#this is sparked because of an idea for animation i had but no promises on that | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

inkykeiji · 1 year

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anonymous said: what would flawless tomura do if they were at a party and he left reader alone for a few minutes and came back to some guy talking to her?

character: shigaraki tomura

genre: smut

notes: okaaaay so it’s a teeny tiny bit more than just talking to her but ah anon! this ask immediately sparked an idea in my brain and i just had to write it for you! this is set within my flawless AU and it’s pretty much a prequel to part two!

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, daddy kink, semi-public sex, toxic relationships (jealousy, possessiveness), minimal prep, rough sex, noncon nonsexual touching from a stranger, size difference, implied yakuza

words: 4k

Tomura hates these things.

As far as he’s concerned, these overly extravagant ‘work functions’ are nothing more than an excuse for a bunch of bigwigs and hotshots to get together and jerk each other off.

Really, it’s not much different than a college house party; if you take away the opulent venue and the nice clothes and good food, it’s practically the exact same thing.

He hadn’t wanted to bring you, fucking despises the thought of having you in the presence of any of these animals at all—disgusting and crude and primal and dangerous—but Kurogiri had insisted.

It looks good to include her, Tomura, he had said. You know how important these events are to your father.

And he knows how important you are to Tomura. But Tomura supposes that doesn’t matter nearly as much in his father’s eyes, now, does it?

In his mind, you’re just some silly little girl, a shiny new toy for Tomura to play with, to occupy his son’s time until he needs him, until he once again deems him useful. Then it’s expected you’ll be cast aside in favour of the family business, because nothing could ever be more important to Tomura, poor little orphaned Tomura, saved from the clutches of poverty by the Shigarakis, than the family business he’s being groomed to own one day, right?

Wrong.

But his father doesn’t give a fuck about that. He’s right if he says he’s right, end of discussion, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

So you’re here.

You had been cautiously excited to attend, desperate to earn his father’s favour, to prove that you’re worth it, worth all of the time and energy and love Tomura spends on you; that you can belong, if you really try to.

It’s sweet, really, how eager you are to be a part of the family. Impossibly, it makes Tomura love you even more.

Kurogiri’s been bouncing around the banquet hall like an efficient but headless chicken, splitting his time between checking in with guests and keeping a watchful eye on Tomura, since he has a nasty tendency to suddenly and miraculously disappear into thin air at these things.

The corner Tomura has the two of you wedged in is shrouded in shadows and at the back of the room, far from all of the excitement, the chattering voices and chewing teeth. It’s still loud, though, a mess of chaotic and indistinct noise, booming laughter tangled with confident speeches wafting over you in waves, carrying with them the scent of hors d’oeuvres from the self-serve table at the head of the room.

Your tummy growls, nothing more than a gentle rumble beneath Tomura’s palms, and he hugs you tighter, chin hooked over your shoulder as he nuzzles into your neck a little in apology.

“I’ll have Kurogiri grab you some food the next time he makes his rounds, baby, I promise.”

A dainty hand lays atop his own, fingers snuggling between the gaps of his own and resting there.

“Thank you, Daddy,” you murmur, the side of your head knocking against his own.

And, oh, that word.

That special word, nothing more than a sweet huff of breath on your tongue, five little letters that get his blood surging and his chest puffing and his spine straightening.

That one word that summons the true dominant that lays dormant at his core, slept and stomped on by inherent brattiness; that single word that pumps his whole body full of heady authority, muscles swelling with it, tense and gorged on the power it affords him.

But then your tummy grumbles again and Tomura frowns, fingers flexing as they sink into your flesh, holding you closer. Your ankles hook around his calves in response, body melting further into his—giving in, giving over, complete and total control—sagging s little in his lap, and he sighs.

But there’s no way you can get up, no way he can allow you to get up, to go anywhere near the food so meticulously laid out across a long, white table. Because Tomura has already seen the way these mongrels called men have been staring at you, eyes sick and starved as they try to swallow you whole, gazes nipping at your bare legs, tearing at your sweet little dress.

Instinctively, his body curls further around your own, shoulders hunched and chest curved as it molds to your back, almost as if he’s trying to hide you away within himself, within his flesh and bone and soul, far away from those ogling eyes and their gnawing little teeth.

Kurogiri returns not long after, though he is not able to fulfill Tomura’s promise, a slight breathlessness to his tone as he delivers a directive.

“Tomura, your father needs your assistance.”

“What?” Tomura hisses, head whipping to face his handler, eyes narrowed sharply. “With what?”

“There are some people he’d like you to meet,” Kurogiri responds calmly, unfazed.

Tomura’s features pucker, the mere thought sour in his head. “You can tell him to fuck right off, I’m not—”

“Tomura,” Kurogiri cuts him off, stern but not sharp. “Is this appropriate behaviour for a CEO-in-training? These are very important guests—important clients, and it is imperative that you continue to keep our relationship with them in good standing.”

Scarlet eyes dart between you and Kurogiri, settling on the crown of your head, a certain type of woefulness imbuing his features—mouth turned down, eyes drooping slightly, forehead woven with lines of worry.

“She’ll be alright on her own for a second or two,” Kurogiri continues, voice softening. “It’ll only be for a moment, Tomura. Just come say hello.”

“Fine, fuck.”

With the utmost gentleness, Tomura slides you off his lap as he stands, taking your jaw between his palms, bony fingers splayed across your cheeks, so long his middle fingers nearly rest on your temples.

“I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Okay, Daddy,” you laugh a little, nudging forward to press a quick peck to his lips. “Promise I’ll survive on my own while you’re gone.”

“You better,” he threatens, cold voice contradicted by the mirth shimmering in his eyes and the love tugging at the corners of his lips. “Be back in a minute or less.”

“Thirty seconds,” you hear him growling to Kurogiri as he stalks off, vying fingers already gouging his own flesh, nails leaving thick divots that pool rapidly with blood in their wake. “Thirty fucking seconds, that’s all they’re getting from me.”

Your eyes trail after him as he weaves through the space, an ache, dull and heavy, settling behind your ribs when you spot the ribbons of crimson adorning his neck, trickling onto his crisp white collar, Kurogiri hastily attempting to dab at them as Tomura viciously swipes at his hands.

The ache throbs, expands and pushes against your ribs as if it’s trying to escape the cage, as if it’s trying to propel you forward, urging you to act, to move, to go be with him.

“Hey,” a voice pulls you from your thoughts, and you startle slightly, gaze snapping towards its owner. “You looked lonely—Like a lost kitten, or something. This your first time at one of these things?”

It’s clearly a lie, you know it is, can see the falsities glimmering in his stretched smile, wide and tense and hungry across his cheeks—there’s no way this man didn’t see you with Tomura only mere seconds ago.

“Uh—”

“I’m Shin,” he continues, eyes obscured by the chandelier lights glinting off his glasses. Even veiled, you can feel it, the man’s slimy gaze gliding up your body, slowly, studiously, and leaving a filmy trail behind it. Your flesh crawls along your bones, feeling wrong, dirty, bare, and you wrap your arms around yourself, hugging your ribs. “Nemoto Shin. I work for a, uh, friend of the Shigarakis.”

“Oh,” you say, dull as your eyes skip across the crowd, feet shifting a little as you lean away, hunting for Tomura in a sea of businessmen.

“Actually, I’m a doctor of sorts.”

Your narrowed gaze drifts back to his, eyebrows knitted slightly.

“Of sorts?”

“A chemist, kind of.”

“Kind of?”

Smirking, he tilts his head to the side as if he finds you fascinating, revealing dark eyes as the light catches on his hair.

“I run clinical trials, collect data, and then revise.”

And it’s the way he says it, voice imbued with a sort of deranged glee that smears his sharp smile wider, as if he takes pleasure in conducting these experiments, that has shivers skittering up your spine, nails digging into your biceps as your arms squeeze your torso.

“On people?”

“Of course.”

“Oh. That’s, uh...”

Your eyes dart around the venue again, expensive silk suits and leather loafers all a blur as you search for an out, a familiar face, someone, anyone.

“You know,” Shin begins conversationally, taking a step closer to you. “You look like you’re about the correct age and height for our newest study.”

Large hands wrap around your own, fast and sudden, and forcefully uncurl your fingers, tugging your arms from around your body and holding them out wide, leaning back on his heels to fully appreciate you.

“In fact, I’d say you’re perfect.”

A discontented whine catches in your throat as you struggle in his grasp, attempting to pull your wrists free, Shin’s grip tightening to near bone-crushing in response.

Yelping, you wrench again, trying harder to jerk yourself away from him. He merely laughs in response, a sound that shoots spikes of ice through your limbs, and yanks your arms open further, tutting his tongue as if your struggle is so adorable, head quirked to the side with an egging smirk.

“What do you say? Want to participate?”

“No, you bastard! Ugh, let go of me!”

“C’mon,” he goads, eyes gleaming with poorly concealed sadism. “I promise it won’t hurt. In fact,” his head dips a little, looking at you over the wire of his spectacles. “You might even enjoy it.”

“She’s good. Thanks, though.”

Tomura’s voice has the man flinching, a jolt of panic surging through his veins and loosening his muscles, your arms dropped from his hands in an instant. He recovers quickly, though, any traces of alarm smoothed out from his expression a second later, features morphed into a perfect mask of professionalism.

“Tomura,” he says with a polite nod, a small but appropriate smile on his face. “You’re looking well.”

Tomura says nothing in response, glaring at him through sharpened eyes, crimson simmering with such anger you swear you can see the heat waves radiating from his sockets. He holds the man’s gaze until, finally, the man looks away with a cower, head hung in submission.

And then Tomura’s turning away with a sneer, catching your hands, busy mauling his biceps in desperation, with ease and wrapping a palm around your arm.

“Fucking vultures,” he’s spitting as he all but drags you from the venue, the fingers cuffed around your wrist tensing. “I leave for, like, a minute and they’re all over you.”

“I—I’m sorry,” you’re whimpering as your free hand winds around his forearm, jogging a little in your haste to keep up with his pace.

“Sorry?” he questions, the word seething on his tongue, as if you’re stupid for even apologizing at all. “It isn’t your fault, princess.”

And even though his voice is still scalding, the look he throws you over his shoulder is soft, stuffed full of love.

“Besides,” he’s continuing as he shoves past the heavy glass doors at the entrance of the hall. “I’m gonna show those fuckers who you belong to.”

The satin toe of your heels catches on the rough concrete, instantly causing it to scuff and fray as Tomura hauls you along behind him, the slap of his trademark red sneakers echoing out among the parking lot with each hasty stomp toward his car.

“Tomura, wait!” you’re calling as you teeter quickly behind him.

But he isn’t listening, your staggering not nearly fast enough for his liking, giving another harsh yank on your arm with such vigour it sends you stumbling right into his back, ankles wobbling a little as you almost trip over your own feet, a little yelp sounding in your throat.

He catches you easily, though, skinny arms wrapping around your form, offering minimal stability as they slam you against the driver’s door of the Bentley, effectively trapping you between the metal and his body.

Knobby knees are parting your legs instantly, sharp as they barge at your inner thighs and force them open, his feet framed by your own.

His hips slot up against yours, bones defined and protruding as they press into your supple flesh, his cock already half-hard.

And, God, you’ll never tire of how easily he gets hard, just the thought of your cunt enough to send a rush of boiling blood to the apex of his thighs, to fill his cock, a girlish giggle bubbling past your lips.

“Something funny?” he’s asking as large hands cup your jaw, fingers curling around the hinges and dragging your face upward, prohibiting you from answering as he all but smashes his lips to yours, keen tongue prying through your lips to lick at your teeth.

It’s messy and enthusiastic, just like kissing Tomura always is, smears of drool glistening across your chin and dripping off your jaws in fat, sticky globs to cool in little puddles on your collarbones, dribbling steadily from the corners of your lips as they move and mash and mesh.

His hands work in tandem with his mouth, large palms sliding up your thighs and beneath your dress, hem pooling around his wrists as he reaches your pretty pink panties, revealing your bare legs to the throngs of men clustered around the gilded doors, leering at you through hazy clouds of cigar smoke.

A squeak of his name is pushed from your tongue onto his, muddled and weighted with spit, eyes popping open as vying fingers begin to twist and tear through dainty lace, elastic band snapping audibly against your waist a moment later, leaving a lingering sting in its place.

“Daddy!” you whine as your panties flit to the asphalt in a ruined little heap, legs instinctually trying to snap shut only to be kept wedged open by his hips, a dark chuckle soaking into your skin as his lips glide clumsily from your mouth to your jaw and down the curve of your neck, painting your skin in slick strokes of saliva.

“I’ll buy you more, y’little brat,” he mumbles into your shoulder, teeth sinking into the muscle a moment later and forcing a pitchy cry from your throat, the sound embarrassingly loud, echoing through the parking lot.

His jaw flexes, tenses, burrowing sharp ivory deeper into your flesh until they slice through it, staining his mouth with your blood. His tongue laves over the wound, sops up the oozing blood like it’s sugary syrup tinged with copper, and seals the bite with spit that turns frigid the moment his mouth is gone.

A large hand squeezes your thigh, fingertips dipping into plush skin as they hoist your leg up, hooking it over his hip. You can feel his clothed cock, prodding your bare hole as he ruts unevenly against you, premature little thrusts that he can’t quite seem to quell.

A collection of baritone murmurs draws your attention back to the men, tendrils of smoke coiling in the air as they watch the scene in front of them unfold, exhaling little chuckles and comments among themselves, eyes never straying from your bodies.

It all feels so fucking grimy, their gazes sludgy as they creep across your frame, thick like glue as Tomura’s free hand traces up the curves of your torso to knead your breast much too hard, eliciting a low whistle and a smattering of claps.

“Daddy, Daddy, they’re looking,” you whimper, casting another quick glance at the men and wincing when your eyes connect with theirs.

“Let them look.”

“Tomura!”

“I want them to look,” he growls, a sort of petulant possessiveness bleeding into his tone. “I want them to see who you fucking belong to, I want them to see what they can’t touch, I want them to see who it is that makes you cry and scream and cum. ”

“No, Daddy, please,” little fingers curl in the cashmere of his dress shirt, attempting to use his body as a shield. “Not here, not like this, not all out in the open—”

“Oh, come on, don’t be such a baby.”

“No, no, no,” you’re nearly weeping, head shaking in shuddered little movements.

Panic rips viciously at your chest, rising high in your voice as protests pour from your lips, heated face burrowing into the junction of his neck. You’re pawing at his shirt now, a few of the buttons popping open to reveal milky skin stretched over a prominent collarbone.

“You can do it, angel,” he chides, voice just a hint gentler. “I know you can do it for me.”

A hiccup hitches in your throat, caught painfully on a breath, interrupting your stream of pleads, burning tears leaking from your crunched eyelids and staining his collar with salt.

“Please, please, please,” the word is humid against his neck, exhaled on shaky little gasps, letters disintegrating into droplets of condensation on his scarred skin. “I don’t wanna, please, Daddy, I don’t—”

“All right, Christ,” he’s groaning over your pathetic begging, pivoting your bodies quickly and keeping an arm wrapped around your waist as he rips the drivers door open.

Collapsing heavily behind the wheel, he pulls you down with him, hands rough and cumbersome as they try to rearrange your body into straddling him.

It’s cramped, one knee digging into the centre console while the other leg bends, foot planted on the leather of the seat.

“Get my fucking cock out,” he’s spitting at you the moment the door shuts, hips pushing upwards in emphasis. “I can’t fucking wait any longer.”

You’re obeying in an instant, dainty fingers clawing at the buckle of his belt, leather cracking as you yank it free from the prong. Then he’s lifting his hips again, aiding you as your fingers hook in the waistband of his briefs and tug, pulling his trousers down with them.

His thighs spread instinctively, elastic and cotton cutting into thin muscle.

“C’mon, c’mon,” he’s muttering as his palms wrap around your hips again, dragging you towards him to hover over his swollen, leaking cock. A hand grips the base, holding it steady as he lines it up with your hole, the head bumping against your cunt.

For the breath of a moment, everything is still, your combined panting ragged as it rings throughout the car, dense and tangled. Your forehead knocks against his own, hands clamped over the back of his seat.

And then he’s shoving his cock into you with one quick, sharp thrust upward, a high whine escaping your lips as your face scrunches in pain.

Your cute little hole stings as his cock tears through it, rips you open wide and forces you to take it all, a loud cry spilling from your lips as Tomura holds your hips in place, savouring the way you spasm around him, desperately trying to adjust to his girth.

The pace is brutal right from the start—not that you’ve come to expect anything less from Tomura—the snapping of his hips vicious as he pounds into you, sweet little snarls falling from scarred lips with each slam of his cockhead against your cervix.

There’s nothing for you to do but just take what he’s giving you, his grip on your waist blooming tiny blotches of blues and purples in the shape of his fingerprints into your skin as he holds you in place, thighs flexing in time with his powerful thrusts, the soles of his sneakers skidding against the rubber floor mat as he uses his feet for leverage.

It hurts, but Tomura doesn’t care, hips rapid, rabid, ruthless as they piston into you, so rough and hard and fast that it has your entire body shuddering, the thin, sharp heel of your stiletto skidding against white leather, tearing it open.

It hurts, but it’s also so fucking good, choked little wails of his name and his title knotted on your tongue, each one fucked out of you as he bounces you on his cock, easy and effortless like you’re nothing more than his favourite little toy.

And there’s something so hot about it all, something so wicked and disgusting and deliciously depraved about fucking in the middle of a crowded parking lot, open and on display for anyone to see as the sun begins its descent below the horizon, lacking the protective veil the night brings with it.

You can feel their eyes searing into your skin, glaring and gawking, wide and unblinking, the Bentley’s thick windows doing little to lessen the smoldering of their gazes as they roam your body, the Bentley’s bulletproof glass muffling the howls and the whistles.

