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shadebloopnik · 24 days

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Angelic Alastor AU

"Al!"

The angel turned to the voice and the sound of flapping wings just in time to see the two Archangels land behind him. The smaller of the two- with porcelain skin, rosy cheeks and an otherworldly beauty, bounded towards him full of energy. Golden eyes peered up at him as he spoke.

"Just finished with our spar, and Michael said he loved the hat! I told you it was a good idea!", Lucifer spoke, deep chuckles seeming to brighten the area by its mere presence. He punctuated his words by adjusting the top hat on his head, replacing the usual golden crown, a prideful smile on his face.

"Your brothers clearly love you too much.", Alastor snipes before facing the taller angel, and giving a polite bow. "Your Highness."

Michael gives a solemn nod, adorning a small soft smile. "Always good to see you, Altruist. I had ample time before my next meeting, so I figured I'd accompany my brother on his way to your little appointment."

Michael bore nearly identical features to his younger brother, possessing the same blonde locks, white skin, and golden eyes, albeit being considerably taller. What he lacked, falling a bit behind Lucifer's beauty, he made up for with his dignified grace, a regal authority that rivalled no other. He reminded Alastor of a frozen tundra amidst the plans for the creation of life, as precise as every detail on each snowflake.

"Very well that you did, your Grace, as your brother appears to need it quite a lot."

"It was ONE time! And your directions were very unclear!"

"I fail to see how 'meet me at the gates' translates to 'circle the entirety of heaven for 3 hours', my friend."

"There are a lot of gates in heaven! No matter! They just finished constructing the new nebula! We gotta check it out Alastor! Come on!", Lucifer said, practically bouncing on his feet in excitement and circling the other in flight before dashing off in a burst of speed.

Michael let out a rare chuckle as Alastor sighed in seeming annoyance.

"Always so sprightly, makes me wonder how you keep up with it all, Altruist.", the Archangel spoke, stepping to stand beside the red eyed angel.

"Trust me Sire, its tempting not to follow.", Alastor replied, deadpan as he set his gaze to the direction the Morningstar set off on. Left alone with the other Archangel, without Lucifer with him, Alastor couldn't help but feel a bit insecure. Shuffling his mismatch wings, he subtly moved the upper white set to cover the red and black wings below, his hold on his cane, tightening ever so slightly, though not enough for Michael to notice.

Michael smiled, finding no offense whatsoever from Alastor's words and the casualty of his jabs towards Lucifer. Despite his words, Michael could see the fondness Alastor possessed for the shorter angel, clear as day. Alastor was powerful, only ranking below the Archangels themselves in sheer strength, and would be of higher standing if not for his reclusive nature.

He always wore a smile wherever he went, but it was different for Lucifer, softer, fuller. Alastor shied away from any interaction with his angelic kind, but fully welcomes Lucifer's presence, seeking it, even. It was without a doubt that Alastor cared for his younger brother, his loyalty and selflessness when it came to the younger angel was palpable, fitting of his title, and for that, he had Michael's complete and utter respect.

"But you will, you always do.", Michael turned to face the angel, golden eyes meeting peculiar red. "Its why I trust you with his life."

Its a bit ridiculous perhaps, considering Lucifer was far more powerful than Alastor could ever be, but in the end, it mattered little. Alastor held his brother's heart, and Michael could guess it rang true vice versa.

Alastor's smile froze on his face, his sharp tongue silent as he gazed into the Archangel. A bout of silence passed, broken only by the Morningstar barreling back into Alastor at high speed.

"Alastor come on slow-wings! Hah! Get it? Slow? Wings? Come on, its hilarious, lets goooo!!", Lucifer bounced, gripping at the taller angel's arm, making a show of pulling him along. Evidently he didn't use much force, seeing as how Alastor wasn't immediately carried off, but it was enough to drag the angel rather quickly still.

"Later Michael!", the star spoke with a cheerful wave, before speeding off, dragging a squawking Alastor behind him as the other hastily flapped his mismatched wings, as he struggled to keep up.

Michael smiled at the scene, before turning to leave for his meeting.

Protect his heart, Alastor, it's all I ask of you.

_________________________

The wind roughly brushed the trees around them, as 3 pairs wings fluttered to land, every flap bringing forth powerful gusts. Michael surveyed the area as he went down to Earth, a mossy swamp littered with fireflies, blues and greens seeming to glow under the night sky. He wrenched his eyes down. He couldn't bear to look at a star right now, not after....

He shook the thought away, marching to look for the angel he was looking for. He'd been searching for hours, burning through the whole day. Alastor truly was a recluse, he was impossible to locate when he didn't want to be found. This was the last place he didn't look yet. They'd let Alastor design these swamps, letting him have at least a little hand in the creation of Earth despite his numerous refusals.

There at the edge, he could see him, standing at the edge of the water, mismatched wings cocooning him, the white set covering his entirety until his black wings were nearly out of sight.

"Altruist."

Alastor remained silent, his back to the Archangel. It was perhaps the most disrespectful thing Alastor's ever done to him, what with all his usual obsession with propriety.

"Altruist.", he called again, voice growing desperate, frustrated.

Still, there was no answer.

Michael clenched his teeth, the day's proceedings catching up to him, leaving him with far, far too many emotions.

"Alastor-"

"Don't."

Alastor's voice was cold, an icy tone that rivalled his own. It made Michael angry, frustrated and bitter. Can't Alastor see that he's hurting too? That he's also grieving?

"I lost him too, Alastor."

His voice was filled with emotion he wouldn't dare name. He had to be strong and steady for his brothers, for the rest of heaven. Im front of Alastor though? In matters regarding Lucifer? There was no one Michael could relate to more.

So why can't Alastor see? Did he think this was easy for Michael?! He lost his brother too! He's not the only one suffering!

But deep inside, Michael knew. It wasn't the same. He knew how deep the bond between Alastor and Lucifer ran, perhaps deeper than he ever had with his brother.

Michael's heart was already given to Heaven as a whole, but Alastor's only belonged to one.

"Tell me Michael, whose life did you entrust to me, again?", Michael felt ice crawl up his spine, his heart growing heavier with each word. Alastor spun around, unfurling his wings to face the Archangel. His crimson eyes were redder than usual.

"How, pray tell, am I supposed to do what you asked, when you cast down the one I was supposed to protect? Tell me how can I protect him from the fiery pits you all threw him into? How, am I supposed to GO ON WITHOUT-!"

'Without them', he almost said. No, he couldn't be reckless, couldn't let his emotions get the better. They couldn't know about his own relations with Lilith, he promised the two he'd stay safe. No matter how much it ached, he couldn't go against them.

Michael furrowed his brows in understanding, letting the accusations wash over him. If it were anyone else, he'd have already smote them down for the audacity, but this was Alastor. This was the angel who held his brother's heart; angry and emotional and dreadfully loyal to the star even now. If anything, in respect for his brother, he could endure this.

Schooling his expression, he'd gaze back at the fuming angel before him, his face a blank slate.

"Lucifer's actions were reckless and destructive, with severe consequences. His reckless disobedience, his affiliation with the first woman, its shattering the very foundation of order we worked so hard to maintain. Such crimes cannot go unpunished."

His voice was cold, adopting the mask of a ruthless prince. Right now, he wasn't a brother, he was Michael, Sword of Justice, Protector of Heaven. He had to learn to separate each title, it was the only way to ensure he did his role right. He can't be a brother right now. He won't, not for this.

He wishes it made it hurt less.

As emotionally compromised as he was, Alastor couldn't mask the pain in his face as he squeezed his eyes shut at Michael's tone, knowing he was now speaking to a soldier, not a friend. The sight of it almost made Michael want to break down the mask. Almost. Not nearly enough to actually do so. He was able to bear casting down his own brother, this was nothing.

The thought sent another pang to his heart, and he pushed it to the back of his mind.

"I love him too..", his voice was low, resigned, all energy leaving him as he looked away from the angel before him. Michael was so so tired. "It had to be done."

The swaying of the leaves and the buzz of nearby fireflies were the only things breaking the deafening silence. Now that he thought about it, didn't Lucifer help make these? Little bursts of light flying amidst a darkened swamp...

Why must everything hurt Michael today?

He heard the other take a deep breath, and turned to see the other adopt a smile. It didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Thank you for your visit, your Highness. You may take your leave now."

Alastor always smiled, even when he didn't mean it, but none of those ever felt as wrong as this one.

"Alas-"

Michael cut off his own words at the other's glare. Alastor's eyes glowed a deep red, his sclera giving its own crimson glow. His glowing wings seemed to curl closer around him. All this while still keeping on that damned smile. It was uncomfortable. It served little to intimidate someone as powerful as Michael, but this wasn't about power.

He's never seen Alastor look so broken.

He may be set apart from the other angels, but he always looked so happy with Lucifer.

......but Lucifer isn't here anymore, is he?

Suppressing a sigh, Michael kept his voice level. ".....Altruist."

Alastor's smile only seemed to widen, contrasting with how his wings curled tighter around himself in a cocoon.

"I wish to be alone. Now.", the deceptively cheerful tone made Michael sick.

Without another word Michael turned around. There was no fixing this. Alastor looked as though a single action would cause him to flee. If Michael didn't take his leave, he'd have left anyway. All Alastor wanted was Lucifer, and Lucifer was condemned in Hell. There's nothing he could do.

As he spread out his wings, he took one last glance at Alastor's smiling face, before taking off, ignoring the muffled sounds of sobbing he left in his wake.

It was the last time he's ever seen Alastor smile.

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mewhenimanangel · 10 months

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moon river, miles morales x reader

pairing: earth 42!miles morales x spider!reader

synopsis: you went out to patrol the streets when you had a painful run-in with the prowler and kingpin.

wc: 2.7k

warnings!: swearing, violence, kissing suggestive themes, very light smut, fluff, angst, arguing, google translate spanish

nia’s ౨ৎ notes: lemme know if you wanna be on the taglist, next chapter made me cry

prev ♱, next ♱

you knocked on miles' door, his mom inviting you in. when she heard you were coming to hang out with miles she decided to make a nice dinner. "hola cariño" she said, bringing you in for a hug "hi mama rio!" you exclaimed returning the embrace.

rio really loved you - you were kind, smart, respectful, and more importantly you brought a sense of joy to miles' life that he hadn't had since his father's passing.

"miles, tu novia esta aqui!" she called out, moving to the side so you could come in. "oh ya voy, un segundo!" he called back out. he walked out of his room, face lighting up when he saw you "hola princesa" he kissed you.

he pulled out a chair at the dining table for you before rio came over with plates for the two of you. it was brown rice with curry chicken and some veggies on the side. you loved when rio cooked for you, it was banger after banger every time.

she was about to sit down with you guys when her phone rang. she answered it with a tired expression "yes, i'll be in soon, dame unos minutos" she sighed. "aye! lo siento cariño. i've gotta go the hospital just called me in." she frowned, gathering her things. "mami, just eat before you go." miles said. "it's okay honey i'll eat when i come back" and with that she made her leave.

he looked back at you with a frown on his face "i just feel so bad you know? ever since dad died she's just been taking up shift after shift. she keeps saying it's to take care of us and it makes me feel so guilty" he told you, solemn expression on his face. "miles, baby i'm sorry. but it's okay don't feel guilty, times are tough is all" you frowned holding his head to your chest. you stayed like that for a moment before you finished your food.

you were on the couch watching gossip girl, miles wrapped in your arm, body sprawled out over you. "you know i love you right baby" he said looking up at you, poking your lips. "yes baby you tell me everyday. i love you too" you smiled kissing him. "love your pretty lips and your cute smile" he whispered holding your hand.

just then a cough made you both dart your heads in the direction. it was his uncle aaron standing there with a teasing smirk on his face "whipped" he said making miles roll his eyes. "since when you such a big softie lil man" he chuckled. "yeah yeah what's up?" miles asked going to dap him up. "we gotta go" aaron answered. he furrowed his eyebrows "right now? you said we was off tonight" he said in a low voice. "sum'n came up sorry man" aaron said heading to the door. "y/n i could drop you home" he turned around to look at you.

you nod your head and miles rolled his eyes "miles it's okay. if you're busy i can go" you told him holding his hand. "m'sorry mi amor" he said rubbing your knuckles.

aaron drove you home before him and miles quickly drove off. you walked to your room not before saying hi to your mom and nas. "i'm sleepy so i'm just gonna go to bed early okay?" you told your mom. she nod her head and you eased your bedroom door shut.

you grabbed your spider suit from the box in your closet quickly getting dressed. you pulled the mask down and swung out of your window.

you did some patrolling for two hours listening to any police radio announcements. there was a guy who was attacking people on the bus so you knocked him out and took him to the police station. there was a man on the subway platform screaming at people and harassing women so you escorted him off.

the police radio signaled that there was a security breach at the city hall, so you quickly shot your webs, slinging past buildings as fast as you could.

when you got there there were two men running to a motorcycle to get away, not before you shot a web at said motorcycle and threw it out of their reach. "hey boys, whatcha doing with that briefcase there. i don't think that belongs to you" you teased walking over to them. "you dumb bitch, get out of here. you don't know what you're doing!" one of them shouted. "oh i think i do" you retorted throwing a web at the briefcase, slinging it over to the police. "thank you spider-girl!" they called out.

the other criminal pointed a gun at you and began firing. you shot a web at the building next to you and swung up out of the way. he kept firing at you following your every move until he finally landed a shot in your thigh. "fuck!" you screamed out, falling to the ground. he then quickly ran and grabbed the briefcase before they made a swift get away. an officer ran over to you "spider girl are you okay?!" he called out holding you up. "i-i'm fine" you said holding your thigh. your spider sense picked up on a figure watching from atop a building. prowler.

he watched the scene before making his exit, quickly running and jumping over the rooftops. you quickly and as quietly as you could, followed behind him leaving a good distance between you two. you stayed on a rooftop and watched as he met near an alleyway with the two guys who broke into city hall and kingpin.

kingpin was a billionaire and was obviously a bad guy, many different allegations and accusations coming out regarding him murdering people and being involved with multiple crimes. obviously though, he made himself look like a standup guy and always charmed his way out of any situation that was bad for his reputation. he was supposed to go to court a month ago but when the witness didn't show up it was called off. it was rumored that he either killed or had someone kill her off.

they talked for a bit before getting into a car and driving off. you debated a bit on whether or not to continue following them. on one hand, you had a bullet wound in your thigh but on the other hand, they were villains that you've been in pursuit of for a while now.

you ultimately decided on following behind the car on the rooftops. they drove into the parking garage of some random building where not much people were near. you quickly swung down and into an open window, using your spider senses to help you find them.

you heard kingpin's grainy voice coming from down a hallway and you followed it, staying hidden behind the wall. "good work getting these files boys." he spoke to the guys you'd just fought. "of course big man, now when are we getting our share" one of them said. kingpin just chuckled before grabbing a pistol and shooting them both dead.

