He became obsessed.

And with every lifetime that passed, the once verdant & green landscape of Hyrule began to wither into a barren wasteland not unlike the desert home he'd come from.

For he'd never stopped his minions from raiding or pillaging. Never stopped them from killing the farmers & other civilians for it was now “a place where only the strong could survive.” So, the people began to leave when they could or else die off. And with no one left to kill besides roaming, warring tribes of jaded vaggabonds & scarred survivors, the monsters moved on to destroying all else around them.

Not to mention how the birth rate had plummeted along with the survival rate for children. Meanwhile, the rate of miscarriages as well as the infant mortality rate had both soared. After all, what is weaker than an infant?

With every subsequent generation, there were fewer & fewer. So, the few who had stayed in Hyrule struggled with even starting a family & many died childless.

Not to mention the fact that constant conflict really isn't the most ideal situation for a society to progress or even civilization in-general. Because anything you build is liable to be destroyed.

It wasn't until 800 years later that Ganon realized; what was the point?

The desert had followed him. This was no longer the Golden Land he once sought so ardently. More so an extension of the no man's land from which he came.

What even was "Hyrule" without it's people or it's lush greenery?

A pile of dirt with a fancy name. Utterly worthless...

Once more, he had ruined something beautiful in his pursuit of power. And his desire for a world where only the strong survived, had been what salted the earth.

—

At some point, Ganondorf snaps.

He wanted her back!

He needed her back!

Why wasn't she coming back???

Didn't she love him?!?!

She gave him her heart! So she must've!

Eventually, the panic began to creep in again.

Once more he couldn't breathe.

The emptiness. The absence. The loneliness. The unbearable guilt & regret.

Everything was so…

He felt both exposed & suffocated.

Darkness seemed to creep around his vision as his fingertips went numb, then slowly moved up his arms, & the same words from before repeated brokenly in his head.

She's gone… She's gone. She's gone. She'sgOnEsHe'sGoneShe'SgonEshE'sgoNe!

She. Is. GONE.

Then the final blow struck.

He would never see her again as she was before he KilLeD her.

It was the first time he could ever remember crying.

No...

He would get her back!

If he got his caged bird back, everything would fix itself.

He… the Triforce!

A deranged grin spread across his face.

He would wish her back!

He just had to find the pieces again!

He could… He could wish her her own soul, one separate from the Hero of Legend!

—

I'm going for a feeling of creeping regret & despair. Where it doesn't immediately hit him how monumental of a mistake he made. Like, not just by killing Reader, but his wish & even his entire ideology.

Then, suddenly, the fact that he'll never, ever see Reader again or hear her voice or hold her in his arms as she had been before death touched her… That even if he manages to wish her back, she'll forever be touched by what he'd done.

And it's too much. Something inside him breaks irreparably.

---

When he wishes her back, I want Ganon to immediately place an unbreakable curse upon their souls. She would be the Heroine & she would always be born alongside the Hero as his sister. Whether twin or elder mattered little. That way, one way or another, Ganondorf would always be able to find her just by locating her brother.

And they would always be drawn together as not even death would keep them apart!

In the end, he eventually comes to really love her. But it's a broken, twisted kind of love.

—

I'm really going for deranged madman here.

LoZ My Fanfic Masterlist

#loz #legend of zelda #ganondorf #yandere ganondorf #yan!ganonxfem!link #fem!link reader #fem!reader #yan!ganonxfem!reader #fem!link #linkle #possible nsft

[via-rant]

Obrumbratio Scintillae

Chapter 1:

Nico hated his life. He wished he was never born. He didn't know where he was going but he didn't care. Everyone he loved was gone. Why even be born if everything is going to be taken away from you? If you have no one? It happened days ago and it was Christmas now. He watched people come and go with bags of decorations and treats and cards and gifts. It made him tear up thinking about celebrating with his mom and sister. But he held himself back and continued walking. His legs were tired after who knows how long and he sat behind a dumpster in an alleyway where there weren't as many people.

Where he could properly cry without anyone hearing. He needed his family. He got mad at one point and kicked the dumpster. And froze when he heard a "hey".