It sends sick thrills racing through your veins, leaving your blood fizzy and muscles tingling, a loud moan, stuttered by Tomura’s incessant bucking, tumbling from your lips.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s it, baby,” he says, but his voice is hoarse, straining under pleasure, edges of his words breathy, almost whiny in a way, as if he’s begging instead of instructing. “Show them. Show them how pretty my cock makes you.”

“Yes, Daddy, yes, Daddy,” you’re whimpering out, head nodding in tiny, short motions with your words.

And you do—ever the perfect, obedient, good little girl that you are—cumming pathetically quickly, the fast, hard drag of his cockhead over that swollen patch of tissue buried deep inside of you combined with the peeping, prying eyes resulting in your sweet cunt convulsing almost violently around his cock, thighs aching and tense as his title shatters on your tongue.

It’s so much, slick gushing down his shaft to soak into the waistband of his pants, bare thighs slippery with your essence, sick and sticky with each slap against your ass, obscene sounds echoing throughout the car.

“F-Fuck,” he gasps, the curse cracking in his throat, head knocking back against the headrest and face contorting in ecstasy, watching you through lidded eyes and thick black lashes.

His thrusts have turned messy now, rhythm sloppy and irregular as he jackhammers into you almost desperately, clenched teeth bared and on display.

“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy—” you’re mewling, grappling little fingers twisting in his damp shirt, nonverbal begging imbued in the motion.

“M’cumming,” he nearly moans, cutting you off before you can even ask for it.

He gives you exactly what you want, a mere two thrusts later, whole body going rigid as his nails gorge themselves on the flesh of your hips, holding you still as his cock pumps you full of thick, hot cum.

And he’s so fucking beautiful, breathtakingly so, so much that it decays your words and kicks them from your chest in frail little huffs.

Sliver tufts of hair have flipped upwards, clumped and curled with salt, tiny dewdrops of sweat collecting on the points, glittering in the waning sunlight. The white of his shirt has turned translucent, sodden and sticking to his juddering ribs, expanding and straining beneath his heavy, laboured breaths, the whole cage starkly defined, shadows outlining all of the curves and contours, bumps and ridges, each bone and every gap.

But then he’s pulling you from your admiration, gangly arms wrapping around your body tightly.

“Mine,” he murmurs as he hugs you to his chest, whole body finally deflating, soaking into your own.

“Yours,” you whisper with a little nod, pressing chaste kisses along his scarred neck. “Yours, forever.”

His. Forever.

He hopes they all understand who you fucking belong to, now, hopes they’ll keep their grubby hands and grimy gazes off of you, now, but should any of them forget—well, neither of you are necessarily opposed to teaching them this lesson again.

#shigaraki tomura smut #shigaraki tomura x reader #bnha smut #shigaraki smut #shigaraki x reader #eee hehe enjoy!!!! it's just something smaaaall but i really enjoyed writing it!

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basilone · 22 days

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Folks, I hope whichever writing you’re working on today creates joy for you!

Just this past week, I wrote a good 3k worth of words that were born from an idea 2AM me had. 2AM me is a different animal, you know. 😉 2AM me does not really care about what I’m “supposed to be working on”. 2AM me sees my prompt-filled inbox and shrugs at it. 2AM me has never met an outline she can’t ruin, has never encountered writer’s block once she gets going, and has most certainly never given a hoot about if there are going to be people willing to read the thing. 2AM me cares about one thing and one thing only: does writing this vague idea fill me with complete and utter joy?

So. Here I am. 3k words into a mafia AU that will likely not see publication beyond a groupchat with friends. 3k words into a story that features no canon characters from the shows we love, but features several of my original characters instead. 3k words into a story that is, in no particular order, doing the following: feeding my love for particular tropes, allowing me to explore my OCs in a different setting, giving me a better handle on how my OCs express certain emotions and ideas, fueling and clarifying certain aspects of the main fic these OCs inhabit, and taking away all my self-imposed pressures about needing to have a finished and publishable story as “proof” that I have spent my precious free time well by being productive.

And, friends, I’m having a blast. I’ve talked some of my friends to death about this already because I’m so excited. I’ve spent more time working on the outline for my actual fic in this past week than I have in all the weeks of this year so far because writing this silly AU gave me the confidence boost to sit down and figure that out. (That pesky outline that's been eluding me for months? Pretty much complete at the time I write this.) I’ve gained a truckload of stuff to use as special tools that will help other writing later on. And it’s all made possible because 2AM me had an idea and morning me went “well okay why not try it on for size just once”.

So, I’m writing you a permission slip. Work on what sparks joy. Work on something that inspires love in you for an aspect of your storytelling, for your characters, for the world you’re creating in. Forget about your inbox and comments and requests. Forget about your WIPs you’re either rotating in your head or threatening to smack like a piñata until the complete fic rolls out. Forget about prompts, polls, and whatever you think people’s expectations of your writing are. Work on the little idea you can’t shake, the OC that’s bugging you, the ship that won’t let go, the AU that can fit soooooo many tropes in it, and I promise you that all your other writing is going to fall into place too.

Give yourself the opportunity to love and be joyful about your creativity! I’m allowing it! 💙

#killytalks

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asterdisaster06 · 10 months

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i love you, ain't that the worst thing you've ever heard?

ghost x reader [exes], slight soap x reader [mostly platonic], platonic 141 x reader

1. 2. 3.

summary > "Don't trust people like me. I will hurt you in the most beautiful and intoxicating ways so that you can never go back to your normal life without my ghost following you."

...

"If you always put yourself before others, one day you'll look behind and see that you're all alone."

...

Simon "Ghost" Riley had fucked up. Massively. He had pushed you away because he was scared of losing you to the life he lived. He didn't want to see you go down the same path and lose that beautiful intoxicating spark that you always carried in your eye. And now he didn't even recognize you. Not after you had done so much work to fulfill yourself, changing the person he once knew. You had successfully climbed the ranks of the 141 Taskforce and was now crowned the second lieutenant of the team. However, you can't dodge the piercing looks that Simon sends you every now and then. You can't pretend forever.

warnings > simon riley is alluded to be a bit of a dick in this chapter

a/n > reader cenetred. author has family issues so will be found family-ing this shit. author has no military knowledge so don’t crucify me. also have no idea how long it takes to officially become a Lieutenant but we’re going with around 5 years - shortened from 7+ because us readers are smart and can go to college. it’s very much just poetic feels, but I promise the angst with Simon directly comes eventually. He’s kind of a dick tbh but that’s cause he’s emotionally repressed. i’m romanticising this because i’ve lived through similar and wish this was how it ended lmao

ao3

Simon Riley was the bane of your existence. His very being pissed you off to no end, and it wasn’t unwarranted. That anger had once been crippling sorrow and grief over what you had lost. The anger had begun as a small seed, planted in the harsh words he growled at you through gritted teeth that night. The same words that you hissed back in his face. But eventually you had managed to move on from the love of your life. Managed to move on after weeks spent with tear stained pillows and the stuffed animal he had won you once hugged to your chest. You would’ve shoved that thing in the back of your closet, but you figured you shouldn’t take your anger out on the poor thing.

Thinking of him still makes you wince like hitting your shin against a table leg, but less so. It’s faded to a simple bruise on your heart that still aches from time to time. A phantom pain for the ghost that still haunts you. Like smoke in the wind. You still fear whispering his name at night as if his spirit will come back to haunt you. You still have the keys to his apartment in your bedside drawer. You still remember where he keeps his spoons. Sometimes you wonder how many cups of tea you’ve wasted from pouring them down the drain after realising you’re still stuck in the habit of making two.

However, you know it’s for the best that you’ve parted ways. It reminds you a little of a moment in your life with him, ironically. There was this one time that you had managed to drag Simon to the beach as a small celebration for him and were out swimming as the sun had set. He only stuck his toes into the water as you swam out until you couldn’t reach the bottom. He had told you he wouldn’t save you, and you shouted back in response that you didn’t need saving. You almost want to thank him now for saying that he’d let you drown. Thank him for teaching you that you never needed saving. Not from him anyways.

It was this exact night that had led to the complete and utter dismantling of your relationship with one Simon Riley. Recalling it stings like sand in the wind against your bare legs. The kind of pelting pain that leaves no visible marks but hurts nonetheless. It steals the breath from your lungs and puts a stone in your heart.

You were so happy, so very happy. And you thought that Simon would be too. Especially for you. You broke the news to him as you were laying there on the beach that you wanted to join the military. You wanted to continue that it was because you had looked up to him so very much and wanted to do good just like he did. Even if he didn’t exactly believe he was. Before you could do so though, he had blown up on you. Completely. It was a complete shift from the Simon you thought you had known. You shudder to recall exactly what he had said, but it escalated enough for one of you to call it off.

It had gone silent after those words were uttered.

Complete silence.

You had refused to let the tears fall until you had grabbed your shit and booked a flight back to your home town. The airport bathroom had offered a greater sympathy than he had ever given you. He never even called you. You think that’s what hurts the most. That you didn’t mean enough to him to even try and work this out. You expected better from him. You truly did.

“I can’t fucking believe how bloody stupid you would have to be to do that.”

Nonetheless, you picked yourself up and signed up for the military with your family and friends supporting your every move. Your every breath. You learned to defend yourself, learned to love yourself. You had gotten around here and there, but nobody ever truly measured up to Simon. Sometimes you wonder what would’ve happened if you two had met when you were already in the military, but you always shut down those what if thoughts quite quickly. No use dwelling on something that could never be.

“This is a big fucking mistake, love.”

You rose the ranks quickly, using your spite to your advantage. Every man that reminded you of Simon always made you fight even harder. You had always told a half truth when someone asked why you wanted to join. Not the story of pain and bitterness, but the one of hope and admiration of an old friend. It made you want to throw up after the third time of giving that response, so eventually you simply changed the subject when someone asked. You didn’t even spill your past when you were blackout drunk; it being too painful even then. You drowned your sorrows in liquor and nicotine, going out with your top tier squad every Friday. Sometimes when it came to a close and you were left with the quiet of your own deafening thoughts you went outside to smoke a pack of Simon’s favourite cigarettes. A weakness that you hated yourself for.

"You are no saint, and you are no saviour either. You're just lying to yourself."

Those words ring out in your mind every time you fail to save someone. A fellow soldier or a civilian, it doesn’t matter. Self doubt creeps up on you, smothering you in its grasp. Your hands remain stained with their blood, no matter how much you scrub your skin raw in the shower. You hear their screams ring out in your brain at night, piercing the thin veil of fitful sleep that you’ve resigned yourself to after you had lost the warmth of your other half that used to hold you tight at night. Your eyes had lost their brightness, though you can’t say it’s exactly correlated to the loss of the victims. You couldn’t prove Simon right in that aspect. Not after you’ve come this far.

"Anything would be better than this!"

You wanted to believe that so badly, but your heart longed for this career almost as much as it did him. You took pride in those you had saved; albeit still haunted by those you could not. The abilities you had earned your right to were presented proudly through tactical patches displayed on your uniform - chest candy as he would’ve called it. But if he couldn’t support you through this, you didn’t know how to trust him for future endeavours. The lack of apologies simply cemented your decision and mindset.

"Why would somebody do this on purpose?"

It’s a question whose full answer still eludes you to this day. All you know is that you felt homesick for this life before even experiencing it. It’s the ache in your bones and has been carved into your ribs so you may feel the torment and euphoria all at once when your heart slams against the cage that keeps it safe. Contained.

It’s these thoughts that occupy your mind on the plane trip to the infamous compound that houses the 141 Taskforce. Anxiety pierces your nerves, sending what little food you had that morning tumbling around your stomach. Forgetting your meds this morning was likely the worst thing that you could have possibly done. Except for completely ghosting this experience. How odd it is to be haunted by someone still alive. Someone who has no idea if you’re still breathing, let alone travelling to your very location at that moment.

There was no logical reason for you to turn this collaboration down; in fact, in any other circumstances you would be proud of rising so far that you were sent to this facility. Except for the fact that it was this facility. The very one that your ex who has tormented you through night a day for years. You hadn’t spoken a word of his name to anyone after the first month following the breakup. You wanted a life where your friends didn’t even know his name, let alone his significance. He didn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve to be a part of your life anymore.

You repeat this mantra to yourself as you realise you’re finally landing.

Shit.

That syllable is the only thing bouncing around your head as you’re greeted by John Price. The John Price. Alone, you notice. You had heard bits and pieces of Ghost’s team, but mostly of either Soap’s shenanigans or Price’s rulings over him. You swallow harshly and shake the hand of the powerful Captain. The very same one that had no idea that one of his subordinate’s had been your previous lover. And you planned to keep it that way at all costs.

“Welcome to the base Lieutenant, I’ve heard great things about you and your stealth skills on the battlefield,” Price spoke, shaking your hand firmly.

Lieutenant. You had always loved the sound of that word in front of Simon’s name, and had similarly always wondered how it would sound in front of yours. It brought a sense of satisfaction rushing through your veins, and yet at the same time it brought you to your knees from nausea. It reminded you too much of him.

“There was the callsign ‘Angel’ in the details Laswell sent over. Would you say that still suits you?” Price says, almost amused.

Angel. You had never intended for it to be ever spoken to you again considering its connotations with a nickname Simon had always called you. His little angel. He claimed that you were sent down from the heavens to save the sinners; although, you had never considered him one until the breakup.

How you had gained this callsign is a story that makes you want to shake like a wet dog. Shake the memory off until it vanishes from your grasp. When you were simply doing your job and slowly climbing the ranks through your initial trade training, you had this sergeant that had taken a liking to you. Much to your chagrin. He had started every conversation with the classic pickup line about you falling from heaven. It was pure torment that you had to endure for almost a full year; a year in which the nickname stuck. Nobody was willing to do anything about it, and you weren’t willing to cause a fuss by tattling on your - at the time - superior. It ended up following you out of that academy into your career.

Although, you had quickly earned the added benefit of having ‘Angel of Death’ be your full callsign after you had proven your covert operation skills - effectively wiping out an entire compound by yourself with none the wiser. Safe to say that mission was a success. The name now had something to do with your actual skills instead of your physical appearance and led you to cringe at the honorific less and less.

“I don’t think I’d be able to answer to anything else, Sir,” You answer, wincing at the mention of your callsign nonetheless.

He sends you a questioning look at your small recoil, but brushes it off in favour of moving onto a general tour of the area. It was a sizable facility with many accommodations that made you almost smile with anticipation of taking advantage of all of them. I mean, you even got your own personal shower with your room. Who is going to complain about that?

“So, that’s basically it,” Price finishes up the tour in his office. “I know you already signed off with Laswell on your contract, but just for the record, may I have you sign a few documents here in this folder? Feel free to take your time going through them.”

You overlooked the folder, noticing what little details you had shared throughout your career being asked to be confirmed by your penmanship. It makes you give a shallow smile at the memories you’ve contracted through your experiences. Some less than savoury, but many you wouldn’t give up for the world. You were looking forward to catching up with your friends back at your old base once you were settled in, but until then you scratched pen against paper.

You had finally completed signing on all the lines, getting a little tired at being told ‘here, here, and here’ over and over again. Your eyes burned with exhaustion, not quite realising how much your anxiety had taken out of you. Your hands had a small leftover tremor plaguing them as you handed the pen back to Price, but you felt better. Significantly better.

“I can tell you’re tired, so I’ll lead you to your quarters and let you rest there for tonight,” Price says, sending you a small quirk of his lips.

“Thank you, Captain,” You reply, sending a tired yet appreciative look in his direction.

“Oh, please, call me Price. If you know Kate as well as she says you do, you’ve earned that at the least,” He laughs.

You flush red, letting out a bashful grin at that. It was true that you had run into Kate a few times before realising what a big part she played in your field of work. Most of the time at the coffee shop where you held a part-time job while attending the military academy. However, the time you had sat across from her and her wife after getting stood up really sealed the deal. You being introduced as the ‘person that actually gets our coffee right’ which gave you all a good laugh. They had comforted you once you opened up about why you were at a fancy dinner alone, they welcomed you into their open arms, and that was that. The topic ended up on what you were studying for, and it all came out into the open. The silent conversation those two had with their eyes before opening up had almost made you shit yourself before Kate explained.

You had tried to stay slightly distant after figuring out exactly what she did for a living, but she had shut that down real quick - saying that if anyone had dared to call you a nepo-baby that they wouldn’t live to tell the tale. You really hoped she was exaggerating.

Back in the present, you were letting out a laugh at Price’s words before there was a knock at the door. Your heart dropped to your stomach, making your breath stumble before completely halting. In your heart, you knew who it was before Price even told him to let himself in. The gruff voice saying he didn’t expect Price to have company so late made you feel like a deer in headlights, unable to move as their untimely demise stares them right in the face.

Except this time around, this deer had broken through the freeze reaction long ago. You had learned and adapted, unwilling to relive being frozen as Simon yelled in your face yet again. You couldn’t face the shame quite yet, not unprompted at least.

You quickly turned away from your initial reaction of turning to the door. You mouth goodbye to Price and nod in respect; hoping that he would forgive you for abandoning his office without any notice. You kept your eyes to the floor, feeling his eyes staring holes through you, burning your skin like a bullet wound.

You had changed a lot throughout the years, more so in preparation for being moved here. You weren’t going to turn down this once in a lifetime opportunity just because of a silly disagreement over half a decade ago. You remember staring at a face you barely recognize today while gripping the porcelain off white sink in your shared bathroom. Past you taking actions to change your hair into something that ended up being the new normal. You had taken a page out of Ghost’s book and invested in DIY-ing a personalised mask that resembled a bird with tinted glass shielding your eyes from anyone that could recognize you simply off that. You actually had quite a few - each one for a different occasion.