"that damn bug almost ruined everything." he growled. "as always." you heard the prowler's distorted voice speak. "she won't be getting in our way anymore. prowler, you're in charge of keeping her out of the way. kill her if you have to" he spat, examining the files.

you eased over a little bit, trying to get a good look at what they were looking at. when you shifted your body over, the pain from your wound shot through your body like electricity making you let out a groan. both of their heads shot in your direction and you quickly turned down the hallway to make an exit. "you know what to do" you heard kingpin say.

soon enough you heard loud rapid footsteps heading in your direction. you picked up the pace and swung back through the window you came in from, shooting a web at the roof of a nearby building. you ran across it as fast as you could shooting another web, but before you could swing away the clawed glove grabbed you back and slammed you on the ground right on the thigh you were shot in.

you let out a yelp before shooting a web at his mask, quickly getting back on your feet. you opted for running away because you weren't really in any shape to fight back. he threw a punch at you knocking you off your balance. he noticed the blood that was soaking your suit and tightly squeezed around your bullet wound and pressed a thumb against it. you screamed out and groaned "fuck you!" shooting webs at his face with force making him trip back.

you quickly swung from building to building before lowering to the ground, turning the corner and running the opposite direction. you looked back to see he was still going the direction you led him and you sped up. you swung all the way to may's house, surely you weren't gonna go to the hospital like this and you definitely couldn't go home.

you pound on her door, tears streaming down your face. your leg was aching and with how long you've had your open wound you were sure it was only gonna get worse. she opened the door, pulling you into an embrace "what's going on honey?" she said looking at you.

"t-there was a security breach at city hall. a-and i got shot by one of the guys and kingpin was with the prowler and then he chased me and and-" you frantically explained. "alright keep your head straight kiddo. come on i've got some first aid" she said bringing you to her bathroom. you changed out of your suit, left in a tank top and shorts.

she got to work on your leg, wiping away all the blood pouring from it. she wrapped a cloth around your leg to stop the bleeding and began poking around to find any stray bullet fragments that was still in your leg. she cleaned with the wound like a professional and wrapped some gauze around it. "don't worry, it'll heal a bit faster than normal. thanks to your spider powers and all" she told you putting away the supplies.

"how'd you know how to do that" you asked coming off the counter struggling to stand on your legs. "sweetie i dealt with peter for years, i had to know how to do it" she chuckled.

"i'll clean up your suit but here take these it's chilly out" she handed you a pair of what she told you were peter's old sweatpants. "it's getting late, think you should start heading home" she said opening the door for you. "thank you so much may. have a good night" you still had your mask so you put it on and swung home.

you swung up to your window, tucking the mask in your pocket before entering. you gasped seeing someone lay in your bed "miles! you have to stop scaring me like that" you laughed. "hola princesa where you been?" he said getting up over to you, wrapping you into a hug. "and whose sweatpants are these? they mad big on you" he asked raising an eyebrow.

"o-oh i went on a walk, my mom was being annoying." you lied. "at night?" he asked worried expression on his face. "yeah yeah don't worry, i had my taser on me. and at least it's safer out now with spider girl" you said grabbing a water bottle. he stayed silent and looked at you, eyebrows slightly furrowed. "yeah guess you're right" he sighed dropping back down on the bed. when he looked away from you you quickly shoved the mask in the box stepping out of your sweatpants.

"what's that on your leg?" he asked pointing at the gauze. "i-i was trying to cut up some pineapple but the knife slipped out my hand and cut me real good."you replied coming up with a story last minute. you laid next to him in the bed, wrapping up under his arm. he looked at you with a sly smirk on his face "wanna come over tomorrow? mom's not gonna be home all night" he said kissing you. "what are you implying miles?" you giggled. "i think you know mama" he kissed you. "mhm" you said holding him tight.

♱

you knocked on miles' door the next day, him opening it and immediately latching his lips on yours. "hello to you too" you giggled. "missed you" he kissed your cheek, leading you to his room "you saw me last night" you dropped your bag. "too long" he sighed taking your lips on his again.

you wrapped your arms around his neck, his tongue entering your mouth. he moved down to kiss down your jaw to your neck, sucking and leaving a mark. he reached for the hem of your shirt, tugging it over your head.

he moved to his bed and pulled you in his lap, finding your lips again. you rummaged your hands through his braids and rocked your hips against his lap, smirking when you felt him harden underneath you. "are you sure you wanna do this?" he asked breaking away from the kiss. "yes" you breathed out

♱

you laid wrapped under his sheets head resting on his chest as he played with your hair, staring at you. "i love you so much hermosa" he smiled pressing a kiss to your forehead. "i love you too bonito" you smiled. “forever” he breathed out.

"i wanna take a shower" you told him, getting up from his sheets. "i'll join you" he smirked. he went in the bathroom to brush his teeth. "miles baby where's your towels at?" you called out to him. "the closet, tird shelf!" he called back, muffled by toothpaste.

you went over to grab one when something on the top shelf caught your eye, a silver claw poked out from underneath a piece of cloth. you weren't one to snoop but your spider senses were going crazy. you lifted it and your heart dropped, it was the same clawed glove that had thrown you on the ground and punched you yesterday - blood still staining it. your eyes stung with tears as you held it in your hand. the same boy who professed his love to you everyday, who wrapped up in your arms every night, the boy you just slept with was out killing people - you included.

"you can't find one?" his voice spoke up, coming back to the room. you turned around still holding the glove "miles. what is this?" you asked hoping it was a misunderstanding, maybe he was just a fan? "b-baby it's not what it looks like" he answered and you knew what that meant.

"miles, you're murdering people?! you work with fucking kingpin?!" you shouted. "y/n you don't understand, i have to do it! for my mom, for me, for you!" he retorted. "that doesn't fucking justify it miles, i never asked you to commit those crimes for me!" you yelled, tears streaming down your face.

"aye mami, don't cry, you're overreacting!" "overreacting?! miles you tried to fucking kill me yesterday" you growled throwing the glove at him. his eyebrows furrowed "what are you talking about?" he asked catching it. you looked around trying your best to blink back tears "miles, i am spider-girl. i'm the one you were throwing around yesterday. the one your fucking guys shot!" you screamed at him, pointing to the wound you’d lied about earlier.

his eyes almost popped out of their sockets. “no no no no, baby no. i’m so sorry. i didn’t know it was you” he walked up to you, holding your face. you looked at him, tears blurring your eyes “no miles no i-i have to go” you said grabbing your clothes and throwing them on. “princesa, wait! let’s just talk about this” he pleaded. you just ignored him and went out his window swinging your way home.

you opened your window, running to your bed flopping down to your pillow. you cried into it, thinking things over. it all made sense - the random leaving, the late arrivals, this is what “work” was.

taglist ʚɞ

@3zae-zae3 @itsberrydreemurstuff @alecmores @darksidescorner @spritecactus @gwennesy @randomhoex @fiannee

#NIA WRITES ࿐#across the spiderverse #earth 42 miles morales x reader #miles morales #earth 42 miles x reader #spider man: across the spider verse #miles morales x you

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carnal-lnstinct · 1 year

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dumbass x dumbass with goku?? ty in advance!!

3/3

This was unbelievable, really. For a couple of fighters who frowned at the idea of sitting around and staring at a TV for hours, they didn't waste time hogging up the couch and hoarding your new video game to themselves. Hercule wasn't kidding about it being the most popular versus game to hit homes but you assumed that was probably because he was in it. And the main character no less, using his tale of the Cell Games and the battle for the universe against Majin Buu. Including the likeness of the true warriors in those battles as The Champ portrayed them to make himself look better sounded like a crappy idea when it was first brought to those who knew the real story, Hercule being nice enough to ask permission to use their appearances and special techniques for his personal gain this time.

But then you saw the trailers and samples of gameplay leading up to its release and it was a real eye-catcher for you. You were looking forward to playing it

You just thought being gifted the game would mean you actually got to play it!

By their disposition it was clear who was winning and how things were getting tensed, the crowd of saiyans, humans, namekian, and...well, you’re not certain what Buu was, but they were all squeezed into your living room to spectate the current players and also play as their respective characters to see if their parodied versions were at least given some dignity.

First they mock you for all the time you spend on video games and now they’re caught up in it. This had gone on long enough.

“I call next. Let me play, too!” You pouted at your husband, the obvious dominator of the rest. Goku’s eye didn’t even leave the screen, locked in his concentration as he responded to you.

“You said house rules were the newcomers play the winner. Vegeta has to pass it, he's the one losing.”

“I am not losing to you! You are using a cheap strategy to irritate me!” The Prince quickly snapped. With the raging energy coming from him, you were sure he was going to snap the controller in half.

“I don’t care who’s losing, it’s my game and you’ve been playing long enough! Everyone else is…” Your voice trailed off realizing that your words were simply in one ear and going out the other. With a huff, you marched across the floor and stood directly in front of the tv blocking everyone’s vision. You’re met with jeers all around, forcing them to pause their fight.

“(Y/n)!” Goku, antsy to keep playing, quickly moves from his seat and approaches you. “C’mon, You know you can’t do that. I was winning!” You squint your eye at him and fold your arms refusing to move.

“Out of the way, woman! I was just about to get Kakarot out of the game once and for all!” Vegeta urged as well but you ignored him glaring up at Goku.

“I want…to play.” You insisted.

“You said house rules can’t be broken, hun. You just gotta wait your turn like everyone else.” Goku leans over, holding a hand over his mouth to whisper to you. “Don’t worry, Vegeta won’t be lasting much longer.” In response, your pout grew. You waited long enough to even get the game, you’re not waiting another few hours to play it! With a grump, you untuck your arms and push your fist into Goku’s chest. Looking at the way you posed it, he arched a brow at you. “Really? That’s how you want to settle it?”

You asserted with a single nod. He gives you a solemn look, brows lowering over his eyes as he nods in return. No one's ever seen Goku look at you in such a way before, a glare better earned by those he could claim as archrivals. Your guests watch more silently in anticipation, Goku tucking his controller under his arm and presenting his own fist to you. In a silent countdown, you both hammered your fists down in the air, shouting in unison.

“Rock…Paper…Scissors!”

#♚ ;; [ asks ]#goku x reader #son goku x reader #goku imagine #dbz imagine #My writing #♚ ;; [ requests ]

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peachymilkandcream · 2 months

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Someone To Love|Part 2|Reiner x Jealous Reader

(A/N: It's kind of nice and out of my normal style to write a much more wholesome romance, but I can't say I dislike it. You gotta have the fluff with your angst. And since this is going with yandere Levi it's good to have a bit of a change of pace. Comment to be added to the taglist!)

WARNINGS: implied nsfw, depression, attempted suicide, violence, general angst, slowburn, lowkey love triangle with a happy ending, not a warning but Reiner calls you nicknames instead of y/n (because I personally can't stand it)

==============================================

It felt like the air had been knocked out of her lungs.

"An Island Devil?"

"I know, it's crazy, trust me I already know that. Especially after everything they did to Bertholdt and Annie. I don't know, I just feel...good about myself and safe around her."

She clears her throat, trying to keep the wad of emotion down in her chest so it doesn't spill out all at once. "And you say her name is Evelyn? I..uhm- tell me about her-"

Reiner leans back with a shy smile. "Well for starters she's short, really short, but she's also fun, and super sweet, an impressive fighter, and pretty on top of that. Like the ultimate package."

"How did you meet her?"

"When I was under cover she was one of the Scout officers, I didn't get to see a whole lot of her since she was part of Captain Levi's squad, but still. As far as Island Devils go she's one of the sweetest people I've ever met."

"Does she know who you are?"

Now Reiner frowns, apparently a sore spot for him. "Yes she does, when we fled I exposed who I was to her...and she said she hated me."

She tries to hide her relief with a deep breath, it wouldn't help anything to outwardly show how glad she was of that.

"So you'll never see her again."

"Until we return to Paradis to reclaim the Founder it seems unlikely." His mood changed, his tone becoming more and more depressed.

"That's too bad. She sounds wonderful."

"Yeah...she was." Reiner rests his elbow on the table, staring into the wooden pattern. "By now she's probably married off to Captain Levi, no screw that, why should I respect him with a title, to Levi."

"Who's Levi?" She didn't know who he was but if he was able to give Reiner closure with this unattainable crush she'd be thankful to him.

"Selfish bastard. Captain of the Survey Corps and man does he abuse that. Always unfairly punishing everyone and demanding respect." He shakes his head. "Creep watched Evelyn like some kind of sick stalker. There were many times I got punished for being anywhere near her. Asshole."

"Maybe you just didn't understand their dynamic?"

"Impossible, it was so obvious he was sick in the head. But no one saw it but me."

Bravely she reaches out to touch his hand. "It'll be okay Reiner, you can move on now. Forget about what happened their and live the rest of your life in peace."

"The rest of my life." He scoffs. "What short time I have left."

The thought made her wince, but he had a point. If she didn't try harder he'd be killed and they'd never have that life she dreamed of, even if it was for a short time.

"That's why you need to make the most of it."

Reiner nods, taking in her words. "You're right, sitting here sulking over what could have been won't get me anything but wasted time." A smile comes to his face. "Thanks kid, you always make me believe in myself."

She blushed a little at the nickname, even after all of this he still saw her as the same girl from their childhood. "No problem, you're my friend and I want to help you."

Reiner's face turns solemn again but before he can speak his mind a soldier comes up to their table.

"Reiner Braun, Commander Magath has sent for you."

"Right now? Is it urgent?"

"He said to come right away."

Reiner offers an apologetic glance before standing and hurrying to follow the young soldier, leaving her alone.

She couldn't put her finger on it, but she had a bad feeling about all of this.

#reiner braun #reiner x reader #reiner smut #aot reiner #reiner x you #reiner x y/n #reiner x oc #someone to love

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my-soupy-brain · 7 months

Note

i love your ted x reader fics so much!! would love to see you write one where the reader has been doing therapy for years and encourages ted to do the same but this is like early s2 when he doesn’t trust therapy. so he says no and it gets angsty because reader feels like if ted doesn’t respect her doing therapy then they can’t be happy together. but then he apologizes to her after a few sessions with dr sharon 🥺

Oh I love this. I really do. I love a little angst and I definitely love a making-up story. Also: Therapy is great, and everyone should be assigned a therapist at birth, lol. Let's gooo!

---

Relationship: Ted Lasso x reader

Warnings: Therapy, mental illness, angst

---

When you started dating Ted, you were already well-versed in therapy. For the last three years, you'd been seeing a therapist to manage your anxiety and depression.