Then the top opened, and he got scared, pulling out his sword. Some other kid came out from inside, curly hair that was poorly cut, pointy ears like an elf, dark brown eyes that looked like they could start a fire, and skinny and smelly. He looked almost 9. Nico remembered the sword and put it away as quickly as he could.

"Are you a hallucination too?" The boy asked, and Nico raised a brow in confusion.

"What?"

"The sword. Disppearing out of nowhere. I was just seeing that wasn't I?" Nico silently cursed but thought about his question.

"Um... No. It was real." Nico said, and the kid hopped out of the trashcan and started walking to him. Nico backed away.

"What are you doing?" He asked, backing into the wall, and he placed a hand on his before retreating it back in shock.

"Jesus fuck you're freezing!" He yelled and Nico noticed how he was fine. He wore no actual jacket, just a hoodie and some jean shorts.

"Says you." He said and the kid looked down then shrugged.

"Touchè."

"Whatever. I don't have time for this." Nico said and started to walk away. The other looked hurt.

"Wait!" He yelled, following him. "You sure you don't want to stay with me? We don't know each other, but you're a runaway, right? Like me? We can get to know each other. If you're okay with it." Nico wasn't sure. He seemed like a nice enough kid. Sure, he's always tapping or playing with his hair as if he had a constant need to move, and he smelled like garbage, but Nico has smelled worse. Besides, he wasn't any different with the moving part. Not always for him but a lot. Besides, the kid was small. An easy target. Nico couldn't just leave him alone. He sighed.

"Alright. What's your name?" He asked and he smiled wide, reaching out a hand, obviously holding in his excitement.

"Leo! Leo Valdez." He said and Nico took his hand.

"Nico Di Angelo. Nice to meet you." Leo squealed and hopped on the balls of his feet before hugging him. Nico rolled his eyes but hugged back, both of them hiding tears.

They spent the rest of the day with Leo giving Nico some tips about the streets. About finding street money to save up, how to trick people, how to just go along with gangs by being the jester until there's a chance to escape to avoid being beat to a pulp by them.

They stole from stores during the day, running like mad men if they got caught even though it wasn't much. Except that one time when Nico filled his jacket pockets. That was a good day. They spent nights holding each other for warmth as they told things about themselves before falling asleep.

But they got colder every day. Leo noticed Nico holding back shivering sometimes. Nico shared his jacket sometimes, but Leo hated it because he knew Nico needed it a hell of a lot more. Today was so bad they had to look for shelter but couldn't find anywhere they weren't kicked out of. It was getting worse. Nico shook so bad his breathing was shortened, and he could barely walk.

Leo was scared shitless. He was cold but this was just three weeks later. Leo was desperate. He found enough sticks and started a fire. Luckily, Nico was completely out of it, so he didn't notice at all. But the fire didn't last long because of how small the sticks were. Leo pulled him into his lap for warmth as he shook, not knowing what else to do.

Fuck it. He thought and felt the tingling in his hand. He needed to save his best friend. He needed Nico. The fire prickled his fingers and he felt tears in his eyes as the memories flooded. Then he looked at Nico.

The only exception. He thought and lit it completely. Nico nuzzled his head in his shoulder. There was no telling how scared Leo was. What if it wasn't enough? What if it was and Nico leaves him behind? It started to be the first one. Leo felt tears in his eyes lighting his other hand on fire. Nico shivered and struggled to breathe, and Leo sobbed.

"Don't leave. Don't leave me, please don't leave." He begged quietly. "*Por favor, no te vayas, te necesito. No puedo hacer esto sin ti, por favor. (*Please don't leave, I need you. I can't do this without you, please.)" He cried. He didn't notice the man approaching.

Not until he touched his shoulder. Leo flinched and put the fire out in a panic before he realized and started it again, making the man flinch back. He wanted to say something to him but his mind was racing so much, he just cried harder in fear. Nico was dying, he was cold and hungry, and someone came and saw it. They saw him. What if they attacked him? Took Nico from him?