Nonetheless, the mask you currently wore, its only purpose that you cared about right now was hiding your identity. Simon didn’t immediately react, so you took that as a good sign. You wouldn’t be surprised if he was simply concealing his emotions, but you had a feeling that wasn’t the case. You peruse the halls, not entirely sure how to get to your room. You had a vague idea, but backtracking made it a little more difficult. Especially since you were more concerned with conversing with Price than memorising the exact layout.

You take a turn around a corner, immediately bumping into someone with a familiar face, your eyes betraying your displeasure as you wordlessly stared into the Scots eyes.

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boliv-jenta · 11 days

Text

Ted Garcia x f!reader

WC: just shy of 4k

Warnings: smut, violence, horror elements, mentions of killing children.

Summery: Ted saves you when a mysterious madness claims his town.

The Cabin

The banging synchronised perfectly with the throbbing in your head. Memories faded in and out in time with the beat. Running through the desert. Someone chasing you. Fear and betrayal swirl in your gut and fuel the pumping of your legs.

The exposed light bulb swings on its pendulum in time with the pounding. That sparks another memory. Pleasure blooming from between your legs. His deep breathing in your ear. Promises whispered as you lay on the soft pillow, your body feeling just as soft and pliable as you come down from your high.

With a groan you try to sit up, the room spins but the pounding stops. Large hands find your back as the sparsely decorated room comes back into focus.

“Hey, you. You're awake. How are you? I was so worried.” Relief floods his voice as he wraps his arms around you. His moustache brushes your temple before he places a kiss there. Like he had a thousand times before. Ted. His name is Ted.

“I…I can't remember. What’s happening?” Your voice sounds far away to you. The rest of your mind is searching inwards.

You remember your name, you prefer dogs over cats, tea over coffee. You remember Ted. The Mayor. Your Ted. He brings you flowers every date night. The pretty pink roses on the table between the takeaway he brought. The best tacos in town. You remember screaming. Someone attacking you. You, fighting for your life. Not just your life, someone else's. It's all there but it's not. It fractured, some parts missing completely, others a mere outline.

“What's the last thing you remember?” His broad frame is wrapped around you as he cradles you. His thumb gently rubs back and forth on your cheek.

His presence brings you comfort. You know how you feel about him. “I love you.”

A sigh leaves his lips and blows through your hair. “I love you, too. What else do you remember?”

“Someone attacked me. I was fighting to protect myself and someone else…you?” His lips twitch into a smile against your skin as the words leave your mouth.

“Yes. That's good, you remember some of it. I'm glad because if I had to explain it, I don't think I could make you believe it. It's just…insanity. That's the only way to describe it.” He holds you even closer. “The people…our people…they started to attack each other. I don't know why. It's like a madness that spreads. Those that don't die in the attacks become mad too. I was bringing you here, to protect you when we were attacked. You're right, you fought for me, saved me, but you took the brunt of the attack before I could…I had to put them down.” His voice is choked up now.

It's your turn to comfort him. “Ssshh, Ted. You did what you had to. I remember the attack. It was dark. We were walking then they grabbed me by my hair, kicked me, choked me…”

“Hey. Don't think about that now. We're safe.” He kisses away tears you didn't know you had shed. “We have food and water. We can wait until things are safe then get out of here. You were only passing through anyway. We'll go buy that beach house you wanted. Alright?” His lips find yours. The kiss is easy, familiar, your lips move against his with ease.

“Yeah. That sounds perfect. Do you have any idea what's causing it? The madness?” You can't help but think of your neighbours. A sweet old couple. Hopefully they are safe too.

“The doctor had a few theories. Animal virus in our meat. Fungal infection. Natural gases. I tried to get us help. I really did. It happened so fast. The army should be on their way to help…survivors.” His shoulders slump. He loves his town. He loves being Mayor. That's part of what attracted you to him.

Your coffee was lukewarm as you planned the next part of your trip. Ted walked past the diner talking passionately about his town to the camera. He speaks with ease, his words are honest, straight forward. Later, he speaks the same with you. His marriage is a sham. His wife is already half moved in with her lover. She's staying until after the election, on his campaign manager's insistence. He likes you but he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable. It's you that does the chasing. He's almost shy when you touch him. He looks down at you through his lashes when you drop to your knees for him. You bring his hand to your head it lays there passively until he lets out a stifled groan and his fingers clench in the stands of your hair. It takes a while for him to take charge, to be as comfortable with you as he is in his role. When he does though, he has your sobbing, near folded in half, your cervix bruising, you and your body screaming. When you lay in his arms afterwards you spill your secret desires and hopes. You want a home on the beach, a career in nature photography. He wants a family, a bigger political career. You lay both your bodies and souls bare in your stolen time together. Quickly, you fall head over heels for him.

The water is hot and inviting as Ted helps you into the tub. “Here. This should help. Nice and hot. I have some whiskey here somewhere too. As my Abuela would say, a couple of shots won't solve everything but they won't hurt either.”

Ted had taken stock of your injuries, while he helped undress you. Your sides were bruised. You remember them kicking you while you were curled on the dry ground. The scrub cut your face and bare arms as you tried to roll away from your attacker. The water stung the tiny scratches at first. Then it began to relax you.

“There, all cleaned up.” Ted wrung out the wash cloth he cleaned you up with.

“Thank you.” You sigh.

“No problem. I'm a public servant.” He laughs lightly. “You relax. I'll go heat up some food. Then you can go to bed early. I boarded up the windows and barricaded the door but I'll stay up to watch over you, just in case.”

The tinned soup is pretty damn good. It warms as it fills you. Ted washes the dishes in the tiny sink in the corner of the room, next to a small counter top with a camping stove and some utensils on it, while you rest on the bed.

Once he's done, he fills a glass of water and hands it to you with a couple of round, white pills. “I found a few painkillers. Have these for now.” It still hurts to swallow but it'll be worth it for the painkillers to kick in.

“Thank you. You're doing all this for me but how are you?” You pat the bed next to you and he takes a seat.

“Honestly? Terrified. I don't know what's going on. I couldn't help my town. I feel like I could have done more but I saw the opportunity to save you and I had to. What kind of person does that make me?” He hangs his head in his hands.

“I'm sure you did whatever you could. Then you saved who you could. I would have done the same.” You replace his hands with your own. Drawing him to you, you place a gentle kiss on his lips, he returns it, then you do, then the back and forth rhythm dissolves into a hungry clash of tongues. Using his flannel shirt as leverage you pull him close until a pain shoots through your abdomen. The hiss that leaves you stops Ted in his tracks.

“Honey! I'm sorry. Are you alright?” He checks you over as if he can fix it all. Ever the practical man.

“I'm okay.” The pain subsides and you feel even more tired.

“Come on. I'll lay with you until you fall asleep.” Once again he is cradling you like he can protect you from the world.

Sleep comes quickly. It's fitful and filled with nightmares. Nightmares about the madness that Ted told you about. The sweet old couple you were worried about tearing out the throats of the children across the street. Their terror filled eyes glazing over as their blood spills over their colorful chalk drawings on the sidewalk. Sweat cools on your skin as you jump awake. Ted flips on the light and is by your side in seconds. His shotgun is abandoned on the cupboard that is serving as a barricade and the high stool he was perched on to keep watch is tipped over in his haste.

His hands find you to comfort you. “I'm here. I've got you. Oh, shit!”

Following his eyeline you see the heavy blood stain on the white sheet between your legs. “What?! What. I…”

“Shhh. Shhh. It's okay. You took some kicks to the stomach, maybe something was damaged. Let's stay calm. If we need to I'll get you to a hospital. The army should be here now. I'll get you help, I swear. I love you. I love you.” Fear creeps into Ted's voice as he begins to ramble while he rocks you in his arms.

A week passes, each day much the same. You rest. Ted cares for you. Thankfully, the bleeding stopped before that first morning. Each day you get stronger. With each day the hope of survival rises. Each day Ted reminds you why you fell in love with him. He's your gentle protector.

When your need for him grows too strong, he's still gentle, he kisses and caresses you until you are dripping for him. His thick fingers dip inside you to spread your slick before teasing your clit until you gush and relax for him. Even though his girthy length fills you with ease, he still takes his time with you. He works himself in slowly until your hips start to chase him. When he picks up speed he constantly checks in with you, whispering in your ear. After you come around him pulling him deeper, he asks if you can keep taking him until he comes. When he does finally spill inside you it's with a whimper.

Another week passes. This one is like a honeymoon. The worry of the world outside is almost forgotten with the two of you exploring each other's bodies like never before. Before you had stolen moments between meetings and appearances. Now you can take your time.

“Ted, I can't!” you can't help but giggle as you push him away. His moustache is soaked with your cum. You've lost count of how many times you've come against it while Ted spent the morning pleasuring you. “Here, let me take care of you.” You reach for the massive bulge in his underwear.

Catching your hand, he brings it to his lips. “Actually, I have an idea.”

Letting go of your hand, he tucks his thumbs into the waistband of his underwear to slip them down his firm thighs until his cock springs free. Running his fingers through your slick, he uses it to coat himself until his fist pumps up and down freely. His eyes are laser focused on your wet cunt until they roll back and close. His hand slaps against his balls as he openly pleasures himself to your body. He looks beautiful, free and unashamed. A delicious look of pure ecstasy crossed his face when he hunches over grabbing your bare breast as he comes in hot ropes over your stomach. The one room cabin smells of sex every night that you fall asleep together.

The sun is setting as you finish dinner. The bare light bulb is off in favour of the small bedside lamp. Its warm light makes your new home feel cosy. Ted kisses your head as he collects your empty bowl. What you see next is so unexpected in your new little world that it takes a second for you to realise what you are seeing. A beam of white light flashes through the gaps in the boards of the window.

“Ted?” Ted turns to your voice and sees it too.

Quickly and quietly, he crossed to the door frame, squeezing himself between the window on the cabin door and the one on the wall next to it. He tries to see out without being seen.

“Get down!” He orders as the light gets brighter.

The sound of approaching footsteps fill the small space. Your heart is in your mouth. Beating harder with each nearing step. The bang on the door almost caused your heart to explode. Another bang has you nearly choking on it.

“Mayor Garcia?!” A voice calls out.

The name escapes you but the voice is familiar. It's one of the Sheriff's deputies. Relief floods you. “We're saved!” You sob at Ted stumbling towards him on shaking legs.

“Hello?” The voice calls, clearly having heard you.

“Ted? Open the door.” You try for the handle and Ted stiffens. “He's here to help.” Ted still doesn't move to open the door. “Ted?”

When you look at him in the low light his face is cold for a second before he opens the door. “Of course.” He gives you a fleeting smile.

“Sir, are you okay? Sheriff Vasquez came to look for you but she never came back. I found her car a little up the road there in a ditch. Ma'am.” He added in politeness with a nod.

“We were fine.” Ted responds coolly before taking his shotgun and blowing away the Deputy.

Shock rips through you like the pelts through the Deputy's flesh. “Ted!”

Fear claws at your throat as he turns to you. His warm, soft eyes are cold as steel.

“They couldn't just leave well alone. After all I've done for this town!” His raised voice raises the hairs on your neck. “I had a plan. I always have a plan. The ones I did for this town always work. But the one time I do one for me and it all goes to shit.” The stool by the door is flung across the room. “It was simple. Bring you here. Kill you. Bury you. No one would know. You were just passing through. No one would care.” As his words swarm you you cower back against the wall, using it to hold your broken pieces up. “Then you had to go and dig yourself out of your grave. I was going to just shoot you, seeing as choking you didn't work but then I thought ‘How did you manage to survive?’ a weak little woman. A whore, who sucks down married men's cocks. Maybe you had potential. Or maybe my seed made you stronger. Of course, I had to fix you back up. I had to make sure you lost that bastard child first. I can have an heir out of wedlock. How would that look? A hot bath, some whiskey, some pills that you didn't look too closely at. That was that. Thankfully, you didn't even remember that night.”

The pretty pink roses rest on the table. The same pink appears in two lines on the pregnancy test next to it.

“You're pregnant?” Ted is expressionless as he repeats his question.

“Yes and I want to keep it.” You reach for his hand, only for him to snatch it away.

“What? You think I'd have a baby with you? How would that look? Having a baby with a whore?” His words hit you like a slap in the face.

“A whore? You said you loved me.”

“I do but you're not Mayor's Wife material. You threw yourself at me. Bounced on my bare cock after only knowing me for a few weeks. Begged me to fuck your ass. Came all over my suit from rubbing your hungry pussy over my thigh. I mean, it was all good. I've never shot my load down a woman's throat that quickly before. Even when I hold my wife's head and force my cock down her throat it takes me a while to get there. I mean, I married her for her standing, not her skills in the bedroom but to have a child with you? You must be crazy.”

You're up on your trembling legs while you try to process. The words come out before you realise. “Ted. I…I love you.” As if saying it could make him the man you fell for again, not this horrible stranger in front of you.

“Then you'll get rid of that kid and we'll go back to what we had.” He rises slowly to gently take your hand.

“No! I can't.” Your fingers are shaking in his palm. You're not sure I'd it's from fear or anger.

“You can. Or I can make you.” His free hand shoots up to grab your throat.

“Fuck you!” You manage to spit before kicking him in his knee.

Howling in pain, he releases you. “You little slut!”

You are soon outside, running as fast as you can. The thought of your unborn baby pushing you on. Until Ted yanks you back by your hair. The sudden momentum sends you hurling to the ground. Ted manages to get a few kicks in to subdue you before he pulls you to your feet. Terror grips you as he wraps his large hands around your throat and you become light headed. The fight in you starts to fade as your lungs begin to burn.

“That's it. Let go. It'll all be over soon. Shhh. Let me take care of you.” The bastard has the audacity to kiss your temple as you go slack in his arms.

Ted feels relieved while he carries you to the shallow grave he’d dug. It would keep you hidden long enough for the animals to find you and pick you clean. No body, no crime. This is what he had to do. For the town. He couldn't have a scandal keeping him from being reelected. It was only when he lay you gently in the ground that his heart betrayed him. It clenched at the thought of you all alone out here. The two of you, without his protection. He brushed the thought away when he threw the first shovel load of dirt on your body.

Back at the cabin, he sat to get his story straight. He told his campaign manager that he was taking a day. He made sure enough people saw him leave town alone. He'd stop by the store tomorrow and make sure everyone saw him coming back. He had a few weeks before he needed to pile on the pressure with his constitutes. He could lay low for a while. If the police found you before the animals could do their job he could spin it. He could be saddened at the death of the poor woman, who he had taken under his wing. The poor woman who he'd allow to use his cabin for a while to take some nature photographs for her portfolio. She'd confessed that she had a baby on the way from her abusive ex so Ted felt compelled to help her. All his plans went sideways when you stumbled back into the cabin and passed out on the bed.

Fighting the urge to throw up, you push past Ted and out into the night.

“Come on, Honey. You know this goes one of two ways for you. You die or you stay with me. I knew I couldn't go back to town when you came back, so I've set my sights on bigger and better things. You could be a part of that. I'll make an honest woman of you. You can have a few kids. I look after all of you. We'll be picture perfect for my new campaign.” His voices get quieter to your ears as you edge your way in the dirt towards the Deputy’s car that he rolled to a stop down the dirt track. It's only a few feet away. The door is open and the keys are in the ignition. You're sure you can make it.

“Come on. What do you say?” His voice seems closer.

The light from the car obscures your view. There's no way for you to know where he is without giving yourself away.

‘Fuck it!’ you think and prepare to launch yourself at the car.

Just as you do the window of the open door bursts like an overripe watermelon above you. Glass rains down on you. You hear the distinct sound of a shotgun being snapped open. You have time to get to the car. Filled with renewed hope, you haul yourself up. Only for Ted to kick the door shut inches from your face.

“Hey, you. Let's just talk about this.” His best trustworthy smile is plastered on his face. It's eerily lit by the car’s lights. It gives his beautiful profile a harshness. His profile becomes even more harsh when you punch him squarely in the crotch.

Even as he crumbles, he laughs. “See, maybe that fire can come in handy. The world is changing. People expect more from politician’s wives.”

You are off running again. The same way you ran that night. Unfortunately, you take exactly the same route you took that night and end up back in your shallow grave. This time with even more company. The Sheriff is stone cold. Her face is bloody and puffy. Her glazed over eyes are bloodshot.

“Thankfully, you didn't check those pills too closely. Sleeping pills kept you out for most of that first week so I could go back to town and sort some things out. Unfortunately, I must have made her suspicious. I should have known. She got too close last time.” It felt like Ted was just treating you like the crowd at one of his rallies now, giving one of his long speeches. “We used to have a problem with homeless people. People can only run so far from their past. A lot of them ended up here, hoping to disappear over the border. I couldn't have that. Not on my streets. The first couple were tough. They were big men. The women were easier. They followed me out here willingly. Any-who, I slipped you another dose a couple of nights ago to go back to town. The Sheriff was waiting up the road there. She knew I had property out here and was trying to catch me in the act. Dumb bitch. Like I would drive around with evidence. I disposed of everything…”

It was your turn to laugh. “Not everything.”

The beautiful smile, the one that he gave you on that first day, the one that made you feel special after years of heartache, spread across his face as his brow furrowed in confusion. His confusion increased as pain ripped through his chest and his gut. He sank to his knees, suddenly weak and cold. “You forgot to dispose of her gun.”

The day was cooling down. The sun was low. The breeze picks up as you pull the blanket around you. For a second you debate going into your home, the house that you bought with the money Ted had stashed at the cabin on one of his trips into town while you were drugged. Instead you sat to watch your daughter run around on the sand, your faithful dog hot on her heels. For the past three years of her life, you've been asked over and over again about her unusual name ‘Tesha’. With a smile you tell people it means ‘survivor’.