You noticed little things about Ted that...well, worried you. Worried you because you cared. Worried you because with the right help, he might get better.

His happy-go-lucky attitude cracked at the seams some days. You could see the anxiety set into his eyes after he got off the phone with Henry.

Some days, when he slept over, he had a hard time getting out of bed. He chalked it up to the gray skies making him blue, but you knew it was deeper.

You walked up to Ted's door after your most recent session, smiling, a notebook full of things to think about and work on over the next week.

"Hey sweetpea," Ted said, a solemn look on his face as he opened the door.

"Hey, honey, are you OK?" you asked pensively. Ted nodded and gave a half smile.

"I'm fine, honeybunch."

Inside, you noticed his apartment was in disarray. Dishes aren't done. There are clothes laundered but not put away. The bed is a mess. The living room is scattered with papers and blankets.

As Ted makes his way back to the couch, you take in his appearance. His hair is flopped over his forehead, he's wearing a wrinkled t-shirt and equally wrinkled joggers.

"Babe?" you ask gently. He looks at you and smiles.

"What's going on?"

He just shook his head at you. "Nothin'. Just not feelin' myself. I'll be OK."

Ted always said this because he only knew how to say this.

You make your way around the apartment, doing some dishes by hand, folding up blankets.

"You don't gotta do all that," Ted said from the couch.

"It's OK. I don't mind. I know you're struggling, I'm happy to help."

"I'm not struggling!" Ted shouted. His voice raised, bellowing in your ears. You turned around briskly, your eyes wide.

"I know you're into all this therapy mumbo jumbo, but you don't gotta push that crap on me," he adds, his eyes narrowed in anger.

"Ted..."

Your breath hitches at his attitude. He's never talked like this to you. He has every right to express himself, but this... isn't deserved.

"And don't try to talk me into it. You're always trying to tell me what to do, that I should get help," he says, crossing his arms. "I got help in Kansas and a lotta good that did. My wife left me!"

You move to sit on the couch, tears in your eyes.

"Ted... I don't mean to upset you by asking you to get help. But..."

He turns his head quickly.

"But what? You wanna lecture me about it again?"

Your eyes burst into tears. There's not getting through to him. He's angry, you're making it worse. As you stand to leave, you sniffle.

That softens him immediately. He looks at your face again -- finally -- and sees the tears. The tears he caused.

"Listen, I'm...sorry..."

You put your hand up.

"No, Ted. Y'know, therapy has saved my life. From some real dark thoughts and dark times. I don't appreciate you minimalizing it because you had a bad experience..."

You feel bolder, though what you're about to say breaks your heart.

"I don't think we should be together."

His eyes change from neutrality to shock.

"At least until you get help. And if you do, call me. But I can't stand to watch you go through this and not admit you need help."

With that, you close the door behind you and make your way to your flat.

...

Ted's stunned. On his couch, looking at the places where you've tidied. He sees you left your scarf behind and he rolls it between his fingers.

"Goddamn dummy," he mumbles to himself. "Lost the best thing you've ever had."

He goes to the kitchen, grabs a tumbler, and pours some whiskey, but stops himself.

What is he doing?

What is the goal here?

Is he just going to wallow about his divorce for the rest of his life? Live with these panic attacks? Put on a happy face and suffer underneath?

He pulls out his phone and finds Doc Sharon's number.

Though she's new to the club, she's already made a noticeable difference to the people who've seen her. He tried one day but ran out before he uttered a word.

What was he so afraid of?

Failing again. He's afraid of failing again.

Even with Michelle, he did everything the marriage counselor suggested, and she still left.

He remembers what Beard said the other night at the pub. "All people are different people."

Y/N wasn't Michelle.

Doc Sharon wasn't the counselor from Kansas.

He hits the call button.

...

After his first session, Ted felt...lighter. But lonely. Losing y/n when they were just getting started, when they were expanding their friendship into a blossoming romance...

He vowed to get you back.

In his second session with Doc Sharon, Ted realized that his fear of abandonment traces back to childhood. And rather than let people abandon him, he just never lets them in.

Bingo.

"It sounds like Y/N is understanding," Doc Sharon had said. "It sounds like they're looking out for you. And you're pushing that away. Why?"

Ted wasn't sure. "I just didn't trust that this was the thing for me, I guess," he says, his eyes casting down on the brown office carpet. "I'd rather not untangle my noodle and see all the ugly stuff in there."

Doc Sharon slipped in a small smile.

"Ted, the way I see it: We can't clean it up if we don't look inside."

Ted nods and agrees.

...

You've been waiting for him to call. Waiting.

He texted you a couple times, offering his apology. You know he was sincere. Your heart ached, and so did his. But you asked him to give you space.

And then he sent you a text you hoped to see, but didn't expect.

Ted: I started goin' to therapy with Doc Sharon. I can see why you do this.

You smile. Finally. Finally, Ted is putting himself first.

You: I'm so glad to hear that, Ted. I'm glad it's helping.

Ted: I'm realizing why I pushed you away, and it wasn't fair. And my heart hurts without you, darlin'. I really can't stand this.

You: I miss you, too. I just want you to be well, Ted. I want you to work on yourself and stop ignoring your needs.

Ted: I know. I know that now. And it's thanks to you.

You let a few minutes go by and your phone vibrates. Ted's on the line.

"Hey there, sugar. I know things have been tough, and this is awkward as heck, but... do you wanna come over? Watch a movie?"

You smile hard, tears springing to your eyes. Oh, how you've missed him.

"I'd love to, Ted. Are you sure though? I don't want to get in your way."

On the other line, Ted furrows his brow. The fact you worried you were in the way at all is just more of a sign of how he needs to balance his feelings. Blowing up at you? He never wants to do that again.

"You won't be. If anything, my life is empty without you. It's got a Y/N -sized hole in it. So does my couch."

You chuckle.

"I'll be right over."

...

Once you're at Ted's door, you take a deep breath and knock. He answers it with a smile. A genuine one. His hair is more styled, but he's still comfortable in a polo and jeans.

"Hey there, sweetheart," he says softly. "C'mon in. I've got dinner waitin' and a movie fired up."

You enter his apartment and it's tidy.

Everything is in its place. A candle emits a soft glow and scent in the room. Dinner is set on the table and you see a bouquet of flowers.

"You didn't have to do all this, Ted," you say, your eyes full of love.

He walks toward you and ropes his arms around you, smiling.

"Sure I did, darlin'," he whispers. "And it wasn't much. This is the bare minimum you deserve."

Your gaze into each other's eyes for a moment, and you lean into his lips and he meets you. It's soft and lovely, passionate but slow. He holds you tighter to his body, and your hands run down his chest.

"Golly, I sure missed that," he says softly with a smile, his forehead against yours.

"Me, too, babe..."

"I'm gonna keep goin' to Doc Sharon. I can feel it helping," he says, closing his eyes for a second. "I'm learnin' a lot about myself."

"I'm so proud of you, Ted."

He nods. "I'll share some of this with you someday, when I'm ready."

You nod in response. "Only when you're ready. I'll never force you to tell me anything you don't want to."

Ted smiles. "I knew I found you for a reason."

He cups your face in his big hand and kisses you again. Your body warming to his, molding to his.

"Are. we gonna make it to dinner, baby?" you ask with a sultry chuckle.

"At this rate, we ain't even gonna make it to the living room," he answers, kissing you, turning you around, and walking you backward through the doorway.

---

Thank you so much for this prompt. I hope I did it justice! I wish we'd gotten more Ted Lasso if only to see more of his journey. His mental health experience is so similar to so many others. Thanks for this prompt, friend!

#ted lasso x reader #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso x you #ted lasso x therapy #ted lasso angst #ted lasso comfort

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garbinge · 2 years

Text

Best Friend

Opie Winston x TellerSister!Reader

Summary: Dealing with the after math of Jax’s death.

Warnings: Canon level mentions of death, suicide, cigarettes. Cursing. Angst. tons of angst. when you think there’s been enough angst, oh look theres more. *All my fics are 18+.

A/N: Me? Back from a multi month long writing hiatus with a super angsty reader insert SOA fic? Who would have thought. Not me! This is my first ever reader insert so please be kind. If you notice anything that gets too descriptive, let me know and I’ll happily edit it! Also my first time writing for SOA. As always thanks to Tay for chatting this through with me. xo Enjoy!

Word Count: 2.3k

SOA Taglist: @drabbles-mc (Not sure how many SOA fics i’ll have in the future but happy to add anyone to any potential future fics!)

The clubhouse was packed. It was a sea of kuttes, Harleys, and people from all different charters, all different clubs, and they all came to pay their respects for the late and great Jax Teller.

You sat inside, surrounded by people you’ve known your whole life practically, yet the disconnect you felt might as well have you surrounded by strangers. People approached you, paying their respects for the loss of your brother. And your mother. And your sister-in-law. They would have offered their condolences for your father but that was 20 years ago so it wasn’t exactly socially acceptable anymore.

As people offered their sorrows and condolences your eyes didn’t leave the casket. It represented so much. The death of your baby brother, for one. But also it felt like the last conscious piece of you was sitting in that box with Jax. He was really the only one that got it. The life you lived, the choices you made. Perfect siblings were definitely not the way anyone would have described the two of you. You fought. You hated the decisions he made, and likely vice versa, but he was blood. Your little brother. And now you were left with the numbness of the same cycle all again, but this time, alone.

The service wasn’t long, it was just a few people saying a few words and the casket would be taken over to the cemetery tomorrow. You opted out of any last parting words, it definitely said a lot by saying nothing, but after 3 funerals in the past year, there wasn’t much more you had in you to say. Leaving before the post-funeral party began was a must, something about getting drunk in the place that caused the downfall of your family wasn’t exactly high on your to-do list. You grabbed a pack of cigarettes that was left unattended and snagged a lighter before quietly sneaking out without saying goodbye to anyone.

The lit cigarette hung from your mouth as the car key sputtered in the ignition of your car, causing a couple pairs of eyes to glance over at the noise. There was no problem ignoring the glaring eyes until your eyes met his. Opie nodded to you and you fought back every instinct you initially had to flip him off and just nodded back keeping your face solemn, praying your car would start and you could just get the hell home. Just as it seemed like he was going to get up to help, the car started and as the relief filled your soul, you pressed the gas like your life depended on it.

Home didn’t feel much like home anymore, but lately thoughts had you wondering if it ever really did. You clicked the answering machine that was blinking obnoxiously to let you know there were multiple missed calls. More condolences. One after the other. The frustration and emotion was so built up that you finally had just lost it and you threw the phone off the small entry table, pulling the cord out of the wall on its journey flying across the living room and into the wall leaving a nice mark to commemorate the moment. A scream left your mouth and just as you fell silent your cell phone began to ring.

“You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” you mumbled, closing your eyes in defeat. The name was mocking you as you stared at your phone ringing. Opie Winston. But for some reason, you didn’t hesitate much. You answered it, staying silent for a minute, not really sure what to say but after a couple seconds you spoke up.

“What’s up?” the attitude dripped off your tone.

“Didn’t think you’d answer,” he sounded surprised.

“Didn’t think you’d call,” the annoyance in you grew.

“You’re my best friend, why wouldn’t I call you?” Opie responded.

You scoffed at the use of the endearment. Best friend. Best friend? There was nothing about yours and Opie’s friendship as of lately that could be considered best. Hell, you wouldn’t even have considered it friends. Sure, you met Opie first and were even friends first. You were the reason he even knew Jax. But the minute he met Jax was the minute it all changed for you and your friendship with him, especially as you all got older. Sure, there were moments in time where the 3 of you were inseparable, throughout middle school and high school, especially. But the minute Opie joined the club with Jax it was like you were voted out of the friendship. There was apart of you that wouldn’t even have been surprised if Clay had brought it up for a vote between the boys. The club ran deeper than whatever friendship you held with your brother so it definitely would overrule your friendship with Opie.

You held on for as long as you could to the trio but eventually it was a lost cause. You and Jax made it work, with the involvement of Gemma in the club, Jax didn’t hide much from you the same way he wouldn’t with her, even despite Clay’s arguments. It’s not to say you knew all the club secrets and moves but you had the big picture shit painted for you just fine. But Opie never felt like he could be the one to be honest with you like Jax could, and that put a wedge there. You tried a lot, and just when it seemed like it had maybe turned in your favor, Opie got locked up and right then and there was when there was no coming back. There was a glimmer of hope for the friendship when Donna died, as fucked up as that sounds. But death brings family closer, right? Wrong.

So that’s why you sat there rolling your eyes as Opie casually called you his best friend when you honestly felt like you hadn’t really known the man in years.

“What do you want, Ope?” You asked plopping down on the couch bringing your hand to your temple to massage the headache that was forming.

The line was silent for 30 seconds as Opie thought about what to say.

“It was a nice service,” he said, thinking quickly off his feet.

“It was a fucking funeral, Opie. There was nothing nice about it.” You spoke just as quickly back to him. Before he could respond you spoke again. “You realize my brother is dead right? Your best friend. He killed himself. Right into an 18 wheeler like beloved JT, and you’re calling me to tell me it was a nice service?” You scoffed before finishing your sentence, “respectfully, please just leave me alone. You had no problem ignoring me through your prison stint, you had no problem ignoring me when you came back to the club, and you had no problem ignoring me every other time I fucking needed you, so please have no problem doing it now.”

It was definitely a build up of tension that you held against him coming out right now, mixed with the overwhelming feeling that tomorrow you had to bury your baby brother next to his deceased wife and your deceased mother and father.

“Okay,” he said, but didn’t hang up.

That irritated you more. “Okay?” you frowned and huffed, mocking the words out of his mouth.

“Not sure what you want from me, Y/N.” Opie kept his voice steady. It wasn’t mean or rude, it was simply the truth. This was Opie Winston, he didn’t know what you wanted.

You took in what he said. What did you want?

He broke the silence, which wasn’t exactly like him, which meant he was trying.

“You know I lost everybody too. That’s why I called you.”

“So I’m a last resort, cool.” You weren’t sure how much more Opie was going to dig himself into this hole but at the same time you knew you were digging one also.

“You know what I meant.” His tone was exhausted, not wanting to fight with you.

“No Opie, that’s the problem I don’t ever know what you mean. I don’t know you anymore.”

There it was. This was either going to stop here before it got any deeper or this was going to get messy, fast.

“I’m sorry,” he said, defeated.

“Yea, me too.” The breath you took was deep as those three words left your mouth.

“I’m here if you want company,” Opie added, hoping to break the tension, but instead making you break.