"Hey hey hey it's okay. It's okay. I don't want to hurt you. I just want to help you and your friend." He said, crouching to his level. Leo shook his head. Too much was happening. He wanted to trust him, but he knew nothing about this guy. He learned not to trust strangers two years ago, at 9.

"You're hysterical right now. I get it. Your friend is hurt and I'm a stranger."

"H-how will I know... you won't... call the..."

"I've been missing for a while. Look it up. Luke Castellan." Leo calmed himself down and looked at Nico. He didn't know what else to do. Nico was dying and someone was offering help. He reluctantly agreed, and Luke smiled. He pulled out a yellow square and gave it to him.

"It's called ambrosia. It'll help keep him alive until we get there." Luke said, and Leo made Nico eat it. When he swallowed, his breathing slowed down a bit, and he opened his eyes a little. Leo laughed in relief and hugged him before letting Luke take Nico in his arms. He tried standing, but his legs were weak. Luke held out an arm, and Leo rolled his eyes but let him carry him anyway, across from the shivering boy. Leo grabbed his hand to comfort both of them.

"It's okay. He'll help us." He reassured when Nico looked at him, hoping he was right. He didn't pay attention to where they were going, just made sure to keep Nico alive. And he was getting tired. He tried forcing himself to stay awake, but he was so tired. So... tired.

@moa-broke-me @yonemurishiroku @pjo-hoo-toa-freakazoid @potatoman-taterdude @the-demigod-slytherclaw @im-always-lost-in-a-book @stillcarmine

#pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #hoo #heros of olympus #leo valdez #nico di angelo #valdangelo #luke castellan #obrumbratio scintillae

[hazelnut-u-out]

i've been going through a lot, but i finally managed to get around to finishing my first birdrick fic in literal agesssss.

all the lovely ship art i've seen recently kept me motivated to push through and finish a draft, so shoutout to all of the lovely birdrick artists out there <3

as always, you can find it on my ao3 (here!), but i'll post the full text below the cut for those who prefer it :3

2735 words | light angst

--------------------------------

Scars

Rick wrung his hands. Artificial callous gloving artificial bone.

He’d be lying if he said he’d never thought about the fact that he was no longer in his original body. It was contradictory. Rick had found within himself no sentiment of sanctity for the individual, but always found a melancholy homesickness for his old prison of a vessel.

For actual, honest-to-God flesh and blood. 

...That wasn't made in a clone vat.

It suited him, though—to be more machine than man. He’d always felt sort of like an AI, or a robot, or… something. Being human was foreign to him, as if he weren’t actually a member of the same species. Space—full of the weird, gross, and incomprehensible—felt more like coming home than leaving it.

Rick often found himself victim to the same odd sentiment when it came to the sentient creatures he met during his exploration of the unknown.

Well, he thought. Less of an exploration than it was a search .

Sometimes, he wished he had spent more time living than waiting to die.

Now, for instance, some stupid pang of sentimentality—completely unscientific and devoid of productive purpose—had him standing on a branch, drenched in slightly-too-acidic-to-be-comfortable rainwater, and hoping to fuck he’d answer the door.

This place was sadder than he remembered it. The limbs of the trees drooped to face the forest floor, crying silently. From where Rick stood, they enveloped him as if they were breathing, protecting what dared to inhabit them. The sky was overcast a dark grey, teaming up with the dead of night to douse everything in shadow. So few bird people still lived on this planet that the light from homes and rudimentary nests was few and far between. Counting on the consistency of sentient life to light your way on this planet wouldn’t get you anywhere.

It wasn’t as if it were necessarily remote. The remnants of what once was were still there, residing in living memory for the dwindling numbers of a generation. Nature, as it does on all planets siring life, engulfed the residue a growing species leaves in its wake.

Trees swallowed the walls of homes. Vines obscured pathways. Hanging bridges and sky-born signs broke apart. 

Everything felt weighed down. 

Every time Rick came here, it seemed worse. Life seemed more forgotten. Culture, language, and tradition resting on the tired shoulders of people who would never know one another. 

A planet scarred. 

A person scarred.