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#pedro pascal character fanfiction #ted garcia #ted garcia x f!reader

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alex-the-nonsensologist · 5 months

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Wish Rewrite

Thought I’d try my hand at rewriting Wish for fun. In my version, Asha is Magnifico's daughter. This gives them a more compelling relationship, a more plausible reason for Asha to find out his secrets, and officially makes Asha a royal princess to boot. Additionally, Magnifico is a sympathetic tragic villain, and Amaya has passed away. While I would love to see a fully evil version of Magnifico that’s better written, along with an evil Amaya (I LOVE @hah-studios‘s version here), my version of the story features a twist that heavily depends on his relationship with Asha.

Of course, this version would be 2D animated (or at the VERY LEAST have more ambitious and stylized CG that perfectly mimics 2D), and have songs written by people with actual musical theater backgrounds.

I am not a writer, so I apologize for the disjointed and clunky ideas.

Opening Storybook

“Once upon a time, in a world of magic, on an island in the Mediterranean Sea, there was a little kingdom called Rosas. The harvests were never quite plentiful, the town was barren and gray, and the work was long and hard. The people of Rosas knew life could be better, and spent many days wishing it were so.

“A young man, who called himself Magnifico, spent years studying magic to become a master sorcerer, in order to better the lives of those around him. He believed magic was the solution to make one’s deepest desire come true. The King of Rosas was impressed by Magnifico’s skills, as was the king's daughter Amaya. Magnifico and Amaya fell fast in love and soon wed, becoming the new king and queen of Rosas. Together, they brought joy and prosperity to the kingdom. It was a celebrated occasion when the queen announced she was with child.

“Unfortunately, the queen fell ill and died shortly after giving birth to the princess. The king was saddened by the loss of his wife, but he vowed to raise his daughter to become a worthy queen like her mother, and to better himself as a sorcerer so that such tragedy would never befall anyone ever again.”

Young Asha and Magnifico

Every Disney heroine this era has had an intro flashback of them as a child, so it only seems fitting Asha should get her own as well. We cut from the storybook to a scene of Magnifico, with a visible gray streak in his mostly brown hair, showing young Asha the stars before tucking her into bed.

She asks if anyone wishes on the stars anymore. Magnifico explains that people stopped doing that because the stars never answered. Perhaps the stars could be magic, but no one has ever been able to study them because they're so far away. Perhaps one day.

🎶 At All Costs is reframed as Asha's lullaby.

Transition

Asha finally falls asleep and Magnifico kisses her on the forehead. Camera pans up to the night sky before fading to black. For a short moment, there is complete darkness, then some very faint sparks of light. Someone is calling Asha's name, but their voice sounds very far away, before it’s suddenly clear and Asha wakes up; it is morning. We are now in the present and Asha is 17. This establishes that she's always had the same odd dream of a dark void with faint sparks for as long as she can remember.

Present Day Asha

Asha is studious and hardworking, but is frustrated that her father does not trust her with more important duties. Magnifico is training her in magic to succeed him, or at least he promised he would, but he seems hesitant to teach her more advanced magic than the basics. Asha has memorized every law textbook assigned to her, as well as a handful of magic textbooks she snuck from her father’s study.

Today Asha is going down to give a tour to new visitors, and she takes this very seriously. Dialogue implies Magnifico was hesitant to let her do this, but eventually gave in, hinting at how overprotective he is. Even more than wanting to prove her worth as a future ruler, Asha wants to connect to the people, and secretly wants a friend her own age.

Dahlia and Simon

In this version, Dahlia is older, and renamed to something like Yuki or Bianca to more subtly reference Snow White instead of Doc. Simon is also older and serves as Asha’s bodyguard, and references the Huntsman from Snow White instead of Sleepy. (Two new character designs would be created to reference Doc and Sleepy, and the seven teens are relegated to one-off townsfolk.) “Dahlia” and Simon are the only people Asha is close with, since her father is reluctant to let her leave the castle except on supervised royal duties. “Dahlia” serves as an auntie figure, and Simon is very understanding of Asha’s frustrations of being cooped up in the castle and occasionally lets her sneak off (but he always emphasizes safety and resourcefulness). She can confide in them when she feels she’s being ignored by her father.

🎶 Welcome to Rosas

The song would be cheery at first glance, but on closer inspection, it’s apparent Rosas has seen better days. There’s some cracks in the buildings, and the murals and statues have lost some of their shine. The townsfolk and Asha explain it’s just a bunch of minor hiccups, and they’re working on it.

The visitors ask if there are rules for wishes being granted. Asha and the townsfolk explain the basic rules (which include no wishing for death or harm, no making people fall in love, and no wishing for the dead to be brought back to life; as a shout-out to Aladdin). Also, Magnifico does not grant them right away, but needs time to make sure the work is done just right. After all, magic is a science as well as an art.

When the visitors ask the townsfolk about wishes that have previously been granted, they're told about relatively simple things, like being given a new food cart or a pet cat. This foreshadows what Magnifico does with their wishes. When the townsfolk are asked if they had ever wished for something more significant, they stumble for an answer. They say they're just content with what they have, but they seem unsure. Some of the townsfolk appear lethargic, and some even slightly fumble during their dance routine, but manage to make the big finale. They ask the visitors if they’ve been convinced to live in Rosas and are given a noncommittal answer, “Too soon to say. We'll just stay the night and see how it goes.” Asha brings the new visitors to her father. (Sabino’s character design can be re-used here as one of the visitors, as he’s no longer Asha’s grandfather in this version.)

Side note, I would love it if some of the townsfolk were given a few notable quirks to stand out. The artbook for this movie was lovely, but in the final film, all the townsfolk sort of blend together into genericness. The only one I can recall from the movie with clarity is the girl who wished to fly and meets “Peter Pan” in the end. Even Ecanto’s “We Don't Talk About Bruno” had memorable townsfolk and most only had a single line of dialogue or less. The seven teens would of course feature in this song number.

Present Day King Magnifico

Magnifico's hair is completely gray and white now, and he’s got wrinkles under his eyes. He seems burnt out from his job, but puts on a professional face for his subjects and visitors. Asha is the only one Magnifico shows any tenderness. But for the most part, Asha feels her father has been distant for a long time.

Magnifico thanks Asha for bringing the visitors and tries to dismiss her, but she argues she should start sitting in on the wish-granting sessions so that she can properly learn to take over from her father. This is an argument they have gone over many times before, and her father finally relents today.

The inciting incident

They begin the consultation, starting with Sabino. Magnifico specifies that the wisher must meditate and reach deep within themselves, and recall their desire with every fiber of their being, which manifests as a wish orb. In this version, while a wish orb contains the many memories of the wish in question, handing it over does not automatically erase the memory of it from the wisher.

When Asha and Sabino’s backs are turned, Magnifico does something to the wish. This hints that Magnifico steals wishes and plants false memories, so that the wisher is unaware that they were granted a false wish. In many cases, Magnifico grants a much simpler wish than what the wisher desired (This is hinted at earlier in “Welcome to Rosas”.). Magnifico finishes collecting wish orbs and tells everyone to come back later tonight for them to be granted. Asha wants to stay and help her father more, but he quickly dismisses her.

Later that night, when Magnifico grants a false wish for Sabino, and Asha is suspicious because she knows it is not what he actually wished for. (Sabino’s wish could still be the same one from the movie, perhaps refined to something like, “I wish to leave a lasting legacy that will inspire the next generation, and that I won’t be forgotten.” And when Magnifico grants the wish, it has been reduced to “Your wish to write a memorable song.” or something along those lines. Side note, in the movie I was totally expecting Asha to tell her grandfather that he already inspires her everyday, so his wish had in fact already been granted, so I was quite disappointed when that did not happen.)

Magnifico deflects and dodges the question, and tries to gaslight Asha into thinking she misheard or misinterpreted Sabino’s wish, and that this is why she’s not ready and should wait a while before she’s taught more magic, and basically shoos her away for the night. Asha is too frustrated at her father to dwell on the discrepancy she caught, and storms off.

🎶 This Wish

This song is reframed to be a more straightforward “I Want” song. In this version, Asha wishes to be taken seriously and supported by her father. She feels quite alone and wants someone to believe in her. “Please stop seeing me as a helpless child. …I wish someone would notice my potential.” Star descends.

Star

Would of course, follow the scrapped shapeshifter design from the artbook. I refer to Star as male here, but I am also open to the idea of them being designed as a genderless character. I also think it would be fun if Star could rapidly switch between art styles when he’s excited (2D classic, CG, 2D sketchbook, 2D Picasso, CG mimicking stop-motion / paper puppets, etc). Maybe he can also occasionally transform into his chibi form from the movie when sneaking around.

Star is very weird, almost like an alien. He seems to have general knowledge of various things on Earth, but can never seem to get them exactly right. For example, he never transforms into a normal animal. There’s always a fantastic element; instead of turning into a normal rabbit, he turns into a jackalope. In addition to having a personality inspired by Peter Pan and Genie, he is also a less chaotic version of The Collector from The Owl House and Discord from My Little Pony.

Star would also be incredibly powerful. Instead of only making animals and plants sing, he can also change their size, color, species in the blink of an eye (and maybe even change their art styles). He can spontaneously conjure random outfits from all time periods (including the future) for the animals to wear. He can also change the shape of the landscape; at one point, Asha could suddenly find herself in the middle of an elaborate maze that Star conjures to tease her.

🎶 “Star’s Song”

A new song inspired by Genie’s “Friend Like Me” and Maui’s “You’re Welcome”. Replaces “I'm A Star”, which I didn’t really like. (It had far too many words to poorly explain weird worldbuilding, and I wasn’t a fan of the rhythm. Though to be fair, I dunno if the worldbuilding in my version is all that strong either, lol.)

Star basically shows off all kinds of weird things he can do with various transformations and conjurings. He elaborates he comes from “someplace beyond the edge of the world” and that he’s often found Earth fascinating, but never found any reason to descend until he heard Asha. There’s something special about Asha he can’t quite put his finger on. This foreshadows the reveal.

Valentino

Quick detour, I don’t hate Valentino. I think there is great story and humor potential, especially in regards to his deep voice provided by Alan Tudyk. Unfortunately, in my version, I felt Asha’s sidekick needed to be someone who could quickly keep up with her. At first I thought about changing him into a bird, but then I thought it would be funnier if he was a pet goldfish and Star granted him the ability to fly and breathe out of water. Fish Valentino is happy to not be cooped up in a pool, but is fond of Asha and content to stay with her instead of flying off. For the most part, he offers moral support and perhaps helps Asha make friends with the other animals, but otherwise I don’t really have many ideas for what to do with him.

The Middle Part

Admittedly, I couldn't come up with a definitive idea for this part. Basically, there needs to be a reason for Magnifico to be occupied and unaware of Star’s presence; a reason why Asha does not immediately tell him about Star. One silly idea I had is Asha immediately tries to tell him, but we turn around and find Star’s conjurings and alterations gone and everything is back to normal. Magnifico brushes this off as Asha having a weird dream and tries to tuck her into bed. Star reappears later and explains he wants to run around and have fun first before being “studied” by Magnifico. Other ideas include:

Asha thinks Star is the answer to Rosas’s and her problems. Star agrees to grant various wishes, and let Asha take the credit, in hopes that her father will notice her and finally take her seriously and teach her real magic. Star thinks this will be a great opportunity to see more of Rosas and have fun, and Asha is frustrated enough with her father being dismissive of her to agree to this.

Alternatively, Star will teach her magic. Problem is, Star’s magic is wild and unlike anything Asha has studied in her father’s books. Star is incredibly powerful and Asha has to constantly ask him to tone it down. She runs around trying to fix the chaotic results of the wishes he grants, and this attracts the attention of her father.

Alternatively, with Star’s help, Asha grants small wishes, and fixes things around town. For the most part, everyone is grateful, except for one grumpy older citizen (maybe an older version of Gabo) who remembers “the good ol’ days” and thinks Rosas needs more competent rulers than Magnifico and Asha. An argument breaks out and attracts the attention of Magnifico. Alternatively, again, this could also be replaced with someone who instead wants a selfish wish like a mountains of riches, or to be king and replace Magnifico, and Asha refuses to grant it, leading to the argument.

🎶 “Not What I Expected”

Montage of Star and Asha granting people’s wishes. Includes lots of hijinks of Star overdoing things and Asha getting Star to undo them (For example, someone asks for a new cottage, and Star conjures a giant mansion with mismatching colors and architectural details, and upside-down rooms.). “Dahlia” and Simon help them to ease tension with the townsfolk, especially after Star reveals himself to be a non-human magical being. The seven teens can also appear here again in one-off gags. Along the way, Star and Asha experience the joy of community and begin falling in love with each other. Star slowly learns about being human and cares about the townsfolk as much as Asha does, and Asha is given the freedom to take charge and be responsible but is also surprised to find just how good it feels to finally connect with the townsfolk after being cooped up in the castle for so many years. Star and Asha both find each other fascinating and full of energy, and are glad for each other's support.

Perhaps there’s a dance with the townsfolk. When earlier during “Welcome to Rosas”, the townsfolk were lethargic and clumsy, here they are more spirited and coordinated. Star is incredibly happy and shines bright, and his light “melts” away Magnifico’s false memory spells. The townsfolk finally wake up and are confused as they recall their true wishes and do not understand why Magnifico lied to them. Asha and Star go to confront Magnifico.

Confronting Magnifico

Star senses something in Magnifico’s study. They find a secret room that holds the records of every wish Magnifico has ever stolen. Asha is in disbelief, but can’t ignore the fact that her father has been distant and negligent of the town for a long time. And maybe this would explain why Magnifico doesn’t teach her magic or let her do anything, because he had no intention of giving the throne to her. They find some documents about using wishes as life force, and conclude that maybe Magnifico was using everyone’s wishes to become immortal. Magnifico walks in on them.

🎶 “Everything I Do”

Replaces "This Is The Thanks I Get?!" and "Knowing What I Know Now" This new song is not quite a villain song. It’s a duet between Magnifico and Asha, of them arguing back and forth. Asha argues to her father that he’s lost sight of his responsibilities and that he only cares about staying in power; Magnifico argues that Asha is naive and could never understand that everything he does is for her benefit, and she argues back how could she when he never tells her anything.

The reveal

Magnifico had an impossible wish: to bring Asha back from the dead. Baby Asha in fact died almost immediately after birth. Magnifico could not bear losing both his wife and his daughter, and desperately wished for Asha to live again. However, no magic can bring the dead back to life. Instead, what ended up happening is a new baby was created from Magnifico’s wish orb. In his anguish, his desire was so strong it brought a new person into being. (Side note; this does in fact mean that the original baby is still dead, so Magnifico had to secretly bury a dead baby to hide the fact that Asha is an artificial human taking her place. Perhaps a bit too morbid of an implication for a modern Disney movie, but my mind likes to go to weird places.)

At first Magnifico was happy. It was a miracle come true. But over time, the magic would run out and Asha would begin to fade. Magnifico used his own magic and tried to wish again to fuel Asha's form, but it took a toll on his health and age. This explains why his hair turned white so quickly. So eventually he began using his subjects' wishes. The more heartfelt and significant the wish is, the more powerful it is, which is why Magnifico ends up replacing the townsfolk’s wishes with simpler things and false memories that didn’t require much magic.

As Asha grew older and became a more complex human, more wishes were needed to fuel her. This is why Magnifico refuses to teach her magic, because he is afraid that she would accidentally use up the magic that makes up her being instead of the magic that a regular sorcerer would draw from the environment around them.

Magnifico grew more desperate to draw in new citizens to get more wishes, while also exhausting more wishes from the townsfolk already living in Rosas, leading them to become lethargic. Keeping track of so many wishes and false memories to cover his tracks took a toll on Magnifico’s mental state. Also a growing bitterness that he has to live with this burden that no else could ever know, and perhaps resenting the people of Rosas for getting to live worry-free.

This is why Star answered Asha's call: she is a living wish who made a wish of her own.

Asha's death

Magnifico and Star fight. Asha gets caught in the crossfire trying to stop it. It’s a heart-wrenching moment as glowing cracks form all over Asha’a body. She looks to her father with absolute terror in her eyes as cracks spread across her face. Her legs snap. Magnifico runs to his daughter a second too late and just fails to catch her body as she disintegrates into stardust.

Star stares in disbelief as Magnifico screams in agony: “YOU COULD HAVE LET ME SAVE HER!” He looks like he’s about to attack Star in revenge, but quickly gives up and falls to his knees.

“...Nothing matters anymore.”

There is no need for an evil book as a lazy plot device. Years of paranoia and bitterness have reached a breaking point with Asha’s death, and now Magnifico’s magic is corrupted green by his anguished heart. He transforms into a monstrous dragon-like creature (in homage to Maleficent). This creature is blind with rage, and in a great roar it bursts from the castle, causing it to collapse. The creature summons storm clouds that cover the sky and fierce green lightning that strikes the town, destroying buildings and terrorizing the townsfolk. Monster Magnifico also spreads a green fog that drains everyone’s energy. As the good king he brought joy and hope, but now as a monster he brings only despair. (Inspired by Madoka Magica, when magical girls turn into witches.)

Star attempts to stop Monster Magnifico while also shielding the townsfolk from harm. Rubble from the buildings collapse and bring the camera to black.

Beyond the Edge of the Universe

A short moment of complete darkness and silence.

Slowly, faint sparks shine in the darkness. Asha’s voice weakly asks, “Where am I? ... Who am I?”

The faint sparks grow into a kaleidoscope of colors. Asha has been reduced to a single spark. Her consciousness floats in the chaotic void beyond time and space, where Star comes from. She quickly feels overwhelmed in this sea of color and sound. It’s a great big cacophony of voices all jumbled together, like musical instruments all playing off-key all at once.