“I don’t want to chill and act like none of this is happening. I want to get the fuck out of here, I’m sick of Charming. This town took everything from me. Your stupid fucking club took everything from me. What am I left with? Nothing.” You began your rant which was far from over but Opie decided to speak up.

“I’m telling you I’m here for you.” There was frustration in his voice now, annoyed that everything he said was causing you to fight back.

“Why are you still here?” You asked him, seriously. The line was silent.

“Y/N..” He eventually let out under his breath.

You shook your head. “Save it, Opie. You didn’t call when Gemma died, you don’t need to offer me your helping hand now that Jax isn’t here. You dealt with Donna’s death just fine, you don’t need me and I don’t need you,” you shrugged as if he could see you.

That one cut deep and like clockwork, Opie cut back deeper, “you didn’t even like Gemma.”

“I could say the same for you about Donna,” your rebuttal was quick, and just like he put a knife in you, you put one right back. It was a game now for you two, but this jab might have taken it too far.

“I loved Donna.”

“I did too. I was there. While you were away,” your voice cracked and trembled at the memories. “Jax didn’t visit. Jax didn’t take his paychecks and buy groceries for your kids. He didn’t check in on Donna. I did. Because you were my family, despite all the bullshit. And you know what makes me even more of a fool? I would have done it all again even if I knew that when you came home you were going to toss me to the side for my brother, for the club. Because that’s how much I cared. But time and time again you never show up for me and I’ve had it. It took for me to lose everything to realize it.” You were staring at the picture of your family. You, Gemma, JT, Jax, baby Thomas.

“What do you want me to do?” It was a typical response from Opie, looking for direction. It caused a genuine but sad laugh to escape from your mouth.

“You do what you do best, Ope.” You nodded your head in approval as you spoke, “wear that reaper patch with pride, every time you look at the blood that drips off the scythe, remember everyone you’ve lost. Including me. Then look around that fucking god forsaken table while you’re in church, take in those faces around you, look at that skull on your rocker and bask in it. Because they all mattered more than every single person you lost.”

Tears fell from your eyes as you said it. It was harsh, but it was the truth. You weren’t going to hold back anymore.

“What are you going to do?” Opie didn’t seem phased by the words, but he was also good at hiding his true emotions.

“I’m going to pack my shit up and leave. Tonight. Because I can’t bury my baby brother. I won’t do it. I’m taking the kids and I’m leaving.”

Opie was silent. You knew he wouldn’t tell anyone. They’d ask him and he’d lie, while you might not have known Opie anymore, you did still know him at his core. He wouldn’t rat you out.

You nodded your head at the silence on the line, “thanks for checking in Ope, have a good life.”

And with that you hung up. It was the oddest sense of closure. It was everything you’ve ever wanted to say to him, but the numbness of everything happening made it impossible to feel completely relieved. You didn’t dwell in it too long, you got up, wiped your tears, and held yourself to your word. Beginning to pack up your necessities, you quickly sent a text to Nero that you would be at his place soon to pick up Abel and Thomas. There wasn’t much to pack, clothes, some mementos. But not much, just the photos you held dear to your heart, some jewelry Tara had given you, some things that were left behind in Gemma’s will and that was it. A new life meant a new life. Despite the hold this town had on your brother, you knew this is what he would have wanted. If you couldn’t do it for yourself you would have solace knowing you were doing it for him.

Your whole life sat packed by the door in 3 bags total. The keys swung around your fingers as you headed toward the door to go pick up the kids before you’d come back, pack the car up and go.

Without a thought, you swung the door open and jumped back when you weren’t met with the usual open space. A 6’4” tall body stood at the door. No kutte in sight, his beanie snug on his head. He effortlessly held a backpack slung over his shoulder and a duffel bag in his left hand.

Taking it all in, you finally felt it. Closure.

“If you’re gonna take that shitty car on your Charming dash, I figured you were going to need a mechanic on the road with you.” Opie said, staring down at you.

“I don’t need a mechanic,” the words would have gutted Opie if you didn’t follow them up with your next few.

“I need my best friend.”

#opie winston #opie winston x reader #opie winston x y/n #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy imagine #sons of anarchy fanfic #soa fanfic #soa #soa imagine #teller sister reader insert #teller sister #garbinge

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molagboop · 1 year

Text

Long time no model post. Last time I did this, the image limit was 10. Now I am bound by no such constraints. Let's take a look at a statue from Ferenia. Specifically, chozosancstatuebig02mirror.

I'll preface this by saying I haven't done anything to make the textures look more like they may in-game (e.g.: making the gold portions look more metallic).

What we're looking at is a black and gold statue depicting a kneeling Mawkin warrior wearing a red cape. It holds a soldier's spear in its left hand, and its right hand is enclosed in a fist, touching the ground.

This statue appears in Escue's arena alongside two other statues: chozosancstatuebig02 (left) and chozosancstatuebig01 (center). chozosancstatuebig02mirror and chozosancstatuebig02 are identical, except the mirrored version is just that: flipped. sancstatuebig02 is kneeling on the left knee, and sancstatuebig02mirrored has its right knee touching the ground.

The subject of today's post is on the right-hand side of the above screenshot. We take a closer look at it beneath the cut, reaping the full advantage of Tumblr's spankin' new (several months-old now) 30 image limit.

The model is comprised of two meshes: the cape and the statue. It has no bones, as expected of a prop, and the textures are pretty low res because it's a background element that's not intended to be seen up close. This helps the developers save space on the cartridge, and the game doesn't have to render super detailed textures that you're never going to scrutinize in-game (at least not very closely).

I've removed the cape to examine the whole statue. It's modeled in full: unlike some larger props (and some NPCs: see Quiet Robe's chest), there is no vacant hole beneath the cape.

As you might have expected by looking at it during gameplay, its design doesn't deviate terribly from the Chozo Soldier NPCs. It's like someone posed a soldier, removed its bones, changed the colors, and crunchified the textures.

I gotta say, I appreciate the Mawkin's dedication to realism with this one. Some of their statues are styled or have a lot of edges and fancy details, but this is just a guy.

If I may be a nerd for a minute or two, it seems like this one embodies values that a warrior tribe may hold dear: gravity, duty, humility. In the boss room, two kneeling statues flank a standing warrior draped in cloth.

We're not given any context as to who they are or what exactly this represents, but the standing warrior in the center of the arrangement appears to be a figure of some renown: like a decorated officer flanked by a selection of solemn warriors. The Mawkin are warriors: their army seems to be a large part of their culture. Respect for one's betters, the act of honoring someone who stands out for their exceptional martial prowess: that's what I think of when I look at this.

I don't know who this is, but the arrangement gives off military ceremony vibes. According to "Adam", Ferenia is a temple complex, and the site of many ceremonies. Maybe one was held here.

The concept art shown here is from page 103 of the Metroid Mission Logs. The first image is on the top half of the page, the second is near the bottom. I can appreciate that they gave us two versions: the dramatic lighting in the second version is stunning, but I also like being able to see the room under more neutral light.

That's enough out of me. Here are some close-ups of the spearhead.

I tried to capture the detail in the front of the blade, crunchy as the textures may be. There are three pointed grooves in the center of the blade's front.

It doesn't appear any different from the... "living" soldier's spears.

The cape's going back on so I can talk about it.

The cloth rests just above the base of the neck, draped over the area behind the shoulders and falling over the back. The right foot is clipping through the back of the cape (from the leg with the knee on the ground), but that's a secret between us and the developers: you never see this during play.

I wanted to paint a better picture of where the breastplate ends and the cloth begins, so I took a few more shots.

You thought we were doing one statue today? No! We're also looking at chozosancstatuebig01.

This one also possesses two meshes, and they're the same as the last one: a cape and the rest of the statue.

As previously stated, this one differs from its companions in that it's standing instead of kneeling. The cloth is draped over its front instead of its back, but it doesn't wrap around the whole of the figure. It also appears tattered, like there's supposed to be more cloth covering the other half of the statue. The strands hanging over the left side could just be tassels or decorative drapery hanging off the main bit. Like it's wearing a cloak. Or a half-cape.

If you look at the concept art, that seems to be the case: there are gold stripes at the base of the strips, as well as at the top of the greater drape. If you look really closely at the red drape on the statue in the image above, you'll notice there may be traces of this idea left on the cloth, but they're not quite as golden as they appear in the concept art. The stripes on the tassels are hardly visible in the texture!

I wish the concept was translated with more clarity: I dig the idea of a soft, velvety, ceremonial drape with golden embroidery.

Something I find peculiar is the three circular indentations on the front of the chestplate, in the section between the concave indicators of where those red lights are on normal soldiers. There's one tiny hole on the left-hand side, and two larger holes on the right.

There are also two holes in the right bicep, a dent in the left bicep, and a big chunk taken out of the upper left leg. It stands to reason that these blemishes might be the result of long-term wear and tear: environmental damage, Silent Spear falling backwards into the arrangement like an idiot, that sort of thing. Who knows?

The blade on this one's spear is wider than the other statue's, and their construction is different, as well. The pole isn't visible halfway through the back of the blade on the other statue.

That about does it. Thanks for sticking with me, and expect more statueposting.

#blender shenanigans #model refs #metroid dread #chozo #chozosancstatuebig02 #chozosancstatuebig02mirror #metroid dread spoilers #metroid

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stormbreaker101 · 4 months

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Emma Stargem - Spirit Walker and Honorary Detective

Age: 20

Level: 42 Death

Personality: Upbeat, social butterfly, compassionate, cunning, generous, a little pranksterous

Status: Doing good! Living stellar best life with her family and myriad of friends.

Story: The Spiral used to be a game, and Star loved the social aspect of it. She was the kind of player who would host parties in her castle and lend a hand to new wizards, but didn't care as much about the main gameplay as her twin Emma had. When Nora corrupted the Spiral, that social interconnection was absolutely snapped. The only folks Star had left were her siblings and the NPCs who had just gotten the rudest awakening of their now-unscripted lives.

Star stayed in Wizard City with her little sister Savannah while Emma was off doing savior things of his own in Grizzleheim. Thanks to her status as a 'senior student' and being Nora's cousin, she quickly found herself involved in helping tame Wizard City's portion of Aberrant magic: Aberrant Death that roused the legions of Undead that Malistaire once summoned and Nora had quelled years ago. Star didn't mind this new normal of trying to dispel these old dead; it was a way she could help out without straying too far from what home she had.

Though her connection to Nora would not let Star rest easily. The Arcanum sought her and Savannah out after Emma had little choice but to ask them for help. Of COURSE Star wanted to be able to help (or at least see) Emma, and the Arcanum's promise of extra tutoring definitely sweetened the deal, as Ravenwood Academy had paused nigh-indefinitely thanks to the Undead uprising.

Star quickly made friends with some of the Arcanum scholars, including Qyburn Stellargaze, who introduced Star to a set of neopronouns that Star just had to take for herself. "It fits my aesthetic, yknow? Gotta commit to the bit." Star's relationship to her primary mentor, Qismah, was a bit tense though. Stellar bright belief that one's life ought to be filled with as much joy and whimsy and carpe-diem'ness as possible BECAUSE of the inevitable solemnity of death was a stark contrast to Qismah's more stoic and poised views of discipline and quiet respect of the living and dead alike.

Star was content with studying under the Arcanum and helping the scholars however she could, but calamity struck in Karamelle. Nora, who had been absent, villainized, and assumed dead for years by the Spiral, was calling for help. And the help that Star and the scholars were able to bring was too little too late. Nora was killed, eaten alive, and all that was left of her was her pet, some crystallized Storm magic she had left behind, the damages she had caused, and an absolutely heartbroken family. Most hurt was Nora's baby sister, Iridian, now guardianless. Star knew the Arcanum may have been a good place for herself and Emma and Savannah, who all wanted to study magic and help the Spiral in their own ways, but it was not a stable home for a young growing child.

Star's friend from another Spiral, Owen Macheca (@saturniidaze) offered to let Iridian and the three sisters move in with their own family in the (Multiversal) Reconstructed AU (@clockwork-fiends). Star technically was old enough by now (or so stel thought at the time, 17 years old) to not need a typical home with familial adult figures, but she wanted to stay close to Iridian and Savannah, take care of them, be a constant for them.

Star now lived a life with a foot in both Spirals, but the Macheca family was quickly becoming Star's main home now. And when other multiversal madness swooped in and stole Emma away, Star nigh-permanently pulled away from Wizarding. Her family needed her more than the Arcanum did, though stel would always be a friend to the Arcanum. Rather than a foot in both Spirals, she had both feet in (MV)R! and a hand in CS.

Things quieted down once Emma was saved. And a new chapter of Star's life, complete with an entirely new universe unlike any Spiral, was beginning. Owen had a dear old friend that they named a father, Akhtar Vice (@stormyykat), who could not remember his own death from 15 years ago. With her own experience with necromancy and the evergreen desire to help out however stel could, Star joined Owen on investigating what should've been a cold case.

Key word: should've.

Things got incredibly messy. I can't delve into it in a basic OC intro post. But from that experience, Star gained many new yet strong connections to this new universe and a passion for private detectivework. This universe, which quite closely paralleled the Earth Star remembered before getting stuck in her first Spiral, became yet another home to her. Star comfortably and truly lives with a foot in the Spiral and a foot in this other-Earth. Modern but still magical (including all the game-mechanic magics, much to her newest friends' bewilderments), bohemian but still involved.