A friendship scarred.

Rick had tried to reach out to Birdperson over the last few weeks.

It was excruciating. He would lay out on the roof—intoxicated, comatose, and splayed out like a patient anesthetized along a table—and stare at the light of the beacon as it pierced the clouds.

It was the longest time he’d ever gone without talking to him since they’d met, and he’d started to… miss things.

He hated it.

Missing something was an admission of caring about it—which he did not do. About anything.

So, as anyone who didn’t give a shit would, he stood soaked, drunk, and unannounced at his best friend’s door in the middle of the night.

Drawing in a shaky breath, Rick lifted his hand and gently rapped his knuckles against the coarse wood.

Three times. If he didn’t answer after three sets of knocks, he’d just leave. He didn’t even care.

One.

Two.

“Fuck it,” he muttered, turning away.

The muffled sound of a small child crying out seeped past the rain.

Turning, Rick saw a light flicker on inside, causing a warm glow to fall along the deep bark and caress the tips of his black loafers.

Frozen, Rick tuned his audio-enhancing implants to the small movements on the other side of the walls.

“Oh, my little nestling,” a gruff Birdperson murmured. “Hush, now. You have already had a bath. It is time for sleep.”

Rick didn’t need to draw on his extensive experiences with Birdperson to know he was exhausted.

For a brief moment, he thought of the conversation he’d had with Beth earlier. That familiar cold pit of guilt roiled in his gut.

He knocked again.

“Perhaps someone agrees with you, little one,” Birdperson whispered, Rick hearing every bit of it as he allowed his implants to violate some unspoken rule of privacy and familial intimacy. “Unreasonable creatures are up at unreasonable hours.”

Rick listened as the click of talons approached the door.

Light properly flooded the space Rick inhabited as the door slowly opened. The hiss of rain suddenly engulfed him as his implants switched off.

Birdperson’s face didn’t look like Rick had expected it to. There was apprehension and a bit of shock, but an aura of relief remained beneath it.

Rick’s thoughts raced to how he must have looked. Soaked, lab coat clinging to his thin frame. Pathetic.

Like an old, wet cat.

In an old, wet box. 

On an old, wet street.

“Listen, I… I wasn’t sure if I should come, but, uh… I—”

“Rick,” Birdperson interjected softly. “I am very grateful you came. Please, come in.” Birdperson—smaller, fluffier bird child writhing in his arms—moved slightly to the side, gesturing a stubbled chin for Rick to enter.

He obliged, shivering in earnest as the heat of the home swallowed him, calling attention to just how cold he really was.

“Would you please hold her for a moment?” his companion asked, desperation dripping from his plea. Rick finally allowed himself to take in his friend’s state.

The bird man before him stood slightly slouched forward, small patches of discoloration littering his limbs. His eyes were sunken, his face unshaven, and his scarred arms shook as they extended the child towards Rick.

“Mmm… Yeah, let me just…” Rick rolled up his left sleeve and pressed a tiny ruby of a button on the side of his watch with his thumb. Instantly, his clothes poofed up and settled back against his skin, now pleasantly warm and dry. 

The small gust of toasty air gently ruffled the feathers covering both sets of wings before him.

Rick reached out, taking the child in his arms. She let out a terrible shriek.

“Dios!” Rick blurted. “She’s got a set of lungs, eh?”

“Like you would not believe,” Birdperson grumbled as he shuffled further into the home, plopping down on the sofa. “I am so glad you came.”

“Oh?” Rick said timidly, tucking the child—whom he now noticed wore a straight-jacket-like onesie that restrained her arms but did little to prevent her tiny legs from swinging wildly in her struggle—casually beneath one arm and following in tow. “I kinda thought you’d be pissed, to be honest.”

“Perhaps if I were less exhausted, I would have the energy to care about quarrels and friendships,” his friend replied flatly, leaning forward and pressing his palms into his eyes. “You think being dead is exhausting. Then, you come back to life and raise… What is the term you used to refer to Beth? Antichrist?”

“You’re thinking of ‘hellion,’” Rick answered. “I’ve only ever spoken about the antichrist in a positive light.”