A blue light in the distance grows brighter and closer before it reveals itself to be the Blue Fairy from Pinocchio (Disney's first wish-granter). She welcomes Asha’s consciousness. “Hello, little one.” She explains this is a space between worlds, where the emotions of humanity reach far across time and space.

“Listen carefully…” The Blue Fairy helps Asha’s consciousness tune into the voices of the void to hear the words clearly. These voices will be familiar to the audience.

Asha’s consciousness hears the hopeful, longing voices of Snow White, Ariel, Hercules, Rapunzel, and Moana. (This can include snippets from their “I Want” songs.)

She hears the wicked laughter and the dark, selfish wishes of Maleficent, Ursula, Jafar, Scar, and Facilier. (This can include snippets from various villain songs.)

She hears the sad voices of Cinderella, Belle, Quasimodo, Tiana, and Mirabel at their lowest points. ("There's nothing left to believe in. Nothing." and other such lines.)

(Yes, this basically establishes a Disney multiverse. As I’m writing this, I think visually this could resemble the Ahtohallan scene in Frozen 2, but in space instead of in ice.)

(February EDIT: I randomly thought it was also be a neat idea if all magic in the universe originates from this realm. Pieces of magic fall into the different worlds and adapt to make their own unique rules depending on the world. For example, Cinderella's fairy godmother could come from here, as well as the drop of sunlight that grows into Rapunzel's flower. A drop of magic could fallen into a certain world, becoming a trident and transforming the local sea life into merfolk, who would then go on to build Atlantica. Little sparks seeping to random worlds could also explain certain things in otherwise non-magical worlds, such as why toys and video games come to life.)

Not many humans come here after death, but Asha is a special case, as she is literally made up of hopes and dreams. She is spontaneous life (The Blue Fairy of course has experience in this department.). Asha’s consciousness finds herself moved by all the voices of the dreamers and wishers throughout the universe, and thinks she wouldn’t mind going to sleep forever in this void. She just feels so tired. She almost fades away until she hears Star's voice, her father's voice, and the people of Rosas whose wishes made up her very being. She remembers being human. The spark of Asha’s consciousness shines and she returns to her human form. The Blue Fairy asks her, “What will you do now, little one?”

Asha hears the anguished cries of the people of Rosas in trouble, and she decides she must return to help them. The Blue Fairy smiles, and tells her, “Before you go, there’s someone who’d like to meet you.”

She gestures behind her to reveal Queen Amaya and the baby Asha. Asha is stunned to see them, but is overcome with emotion, and Amaya embraces her.

“I am so proud of you, Asha. I wish I could have stayed and been your mother. Please, take care of your father for me.” Amaya gives her a kiss on the forehead, and the baby Asha gives her a happy giggle. The Blue Fairy tells Asha to close her eyes and think of home.”

Return to Rosas

Asha is reborn in a great big burst of light in the sky and gains a new dress made of starlight. Monster Magnifico has not noticed her and is still rampaging the kingdom. Asha sees Star has been defending the citizens, but is exhausted, and Magnifico finally manages to strike him down. Finished with Rosas, Monster Magnifico turns to the coast, intent on continuing his destruction to the mainland.

Asha descends to help Star get up. He is surprised to see her, but her appearance reinvigorates him, and explains the situation to her. They turn to the frightened people of Rosas and promise them that they will fix this. They take hold of each other’s hand and fly to confront Monster Magnifico.

🎶 Combined This Wish and At All Costs Reprise

Monster Magnifico does not recognize Asha, and tries to strike her, but she and Star conjure a magical shield. They dodge lightning and repel Magnifico’s fire breath. Asha begins singing, determined to reach out to her father. There is a moment where it appears Magnifico has gained the upper hand.

“Dahlia” and Simon are inspired and lead the townsfolk into the song. Asha and Star, combined with the hope of the people of Rosas, shine brighter than ever before, dissipating the fog and melting away Magnifico's monstrous form. The storm clouds are cleared away in a shower of sparks. Asha grabs her father’s unconscious body and holds him tight in her arms as she slowly descends to the ground and sings her lullaby. Magnifico is very disheveled (maybe even a little bit of fanservice with his top torn off), but is otherwise alright. He soon comes to.

"...Amaya? ... ASHA!" Magnifico is in disbelief, but overjoyed to see his daughter alive and well. He embraces her and bursts into tears. “I thought I lost you! I thought you were gone!”

"I was. I disappeared beyond the edge of the universe. But I came back!"

Rebuilding Rosas

They turn to the townsfolk. Asha gives a speech about how not every wish should be granted, but that does not mean they’re not worth pursuing. It just requires careful consideration, and being open to finding a something new. (Someone with better writing skills please step in to write this speech without making it too sappy.)

Magnifico is greatly ashamed of the harm he has caused and steps down as king. Asha understands if the townsfolk do not want to see them anymore, but promises to do what she can to help them rebuild, and to help them pursue their dreams in an ethical manner. Star concurs. The townsfolk, having been touched by her earnestness and genuine emotions from when she helped grant their smaller wishes, embrace her with open arms and express that they would love if she remains their ruler. They are hesitant to forgive Magnifico, but think it's for the best that he be allowed to stay with his daughter.

Cut to some time later, and there is scaffolding all throughout town and the castle. Star and Asha have been using their magic to help with the rebuilding, with mixed results. Progress has been slow, but the people are hopeful. Asha and Star hold daily consultations with the people who were granted false wishes. Some are easy to grant, while others Asha advises that they can pursue on their own. (The girl who wished to fly meeting "Peter Pan" can be re-used here. I honestly thought that was a clever bit. While she could easily fly with magic, I like that the movie implies she'll find more meaning in learning to build a flying machine.)

Asha visits the original baby Asha’s grave. She renames herself. Perhaps to something like Stella? “I loved being Asha, but now I think it’s time I return your name back to you. Thanks for the loan.” She conjures some flowers for her and Amaya's grave, and goes to join the celebration.

🎶 “Finale Party Song”

Asha/Stella, Star, the townsfolk, and even Magnifico join in on the grand finale. Asha/Stella and Star kiss, and Hidden Mickey fireworks light up the sky.

End Credits

While the end credits were cute, I would revise them to include characters from the missing movies (the package films, The Rescuers, Black Cauldron, Meet the Robinsons, etc.). I would also change some of the character selections (For example, I'd have the three kittens represent The Aristocats, instead of just Marie by herself. It always annoys me to no end when they market Marie by herself. I'd also swap out Yokai/Professor Callahan with Baymax. What an odd decision to have Yokai of all characters represent BH6.). And also have some of the characters be animated instead of just still images. (I liked for Cinderella's credit they had a trail of sparkles surround her, but it would have been even better to actually see her transform from her ripped dress to the ballgown.)

Closing notes

There are a lot of things in my version that could use some more polishing, like the build-up to Magnifico's reveal about Asha. There should be at least one scene that foreshadows that the times when Magnifico tucks Asha into bed is when he magically absorbs the wishes into her to fuel her.

In addition to the whole wish theme, I thought it would be neat to also include themes of legacy, to tie in to Disney's 100 Anniversary. Disney Animation has come a long way, but is still capable of making big missteps. With many of the old talent gone, it's understandable that passing the torch to the next generation would make anyone nervous, but despite it all, I do have faith that Disney Animation can make a comeback. They've been through low points before; we just have to wait and see.

#wish rewrite #includes a plot twist and a connection to the Disney multiverse #disney wish #wish 2023 #wish movie #princess asha #king magnifico #star boy #star x asha #asha x star #wish critical

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cloudninetonine · 1 year

Text

Have some sorta whump fic (I think that's what they're called?) because I have had this idea microwaving for a few months

Warnings: Talk of broken arm, description of broken arm and resetting it,

“Don’t fucking touch me!”

You’re like a wild animal, is all Wild can think.

You back away from them all, making yourself as big as possible- as loud as you can. Your scream echoes through the trees as it catches the wailing wind from the earlier storm that had left them with this mess- and with you an oddly bent arm that was most certainly broken.

“I promise, it will be quick.”

Warriors promise holds truth, he wouldn’t lie about something so serious. Or would he? Wild knew that to well, he thought about the poor bystander caught up by the black blooded. A pool of crimson surrounded the poor traveler's body, her tears sullying her paling cheeks as dimming eyes focused on that of the Captain as he tightly held her hand in her last few moments.

“It will be okay, everything will be alright.”

Her last breath was something that weighed heavy on the man’s shoulders, Wild knew that all too well.

“You’re a fucking liar, Wars!” Desperate and scratching, Wild knew that your throat felt raw from all the screaming. Impressive how you held out, your refusal to have anyone be near your broken appendage was almost as admirable as it was frustrating. “Stay the fuck away! I’ll deal with it myself!”

“And how do you plan to do that?” Four asks seriously, trying to be the voice of reason, “(Name), we have to reset it.”

“I’ll just drink a red potion!”

“That won’t work, it will just heal uneven-”

Your free hand comes to slam against your temple in your attempt to block out their reason, a screaming repeat of the words “shut up, shut up, shut up!” sliding off your tongue as you backed further and further into the small landslide you have initially fallen from. It wasn’t your fault, the rain had blinded you, they should have stopped earlier but they had trodden on in hopes of finally stopping at the next stable to properly rest.

“The pain is only temporary.” Time’s tone held sympathy but his words certainly didn’t help. “Once we set it, the potion will completely numb the pain-”

The panicked tears in your eyes hurt Wild to a physical point. Your always told him you were afraid of pain, even as that guiding ball of light within his chest you were honest about your distaste for the sensation. Pain was painful, a little bit sucked but a lot of it sucked more- if you could avoid pain then you would, even if it only brought worse consequences, you would do anything to avoid pain.

In this moment, he could tell you were trying to stall as long as you can, but he also knew that if it kept going, then this wouldn’t go anywhere. This needed to be stopped and it needed to be stopped now.

“It’s okay, let’s just gather ourselves.” Hyrule smiled towards you warmly, but the spark in his eyes held something else; he was conspiring, but more from concern than anything else. “We won’t touch your arm, okay?”

Your looked frantic. “What? Why the switch up? What are you doing?”

“Nothing- nothing, I promise.” He stepped forward, his hands glowing gently with the power of his healing as a warm smile grew on his face. “Here, I’ll take some of the pain away, okay?”

“Four said it’ll heal weird-” Indeed and Four was looking at the traveller in an odd way. “What are you doing, Hyrule? What are you going to do?”

“Nothing.”

“You promise?” He went to speak when you reached out your free hand, pinky finger out. “Pinkie promise, right fucking now, do it, Hyrule.”

Hyrule was a good liar. Surprising, being part fairy, but not as surprising when you knew the kind of horrors that laid out back in his time. To lie, cheat and steal was to be safe in his time. To become a trickster was the closest to survival- Hyrule was a trickster. Hyrule had lied, he had cheated and he had stole all in the name of survival. Wild knew that, Legend knew that, a lot of the men here knew that, one too many bonfires would tumble any secrets from a mans lips.

So, Wild noticed when Hyrule’s other hand came to move behind his back, watched how his fingers crossed over just as he interlaced his pinky into yours. “I promise.”

Wild slipped a little closer, Warriors slipped a little closer and as did Twilight.

Hyrule had moved behind you, your hawk eyes watching every movement of his and not focused as the three other men got closer to you.

Wild hoped you forgave them for this, hoped your forgave him for this betrayal.

“Hyrule, why isn’t it working?” The light hand vanished, his hand still gently hovering but not there- where you needed it. “Link-”

You noticed the others.

And you shrieked.

It wasn’t much of a fight but you certainly did try- some blood dripped carefully down Twilight’s face as he pinned your flailing legs down to the muddy grass below. Wild held your free hand in a tight grip, Hyrule brushing back your hair while Warrior’s held the broken limb carefully, his eyes sad as he watched you with sympathy.

The five kept back and waited, not wanting to crowd your already panicking self as you sobbed and gagged, bile threatening to fight it’s way out of your throat from fear.

“It’ll be quick, I promise.”

“Fuck you, Hyrule! Fuck you!” You wailed, shaking your head desperately, “You promised! You promised!!!”

“I know.” Warriors gave him a nod and Hyrule brushed some more hair back, “I’m sorry, I’m a liar.”

“You are, you fucking-”

SNAP!

…

You inhaled.

And you screamed.

#linked universe #linked universe x reader #lu #linked universe imagine #player au #a player's aid

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knightmareaceblue · 8 months

Text

I had an idea for an animation vs. DnD type thing. Don't know if I'm going to do anything with it, but I liked the concept and characters I came up with for it, so I decided to draw them.

Some notes:

-TSC is the DM, and thus doesn't have a character. Green's character Limerick, however, has a twin sister in his backstory, so with Green's permission Second designed her to look like them. It looks like the two have matching headbands, but actually Limerick is just wearing Melody's. :(

-As a DM, Second is very good at weaving together a world and story, and successfully ties everyone's backstories in with the main plot. They are also, however, a bit controlling and easily annoyed. Red and Purple often get things thrown at them by Second for going too off track or just being plain stupid.

-Blue's character Azure (neutral good) is technically the party leader, having been the one to gather the party and issue the main quest. They are not, however, very good at keeping the party on track. Especially Spark and Amethyst.

-Limerick is a true neutral bard that got double classed as a fighter when the sticks realized they didn't have a lot of physical fighters in their party. He's also the most stand-offish member of the group.

-Yellow's character Spark was originally going to be a chaotic evil character, but some pouting and pleading from Red and Blue caused them to relent and change to chaotic neutral. They were a little annoyed about this, but whatever.

-All of the characters' backstories take a little influence from their actual lives. Red's druid/ranger Carmine (chaotic good), however, is the one where it's most obvious, having spent much of their childhood being possessed by a forest god before breaking free, fighting them, and then the two coming to a truce and the forest god training Carmine in the art of the druid. It may look like he's wearing fur pants, but they're actually made of leaves.

-When being handed a character sheet for a rouge, Purple demanded to know why everyone assumed they'd pick that class. Red, who had been sent to get them, responded, "Well, what else would you be?" Purple couldn't respond and just huffily filled out the character sheet. Their character Amethyst is a chaotic neutral.

-MT was a last minute edition to the game, having been guilt-tripped/emotionally manipulated by Purple into joining. His barbarian Bronze seems like a chaotic neutral, but they're actually lawful neutral: They just follow barbarian law instead of the law of the country. TSC is the only one aware of this, and silently finds it hilarious.

Some Shenanigans:

-Each party member has their own motive to join Azure's quest to save the world: Bronze because of honour and also this kid's stupid and will get themselves killed if they let them go alone, Carmine because the world-ending quest has put the forest and the forest god in danger and he wants to save them, Amethyst for the promise of safety and security afterwords, Spark because research for her magical weapons, and Limerick because Azure agreed to help him with a personal matter in exchange.

-Limerick originally didn't start out with a cape. Upon realizing every other character had a cape however (Yellow tried to argue that Spark's poncho thing didn't count, but Green said it counted in spirit), they decided Limerick had to have one too. TSC said that since character creation is over, they'd have to buy a cape at the nearby town. This caused Green to get annoyed and reject every cape they 'found' in the shops. It went on like this for a while until TSC got bored and turned it into an insane side quest, complete with a vampire mafia. Limerick staked the boss vampire and stole their cape.

-Bronze is a hunter; Carmine is a vegan. They get into quite a few arguments because of this and more than once Carmine would sabotage Bronze's hunts and get them into trouble with whatever the highest level monster in the area was. Consequentially, Bronze is a little better at stealth than your average barbarian.

-Purple has a bad habit of taking inter-party conflict too personally, and at some points gets legitimately upset. They repeated have to be reminded that it's just a game, and occasionally Second will call timeout for them to cool off.

-Every weapon except Limerick's lute has a magical gem on it to enhance it's abilities. Spark has stolen the gem off every weapon except Amethyst's Golden Moon Dagger (which they can never pass the check to steal) at least once for their magical experiments.

-The most loyal, trustworthy, and responsible member of the party is Bronze. Everyone but Purple finds this surprising. The second most is Azure, but they're incredibly naive and keep getting the party into trouble by trying to help people.

-Yellow wants their character to betray the party at some point, and then have a redemption arc. Second is the only one who knows about this, and they're all for it.

-Green is convinced the campaign will have a happy ending, because 'Sec is a sucker.' He isn't wrong.

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that-ari-blogger · 4 months

Text

Psychology of... Willow?

When I set out to do this series, I had a few episodes noted down where I would use the analysis of that post to look into one specific character and their psychology, writing, and the cinematography surrounding that character. For example, I still plan on my analysis of Labyrinth Runners delving into Gus.

But one such episode that I had noted down was Understanding Willow. I planned on examining its eponym's struggle with bullying and how that impacted her mental health.

But this episode is more complicated than that, and I'm not entirely sure that it's about Willow.

Let me explain.

SPOILERS AHEAD

One criticism of The Owl House is that it starts slow, and while my contrarian streak leads me to disagree with that, it is difficult to argue that the series doesn't abruptly gain speed with Understanding Willow. The animation, visual metaphors and storytelling, and the direction all skyrocket.

This is the episode where the series brings its complex storytelling to the forefront, and a key example of this is that this is about Amity as much as it is about Willow.

The premise of this episode is memory. What if memories are tangible? Maybe they are tampered with, or damaged? What if memories could be seen by others? What power does a picture have? Put a pin in this.

In February 2022, Steam Forge games released the Dark Souls Role Playing Game, and bear with me, I promise this is relevant. It is based off the Dark Souls series and the Dungeons and Dragons 5th Edition system. But I would argue that it pales in comparison to Emanuele Galletto's Dark Souls Unofficial Role-Playing Game.