#oc: star #wizard101 #corrupted spiral #reconstructed au #you can really see the point where my characters went from solo projects to being involved in rp with friends #character bio #nx!c #leah speaks :3

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hajimehinata · 9 months

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i gave you all i had, i did

day 5 : sacrifice ( from @adfaugust )

all he’s ever done, he did it for this family.

tyler’s long been used to hours of work with little reward, underpaid for hard labour and chalking it up to his family name. the world’s out to get him, he’s always known it, has been told so time and time again by the holt matriarch. and he knows better than anyone that sharon wouldn’t lie, has been an honest woman from the day she was born. if she ever was dishonest, it’s cause she had to be, cause she wasn’t given another option. but ma’s honest, gets her way through respect built from her steely and admirable nature. sharon, impossible not to respect with her fingers poised elegantly around a cigarette. lord knows tyler gladly picked up that habit for a few stolen seconds of her company. always wishing blindly to soak up her presence, as if it would somehow cure him of his own inferiority, childishness she frowned upon. he always feels adult standing next to her — ’cept for when he don’t, when he feels like he’s quakin’ in his boots just being near her. tells himself it’s because he loves her, because he can’t stand the thought of her coming to harm. knows that he’s her protector and that’s all he is, and for a holt, that’s a blessing. no higher honour than to be at sharon’s side, making sure their shitheel of a pa don’t try anything.

never strikes him that he might be thinking backwards, that the person he’s afraid of is the very person he loves the most. so wrapped around her finger he can’t see it for what it is, embraced into her perfumed storytelling, lies that sound like the truth, until tyler can’t help but believe in her. she’s his ma, and she needs him, everyone does. shoulders heavy burdens so she don’t have to, under the firm belief that he had a choice, but that no sane man would choose the other option.

what man would leave his ma to suffer all alone? none that are mannerly or polite, none that really care for her. tyler’s signed away his life, all twenty-five years of it thus far and whatever rest of it that cruel fate gives him. quickly revises the thought, since he oughta be grateful for what he has — the opportunity to be there for his ma, for his brothers.

still doesn’t stop the white-hot jealousy from bubbling up in a weary chest when he sees how easily dale and jay are awarded with ma’s attention. don’t know the last time she called him sweetheart — or if she ever has. keeps blindly charging forward, since he knows why dale’s got ma’s heart; no one could hate a face like that or deny him a thing. and jay… as much as he don’t contribute, as much as he ain’t really one of them ( as much as his sensitive nature is rewarded when tyler’s was long stamped outta him, told time and time again that he’s the eldest and real men gotta keep their upper lip stiff ) … sharon’s affectionate towards the golden boy because he reminds her of that sister of hers. that woman who got herself knocked up and imposed herself on her charitable sister, only to wind up dead and leaving her screaming kid behind for sharon to care for like he’s hers.

( and if tyler had to pick up those motherly responsibilities, it’s cause ma obviously couldn’t, not after her own sister had died, and no one could have expected her to be well enough to take care of a kid or her three-year-old and certainly not her seven-year-old little man, the nickname brooke gave him as she pinched a solemn cheek still ringing in his head — )

— but ain’t he the same as brooke, now? running off to save his own skin when dale’s … a sharp pain lancing through his chest, solid evidence of how he’s failed the family. still feels the sting on his cheek when ma told him clear as day — he ain’t got this, he wasn’t responsible enough, never good enough. and selfishly he wonders how long he has to sweat and toil for … her approval, but he’d never say that. sharon don’t give out praise that ain’t earned, and tyler never earned it a day in his life. no matter how hard he worked. no matter how little he slept. no matter how kind he was to his charity case of a cousin.

and he’s doing everything he can, even if ain’t good enough, even if it ain’t perfect. tells himself this is the best he can do for the ones he’s lost — protect himself cause he’s the only one left to protect her. when dale’s gone, pa’s in some hospital after his act of cowardice, and they had to leave jay behind when the cops were too close for comfort. he’s the only one left, and sharon’s safety’s all that matters. they come up with a plan, her and her only child, and there’s an unspoken understanding that passes through ‘em. the knowledge that they’re all they’ve got anymore, that they have to stick together.

it’s everything he wanted. least, he thought it was. until jay shows back up on their doorstep and tyler’s left to stare. a brother back from the dead and the short-lived attention from his ma itching at the back of his ribcage. forced to think horrible thoughts, wondering if it was jay all along who took this from tyler. if sharon’s affections were only doled out to the youngest boys because that love’s finite, and because jay just had to be difficult, ruin things by taking that book and killing dale, the sting of a motherly slap across the cheek still smarting. can’t accept that he wants more than he’s got, so it’s jay’s fault. that festering itch getting worse until it’s damn near unbearable. it’s jay on the doorstep of the cabin and not dale, not his baby brother who sat on his lap and babbled to him in half-formed sentences, who didn’t leave him ( didn’t leave the family, comes the mental correction ) to go galavanting off in the woods.

still, tyler takes first watch. is used to staying up and expects that neither ma nor jay will wake up for a second watch. maybe he’ll catch an hour or two, but he ain’t counting on it. more important that sharon gets her rest, and it’s not like tyler trusts jay to stay up and keep an eye out. not after he found out about brooke, the long-kept secret that shoulda been told to him long ago, so he could understand why he’s gotta make it up to the family more than ever. if anything, he thinks maybe jay’ll try to slink out and talk to him. the lie weighs heavy on his chest, but it’s the most sensible solution. ma needs to go on the motorcycle, and jay can survive out here in the woods. if tyler stayed ( and his chest constricts at the mere thought ) … he’d die. still, even though ma knows that, it’s still his duty to stay back. even with this busted leg, even with his lack of familiarity of the bush of two rock. when jay wasn’t around, the solution was simple. now, it’s staring him right in the eye. his imminent death. the same fate as dale. loving jay, then dying for it.

the door creaks open, and tyler’s heart squeezes in his chest seeing it’s ma. it ain’t rare for her to seek out his company, whether it’s to unload some stresses or just cause he’s smoking at the same time as her, but that weary heart still jumps when she does. hard and clear evidence that he’s doing something right. but that brief hope gets squashed like an insignificant insect as soon as the words leave her mouth. can we talk about this canada thing?

shoulda known she was coming out to ask about it, silently curses himself for not realizing sooner. remembers the other mistake he made, telling jay about his real ma, and braces himself for a scolding that thankfully never comes. sharon’s not a petty woman, and she’s moved onto more pressing matters. wondering why jay can’t have the prized seat next to her on the bike. wondering all that when she’s whip-smart and definitely smart enough to know tyler’d die if he stuck around back here. and it all comes flooding out. a juvenile confession, practically sobbed out. a desperate begging for love he’s always thought he was above. is it so wrong to want to live? is it so wrong to want a shot at life even when it’s long over? all his life, he’s given her ( the family, he hurriedly corrects, because even now, he can’t stop the helpless fawning over her ) everything he has, everything he is. and here he leans against the cabin post, staring up at the consequence bearing over him like a giant. finds himself scared and utterly alone in the face of this insurmountable beast.

he just wants to live. and if that’s gotta mean just surviving from here on out, he wants that. if his fate was never to live his life, he’ll mourn it and bury it alongside dale. clenches his fists and jaw and tries not to let the grief consume him, crush that bad leg before he’s even got a chance to try to keep going. wouldn’t dale have wanted him to live? wouldn’t dale have wanted… and it feels blasphemous to even think, but wouldn’t dale have wanted his happiness? couldn’t sharon have loved him enough to want that for him?

but it can’t be about dale and it certainly can’t be about sharon, so it’s about jay, the boy who got everything tyler wanted just by being. who whines and gets his way, the eternal favourite and the one dale eventually left tyler behind for. but tyler knows he can still win. he’s just gotta convince jay to stay back. and he does. feels that affection he always had for the kid come back full force, all babyish smiles and hints of wisdom he don’t think even jay knows he has. tyler will miss him. he gets that now. wishes blindly and with all his heart that there were three seats on the motorcycle, even if the thought of sharing ma with jay was nauseating just an hour ago.

tyler trudges back to his world, leaving jay to his own. greets sharon with a weary look, disillusioned like he hasn’t been in a long time. no longer is he excited to be the only one left. misses his brothers, both of ‘em, like hell. but at least he’s got ma, his sole purpose for as long as he can remember. something nettles him about that. maybe it’s just that jay taking off didn’t make him feel any better.

that’s what he sticks with until one night at the church turns into two, and then three.

and tyler lays with his cheek pressed against a dilapidated floor and wonders. do we get what we deserve?

#as dusk falls #tyler holt #sharon holt #adfaugust2023 #pan writes #this is obviously inspired by the cabin scene and my intense feelings about it #and there's a lot i could say about it but i will say that this fic does not paint sharon positively #people do not seem to realize that both bear AND sharon have seriously abused their kids ESPECIALLY tyler #and the cabin scene really shows how for the first time in his entire life tyler is having an intense breakdown about #the absurd expectations placed on his shoulders #it's baffling to me that sharon would not stay behind if it meant her kids would be safe #ESPECIALLY since she goes to paul for help regardless!#but because both tyler and jay are so emotionally abused by her ( especially tyler ) it's never a question whether she should get that seat #leading to this huge fallout between tyler and jay #which tbf was already coming since we know tyler was dying to tell jay he was adopted #and he is severely in his feelings because he (AND LITERALLY SHARON) blames himself for dale's death #cannot stress enough that if dale dies from the sniper sharon tells tyler POINT BLANK that it was his fault. and similarly in the barn scene #if jay fucks up the two by fours bear LITERALLY tells tyler 'weren't you watching him? what's wrong with you?'#so like this isn't something tyler is just making up in his head. people ACTIVELY assign him responsibility over his brothers #in any case the point is atp tyler is DISABLED and there is no way he can make it on his own. leaving him there IS a death sentence #and while jay probably doesn't realize this there is no WAY sharon doesn't. why else would she abandon him and latch onto paul?#and i know she tells paul a different story but she is HEAVILY established as a liar/unreliable narrator in that chapter so #ANYWAY. i have normal thoughts and feelings about sharon and tyler's abusive ass relationship /lie

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sketchyonlooker · 4 months

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< A live camera feed comes into view. >

A small yellow-and-green shop with a single red door comes into view. The word Game in English lettering can be seen above the entrance. A familiar spiky-haired silhouette briefly peeks through one of the shop windows, only to vanish before other people noticed. Outside the normally empty surroundings were more than several dozens of people, all of them wearing Duel Disks, making a rough attempt at a line. Many of them looked solemn or determined while others looked excited; all of them were trying to put their best face out there because they knew this event involving the most famous of Duel Monsters stars was bound to have a lot of media floating around. This small group of duelists participating paled to the number of spectators that came to watch. Lingering outside the large empty block that surrounded the shop, the spectators excitedly pointed at familiar faces in the line, minor celebrities when it came to the world of Duel Monsters. Some looked skyward, expecting the Kaibas to make an entrance that way. However, a good number of the spectators weren't duelists at all but those who smelled a business opportunity. Hence why there were hawkers and food trucks set up around the block, each one taking advantage of the duelists with their own Duel-Monster-themed culinary creations.

-----

An ice cream waffle cone stacked with chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry scoops was being handed over to a kid from a food truck. Even in the cold, it was popular with the children because each scoop was decorated to make them look like Kuribohs with different cheery expressions. The fact it sold cappuccinos as well, decorated with a foam art of popular Duel Monsters, also meant the parents could get their fix of Duel Monsters-themed foods and drinks too.

-----

A fluffy omelet rice on a paper container is seen, being shown off by the cook in the food truck. It is decorated by a cutesy image of the Dark Magician Girl giving a starry wink made in ketchup. In the background, a teenage girl with short black hair and wearing a Duel Disk could be seen with her hand raised like a maniac's, bills clenched within. Her most flamboyant feature is the bright blue witch's hat she wore. "I'll take three!"

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"Get your official Kame Game Shop Tournament hoodies here!" said a hawker showing off various hoodies on several tables. The most popular ones, evident from the dwindling piles, were the purple Dark Magician sweaters and the white-and-blue Blue Eyes White Dragon sweaters; they both had images of the respective monsters up front and a Kame Game Shop Tournament 2023 at the back. There's even a crimson red Red Eyes Black Dragon hoodie, though the large pile remaining made it clear that it wasn't nearly as popular as the other two. "Show your support! Are you Team Mutou or Team Kaiba? Or maybe you want to show some love for the underdog?" A woman with spiky-looking sidebangs passing by glared at the man with irritation and disbelief. Thick-winged eyeliner added a weight to her glare. "You have the balls to say your stuff is official when the Game Shop is right there?" The hawker pauses and then cheekily winks, "Is the Game Shop selling hoodies? And do you see any other people claiming to sell official hoodies like me? Since you only see me, mine's gotta be official by default, right?" The woman's eyebrow twitched, "Do you really think that argument will work if Mutou or Kaiba demanded compensation?" The man shrugs and grins, "well, if they ask for compensation, wouldn't that make my stuff official then?" "I'm pretty sure that's not how it works," said the ravenette, her previous indignation turning into amusement despite herself. Not everyday, one meets someone so thick-skinned. She glances over at one of the red Red Eyes Black Dragon hoodies with pursed lips. Seeing an opportunity, the hawker adds, "Besides you won't lose out buying my hoodies. Good material woven very well. Good for yourself or a gift!" He then looked conspiratorially to the left and right as if searching for any onlookers, "I'll let you buy this for 25% off. Just because it'll be kinda sad if Wheeler sees a sea of white and purple but no red, right?" A pause. "...That would be pretty sad, wouldn't it?" Cha-ching.

#kame game shop tourney 2023 #uploaded video ;;

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chronicallyhaughty · 10 months

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First Timer

Sometime's gotta be the first.

[Halduron/Aethas, NSFW, AO3, Ko-fi]

Guess who's back, back again. No I won't stop nor will I apologize. Anyway, have a top on the bottom.

As always, my guide and inspiration is @syrosaur who you simply must check out if you haven't already! Already have? Check again!!!

——————————

If Halduron thought formal banquets were interminable prior to their adoption of the Nightborne, this would be a wake-up call. Or a fall-asleep call, as the case may be. The alcohol handed out at these things is always too light to get him drunk, although he spies a few people further down the table who seem to be well beyond tipsy. Lucky them.

Some Magister whose name Hal can’t place stands up – unsteadily – and clears his throat meaningfully. Hal barely suppresses a groan. Another speech? It’s been hours, what could there possibly be left to say? He catches Rommath’s eye from across Lor’themar, and he too looks bored out of his skull. Maybe he’ll set the man on fire, that’d be entertaining.

Unfortunately the Grand Magister seems to have found a modicum of self-control and no flames seem to be forthcoming, so Hal in desperation resorts to focusing very hard on a drapery just past the ‘speaker’ whilst trying to recall the words to the raunchiest Darkspear folk song he knows, all in the hopes of drowning the man out. Fuck, he wishes he was literally anywhere but Sunfury Spire right now.

An eon passes before a chair scrapes loudly nearby, abruptly breaking him out of his reverie – somewhere around when he thinks that the fetching young troll lass started to... dance? Or undress? Perhaps both, Hal can’t quite recall – and he finds that at long last people are rising from the table to mingle before the next course.

Casting about, Rommath is nowhere to be found – smart man – and Lor is deep in intimate, smiling conversation with Thalyssra. Struck by a desire for something sweet of his own, Hal goes prowling for his very dearest friend.

Aethas is easy to spot with that hair, and, Hal notices with some amusement, he is one of the attendees who are well into the drunken stage of the evening. He’s speaking to his apprentice with intensity, gesticulating and threatening to splash innocent bystanders with the champagne flute he’s holding, so Hal takes it as his solemn duty as a protector of the city to swoop in and relieve him of his drink, downing it himself before Aethas has time to protest.

Ryanna laughs delightedly even as Aethas frowns at him.

“This is what I mean,” he complains to her, continuing whatever he was saying before Hal interrupted them. “I’m not taken seriously here.”