“Ahh… Well, you come back to life and raise a hellion. Whatever that means on Earth.” Birdperson stretched his wings out behind him, unfurling himself backward and sinking into the crease of the sofa. Rick chastised himself for admiring how his newfound scars—still pink and sensitive—highlighted the soft contour of his chest and stomach. “I recall that your daughter…” his friend shot him a wary look. “— daughters were quite spirited children.”

“I only had one at this age. You can just stick with singular.” Rick shrugged.

“Is that not disrespectful?” his partner asked, cocking his head inquisitively.

“How so?”

“Your culture emphasizes pronouns, no? So how would plurality of self be any different? Does referring to both of your daughters as one, even though they are now separate, not erase their individuality?”

“Oh, BP that’s—that’s cute and all. Real cute, but, ah…” Rick chuckled. “One, we need to brush you up on the fact that there are literally infinite versions of everyone . Two, neither of my current daughters are my original daughter. She was never cloned, so I think we’re safe to just say she was one girl, eh? Who knows if she would’ve had a clone?”

Rick forced himself to keep smiling and swallow the lump in his throat. He tightened his grip on the child twisting and growling beneath his right arm, locking his cybernetic joint in place.

“Ah, I see,” Birdperson said, concern etching its way along his brow. He threw a quick glance at his child, then back up at Rick. “You are drunk.”

“What about it? I’m always drunk,” Rick questioned, a bit annoyed.

“Yes, but a nestling is present.”

“Oh, come on, man,” Rick waved a hand in dismissal, shifting his weight to one foot. “Never killed Beth.”

Lie . Rick felt as though he’d swallowed sand.

“I will consider a compromise,” Birdperson proposed, a single corner of his mouth twitching impishly.

“Go on.”

“If you put her to bed for me, I will forgive you for the unprompted visit and inappropriate intoxication.”

Rick let out an amused huff. “Does the deal come with clean clothes and a place to crash tonight?”

“Are you out of portal fluid?” Birdperson raised an eyebrow.

“Home is… complicated,” Rick sighed, averting his eyes to a set of three empty wooden picture frames hanging on the wall. He couldn’t remember in his stupor, but he could’ve sworn they used to have something in them. “It's easier not to portal back for supplies. Can I stay or not?”

“Deal.”

—

Rick shuffled down the dimly lit hallway, his socks lighting little sparks along the carpet.

The tee Birdperson had loaned him was littered in holes, about three sizes too big, and three decades old. All of that without even mentioning the breeze from the wing accommodations along the back. 

That was something he definitely didn’t miss about sharing BP’s clothes.

The Flesh Curtains was scrawled out along the front in curly hand-sewn font, courtesy of Squanchy’s mother.

Rick remembered his reaction. ‘Not exactly what I was looking for, but there’s something punk about it!’��he’d said when Birdperson put it on.

It was also the night he’d decided to build an automated machine to print the merch for them.

Rick had settled on just wearing his boxers and socks while his clothes were in the wash, figuring the shirt was long enough. The drying feature was a quick fix, but he swore the smell of the chemical reaction lingered on him afterward, and it would’ve been torture to be overstimulated for that long. Now, he regretted not asking if his friend had kept any of his sweats around, but he doubted it anyway.

Peeking his head into the doorway to the bedroom, he looked at his companion curled up in his nest. His eyes were closed, his mouth slightly parted, and his cheeks flushed with sleep.

Rick would compare him to an angel, but that was overdone and, frankly, uncomfortably secular for a man of science. Instead, he'd settle for a great work of stone, carved to appear downy and plush. 

Rick cleared his throat, watching as Birdperson’s eyes fluttered open.

“Hmmm?” he hummed. “Did you get her put down?”

“Yeah,” Rick whispered back. “She’s a good kid. It only took twenty minutes of wrestling and about five made-up serial killer stories. I felt like I was hosting a true crime podcast.”

“Miss them at this age?” A playful quip.

Rick felt a pang in his chest.

“Always.” The word came out more pained than he’d meant it to. He cleared his throat. “I just need a blanket.”