Galletto's system is a fascinating take on the series it is based on, and is surprisingly balanced, but I'm not here to give a review. Instead, I would like to focus on the rules for humanity and their implications.

Essentially, because death and rebirth are common in the game, in order for stakes to mean anything, Galletto implemented an idea called Sparks of Memory. When a character dies, they lose their memories. These can be sacrificed in exchange for abilities upon level ups, or they can be established through the game and through the adventure itself.

"When you die, you lose a Spark of Memory: a piece of your being will be forever lost, and you will be a step closer to losing yourself... With time, you might become an entirely different person, driven by a strong will but completely changed by the trauma of death and reshaped by your journey throughout this accursed land."

This system is called Humanity, the passage above is taken from a page literally entitled "Loss of Humanity", which means something, right? But weirdly enough, this is a system that forces optimism. Pessimism and fear that the world will only get worse are not particularly good motivators. Anger and grief at specific moments are all well and good, but at the end of the day, when they leave your character, why are you still moving forwards? Hope.

When I was playing this, I genuinely watched the power of friendship develop into a major force in the campaign, as the characters reassured each other and formed these memories together. If memories are who you are, then people who remember you are equally important in keeping you in check. These were people who developed into relentlessly determined heroes, with a grim focus on making the world a better place, together.

I have never really cared about the science fiction debate of what constitutes humanity, but this is a genuinely interesting take on the question that I highly recommend experiencing yourself.

But why have I just spent almost 400 words talking about Dark Souls? Because Understanding Willow displays some of the same ideas. Memories are what makes Willow who she is, and when those get damaged, she runs into problems. What is fascinating, is how much of Willow's memories were formed in relation to others. Her fathers (hey, gay male representation in cartoons, don't see that often) feature often, but so does Amity.

Bullying is one of those almost universal experiences in life. If you haven't been a subject of it, you have probably witnessed it.

Studies have been trying to ascertain the impact of bullying on mental health since at least the 1970s, with the oldest source I could find being Dan Olweus' 1973 Victims and Bullies: Research on School Bullying, although that was written in Swedish, and I haven't been able to find a copy of that original book. It was allegedly published in English in 1978, retitled Aggression in the Schools: Bullies and Whipping Boys, of which the internet archive has a copy that is available.

Research into the subject has continued into the modern day and has been updated to modern scientific and psychological practices. For example, this study was published in 2021, and concluded that: "Reports of mental health problems were four times higher among boys who had been bullied compared to those not bullied. The corresponding figure for girls was 2.4 times higher."

What this means is that it is important to understand Willow in the context of Amity, and it is important for Amity to witness that effect directly in order to change herself.

Sorry, wrong image. How did that get in here? That's from a game called Melatonin, by the way.

There we go.

So, memories in the Owl House are tangible. They can be changed, or erased artificially, and "artificially" is the key word here, because memories can change naturally. A rare few people are infallible in that regard. But Willow is making an attempt to forget her life with Amity, she turns it away and avoids talking about it, rather than confront her past.

"That's my motto after all. Out of sight, out of mind."

It's notable that the illusion teacher governs the memory system, meaning that memories in this series use the same rules as the rest of illusion magic. I have another post going into detail about that, but TLDR: Illusions have an impact on real life in the same way that anything else can. They aren't representations of lies, but consequences. You can change yourself to match your true self, for example, but you need to understand what that means for everyone and everything around you.

So, memories associated with consequences? What a strange correlation, I wonder if that means anything.

You would think that the tragic memory would be of the bullying, right? A single moment crystalised into something awful, but what Willow wants to escape from, and what scares Amity the most, is the simple fact that these two used to be friends. It becomes a betrayal.

I think that the Inner Willow was a master stroke of the writing, because it gives agency to Willow's subconscious. It says the quiet things out loud in a way that Amity cannot get away from, and it is a creature that she will have to confront. It acts as a personification of consequence.

"Love, sadness, fear. I used to be a being made of all emotions. But ever since you set Willow's mind on fire, all I've been able to feel is anger."

There is a neat little double meaning here. Amity literally started burning Willow's memories of happiness accidentally, but she also did it figuratively a long time ago. The betrayal poisoned every other memory that Willow had of her and turned it sour, their relationship was shattered, perhaps permanently, and Willow suffered.

This actually links back to Galletto's Dark Souls. In the same passage where the mechanics are explained, Galletto gives this explanation:

"A Spark of Memory is something that keeps you human: funny thing is, they are rarely happy memories. Turns out pain, anger and regret take deep roots into our hearts, and the strength of these emotions can keep us going even when our body is broken"

Galletto isn't entirely false here, pain and suffering are powerful motivating forces, they can keep propelling you forwards. The Inner Willow would certainly agree with that sentiment. But I don't, and I don't think The Owl House as a whole, or even this episode, do either.

I mentioned above that gameplay displayed a contradicting view on powerful emotions, but Understanding Willow also argues this point. Anger is strong, don't get me wrong, but love can win out, and it does so through empathy. The thing that saves Willow in the end is Amity's declaration of understanding and desire to do better.

The strongest emotion that you will ever feel, is hope. Hope for a better tomorrow, hope for a better today, or hope that a relationship that you had thought doomed might be reconcilable. Hope will win out. Light, do not falter.

But, I said that this was an episode about Amity as well, and if you have seen this episode, you know exactly which scene I am going to talk about.

This scene pulls zero punches. From the fading away memories of young Amity and Willow to reveal their cynical, older selves; to the dialogue and the acting; to the construction of Amity's conversation with her parents. This is phenomenal.

This is the memory that started it all, this is the betrayal. Whoever did the expressions on the memories needs a prize because that is half of why this works so well. The other half of why this works is the lines, both what is said, and how it is delivered.

"I just... I just can't get the spells right" "Well, yes. That... that is why. Because you're a weakling."

I keep saying this is a betrayal because it is. Friendships are built on trust and if that gets broken, good luck getting it back.

"Then you let your new friends pick on her, all because you thought she was weak."

It's important to understand what the Inner Willow is saying here. She's not complaining about the belittling or ambition, she's holding Amity accountable for her inaction. When Amity stood by and did nothing while Bosha bullied Willow, she was complicit in that bullying. Just because she didn't say anything doesn't make it any less her fault, for encouraging it by laughing, or by not standing up for Willow when she needed it.

Actions have consequences, but so does the choice to do nothing.

The camera pans back into the door and gives just a smidge of context, and there are some bold visual choices going on here.

First up, the limiting of the space makes amity feel boxed in and trapped, and it evokes a feeling of looking through a keyhole. You only see a fraction of what is going on, but it is enough to know what is happening.

Second, Amity is the only thing in colour here, meaning that she is still the centre point of the frame, despite being tiny.

Third, the Blights aren't shown in detail, only their shadows. It is their legacy that they leave behind on display, the shadows that they cast. But its also not the point. Showing the visual designs of the Blights would take away impact from what they are saying. This is a simple shot so that you understand exactly what is happening.

"Good children don't squabble, dear. Sever your ties with Willow, and if you don't..." "Then we will."

Once again there is some reframing of Willow's life. Where Amity's betrayal tainted the memories of their times together, the Blights' words reframe everything after that point as out of her control.

"We'll make sure she never gets admitted into Hexide."

Amity is trying to protect Willow, and the actions that cause this episode's conflict become reframed as well. Amity wants Willow to forget her but doesn't comprehend how much of Willow's life was centred around her. She doesn't yet understand the consequences of her actions.

Final Thoughts

Willow and Amity are fascinating characters, and the depth that this episode brings to their actions and interactions sheds light on the series up to this point, and the series going forwards.

Willow has such a low level of self esteem that she is willing to hurt herself to support others, and this episode goes into why. But to that, I offer some advice. When I was researching this, I came across a motivational image by yogaspace.com. I had to search for the message's original source, which ended up being Penny Reid's Beard In Mind, but it reads as follows:

"Don’t set yourself on fire trying to keep others warm.”

Take from that what you will.

Next week, I will be looking at Enchanting Grom Fright, so stick around if you want my thoughts on that.

Previous - Next

#rants #literary analysis #literature analysis #character analysis #what's so special about...?#the owl house #toh #dark souls ttrpg #dark souls role playing game #bullying #amity blight #willow park #toh amity #toh willow #the owl house amity #the owl house willow #understanding willow #long post

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frracturedjaw · 1 year

Note

Hello! Can I request a Bo Sinclair x GN Reader Oneshot based off this “When I look at you all I can see are the mistakes we’re going to make (The future’s so bright)” ?

I imagine it to be a fluffy, reassurance one shot where Bo is so scared at the idea of loving someone but he tries and he makes a lot of mistakes. The reader then assures him that his efforts aren’t unnoticed and that it’s completely okay because even if what he’s trying to do/express doesn’t come out right, they know he loves them. Mistakes are simply bounds of love for the two :)

warning(s): alcohol, canon typical violence, unhealthy relationship dynamics (reference to reader having initially been a potential victim before entering relationship w bo)

a/n: i know you said fluffy but for me bo is so deliciously fucked up i had to make it a little dark :’) it gets fluffy at the end i promise lol

it’s been raining all day, so you’ve been stuck inside with each other for too long. him pestering you while you try to cook dinner is the spark that lights the dynamite.

“you sure that’s cooked all the way through?” he asks from the table a few feet away, eyeing the spitting meat on the pan.

“I’m sure.” you reply amicably.

“it weren’t on there for that long.”

“you saw me stick it with the thermometer just a moment ago. I’m sure.” you repeat.

“just wanna be sure,” his voice jumps higher in a way that feels condescending. you know better than to point that out, though. “you know what I’d do if you tried to feed me raw meat.”

“I know plenty well.” you’re quiet now, hoping to keep him from getting upset before anything’s even happened.

“you think so?” he stands from the table and wanders up near the counter beside you.

“mmh.” you reply noncommittally.

“what’s that? speak up, doll. you know how much I hate it when you mumble.”

“I’m not in the mood right now, Bo. I’ll let it sit a little longer if it’ll make you happy.”

“not in the mood, huh?” he hums, hand resting on the handle of the pan, shifting the meat around with a gentle shake. the cords of muscle in his forearm tighten. “I’m not in the mood for the fuckin’ backchat, now, either.”

“Bo.” you’ve never raised your voice at him before. not until now, at least. if he wants to try a proper relationship with you, he’s gonna have to try treating you like a person, too, you decide. “quit trying to start shit.”

the screech of him pressing the cast iron pan down and sliding it across the burner makes you screw your eyes shut. that’s when he decides to tip it out on the floor.

hot oil and liquefied fat spatter out onto the tiles and across your bare feet.

you’re out the side door and sprinting into the rain before he has time to grab you. the blinding pain of your burning skin is only made worse by the pelting rain. the field you’re in has some kind of bramble that keeps slashing across your legs, but the new blood doesn’t register over the animal compulsion to get away get away get far far far away.

even when he’s already fifty feet out from the house and into the pour, bo can hear you sobbing. it’s a guttural, ragged breath in, whine-shriek out that he remembers from your time under the garage. at one point he’d convinced himself he would never let you make that sound again. and look how well that’s going, he thinks. he stops and turns to go get the truck. you’re not faster than him, but he needs to be sure you won’t get out too far. he needs to.

when headlights flood the field with stark shadows, you drop to the ground. the grass is tall enough to cover you, but the path of fallen plants you’ve left in your wake will clue him in instantly. cold doom settles in your belly. your brief stint of freedom is already over. the blinding pain of the burns surfaces at the front of your mind again, and your face is hot with tears. streaked with mud, you stand again. the truck rumbles to a halt some ten feet away. you wait for his boots to hit the ground before you start running again. despite this, he’s on you in seconds. Bo barrels into you like an ox, shouldering you back to the ground. you land on your arm hard and do not move.

you do not move for the entire drive back. not when he gathers you in his arms so delicately, like he’s holding a porcelain doll. not when he pulls a wool blanket around your sodden body and bundles you into the passenger seat. not when he carries you piggy-back up to the bathtub, not when he pulls away your wet clothes and murmurs to himself about the state you’re in.

it’s when he reaches into the tub, for your hand to hold in his, that’s when you slap him away. he flinches away, lips pressed into a thin line.

“I-“

“what do you want?” you can’t think of anything else to ask. first he slaughters your friends, then he decides to spare you. he tortures you within an inch of your life, then decides to keep you like a pet. he locks you in a bedroom and treats you like shit, then changes his mind and convinces you you’re his lover. you can’t think of what he’s trying to do this time. he is silent for a frustratingly long time before he responds.

“… I wanted you to come home.”

“I was home, Bo! and you drove me out! I don’t know what else you want from me!” you splash the dirtied water at him on impulse, then immediately brace against what you know will come next.

you know it, and you see it start, too. you see his fist curl, the one with the thick silver ring on it that leaves the darkest bruises. you see it jerk towards your head, then stop. he drops his hand to his lap and seems almost ashamed. bath water drips from his jaw.

“it was… not right. I’m… I know that well enough.”

“no shit,” you scoff, scrubbing idly at the dirt on your arms.

“yeah.” his hand comes to rest on the edge of the tub. you don’t move, but are just as ready to crush it into the enameled iron. “I see myself doing shit that ain’t right all the time. I see it and I still keep doin’ it.”

“mmh.”

“i wanted to talk with you. at dinner. and… i wanted to break something, too. i’m always wanting to fuck with something. you… were just the closest thing around.”

“guess so.”

silence. the quiet sloshing of warm water.

“i wish the loving things part of me was bigger than the breaking things part.”

“i wish it was, too.”

he doesn’t come to bed. after drying off and laying motionless in the dark, you go to find him downstairs. for what reason, you aren’t very sure, yourself.

when you find him on the couch, he’s smaller than usual. he has his knees pulled up near his chest and his arms tucked close. the TV bathes the cluttered room in blue light that only makes his flushed face more apparent. he’s drank himself to sleep.

you reach out to touch his shoulder, and the moment his eyes open, his lip quivers.

“sweetpea,” he whispers, voice breaking. “i’m sorry i hurt you.”

“you being a sloppy drunk doesn’t make me believe you.”

“i know.” he drops his head back to the couch, still gazing at you. his eyes fill with tears, and you almost go back upstairs then and there, because you’re starting to feel bad. “i wouldn’t believe me either. papa raised a liar.”

“you know we don’t talk about your papa for a reason, Bo.”

“yeah, but it’s true.” his voice wavers, and his hand swings out in search of yours. you grab it, if only to keep him from knocking a bottle onto the floor and making a mess. “he raised a liar and a killer and a shit person.”

“anyone would turn out that way, growing up in this house.” you offer.

“this in’t an excuse, though,” he points to the scars on his wrist. “i chose to pour that hot shit out, not him.”

“that means you can choose not to, next time, also.”

“but nobody’s that patient. she’s so sweet to me, but i only got so many second chances.” he whimpers, seeming to forget he’s speaking to you. “i wouldn’t blame her if she ran out on me.”

“i think that so long as you keep opening up to her, like you did in the bath today, she’ll stick around.”

“mmh.” he hums, eyes drooping shut, but his hand remains firmly in yours. “i s’pose.”

“goodnight, Bo.” you have to peel his fingers off you and lay his hand against his chest to get him to let go.

“g’night.” you hear him sigh as you ease up the stairs once more.

you hear him tiptoe up the stairs a few hours later. you can only imagine it’s early-early morning, judging by the dusty purple sky out the window. he’s painfully slow about setting his boots down at the door. you can barely hear his breathing. his path to the bed is odd, until you realize he’s avoiding the loudest floorboards. he eases onto the bed slowly and presses his whole body against yours. you’re just as careful not to startle him, measuring your breaths, pretending to sleep. after much adjusting, tucking his chin over your shoulder, sighing, he tips his head close to your ear.

“i’ll get better. i promise. i’ll get better for you.” he whispers.

if only for tonight, you believe him.

#slasher x reader #slasher fanfiction #slashers x reader #house of wax #slashers #bo sinclair #bo sinclair x reader

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blondeboyfriend · 10 months

Text

𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒 (𝐈𝐕)

[panel reads from right to left]

« Part 3 | the beginning [ PAIRING ] Zeke Yeager x f!reader [ SYNOPSIS ] Zeke's birthday, told in four parts. [ WORD COUNT ] 2.7k [ CONTENT ] High school AU (but everyone has graduated), established relationship, underage drinking, drugs (Zeke smokes weed), me going overboard describing food.

7:58 PM

⮑ a party thrown by Zeke’s baseball team that is probably not for his birthday

“I’m not sure this is how I want to spend my night, kiddo.”

Zeke’s eyebrows furrowed in frustration. He looked miserable standing adjacent to his raucous teammates. They kicked off the evening stabbing cans of Bud Light with their car keys, and sucking down every drop of acrid, carbonated nectar in one hideous gulp. Showing up to this party wasn’t your idea. It was Zeke’s. You wanted to protest, but you didn’t have anything better to suggest. Planning something for his birthday slipped your mind.

It didn’t help that Zeke was convinced that it was a secret gathering for his birthday. Though as time wore on it was becoming clear it wasn’t.

“Why don’t you join them?” you laughed, tucking a lock of his flaxen hair behind his ear.

You made the mistake of speaking too loudly and caught the attention of the hoard. Zeke’s grey eyes lost any semblance of spark. He looked like a sad doll with a cloud-colored gaze.

“Yeager! Come fuckin’ get on this shit. We gotta celebrate,” one cheered.

Those three words returned life itself to Zeke’s eyes. No one at the party had mentioned his birthday much to his chagrin. You hoped this was the moment he had been waiting for, the acknowledgement he craved.

“We didn’t get swept this week! If you hadn’t shut down that game last night… shiiiiiiiiit. You earned a beer, champ.”

A tall blonde with a nice haircut and big eyebrows spoke up.