Ryanna’s eyes flick between them, and though Hal is keeping a respectable distance, a light of understanding seems to come into her eyes. She’s very clever, Aethas has said. In fact he’s said that and more in praise of his pretty apprentice...

[Ko-fi]

#halduronaethas #halduron brightwing #aethas sunreaver #warcraft #haughty fanfics #nsft

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exx-ceptional · 8 months

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heya mick!! i hope ur doing alright! i know you recently got a dahlia from skullgirls request and i hope you don't mind if i request one too D:

could i request a black dahlia (skullgirls) with a female significant other? like some angst? like dahlia cheats on the reader with someone else?

im sorry tho, you don't gotta do this if you don't want to, im just a sucker for angst😭😭

But, you'd always leave me behind.

More requests, ILY :3 had to do this during exam night but don't care cause ANGGSSTTTT Black Dahlia X fem reader _______________________________________________

"It's not cheating, love. I'm only there for their body- I love you wholeheartedly, swear my beautiful girl." Those words, shitty lies of an experienced phony. Yet, her voice felt so comforting and warm behind that mask you're already used to. If just for one more second, she could return to hugging you, protecting you from everything. The many times, just so hard to count and let it slip by just for the sake of some type of love. Truthfully, your heart screamed in betrayal, hurt, and sorrow. Never anger, never rage. Just stuck in the dilemma of ignoring a false-looking truth. No, this can't go on at this point... something's got to give. You loved saying the words 'I love you' so honestly to her, no matter if you were just dismissed with a wave of her hand in return. It felt special, really happy. Fuck, why can't we just do it right, Dahlia? ____________________________________________________ Another night, Dahlia is back with lovebites and her usual poker face ridden with lipstick stains on her mask. "Y/N, you're sulking up again- what's the matter, love?" Her ignorance is bliss, but it's so heart-wrenching to you. How many times has she returned like this? Where even you couldn't complain, you can't really... If you could burst, if your emotions could just get out of control- that's inconvenient? As if you'd care. "It's about the gals, isn't it? Told you to never care about it. You know I love you, hm? You'll love me as well either way, mhm?" She hummed with a smug smirk behind her mask keeping her hands to herself, she didn't even have the heart to at least comfort or touch you whole-heartedly. Fucking liar, fucking.... Her harsh actions fulfilled the dreams of everyone but you, of everyone deserving. Does loyalty not play a part in respect anymore? What, why would she just say that, those thoughts are mind-consuming. But, it's the truth. For her, you did so many of the cruelest acts just for the kindest of reasons. And that is, love itself. But, it's not different to anyone- this sacrifice is not as abnormal as you would've hoped it to be. If like, you could be different and have the good enough hurt in your life to be noticed- maybe. You were just an ignorant innocence slowly being twisted by the truth you wished you just... never saw, maybe. She stood so far away from you, cleaning herself up with no reaction- not even minding to hide a thing from you, and it was just so annoying... no, it's a stronger hate containing only powerless malice. You sat silently, torn with sadness as you cooked a hot meal with a solemn heart. No, this isn't even any special... just food, just some stuff to eat. If really, you could make this with the love you really had for Dahlia- if like, some things could change then maybe... All the ideas and all the thoughts of what characteristic you probably lacked is the only thing that fueled you awake, how better are those women? Better than you, to be sure. The food is set for two, and you sit down- the table lacks its duo, its partner. Seemingly, Dahlia slips away with just some cold snack for tonight- planning to spend a long time with someone else, the minutes and hours you also crave yourself. Looking down, spoon motionless in your hand as you can't cry anymore, you can't expect new hope anymore at this point. How much change, how many things do you need to do to get those cold arms to embrace you again... Everything's cold again, this house is just a building as you tremble with tearless sobs. Wow, you really do love me, Dahlia. ____________________________________________

FIN

A/N: I didn't review by the way made at 11 25 pm with love and pickle water so probably kinda messy

#fiction #writing #x reader #black dahlia #skullgirls #lesbian #wlw #its kinda angst #angsty #cheating #Dahlia did not beat the cheating allegations #neither the lesbian ones

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theinkdrinkingfemme · 1 year

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Chapter 7

Her college soon came into view. The parking lot was packed to capacity, with various makes and sizes of cars clamouring for space between the faltering white lines. The college’s wooden sliding doors opened and Viola found herself in the hallway, its cracked grainy floors suddenly more appealing than the influx of people standing on it. The atmosphere was solemn, everyone silent and grim-faced, the occasional one fraught with worry. Faces fit for a funeral service. Probably in response to Lannie, although she wasn’t dead, though.

Yet.

Banishing the dark thought, she surveyed her environment. The swing doors to the auditorium were wide open, its insides containing multiple lecturers and unfamiliar students setting up bunting, fold chairs and other things, an air of disquiet in its wake. She recognized her head lecturer, with his rumpled jean jacket and drooping Nietzsche-like moustache.

Approaching the spacious, squeaky linoleum floor of the auditorium, she spotted the familiar head of blue-black hair, and skirted around the folded chairs towards him.

Colin straightened, blinking profusely at Viola. A greeting.

“I need to talk to you.” Viola glanced about her at the amount of people who were potentially listening.

“In a few minutes, sure.” He gestured to a stack of folding chairs still unfolded and tucked

neatly in the corner. “Still have to finish this off. That okay?”

She nodded in understanding, before swiftly backing out and sitting on the now-empty bench situated beside the doors. A display of the Erasmus+ places was suspended above the bench, protected with Plexiglas. On an average day, she would stare at the photos of smiling students and foreign places for ages, envisioning herself there, brave enough to have fun in majorly unfamiliar settings and new experiences.

“Said what happened to Harlan, huh?”

Viola looked to see Cora Verdon, an acquaintance slash occasional ally. Her red hair was significantly brighter than her naturally dark roots, and her spectacled face was staring intently at Viola.

“Yup.” Viola wasn’t interested in entertaining a conversation with her, her focus still on the Erasmus+ project.

“It does make sense though, having a little memorial for her..” Cora continued, brushing the coloured pixie cut from her face. “I mean, she was here in my class for a few. Then, nothing.”

Viola tore her eyes away and fixed them on Cora. Memorial? But most importantly…

“She used to be a student?” That would explain the vigil-like air to the auditorium. With Harlan being somewhat of an ex-student, the college would naturally feel obligated to have somewhat of a vigil for her. Or something.

“Yeah. You didn’t know?”

Viola shrugged, trying to keep her voice casual. “Never knew.” She really was a student?

Before she could process this information, Cora’s attention soon turned to a group of boys, who were casting furtive glances at the pair. “Hey, I gotta go. Talk soon?” Without waiting for a verbal response, she stalked off, Viola staring at her retreating figure.

Sitting on the bench, Viola felt like a ghost, invisible to staff and students alike who whizzed past, all preoccupied with their respective tasks and responsibilities. Her others lecturers nodded in greeting, but didn’t stop to exchange words.

Scrolling through her phone, she then saw the notification.

“Of course. When would you like to meet?”

Viola’s brain scrambled. It was at the back of her mind. Now here it was, demanding an answer. Her heart thundered in her ribcage. Venturing into new territory. Actually speaking to a reporter. How would she respond? Will she be taken seriously, or will she be laughed off as a wannabe detective? Belittled? She took a deep breath.

No time like the present, she supposed. She scheduled a time, typed it, and shut off her phone, her leg bouncing with new nerves.

It was about 15 minutes later when Colin walked out of the auditorium, his breathing slightly laboured. As soon as he saw Viola, staring into space, he slid into the empty space beside her. He hesitated, before putting an arm around her. Her brows were scrunched up, a sign of her thoroughly thinking.

“What are you thinking?,” he asked lowly, careful not to dislodge her flow of attention.

So she did. She told him all her thoughts: her lack of immense emotions, seeing the body. She’d even forgotten about seeing the dead body, with all of her focus being on Harlan, going to her house, her fear of being interviewed, her day being ruined, texting the reporter. When she’d finally finished, the word that came to mind to describe her current state of mind was ‘frazzled.’ The acts of slowing her suspended thoughts, translating them into tangible words, before conveying them to Colin seemed monumental.

“Did you mention the dead body to anyone?”

Viola shook her head no.

He paused for a moment, his arm squeezing Viola firmly as he thought.

“What do you need?”

Did I hear that right? “I don’t understand. Are you gonna help?”

“Don’t get it too twisted. See, I’m not going to stop you from pursuing it. I know that you’ll pursue it, even if I tell you otherwise. Just remember the potential consequences. I can help from the side-lines, but if push turns to shove, I know nothing about it.”

As much as it disappointed her that he wouldn’t actively be involved with something so important to her, Viola agreed. So she told him her next moves: going to the police and covertly asking for information, meeting with the reporter.

“Are you sure?”

She nodded, albeit a little hesitantly.

He fingered her navy blue overcoat. “Olivia Pope today, yeah?”, he said, changing the subject to one familiar.

Viola nodded again. A coping strategy she had in navigating her surroundings was embodying a fictional character, copying everything from their mannerisms to their outfit. The sassy yet intelligent Olivia Pope was chosen today, the only difference being that Viola’s coily Afro hair was packed into an updo, affectionately nicknamed ‘the pineapple’ by Colin.

“Good choice.” His gaze bored into hers as he said it, a sign that he was being genuine and not sarcastic.

Colin looked at his watch. “Harlan’s vigil will start soon. Wanna come?”

She nodded, and let Colin place a firm hand on her and steer her towards the now darkened auditorium.

#crime writing #crime writer #author #writers on tumblr #thriller #adventure #female writers #crime blog #crime #autistic writer #autistic character #black authors #black female #black character #mystery #black female writers #psychological thriller #black female oc

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starry-skies-116 · 2 years

Text

Respite of a Distant Dream- Chapter 3 (FNAF Project Samsara AU Fanfic):

Michael’s eyes can’t stop darting to the brunette ten-year-old casually conversing with his father as if they were good friends entertaining formalities for pleasure- the enigma who had his younger brother’s face, his body, his eyes. Even in his gaze, in that moment- when he held his chin… a multitude, an entire spectrum of emotions began to flow through him, flashing like brilliant thunder in the worst of the storm. Pain, regret, longing, love- a fondness and warmth and sheer, trembling desire that screamed of primal HUNGER and yearning, of want and need-

Need for what? For WHAT!

Michael wanted to bang his head against the wall- his thoughts were swimming in his head like fish in a river, he couldn’t concentrate on anything- nothing was concrete. The tension in his body uncoils like springs coming lose as he turns to his friends, figurative steam already hissing out of their ears. Dorothy is intrigued but slightly pissed, Andrew is still trying to process the whole ordeal, and Elijah appears as if he wants to punch something until it breaks.

“That little smart aleck… gonna kill him the next time he’s left alone!” Elijah seethes, teeth gritted and grinding together with every word he spat out in rage. “Good heavens, Elijah! Calm yourself- you’re practically purple-faced! This is exactly what the sly bastard wants,” Dorothy admonishes, gaze darting to him. “Can’t help but admit, though- he’s quite the interesting character. And as annoying and overly smug as he is… he’s very intelligent.”

Michael sighs- even then, there were multiple, interdimensional and complex facets to this enigma. Kind, wise and a good friend to Evan and Elizabeth and others younger than him or his age, while enigmatic, terse, and mysteriously polite to his parents and other adults. Blunt, brilliant, sly and cynical to him and his friends, and oh-so-mischeviously callous to those who dare cross him. All these layers, piled on top of each other like a cake- reflective within him like shards of glass composing a diamond, solemn and yet aloof, sympathetic and dutiful and loyal and yet carefree- all and yet none of them his true self.

He wants to rip apart the styrofoam jigsaw foam mat beneath him to pieces with his bare hands, wanted to dissect the boy caught in his gaze, piece by piece, until he had him all figured out, and even the embers of that desire were quenched to nothing more than sputtering kindles on the dampened wood of a campfire gone out- he clenches his hands in his pocket instead, jean fabric bundled up in them. “You’ve gotta respect him for the nerve he has,” he finds himself mumbling.

“You’re shitting me,” Elijah groans- but even he nods in agreement alongside the rest of the group.

“Well, look on the bright side, guys,” Andrew states a bit cheerfully, and Elijah glares to him like he wants to tear the hazel-eyed blonde’s face off. “Now we know that he isn’t really what he seems. Something’s definitely up with him, even more so with the answers he gave- I mean, c’mon, ‘Addison’? Hell kind of a last name is that, especially when it sounds like a play on the words ‘Afton’?”

His last name.

Everyone stares at each other with knowing eyes- the unblinking eyes of unsettled deja-vu that strikes them mind deep, daresay plucks a chord from within their soul. They’re all thinking of the same thing- the brunette boy with eyes of darkness and light, harboring a relentless fire and unbreakable spirit that never falters once.

“...We’ll figure it out eventually.”

By god did they hope that they would fulfill that half-assed promise.

***

Later that night, the dreams that plagued Michael were beyond strange. At first, they started as memories of the past.

Evan as a cooing infant, babbling and making faces at him from in his arms- a sweet, magical little thing, beautiful and full of life and warmth and joy. His mother’s eyes, tired but green and shining viridian with joy. His father, laughing along with her, the colors of his cheer accentuated especially in his smile. The joy at the sight brings him heartache.

The colors invert, the scents shift and turn like gears and cogs beneath his nose, and suddenly he is in front of four year-old Evan on the carousel. The carousel- always a hit-or-miss ride for Evan: some he loved, and some he didn’t. Ever-changing, adaptable, transient- reflective like his nature.

The memories flash and invert, playing out before him like an old cartoon reel- him and Elizabeth watching cartoons, them scribbling drawings together, him looking up at Michael with tears in his large doe-eyes, harboring darkness and light in them.

The sight before him glitches like some old computer’s or camera’s CRT- like the screens back at the arcade or at school, and suddenly everything is light- hazy in tones of sepia and oversaturated, so much so that he can barely make out the outlines amidst the afternoon light floating through the window. He can hear his brother singing a track Mother once sang to him… but he’s changed the lyrics- he tunes his ear and feels his heart drop with countless pangs of soul-crushing guilt.

“Same old empty feeling in your heart…”

Empty… him? Was he empty, were they all?

Why did the thought of associating his brother with the word ‘empty’ despair him so? He wasn’t supposed to care. He wasn’t supposed to remember.

DON’T CRY.

His head pounds, he jumps, quivering in his boots- for the first time, genuinely scared- something screams at him from within, the voices in his head conflicting, rising and falling over one another in their unbearable, overwhelming clamor like the tide.

DON’T BE SAD. DON’T BE SCARED.