“You need two?” Birdperson asked, gesturing to the blanket he had draped over himself.

“I—uh… I figured I’d take the couch tonight,” Rick responded, rubbing his elbow awkwardly. “I assumed you’d abandoned the whole ‘communal nest’ thing since the kid’s got her own room.”

“If I let her share a nest with me, I think she’d kill me,” Birdperson said with a snicker. “I had her in here the first night and I woke up to her trying to choke me with a stray branch.”

“Welcome to the club,” Rick huffed.

“Come to bed,” Birdperson murmured, something soft and light to his voice that made Rick’s heart skip a beat.

Honestly, he hadn’t planned for this.

Sure, he hadn’t cared to do this twenty years ago, but Squanchy was there most of the time, and when he wasn’t… Well, situations were different.

Still, despite the change of plans, Rick resigned all too easily to his new fate, stepping into the room and clicking the door shut behind him.

He shuffled along the edge of the room, rounding the corner. The amber haze from the small lights at the corners danced over Birdperson’s imperfect skin as he pulled the blanket back, inviting Rick to slip in next to him.

Rick felt Birdperson’s warmth seep into his skin as he slid beneath the fabric. He laid flat on his back and found himself lifting one arm out of instinct.

It seemed that his friend had fallen into old habits as well, immediately finding the slot of space between Rick’s left arm and his torso and tucking himself into the curve of his ribs. Birdperson’s ear pressed against Rick’s sternum and, for a long time, they both lay there.

Just as Rick had begun to think his counterpart was finally sleeping, a soft murmur warmed the fabric of his shirt.

“You can barely hear your heart anymore,” his friend muttered.

“Huh?” Rick sighed, barely awake.

“When I first met you, your heart was the only thing I could hear when we slept. Now, it is only mechanical hubbub.”

“What do you mean?”

“Whirs. Clicks. Putters. That sort of thing.”

Rick ran the back of his right hand along the puffy edges of Birdperson’s scars from where it was pinned between them, thinking.

“I’ve never been alive, really. Like, in an organic sense. I’m… fake or—or artificial.”

“The life I led with you did not feel artificial.”

“Maybe it was, and you didn’t notice.”

“I would have noticed.”

“Would you?” Rick breathed out over a mess of plumage. “There was a time when you were more machine than person, too, you know. You seemed pretty content then.”

“Rick,” Birdperson sighed. “Please stop while I can still forgive you.”

“Would you make me leave if you couldn’t?”

“I…” his friend’s voice wavered. “Not now, but… I mean, thank you. Thank you for fixing me. Thank you for putting me back together, but, Rick… You are going to have to accept that I cannot do that for you.”

Rick didn’t understand. He didn’t want to understand. The realization felt leaden in his chest.

“What do you mean?”

“I cannot fix you. It is not my job to let you berate me in hopes my compassion could one day repair you.”

The silence that followed was anything but silent. It was thick and nauseating with a life of its own. It squirmed between them, so that their bodies, though touching, were separated by some impermeable barrier.

Rick wanted to say so much. He wanted to apologize. He wanted to scream and cry and hold Birdperson like he’d melt away or slip through his fingers. He wanted to explain and barter and justify. He wanted to take accountability and swear to never speak to him ever again. 

What came out when he opened his mouth was shameful. Flippant and insensitive. He almost tried to swallow it before it came out. 

“At least you can say you tried, I guess.”

“Did I try enough? Do you think that you could have been different if I had tried harder when you were still… fixable?”

Rick blinked.

“You tried more than anyone else ever did. You… You had your own shit going on. If it makes you feel any better, I think you did fix a small part of me.”

“I am sorry, Rick.”

“For what?”

Rick was confused. He should be the one apologizing. Not Birdperson. 

Perfect, compassionate, sensitive Birdperson. 

“For not knowing. For moving on. For not moving on. For telling you, now, that I can never afford to give you another chance.”

A shaky breath.

“I forgive you. I’ll always forgive you.”

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#rick and morty #rick sanchez #birdrick #my fic