“It would have been our”—the blonde paused and clenched his jaw—“sixth loss in a row if it weren't for you, Zeke. Good job.”

“Oh. Yeah. Thanks. But no piss beer for me, boys. I’m alright,” he responded flatly.

The team went back to conversing amongst themselves. You rubbed the small of Zeke’s back, trying to think of a way to cheer him up.

“This is no way to spend your birthday. Let's go do something fun. Like, I don’t know, eat maybe?”

Zeke flashed you a little half-smile. “There is that 24-hour bakery downtown I’ve been wanting to go to.”

“Is it expensive?”

“Very,” he replied.

“Hm.” You scratched your chin thoughtfully, successfully luring a laugh out of Zeke. You could kiss him for feeding you plans. “Okay, we’ll go. But only because it’s your birthday. I don’t want you turning into a spoiled brat.”

Zeke gave your forehead a quick peck. “I can’t make any promises.”

“Lucky for you I can reluctantly accept that.”

As you made your way to the door, the blonde with striking eyebrows grabbed Zeke by the shoulder. It startled your boyfriend and he yelped like a wounded animal. His cheeks flushed pink, but he regained composure. The blonde had no reaction, his stoicism unmaimed.

“Oh. Hey, Erwin.”

“Before you leave I have something to tell you.”

Neither of the blondes spoke. They instead chose to stare awkwardly at each other.

“... Yeah?” Zeke finally asked.

“I’ve been meaning to all night, but our teammates keep handing me beer.” He cleared his throat bashfully. “I’m trying to be more sociable.”

“That’s great… What did you need to tell me?” Zeke asked, scratching his ear. “If it’s about vaping in the locker room, it won’t happen again.”

Erwin’s gaze softened and he smiled. “Happy birthday, Zeke.”

The stoic blonde was gone before Zeke could even thank him.

“Aw, that was sweet! I didn’t know you were actually friends with any of them.”

“He’s not my friend. I don’t like him at all to be honest, but now I—”

“But now you’re in love with him,” you teased.

Zeke rolled his eyes and led you out the door. You were greeted by the still, languid heat only found on summer nights. The two of you were thankful for the cool breeze that had picked up as the sun started to set. You relished in the pleasant bite of the wind.

The both of you wandered to the side of the house and began to dig through the juniper bushes you stowed your bikes behind. You had little trouble pulling out your turquoise fixed year. Sadly the birthday boy struggled as his yellow mountain bike’s chain was snagged by the bush.

8:40 PM

⮑ an expensive artisan bakery that is inexplicably open 24 hrs. a day

The inside of the bakery was utilitarian with oak wood-paneled walls and clean lines. The counter was stainless steel and angular, the corners looking like weapons. You and Zeke cautiously walked up to the bakery case and peered inside, marveling at the delectable cakes and pastries.

So many caught your eye. Their morning bun looked like heaven itself, golden brown and sticky with artisan vanilla sugar. Zeke pointed at a miniature chocolate-raspberry cake bar, the cocoa percentage so high it looked like a void. Even something as simple as a chocolate croissant was elevated.

Having so many otherworldly choices was dizzying. You knew there was no way you could only order two things. It was Zeke’s birthday after all. It was the perfect time to go all out.

“Can we do the morning bun, the chocolate travel cake, the chocolate croissant, definitely the croissant pudding, and… um.”

Zeke piped up. “The white chocolate, macadamia nut, blueberry cookie.”

“Any drinks?”

“A pot of Earl Grey tea please.”

It had ended up costing much more than you would ever want to spend on baked goods, but Zeke was worth it. His gleeful reaction as you handed him the travel cake was priceless. The cake was a work of art. It was rectangular in shape, and the darkest brown you had ever seen. It was topped with a glossy chocolate ganache and stripes of pink raspberry-lime icing. Zeke took a bite and looked like he was ascending.

“How is it?”

“Incredible.”

“Can I have a bite?”

He handed you his fork. You chipped off a little bite, making sure to get a sizable amount of the raspberry icing.

“Oh wow,” you said, covering your mouth.

The cake was dense and buttery in consistency. It almost melted into your mouth, coating your tongue with what tasted like dark chocolate brownie batter. The ganache wasn’t as sweet as the cake, having a more bitter, cocoa flavor. It was a perfect pairing; the two flavors elevated one another. And the fruity tartness made it that much more harmonious.

“Can I have a bite of the croissant pudding? I have to know what that’s like.”

“Duh, bday boy!”

You handed him the pudding. It was made out of pieces of the bakery’s butter croissant set in a creamy French vanilla custard infused with blood orange zest. In between the layers of the croissant there were wisps of sweetened tahini and red bean paste. Smoked, milk chocolate was drizzled on top along with a sprinkling of powdered sugar.

“Fuck!” Zeke exclaimed before going in for another bite. “That’s my favorite.”

“You haven’t tried your cookie yet. Or the chocolate croissant. Or even the morning bun.”

“I can’t believe I’m eating a morning bun at night,” he said with mock shock.

“Hush! Eat the bun. Let me experience my pudding in peace.”

He took a cautious bite of the morning bun as you sipped your tea. He chewed slowly.

“I thought morning buns were spicy. Not spicy-hot, but spicy as in cinnamon and nutmeg.”

“This place is unconventional with their pastries. Is it good?”

Zeke peeled off a piece and hand fed it to you.

“That’s criminal,” you said, letting the flaky piece of bun melt in your mouth. “What is that? Meyer lemon? It’s so good.”

Zeke took another bite, but was ripped from the sweet embrace of the morning bun when his phone chimed.

“Who is texting you?!” you barked before giggling.

Zeke snickered and pulled his phone out of his pocket. “It’s Levi. He wants to know what I’m doing tonight.”

“Tell him I’m fattening you up because I plan on harvesting your liver for dinner this coming winter.”

“That’s right. I forgot you’re turning me into foie gras.” Zeke held his phone to his ear. “Hold on, I’m gonna call him.”

You finished off your pudding and eyed the remnants of the morning bun. You didn’t think Zeke would mind if you snagged the rest of it, but you wanted to be sly regardless.

“Hey. We’re just eating pastries, if you want to come meet us—No? You—Mini golfing?”

“Mini golfing?” you asked with a mouthful of morning bun, sugar speckling your lip.

Zeke wiped away the sugar and continued his conversation with Levi. “Oh. You want to meet up there… I don’t know… What if we get caught?... I’m not like you… I went to a private elementary school. I’ll die in jail.”

You grabbed the phone. “What are you trying to do to my boy?”

“I’m trying to get him high, you know, for his birthday.”

“Why can’t we go to your house?” you asked.

“Tch. Kenny’s over. Just meet me by the ugly dragon statues at 9:15.”

Levi hung up before you could even protest.

9:55 PM

⮑ the decrepit mini golf course on the other side of the city

“You’re sure he said 9:15? Maybe he meant 9:15 in the morning,” Zeke sighed.

The two of you had hopped the fence and wandered the mini golf course until you found the ugly dragons Levi mentioned. They were popping out of what looked like a brown paper mache volcano. They were wide-eyed and decked out in primary colors. Their mouths were gaping open, worn down metal teeth lining their rusted lips. You and Zeke sat down behind them, obscuring your bodies and your bikes from the road.

“He meant tonight.”

“Maybe we should come back in the morning. We’d even be able to partake in some putt-putt.”

“I’m terrible at golf,” you said.

“You mean to tell me you’re not on par with Tiger Woods? I don’t know if we can date anymore. I feel like I’ve been duped.”

You elbowed him in the ribs and snuggled up next to him. He put his arm around your shoulder and held you close as you waited for Levi. You felt like you’d been sitting there for ages. You made such an effort to show up right on time. You expected to see Levi in the shadows of the dragons, but he was nowhere to be found.

Zeke let out a hearty yawn as you finally saw the petite man strolling across the putting green.

“There,” you said, pointing.

“Sorry,” Levi called out.

He broke out into a light jog. He looked like a black clad bunny rabbit bounding over. Once Levi reached you, he plucked a joint from behind his ear and flicked it at Zeke. The joint ended up hitting him right between the eyes.

“I can’t hang out long. I don’t like leaving Kenny alone in my apartment.”

“Still can’t believe you have your own place. In the city no less,” Zeke said, rubbing where the joint hit him in the head.

“Is the spoiled suburban boy jealous?”

“Yeah,” he muttered as he held the joint between his lips.

“I know it’s your birthday, but ladies first,” Levi said, glancing over at you.

“Nah, I’m good. I’m babysitting tonight. I need this nerd to make it to 20.”

Levi smirked and took a seat beside Zeke.

“Are you hungry? We have a croissant and a coo—”

“The cookie’s mine,” Zeke hissed, a plume of smoke accompanying his words.

You stared blankly at Zeke and reworded your statement. “Levi, would you like a croissant? It’s chocolate. Like fully chocolate.”

“Borderline obscene in its chocolateness,” Zeke added, passing the joint to Levi.

“Like the croissant itself is chocolate.”

“The pastry,” Zeke coughed.

“And it has a chocolate drizzle, along with the, like, bars of chocolate inside.”

Levi took a hit and exhaled, passing the joint back to Zeke. He wordlessly held out his hand and you were more than happy to oblige him.

“Do you have a napkin?” He asked.

“Uh…” You peeked into the bag from the bakery only to see there wasn’t any. “Nope.”

Levi tucked the croissant away into his backpack for a later time.

“What do you idiots have planned for the rest of the night?”

Zeke took a deep breath, but ultimately said nothing. The weed had stolen his voice, rendering him speechless. Levi took the joint from him, effectively cutting the lightweight off.

“Not sure,” you answered. “I’m hoping he’ll be up to biking down to the ferry terminal. The view is so pretty at night.”

Levi took a hit and blew the smoke away from you. He looked over at Zeke. Your boyfriend’s grey eyes were shut, eyelashes catching the light emanating from a yellowed streetlight. A little grin adorned his face. He looked like he reached enlightenment.

“Let him sit around for twenty minutes and then feed him his cookie. He’ll be in good shape by then,” Levi said as he stood up. He stubbed out the joint and put it in the little pocket on Zeke’s t-shirt. “Make sure he knows I put that there.”

11:37 PM

⮑ a journey to the ferry terminal, by the pier (you know the one)

Levi’s timing was off. It took significantly longer than twenty minutes for Zeke to return to normal. You felt like you were sitting around forever, watching him smile at nothing in particular until he regained his sense of self and was able to interact with the world around him.

“Eat,” you said, putting his cookie in his hand.

“Oh! Thank you so much. Wow.”

His sincerity was adorable; you had to fight off the urge to pinch his cheeks.

You were thankful that rallying Zeke to get on his bike required little effort. You had to help him get up, but once he got on his bike he was good as new. It was like he never smoked weed in the first place.

The ride to the terminal was pristine. The temperature had dropped to a pleasant warmth, ideal t-shirt weather. It was one of the few upsides of those long, hot, summer days.

There weren’t many cars on the road so you had the streets to yourselves for the most part. Zeke and you biked leisurely along the shoreline, occasionally staring into the twinkling lights of a large suspension bridge.

“I’m tired,” Zeke moaned the second the terminal was in sight. “I’m so fucking happy we made it.”

“Don’t forget we still have to bike to the train station.”

“Fuck!”

You made your way to the back of the ferry terminal and sought out a bench. Once you found one with the perfect view of the water you set down your bikes and slumped into your seats. Zeke pulled his phone out of his pocket and groaned.

“Is it really 11 already?”

“It is indeed,” you said, scooting closer to him.

Zeke dug around in his pocket for his cigarettes and lit one, blowing the smoke up at the night sky.

“Look at how big the moon is,” he said softly.

You looked up and saw a bright full moon looming overhead. You couldn’t believe you didn’t notice it while you were biking.

“You can even see it in the water,” Zeke murmured, voice tinged with sleep.

He took a hit off his cigarette. As he exhaled the smoke a yawn overtook him.

“Did you have a good night? Was it everything you ever dreamed of?”

He laughed. “Yes. It was everything I wanted and more.”

“I do feel kinda bad we didn’t do anything big though, you know? I should have thrown you a party. I feel like I just kinda… threw stuff together. Like it’s your birthday. It’s supposed to be special.”

“Stop.”

“What?”

“Tonight was perfect.”

“Really?” you asked, starry-eyed.

Zeke held his cigarette away from his body and wrapped his free arm around you, pulling you into a kiss. You couldn’t help but smile through it, relieved the birthday boy was content with how the evening unfurled.

“Yes,” he said, pressing his forehead against yours. “I wouldn’t have wanted to spend it any other way.”

#zeke yeager x reader #zeke jaeger x reader #aot x reader #snk x reader #aot fluff #snk fluff #attack on titan fluff #shingeki no kyojin fluff #x reader #reader insert #.fics #.aot #.zeke

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randoimago · 2 years

Note

Okay so I rediscovered the only-one-bed trope and honestly am screaming over it rn but also don’t know what characters to ask for this so do you think you could please do your top three Fire Emblem Three Houses characters in that sort of situation? Thank you!!

Only One Bed Trope

Fandom: Fire Emblem: Three Houses

Characters: Ashe, Bernadetta, Dimitri, Ferdinand von Aegir

Type of Request: Headcanons

Notes: Oh the only-one-bed trope, I love it. As for my top three Fire Emblem characters... I think I'm going to do four characters, one being Ferdinand for reasons (Rest In Peace Billy Kametz)

Ashe

At first he's confused when he sees that the room you're supposed to be staying in has one bed. He had thought he had asked for two?

Ashe offers to go back and ask for a new room, but you mention that it could be a hassle and Ashe reluctantly agrees. He doesn't want to potentially take a room from someone else that needs it and also doesn't want to overwork the inn staff...

Offers to sleep on the floor so you can take the bed. He's flustered at the idea of sharing a bed, but also he has slept on stone before when he was just a thief in the streets. He can sleep on an inn floor.

You state that you can just share the bed and he's still a bit flustered. Triple checks that it's alright with you because he doesn't want you feeling obligated. There's some happiness in his chest that you trust him enough to share the bed, but he promises that he'll try to stay on his side of the bed during the night!!

You two end up cuddling and when you wake up, you're both flustered but neither want to let go since it's so warm. Ashe ends up just giving a sheepish smile and apologizing and stating that you should get ready to join the others. Through out the day, there are many times you glance at the other, wondering if this was the spark of something new. Neither of you could deny the fluttering in your hearts.

Bernadetta

She's panicking when there's only one bed. Bernie thinks someone tricked her and did this to make her flustered and embarrassed. When she realizes she's speaking her thoughts out loud she gets more flustered and embarrassed because you heard what she said.

Bernie quickly tells you to ignore her and to look away. She's shy and doesn't want you judging her. Of course, she hasn't said any actual feelings towards you, just that sharing the bed is embarrassing. But still, please don't hate her!

States that she can sleep on the floor. Her dad has made her do it before as a punishment for not being able to hold books on the top of her head long enough. She can sleep on the floor again.

Of course you don't let her do that. You suggest sharing the bed and Bernie gasps, immediately asking if you plan on killing her. You aren't and you would never and Bernie trusts you. She does, she just can't help but have her mind wander in that direction. Would apologize and hope you aren't mad at her.

Her panicking causes her to stay awake most of the night. She can't help it. You're sleeping in a bed next to her and even if you're facing opposite directions, you're still so close! And she doesn't have a stuffed animal with her to cuddle with! Eventually she does end up falling asleep and cuddles with you, she'll panic in the morning. But for now she's having very pleasant dreams.

Dimitri

He is silent when he sees that there's one bed. His brain is moving too fast, trying to process it and wonder what caused the mistake. A nervous laugh leaves his lips and he offers to go see about getting another room.

Except there are no other available rooms and you're both stuck in this one bed room. Dimitri's throat is dry and he knows his face is a beet red. But he takes a deep breath, tries clearing his throat, and suggests that you sleep in the bed and he'll sleep on the floor or take a chair to sleep in.

You disagree with his suggestion. The future King can't sleep on a dirty floor (it's not actually dirty, the inn would never) or a chair and hurt his back. You offer to take the floor instead and Dimitri frowns.

It becomes a standstill between you two. Neither wanting the other to have back and neck pains in the morning but also nervous about sharing the bed. Dimitri is the one to take a deep breath and state that you can move some extra pillows or maybe get another blanket to put in the middle of the bed so you both stay on your own sides.

Sleep happens eventually but Dimitri's nightmares wake the both of you. He apologizes and tells you to go to sleep while he reads a book or something to keep from returning to said nightmare. Instead you, hesitantly, remove the barrier between you two and cuddle up, telling him that now that you're touching then you can protect him in his sleep. Thank goodness for the dark otherwise you'd definitely see his flustered state. He can't deny the good night's sleep after that.

Ferdinand

Lets out a loud, nervous laugh when he sees only the one bed. He has read his fair share of romance novels that he can't help thinking of what comes next in the cliché. Instead he clears his throat and states that you may have the bed while he takes the floor. A true noble would never let someone else suffer, after all!

You agree to taking the bed, but are also hesitant because where would he sleep? Ferdinand states he can get another inn room, it shouldn't be any trouble to do so. Except it is because none are available.

He's hesitant to go back to your room because of the bed situation and also doesn't quite know what to do. He tries to find Edelgard to explain the situation and see if the future Empress has a suggestion, to which she calls him an idiot and tells him to just go to your room and come up with a solution.

While a bit offended, he does what she says and goes back. You're a tad confused but understanding and so you offer to share the bed. Ferdinand gasps because you two aren't even married, you can't share a bed! But if he does have neck pains then it'll make training the next day all the more difficult so he sucks it up and promises he'll stay on his side.