What in the hell-

ł ₩łⱠⱠ ₳Ⱡ₩₳Ɏ₴ ฿Ɇ ₩ł₮Ⱨ ɎØɄ.

A bang, a burst of sudden light. Face locked in a silent scream that has his jaws aching. He swims and drowns, kicks and screams, falls and flies and falls and continues to fly, fly, fly. Colors and lines and reality are nonexistent, smudged and chromatic and oversaturated, all too bright and overstimulating. His hands reach out to grab nothing, and yet they are sticky and slick with something liquid, something red.

Blood blood blood blood why is there blood.

Memories zip through his mind- of the past that was and the future that never was. Of neon lights and colors all too bright, of a ponytailed woman with blonde hair and the same green eyes as Elizabeth- her and the same boy fondly gazing back at him but why was he so tall and why was his body not his own.

Will you change? Maybe.

Will things change? Always.

Will you be okay? I promise.

His cheeks are wet- tears, the distinct and burning taste of salt in his mouth- his entire body on fire. The surroundings flickered in and out of reality before a brutal slam into the earth- the soft fabric of his bed’s mattress. He tries to scream, tries to beg himself to wake up wake up wakeupwakeupwakeupwakeup-

Slam.

Darkness.

Michael gasps awake to utter darkness.

The dusk of the previous night and the subtle paleness of the hazy moonlight had not yet faded. The murky, overcast embers of twilight clouded the lens of his vision as he blinked multiple times to clear his head, to no avail. The full moon was a bright coin in the sky, stars attending and flanking it perfectly, some of the celestial bodies masked by coffee-dark clouds.

Michael still feels as though he is falling, dizzy, looking through the open window and shivering in the nonexistent draft. Closing his eyes, the vertigo comes back, and he has to prop his arms up on the bed to keep himself from falling over and collapsing into painful unconsciousness again. Into a longing to relive simpler, more joyful days.

He places a hand against his pounding heart, racing a mile a minute, quaking from within inside his ribcage and jacknifed into a fetal position.

I’m not supposed to remember this. This didn’t happen. This never happened, why why why why why.

His head is matted and thick with sweat, bangs sticking to his forehead- he presses his temples to calm the feverish pain, to cool the liquid lava burning and molten, coursing through his veins and threatening to decay him from within. “I’m going crazy…” he seethes under his breath- this can’t be a coincidence. But… he’s being unrealistic.

His body refuses to get up for a while and it takes a few attempts to haul himself off his bed, glued to the mattress with sweat and sticky, uncomfortable warmth, the blankets only adding fuel to the fire. Michael had to practically roll off and pathetically hobble to the door as if he were some incapacitated elderly man. It was fine, he told himself. Everything’s fine- he’ll just go downstairs, watch some TV to cool himself off, take a walk, get a snack to eat, turn on the fan to stop his body temperature from spiking too high and melting him from the inside out- to hell with the others if he woke them up, they could go rot for all he knew-

“Do you know what time it is?”

Shit.

He whirls around to see Elizabeth, the ginger-haired girl in the dark peering at him with scrutinizing green eyes, still dressed in her pink pajamas with those signature heart patterns. Her hair was tied up into a haphazard, messy ponytail done with a red scrunchie to keep it out of her face. Merely the sight of her makes him scoff in annoyance at this hour.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he grumbles. Liz tilts her head, raising an eyebrow- where’d she get that insolence? “We’ve got medicine in the cabinet for that.”

“Yes, but then I’d be sleeping,” he mumbles back, a hare’s breadth away from his words turning incoherent- he didn’t have the energy to speak, lest he fell asleep on the couch or fainted midway descending the stairs. Goodness knows the enigma that befell him in his dreams ever since the sly doppelganger of his crybaby younger brother came to stay with his family.

“Bad dreams?” she asks. Michael froze. How did she…?

“Your face says it all- you’re obviously a bit shaken…” she pauses, carefully evaluating and choosing her next words- it was surprising, she usually had no filter. “It’s about Gregory, isn’t it? The idea of someone finally putting you in your place is something I can get used to,” she smirks.

“If you rat me out to Father about this, I’ll kill you,” he hisses through gritted teeth, already defensively turning around and teeth bared. His younger sister puts his hands up in playful and sly surrender. “Calm down- I wasn’t going to. But why don’t you like him? He’s so kind to Evan and me… maybe if you were nicer to him, he’d be the same to you,” she whispers inquisitively, her raised brow a question that demanded to be answered. “I want to know who he is. Nothing more, nothing less,” he simply replies, gritting his teeth and biting his lip for a beat too long before the tension in his muscles uncoil once more with the fall of his chest, the exhale of warm air puffing through his flaring nostrils.

The palpable curiosity emanating from the ginger’s aura increase- the flecks chartreuse in her green eyes glimmer. “You think he’s hiding something?”

“I think he’s not all that he appears to be. He doesn’t seem like a criminal, but he’s definitely no saint, either. I just can’t seem to figure him out as easily as others… and that frustrates me way more than it should. Does it not bother you? Or do you just trust strangers left and right?” Michael mumbles, finally speaking the genuine truth- a part of him was appalled that he was confessing his privatemost thoughts about the peculiar stranger, Gregory, to his younger sister. His younger sister, of all people.

A smirk crawls steadily up the sides of her mouth, like how diminutive droplets trickles down a window on a rainy day- except they don’t flow down, but up. As if gravity isn’t right.

As if nothing is right.

“Well, your thoughts about him are just another reason not to cross him, right?” she asks, voice as bright and as distinctly british as ever. “Do us all a favor and don’t turn the TV on, lest you’re dumb enough to wake him up.”

And with that, she excuses herself and turns around to waddle back to her room, her creepy and odd Circus Baby doll in tow dangling from her hand, as if she’d officially dismissed him. A silent scoff escapes from the blue-eyed teen’s mouth- clearly, she’s been spending way too much time around Father.

He tries to focus on the world of hidden color cloaked in the darkness around him, mired in the barely visible embers of early daybreak with the lights turned off. Burgundy red, cerulean, forest green, maple brown, pthalo blue- all pooling out throughout his vision, darker hues of tangerine orange and and a deep indigo lining the corners of the outlined objects in the room. Already black areas become devoid of dimension, of reality, entirely- taking on a new shade of a shard of the encroaching pitch-dark abyss, the sight consuming the space in front of his eyes like ink, speeding up every time he blinked. They invert sometimes, distorting and shifting like memories- the blackness flickering like static, the vertigo resurfacing as he sits down on the steps, devoid of any particular emotion entirely, and starts to bask in being alone- in the setting, pale moonlight trickling across his skin with warmth through the windows and open curtains.

His surroundings are ethereal- almost surreal, liminal. The silent hum of twelve AM around him is lilting and dark, and the only thing keeping him sane in otherwise complete silence.

Lost in thoughts all alone, Michael can feel himself slowly, lightly drift. No matter how hard he tries, he’s miserably unable to shake the thoughts of the boy in the blue shirt from his mind.

Unable to shake Gregory from his mind.

______________________________________________________________

“Boring…”

William cranes his neck towards the source of the noise, curiosity piqued ever so slightly. He had been carrying a box of supplies to his workshop when he heard what sounded like Gregory’s voice coming from the living room, and he had peeked in to find a rather curious sight. “Boring… so completely boring. Ugh…” the brunette grumbles before closing the book and sighing, sprawling himself out flat on the couch. It is silent for a while, and then he speaks up again, not seeming to acknowledge the inventor’s presence: “Why do I feel like the standard of writing is going down by the day? I’ve searched through way too many books to count, and not one of them’s struck me as an actual page-turner so far… are the authors even doing their jobs?”

Icy blue eyes glance to the cover of the book, intrigued and wanting to know more. Out of the periphery of his vision, he spots the title- The Woman In Black. A bestseller.

His slightly widened eyes, lips ever-so-slightly parted to reveal a thin crease of teeth inside, and his raised brows say it all to no one in particular- he had mostly expected the peculiar child to read one of Elizabeth’s books, and not truly share Evan’s exquisitely unique taste in reading where he aimlessly searches through novels that don’t make sense, only to discard them like garbage after reading the first one or two chapters in. Even so, how could he possibly be bored of that? A horror story not suitable for young children? Should William even be allowing him to read this in the first place? He feels a slight pang of guilt befall him for being so irresponsible, yet coming as quickly as it fades.

His brows lower and crease in worry as a sudden sense of deja-vu befalls him. It’s too similar. The appearances, the adaptable, witty personality, and now the interests- the only difference being that Gregory had confidence to boot. He was more sure of himself, and yet more unpredictable than Evan. Dutiful and dignified one moment around him, then aloof, bratty, headstrong and opportunistically mischievous the next with another person- like he was a version of him that experienced life, grew and mature and changed for the better. The only constant in him was change, this enigma of reflection that he senses - beneath the impending, faint sense of emptiness. Not within himself, yet within the child in front of him- the comically bored child, sad and empty and heartbroken.

William shakes off the odd feeling, and feels himself making a logistical decision in his head, muted colours in his mind spreading out like watercolour in the prism of light, unfurling like the petals of blooming flowers. And against his better judgement- out of sheer, dumb curiosity, he decides to go talk to the kid, his foster son, lying upside down on the couch even when he had better things to do.

“Book not to your liking?” he asks, carefully punctuating his tone to sound lightly amused- silvery and melodious in delivery. Gregory’s eyes appear to be wide and bulging out of sheer boredom as his bangs fall over his eyes- a side effect of gravity as he positions himself to sit back upright, muscles relaxing and releasing their tension in his presence. “Dissapointing, dumb and stereotypically cliche. The descriptions and characters make me lose brain juice with every word I read. And it’s not even scary at all. What more must I say to insult the author’s lack of skill?” he replies, bemoaning his obvious lack of interest. “Once again, I’m left unsatisfied.”

He has to suppress a chuckle- the warm feeling of familiarity and fondness at such satire expressed from the boy across from him. Temporary, temporary. This is only temporary, transient, worthless- foolish. None of this shall last.

William quirks an eyebrow. “Evan’s terrified of that book, mostly due to what others older than him have told him about it. Mostly Michael and his friends trying to extinguish his curiosity… and I can see that all it did was elicit a few humorless laughs from you,” he remarks.

The young brunette leans into one of the cushions on the couch nonchalantly, eyes of shimmering stars of amber, opal and gold, and twilight, heavenly black staring back at him, celestial bodies of ironic levity glistening in his gaze. “I daresay he’ll have any different of a reaction from mine.”

“And what makes you say that?” William asks.

A moment of hesitant silence hangs thick in the air, like fog clouding the distance around and five feet ahead. Gregory sighs, looks down, closing his eyes for a brief moment of respite- as if pondering on a distant dream, a memory from long, long ago.

“I’d… rather not say.”

Suspicion settles into his bones, burning and yet frigid, hot and yet cold. It is only temporary.

Some more comfortably awkward silence envelops them, before William sighs, the first one to look away, gaze falling back downcast to the box in his hands. Rummaging through the box untapped shut, his hand rummages through the leftover miscellaneous and scattered items of cloth and supplies before pulling out a dusty leather tome- a book he hadn’t touched since high school, before he traveled to America.

“Here,” he gently beckons, placing the book in Gregory’s lap. “A properly translated english copy of One Thousand and One Nights.”

“Oh?” he questions, his eyebrows conveying the hues of intrigue. His eyes sparkle as he stares at the cover, flips through the pages, glimpsing fragments of the words- of the magical world hidden within. “Huh, this one seems interesting so far,” the boy murmurs, his expression hopeful- William doesn’t know why he takes such immense satisfaction in his pleasure. “Maybe I won’t be bored out of my mind today after all. Thanks,” he tersely finishes, a subdued smile making its way onto his face. Gentle, demure features stare back at him, and it feels as though William’s heart stops in his chest- he is frozen in time, as if for a moment, he’s staring back at his son- a reflection in an unclear mirror, the surroundings calm, shrouded in an ethereal tranquility and silence that brought him peace for the first time in so long.

“Gregory!”

And just like that, the moment was shattered.

His wife, Eleanor, appears through the kitchen door, car keys in hand and bright, ginger curls of a richer and darker shade bouncing on her shoulders. “We’re going to pick up your foster siblings from school, now!” she cheerfully calls, mirth and merriment melodiously evident in her call.

“Coming~!” Gregory says back, instantly shutting the book in his hands- taking One Thousand and One Nights with him tucked comfortably under his arm, and leaving A Woman In Black behind on the couch. He strolls out the front door, looking back only to nod at William and smile once more at him, without a care in the world.

Unable to think, the inventor gets up, brushing the dust off his knees and taking the cardboard box of supplies in his arms once more. His thoughts race, and he sighs, speaking aloud to himself in hopes to attain some semblance of clarity.

“I ought to get this taped shut for tomorrow.”

But the words never come out like they’re supposed to.

And his thoughts never stop racing, trailing like the flow of a river back to that boy. The brunette enigma that walked into his life and made himself all the more known.

______________________________________________________________

“Good afternoon,” Gregory cooes at Michael in half-mock sweetness, nudging his arm- teasing the poor boy with the Foxy mask had become one of his many favorite pasttimes. “You look terribly drowsy, didn’t you sleep well? Tsk-tsk, I thought not sleeping was supposed to be our brother’s job… come, then, out with it- what were you up to last night, hmm?” he asks. The front hood of the white car he’s sitting on, presumably belonging to someone else, slightly dents under his weight.

“Go fuck yourself,” Michael shoots back with so much contempt even he had to concede he was avoiding the question. His cheeks flush crimson, and the brunette android can’t help but let out the giggle he barely tried to stifle. Cute.

“Awh, ouch. At least you could treat your foster sibling kinder for not ratting you out, yet~?”

“I am,” the taller growls back, ocean blue eyes flaring with annoyance underneath the muggy, hot sun. “By not beating you up where you stand.” Gregory can’t help it- more satirizing, artificially honey-coated words fall from his lips. “That stings, I’ll admit~ but I love you too.”

Silence- awkward coughs and lip bites, the only ambiance in the background being his mother conversing with Michael’s teacher, the two women sounding substantially disappointed, faces twisted into obvious displeasure. Craning his neck to get a better view, he leans his body back ever so slightly, trying to see clearly the angry napthol red marks amidst the multitude of papers in the ginger woman’s hands. “Those your failed tests?” he asks, to which Michael huffs out a solemn nod of acknowledgement and affirmation as his answer. “What else did you think it was?” he mumbles after silence passes for a beat too long.

He quirks up an eyebrow. “Why can’t you just search up the answers on the internet?”

Wide blue eyes bore into his soul, trying to intently read him. “The hell…? You mean ‘arpanet’, right?” he asks, expression conveying one of bewilderment and obvious confusion.

“No?” Gregory asks, equally confused- what was this guy’s deal? “The internet. It’s quite easy. Just go onto Wikipedia-”

Michael spreads his arms out, fingers parted wide. “Wait wait wait, hold on,” he asks, throwing his hands up in surrender before letting them merely fall at his side. “Now you’re talking about searching through an Encyclopedia for information? And why the hell do you call it a ‘Wikipedia’?”

Realization hits the brunette like a truck.

1983, dumbass. Internet was still developing back then.

He quickly withdraws, tight-lipped. Stupid stupid stupid, he chides himself as he feels those burning, stove-flame blue eyes bore into his soul like cobalt and azurite pricking his outer layer, intently prodding to pick apart the flesh and peer at the bones within until he was examined and figured out from every angle. “Nevermind- ignore me. I’m being thoughtless with my words. Let’s just hope your friends aren’t too late…”

Michael rolls over the words, mouthing it silently, spelling out ‘internet’ and ‘wikipedia’ on his tongue without sound. For the first time in a long time, the LED processor hidden underneath his bangs flashes and flickers, turning to yellow.

Anxious, apprehensive shades of yellow, beneath the surface, barely there. Hoping that if it disguised itself from the human eye hard enough, it would no longer exist.

______________________________________________________________

Evan had peered at the window earlier, golden afternoon sunlight somehow growing dimmer sooner than it should, even with the approach of spring. Somehow colder, less warm and welcoming on his skin. The chatter of children took place as usual, kids his age murmuring amongst themselves- except everything was muted. Sounds were of a faded, low quality audio- as if everything were pre-recorded and playing to him. “Dude, you good?” Cindy had asked earlier, only for him to nod as if on autopilot, not even bothering to establish even a moment of eye contact. He was about to finish his family tree activity- mapping out him and his family members, and he had even drawn pictures of Elizabeth, Michael and his parents, and had originally dismissed it as a symptom of hyperfocusing on a particular activity.

He glances to the blank box branching off where he is supposed to write his name, the big bold letters of ‘ME’ displayed above it. It was so easy, just writing out his name in his sharp, punctuated handwriting in all big capital letters on the blank before him- ‘Evan’.

His name was Evan.

And the countless nights before twelve AM, where he would stare at the ceiling shrouded in utter darkness, the same old empty feeling weighing down his heart- some nights he cried for no apparent reason at all, begging for the nightmares to come as a distraction from the growing sense of his broken form, his sense of everything being wrong and out of place, his missing everything.

Those nights of emptiness from inside would say otherwise.

As if he were in front of a large, predatory animal, on longer at the top of the food chain- but instead of being devoured whole and thrown headfirst into crushing, abyssal nonexistence, the eyes of someone much more powerful than his pissant, insignificant self continue to stare at him, piercing him, asking him that one true question before the night swallows him and leaves him all alone to float adrift:

Self, self. What is self?

What is the true self hiding within, the one who is pure, untainted by mistakes, by tragedy, by pain?

What is the true self inside him if his heart were full, if he were satisfied? Was it the current form he inhabited, his imperfect body that was mired in charcoal stains compared to everyone that shined like gold? With their nymphlike faces, bodies, voices and eyes that masked a plethora of intentions from person to person? Was it the kindness and supposed integrity, the skill and talent that measured the worth of a person? Was it, mayhaps, their interests- their actions and reactions? Was it the love they gave to the world, or the love they got back?

Maybe it was the breathing of a being not fully conscious, only taking hold truly when a gasp or stutter causes one to stumble, and the mind takes control. Maybe it is the true self, the spirit inside that soaks in fulfillment, in peace, and can breathe easier.

He scoffs softly- save for the occasional greeting or respectful nod of acknowledgement, he hadn’t gotten any true love ever since he turned five. With Father’s and Mother’s fights getting worse by the day, with the cracks and rifts in his family spreading wider, growing deeper, he didn’t think anyone felt love at all nowadays. He didn’t think anyone could breathe easy in the slightest, despite the facade they projected to his friend- from the rest of the world as this picture perfect family with picture perfect children.

His image- sensitive crybaby with a fragile form and a broken heart. Their image- stereotypes, with or without evident flaws.

And what had he to show for all his hard work in keeping himself together and living despite it all, keeping up this image of innocence and youth? Nothing but a few more scars and a pain that knows no end, jagged and rough against all that had formerly been unblemished. Things were much happier, much better, when Gregory came, though.

Gregory. The one who shared his eyes.

He feels an almost obsessive feeling crawl over him as he scribbles over his name, erases it for the uptienth time- a need, a primal hunger, an intense desire that flares akin to a wildfire from within, sudden passion, fury and love quietly dampened by basic social awareness, yet refusing to be extinguished as he continued to drift. Every time when he is near, he feels the sense of long-held emptiness be fulfilled. He can feel himself shudder with sheer power coursing through his veins- pure strength and might to carry on in it’s most electrical, magical form, as if his capability were unfurled, maturing from the bud of a malnourished flower and suddenly fully realized with the help of a saving grace.

He felt… complete. Fulfilled. As if he wanted to be him.

As if that mysterious enigma was the only one that ever understood him. As if, at some point… he was just like him.

And even though he’s scribbled and erased a thousand times over, staring blankly with eyes joyless, dry and devoid of even the slightest speck of light, the stars draped in a dark cloth with clouds taking on the hues of coffee, he still cannot fathom the unreachable answer, the escaping light at the end of the tunnel, trudging through the bog and searching.

What is my name? Who exactly, truly, am I?

He feels exhausted, as though he cannot reach the end.

And it seems as though he shall never know, even when all things always reveal themselves with the passage of time. Time cruel, time unforgiving- time that only serves to hurt and take things away.

Evan hopes amidst the maplewood pews, underneath the filtered light of the intricate stained glass- underneath the eyes of judgement that saw what even he could not, what his identity was and what the entity known as him could exist as- he could maybe grow one step closer to the answer that has evaded him for years.

#FNAF Gregory #Evan Afton #GregEvan/GregBot/GregVessel #Reincarnated Vessel Gregory #Android/Golem Gregory #crying child #crying child fnaf #William Afton #Elizabeth Afton #Michael Afton #angst for everyone <3 angst for days too <3 #FNAF Project Samsara AU #sorry this is so short #ill update more in the future I promise #FNAF 4 Tormentors #FNAF 4 bullies #Eleanor Afton (Mrs. Afton)#tw derealization #tw existential crisis

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heartfragment · 1 year

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Okay sorry for the long asks I'm gonna send! I wanna give you my thoughts on the routes after playing and getting the good endings of all four of them (I haven't touched the bad ends yet because I'm not ready to destroy my soul 😔) and I figured it'd be easier to have one ask per route for simplicity. Also I will be as spoiler free as possible with my thoughts for the sake of anyone who hasn't played yet. These may not be the best written reviews though, my thoughts kinda go all over lol. So first off, Kay my beloved darling!

He was the one who caught my attention first and I gotta say while I adore everyone so far he's still my favorite! Man that Act 1 plot twist about who Kay really is? I'm still mind blown over it like I never ever EVER expected that to be the case! So when that was thrown at me I was basically like "?????? wtf??? WTF????" Honestly Kay's route was sooo heartbreaking in many respects, from Kay's struggles to Xani dealing with the consequences. And my gosh as someone who is the biggest baby alive when it comes to horror and anything related to it, the unsettling moments were *chef's kiss* I saw another anon bring this up and I wanna agree that Kay's VA? Outstanding, simply incredible. Every emotion, every line that came from Kay was believable and hit me in all the right ways. My fave moments being a certain breakdown in a shack and basically everything from the Branch 2 ending. And I really enjoyed how you wrote the mental health issues in this route, especially the issue regarding dependency. Kay himself was so enjoyable as a character as well, both pre and post that part of Act 1. I loved his teasing moments and kindness, I loved his more solemn moments, I loved the moments when he was struggling because of you know what. This route also had me asking a lot of questions which works that it's paired with Clive's route that contains some answers. For Kay my favorite end was the Branch 2 ending, I think it was the best way to wrap up everything that happened.

Hi anon!! This is ... one of the most sweet and most lovely asks I've ever gotten. Thank you so, so much for taking the time to write all of this. I'm sorry it took me so long to actually reply. I was away on vacation and while I saw these soon after they were sent, I didn't want to reply until I had access to a computer so that I could compile all the asks into one post.

I hope you know that this message literally lit up my entire day when I first saw it and it continues to do so as I reply to it now <3 Things like this help to encourage me to keep going even when things get tough. I'm glad you got so much enjoyment out of books one & two! If you haven't already, please consider leaving a review on the game as well. It isn't necessary of course, but it helps a LOT to have detailed comments like this... or even simple ones like "it was good"!

Wishing you a super lovely day!

Here's a compilation of this anon's other asks:

Next up, Clive you little weirdo (affectionate)!

Starting Clive's route was already breaking me because, as I said, Kay's my fave so there I was making sure not to bond with him too much so that I could get Clive's route. That coupled with The Plot Twist™ of Act 1 and basically I was already grieving with the start of this route. I say all this but truly I was already fond of Clive. He's just so incredibly, adorably, painfully earnest in all he does. It's hard not to love him even when he acting so obviously suspicious. And that sincerity in his interactions with Xani over the course of the route does help to lessen the sting of certain reveals. This route did answer some questions I had about Kay's route but it also raised so many more??? Like seriously as this route went on I was half ready to do a conspiracy board to try and piece things together. I enjoyed how this route dealt with identity and how you choose to see both yourself and others. And it was sooooo much fun interacting with Clive over the course of this route and seeing his funny and adorable reactions to Xani mixed in with how achingly sweet he was at times. And it all made the drama of the latter part of the route all the more better! Once again, shout out for the VA work because Clive's VA did a great job selling how awkward and sweet this guy truly is. Great first impression with the hiding behind the tree scene and the adorableness of the scene at the end of Branch 1. So while for Kay I preferred his Branch 2 ending (I did say that it was the Branch 2 ending I loved more for him right? The one with the party? bleh my memory is bad sometimes but yeah that's my fave of the two for Kay) in Clive's case my preferred ending for him in the Branch 1 ending. Mainly for the heart melting sweetness and partially because I couldn't bear having poor Xani deal with a certain consequence of Branch 2's ending.

Now we got my precious baby Shannon!

This book wasn't big in terms of spooks but it dealt with other kinds of fears that still chilled me to the bone. I adored how this route handled paranoia and how much do you truly understand/try to understand the people in your life. I was already attached to Shannon in the common route so finally getting to play her route was great (plus I'm a sucker for childhood friend romances)! Shannon's bubbly energy and A+ friendship was so adorable (everyone deserves to have an incredible friend like Shannon) and precious but my truly favorite scenes were the ones where she tried to open up more about what she was going through. I felt her frustration and loneliness whenever Xani wouldn't let her in (completely understandable why Xani would but I also totally felt why it hurt Shannon so much). Shannon's VA completely sold me on her adorable bubbly self and also completely sold me during the scenes where she let out emotions other than "I'm happy bubbly Shannon". A certain yelling scene after a certain other character's role in everything was revealed comes to mind most. Can I just say that gigantic WTF moment (the "memory" one for the sake of being as spoiler free as possible) nearly fried my brain? Like I was right there with Xani wondering what the hell was going on here and how that happened. Didn't get a conspiracy board but I did actually start taking a shit ton of notes in a spare notebook I have trying to piece together everything going on and all the questions I have! Also screw Dustin, all my homies hate Dustin >:( But it was fun to meet Charlie and Choi (will we see more of them later on? they were so fun it'd be a shame if we didn't). For Shannon it was actually a really close call between Branch 1 and Branch 2 for my favorite ending because each branch had something I loved so much in terms of romance, friendship and pure drama. But the Branch 2 ending just managed to win between the two because I liked that drama more and also that dance scene was too precious for words! Also the after credits scene of Branch 2 killed me with cuteness!

And last but note least, my actual mom Lana!

When I looked at the walkthrough for Lana's route and saw there seemed to be fewer choices than for the other routes I was worried that would mean her route would just be shorter. But nope, you put my fears to rest when I saw what you did with Act 3! I'm really glad you made that choice for Act 3, because it answered so many questions about the precious acts in her route but also gave a great insight into Lana's mindset! May be sounding like a broken record here but Lana's VA also did a wonderful job here, giving Lana such a caring and soothing voice. Like that finale scene between her and Xani was beautiful and made me melt into a puddle from how much love I could feel in Lana's words! I enjoyed this route's take on trust and the past, how much of it do we hold onto and how much do we need to let go of in order to move forward and heal. This route also revealed a couple somethings that I had been guessing early on and was so excited to have confirmed (namely the identity of a certain someone Lana knows and what said someone's name is). The dream sequences in this route were sooo cool and trippy and makes me want more and more because I need answers! I need all the answers!!! I adored seeing Xani and Lana interact with each other, seeing them reignite that closeness from their past while Xani also has to battle between sincere love for Lana and the mess of emotions coming from all the shit that happens over the route. Lana only has the one good end though I loved how you had variations in there via having the other three be potential love interests and also a certain other variation. It really was fun to try them all out (especially since I super curious how you were gonna pull of one particular variation considering said character's unique position at this point in the game)! Also can I say Lana was incredible in both how hard she tries and truly is a wonderful guardian for Xani and also in how she deals with the grief and despair of past tragedies and also the nonsense of general adult life. Personally I'm closer to Lana's age than the rest of the cast's ages so I ended up really connecting with many of her struggles since they mirror so many of my own.

Last one, I promise!!!

Anyways yeah those are my scrambled thoughts after playing the routes. I'm over here basically vibrating intensely because I cannot wait for Book 3 and the final book to be released. I'm getting closer and closer to upgrading my notebook to a full blown conspiracy board 😂 But seriously, I have so many questions and all the hints and teases you put throughout these routes has my brain going into overdrive trying to figure it all out. Because I noticed certain things and was glad the game was like "yeah isn't this off?" but there was other stuff pointed out to me that I didn't even realize (the dates…THE DATES). Also Xani is such a wonderful MC, my love and light. Both female Xani and male Xani have such adorable designs and their VAs did great when it came to bringing them to life in both sweet moments and in the harsher moments (also loved seeing the different reactions the other characters would have based on Xani's gender it was so cool you added those variations in dialogue). Anyways you have done such a good job on the writing on this game and please pass along my admiration and love to the artists who made the incredible images, the composers and singers and all the music folks who made some absolutely amazing tracks that were perfect for the scenes, and also to all the fantastic VAs who brought these characters to life! Love the game and am eagerly awaiting the next part!!!

#heart fragment #asks #author note #reviews

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