A promise that ends up broken as he can't control his body in his sleep. You end up waking up due to him quickly jumping away from where you had been cuddled up together. He is apologizing and you are half awake, not knowing what happened before he sputters about going to get some tea for the two of you and quickly running away. You two can talk later but for now, he needs to hide his flustered face from you.

#fire emblem x reader #fe3h x reader #fe3h dimitri x reader #dimitri x reader #bernadetta x reader #fe bernadetta x reader #ashe ubert x reader #ashe x reader #fe ashe x reader #ferdinand x reader #fe ferdinand x reader #ferdinand von aegir x reader

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moonlight-tmd · 8 months

Text

Random idea inspired by a thing i read;

BlitzBee but Blitzwing gets amnesia and falls in love with Bee whom he hated before.

While on some mission, Blitz gets (more)processor damage and all his memory data fries. Megs wants to dispose of him and use his parts cuz the little control he had over him is gone.

Blitz runs away and the Autobots find him and take him in, they initially wanted to try and get whatever leftover information he might have but the only thing they learn is that the Decepticons are stationed somewhere in a cave.

They wanted to help him but Blitz would straight up panic whenever they tried to pull him into medbay or when Ratchet had his tools near him, at one point he got aggressive so they stopped.

The Autobots don't know what to do: on one side- this is a wanted Decepticon, on the other- the poor guy didn't even know what his name was until they told him. Then the Elite Guard arrives and thru some chain of events Megs and other Decepticons are captured in their own base and Blitz stays with the repair crew cuz 1.rehabilitation, 2.he's useless anyway so they leave him with the low-ranks.

Blitz gets branded an Autobot and gets his own place in the plant. The others try to teach him stuff and get him to be nice but it's not really effective. The only one to really get along with him from the start was Bumblebee.

The little chatty bot has captured the Ex-'con's interest; Bee was different from the other Autobots, he was funny, kind and especially cheeky for his size.

Bee was sceptical at first- the guy did try to kill him multiple times after all, but he felt bad for Blitz not knowing anything about himself. One night he found Blitz sitting alone and sad, "Why am I so messed up?" he asked Bee, and that's when Bee's Spark softened for him. He just couldn't be mean to him anymore. Everyone has been treating Blitz like an outcast and Blitz didn't even know why.

And so, Bee tells him how he knew Blitzwing and tries to answer other questions Blitz has. Key word being 'tries', he doesn't have answers for most of them.

Blitz learns to like earth's culture, Bee teaches him how to play video games so they can play together, he discovers his Dancer side and his passion for sculpting again and so begins to hang out with Bulkhead sometimes, even Sari gets the status of "closer than a stranger". But the status of "friend"- only Bee gets those privileges.

One night Blitz has a nightmare- Megatron's promises of killing him and the looming frames of a whole legion of pissed off Decepticons plaguing his dream and resulting in waking up to a panic attack. Bee, who has been staying up late watching movies again, goes to invesitgate the sudden sounds of distress. He comforts Blitz the best he can. Blitz, not wanting to go to recharge again, joins him in the main room for the late night romance movie marathon. They watch few romcoms and animated movies. Then they get to live-action Beauty and The Beast- Bee's favorite.

Blitz is surprised to find Bee crying after the movie ends, Bee tells him that he's always been a hopeless romantic. "Big, bag guy learns how to love because someone showed him kindness when everyone else treated him like a monster... man, I wish I had someone who'd love me for real." Bee had said. That night, something in Blitzwing ignited like a candle. A flame of something that only grew larger the more he hung out with Bee.

The others started to trust him too, he started to feel welcome in their presence, everything was looking up.

...Then he started remembering snippets of his past. Flashes of memories returned to him from time to time. Even tho they were very brief, it was enough for Blitz to start to piece together of what kind of person he used to be. He kept quiet about it, he didn't wanna ruin what he had now.

The flashes showed him little parts of his past- what he did, who the other transformers were, even going as far back as showing him what he once looked like. The flashes often showed him what he did on earth; the damage he caused, the brutal fights with his autobot team,.. and how poorly he treated the one he cared about the most now.

Bee noticed something was up, but Blitz brushed it off everytime. Then when the base was empty, only them in Bee's room, he asked him about their past- conveniently disguising the real reason as 'i used to be a 'con, surely we fought or something right?'. Bee told him about the fights and encounters he remembered, one particular event stuck out in his mind- the time Bee made him fall from the sky, straight into a frozen lake. Bee himself chuckled at how funny it was.

Later that night Blitz couldn't recharge, the ghost of that specific memory tickled his processor as if it was important. Blitz went to watch romance movies instead. Something about them just made sense with Blitzwing's Spark. Maybe that's why Bee loved them so much? At one point the pick up line "Did it hurt when you fell from heaven? Beacuse you look like an angel." came up in a movie. Blitzwing has been educated on earth's culture enough to know this was a form of courting. Did Bee-... no he couldn't have been, he hated him back then. Bee was afraid of Blitzwing back then, he backed away with fear whenever they met. And Blitzwing was so mean to him, he tried to kill him for Primus' sake!

He thought about all the bad things that happened between them in the past; they were enemies, of course they didn't like each other... But then the thoughts of what has happened since he got put on earth slowly flooded over the bad ones; Bee was nice to him, he spend time with Blitz and taught him all the things he knows now. Bee was kind to him, and kindness was something he never experienced nor remembered being done to him.

The realization that he might like Bumblebee a little more than a friend slowly set in his processor.

He doesn't know how to act; he wants Bee to like him back, he want to spend everyday with him and possibly have an actual relationship with the minibot- but at the same time he's guilty about what he's done to Bee and feels he doesn't deserves it.

Little does he know Bee has been feeling similar: Blitzwing is nice and funny, caring even when you really get to know him. He feels a little bad for all the insults and mockery he's thrown at the ex-'con, even if said ex-'con tried to kill him. You'd think he'd be a love expert, having watched all those romance movies, but really he has no clue what to do. Similar to his past-crush on Prowl, Blitz has always been on the attractive end. Since the two used to be enemies, only now he's realy started to appreciate it.

This is where the idea kinda dies- idk, maybe Bee got damaged and was laying in medbay in critical condition and that's what snapped Blitzwing out of the love/self-hate loop. So after Bee got better and was staying in base for few days to recover, they had another romance movie night. They watched all the movies that played on the first night and when the Beauty and The Beast came on, Blitz slowly brought up how worried he's been about Bee-

"It's like jou said... 'Big, bag guy learns how to love because someone showed him kindness'..." Blitz have muttered once the dance scene.

I cannot put to words how fluffy and soft the confession was, there were little words but just enough to cover every bit of emotion they were feeling. They fell asleep on the couch and the others found them cuddling in the morning.

It took them a while to officially announce they were dating- it was a surprise to them, Bulkhead was a little worried about Bee cuz- well, that was Blitzwing he was dating but Bee assured him he knew what he was getting into.

And it wasn't a bad decision at all, those two are absolutely happy together. Took them a bit to officially say "I love you" but the fluffy cuddles and soft kisses make up for it.

#blitzbee #maccadam #tfa #long post #angst

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vicekillx · 4 months

Text

UPDATE: 2024

Usually I make these kinds of post around New Years, but this year I didn't really have anything to say. But now we're a month in and I definitely do.

I feel…different, this year. In a good way, I think. I feel like I'm tired of being complacent and riding coattails. This month has been a whirlwind of getting my shit in line. So far I:

handled two serious family crises smoothly and picked myself back up quickly from both

called my health insurance (phone calls have historically been an hours-long meltdown-inducing debacle for me) twice to switch my PCP because the previous one was consistently booked 3-6 months out and she just forgot to mention the inhaler I pulled out of my bag to show her at my first appointment so I couldn't get a refill on it or my nebulizer when I had COVID; that's been getting put off since August of last year

made an appointment with said new PCP for Feb 1, and I'm hoping they'll be able to refer me to a dentist and optometrist because I desperately need both

got back into therapy with an autism/ADHD specialist who can help me manage those specifically after my previous therapist didn't understand why I couldn't just Do It™; also have assessments lined up for both to get diagnoses

pay more attention to my health in general, including diet and exercise. I'm already down about 10 lb

restructured my planner to include a mood tracker and sleep tracker, and have been better about staying on top of it

got Trello up and running and so far it's working really well for me

have been doing my house chores more consistently, namely cleaning litter boxes and taking care of my snakes and tarantulas (roommates have been picking up my slack but they shouldn't have to, they're my animals)

am able to work more consistently on my designated work days; before it was a lot of chipping away and putting things off rather than sitting down and making actually decent progress

am finally starting a tattoo sleeve I've wanted for a very, very long time as a belated birthday gift to myself

am consistently filling stream sketch slots, which means I can actually make money and pay my bills on-time (and a huge, huge thank you to everyone who signs up, I'm pretty sure this is the primary reason I've been able to pull myself out of the hole. Financial stability is a hell of a drug)

This year I wanna try really hard to keep the train moving along this track. If things keep going the way they are, I could potentially make some pretty big changes in the not so distant future. Some things I'm brainstorming:

UnholyFans

merch other than stickers (seriously I have so many designs in mind, I just haven't had the drive to work on them or the upfront capital to order inventory)

more monster/demon adoptables

I would really like to collab with some other artists, it's been too fuckin long

website restructure

picking up my side business (I did literally zero pieces for it last year oof), ideally with a rebrand

get back into conventions and try some new crowds: reptile/exotic expos, tattoo conventions, oddities expos, sex conventions, BDSM groups…

push the stream setup to be more professional

rekindling the spark for my personal stories and headworld projects

more I have written down somewhere but can't think of off the top of my head

And to be clear, I'm optimistic, but also a realist. I know from experience that shit changes and I could hit a massive depressive slump in a month or two and be back to where I was for most of last year. I'm still not going to promise anything I'm not confident I can deliver. However, that doesn't mean I shouldn't try.

I already got sidetracked with this post, so I'm gonna make a second to get to my original point and I'll come back and add a link to this one when I do. But suffice to say I want to try - again - to breathe some kind of life back into my SubscribeStar. I have some ideas in mind, but I want to hear yall's opinions on it too.

Watch this space ♥

#vice says #update

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alister312 · 1 year

Video

youtube

The Path Taken [A Gregstophe Fansong]

Written for Gregstophe Week 2023. Day 5: Devotion/Betrayal.

You read that right— for day 5, I wrote a song! I used to write songs a lot, sometimes based on shows and characters, sometimes based on D&D campaigns I was in, sometimes original. However, in all that time, I’d never written a song for my favorite ship all time. I thought it was about time I remedied that.

Original lyrics by me, written and performed on ukulele. You can find the lyrics and chords in the description of the YouTube video. Explanation of lyrical choices as well as a link to the journey through song drafts below the cut!

Firstly, some reasons I chose the chords I did. Playing around chords early on, prior to any of the drafts, I got really into the Em chord. I was just vibing with how it sounded. I knew I was going for a more melancholy sound since it would be from Christophe’s POV, something very longing. I’ve had experience in sticking the D chord between minor chords to make it sound minor. I decided to do that again, and the Am chord sort of just happened since it was nearby. I didn’t want the song to be too dark though, so I threw the C chord in an attempt to brighten the melody.

For the song opening, I had that pretty solidified early on. I knew God had to be mentioned in there somewhere and I ended up really liking the idea of Christophe comparing and contrasting himself to God. However, he’s not uplifting himself, instead he’s putting God down. I also really wanted to play around with the sound similarities between “leave” and “lead”, two things Christophe associates with Gregory. One he wants, the other he fears.

Onto verse 1! The idea of Christophe being dynamite set off by Gregory, the spark of the revolution, sort of came from a line from a webcomic I really love called Shaderunners. It has two characters that I majorly project Gregory and Christophe onto, both in appearance and personality. One of them has a line at one point about how they’re flames, always burning each other down. It really fits so well for Gregstophe, but it needed a touch more martyrdom. So, Christophe wants Gregory to destroy him.

Continuing with the idea of them as flames, not just in a romantic sense, but flames of the revolution they’re fighting for, I alluded to Gregory’s “La Resistance” line (”You see the distant flames, they bellow in the night”). This is further cemented by the “Flag in fist” image, meant to invoke their Les Mis roots.

Skipping chorus for now, let’s do verse 2. Since v1 opens discussing Christophe, I wanted v2 to open talking about Gregory. While I don’t always think “silver-tongue” is the most apt way to describe Gregory (it has some more negative connotations I don’t quite see him as), it helped transition into the sword imagery for him rather well. It also gave a chance to show Christophe’s self doubt/insecurity in comparison to Gregory’s accomplishments. And since I’d just compared Gregory to his rapier, it only made sense to do the same to Christophe with his shovel.

This continues, Christophe putting himself down while putting Gregory on a pedestal. Almost literally, placing him on his soapbox (morally better than him) and ivory (meant to invoke thoughts of wealth, showing that Gregory is above him in social status as well). However, even though Christophe sees himself as an animal, a lowly mole, Gregory is lifting him up to the same level as him, getting rid of the barriers between them.

Now let’s do the “bridge”. I put that in quotes because often there’s meant to be a shift of some kind for the bridge in a song, but I didn’t do that. It’s more of a callback to the opening, restating the idea of promises and keeping them. I have no specifics in mind for these promises, but more vague ideas of promises of devotion and loyalty to a cause, or at least to Gregory. If Gregory swears to die for a cause, then Christophe will too.

The idea of “deathbed” came from a comment Sara made to me when I was looking for song title suggestions. I immediately loved the imagery and knew it had to be a line, again calling back to the opening idea of Christophe’s mother tucking him into bed and telling him about God. The dogs, of course, are the guard dogs that lead to Christophe’s ultimate demise and the next line is taken directly from his dying refrain (“Now the light, she fades / and darkness settles in”).

The last line of the “bridge” is doing two things. One, it’s the clearest allusion in the song towards Christophe’s cigarette addiction (go up in smoke). It’s also serving as another callback towards the idea of them being flames, destructive but in a valiant way. They might be dying for the cause, but they refuse to go quietly. Their sacrifice, no matter how it is they die, is a blaze of glory for them.

At last, time for the chorus! Gregory has a clear martyr complex, a want to not only fight but die fighting for a cause. Christophe wants to be there no matter what but doesn’t know how, so the best he thinks he can offer is to dig Gregory’s grave, even if it’ll break his heart. He’s unsure if Gregory will permit this though, so Christophe has to ask him while assuring Gregory that this is the right choice for him. Christophe wants to be led, he wants to follow Gregory no matter what, even if at the end of the path is their mutual deaths.

If you’d like to hear the development the song went through, you can listen to rough drafts 1-9 here :)

youtube

I hope you enjoyed the song! If you have any further questions about it, feel free to ask me at any time :)

#voice reveal i suppose to those who havent heard me talk before lmao. it ain't perfect but i think it's nice :)#south park #gregstophe #gregstopheweek2023 #sp #gregory of yardale #christophe delorne #ze mole #sp gregory #sp christophe #sp ze mole #sp gregstophe #fan song

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flynndesdelca · 8 months

Text

For Day 15 (Chell) of @chelltastic’s Portal Drawtober 2023 Challenge. As I’m not really an artist, I chose to write short pieces for the prompts.

Wipe those tears off and make your heart proud

The first day had seen her not move from the spot, sitting curled up next to the Companion Cube as though in a sort of trance. Her mind had felt so sharp on the elevator ride up, coming up with plans and contingencies and courses of action, but actually being free had killed most of that momentum. She had been content to sit in the silence, listening to the wind rustling the stalks of wheat and the distant sounds of animals. It had felt like some sort of fever dream to Chell after so long of the sounds of Aperture, of the background hum of ventilation and the distant sounds of machines and the constant creak of the structure itself. It was impossible to believe that this was real, and she truly did expect to wake in utter disappointment in a corner somewhere that she'd tucked herself into in order to take a nap.

The next day forced her to move because without the cocktail of adrenaline and whatever else GLaDOS had pumped into the air her body was falling into a more natural cycle. Specifically, she was hungry. Alarmingly so, she realized. Who knew that sitting for a day without eating would have that effect? As she'd been in and out of hibernation and kept in carefully controlled environments for so long just how her body functioned had become a sort of a mystery. She could remember distantly how it worked, but actually experiencing it again was just as feverish as being outside had been. Being surrounded by wheat had the promise of flour, but as she lacked the means to grind it efficiently, as well as a the other things you put into flour to make it not just ground wheat, it was unpalatable. Plus the whole concept of wheat grown above the land that Aperture occupied...it certainly looked normal, but much like everything else about the place, she suspected that it was definitely beyond it.

In the distance she could see trees, and that was where she headed off to. She left the Companion Cube where it was, a landmark. A pointless landmark, as the electrical shed itself stood out well enough in the sea of gold that contained it. Still, she felt better knowing that it was there, rather than lugging it with her on what her mind was saying would be the trip of a few hours. She set off through the field, eventually finding a large copse of trees to wander through. The shade was nice, she felt, and more than that, she could hear birds. It was a simple matter to climb the trees and look for nests, and she found a few small eggs that way. She had no idea if the eggs were even edible, but it didn't matter at this point. Either it would be nourishing, or she'd wind up dead from hunger. She also found a couple of mushrooms, small brown ones that she distantly remembered from books as a child. Whether that meant they were poisonous or not she couldn't remember. Again, she could eat or she could eventually face starvation. Cutting through the woods had been a small cold spring, the water clear. She didn't see any fish in it, but perhaps she could follow it and find a larger lake where there could be fish.

Figuring out what to do with her obtained food had been tricky. With everything laid out on top of the Companion Cube she had set about the next step, which was starting a fire. She understood the basics of starting a fire, but finding the materials to do so had been trickier than planned. It was infuriating to think that all the materials she needed were just underground, but she was not going back. She was not going to be deterred by a little camping. She had just gotten out, and she had known that it was not going to be easy. She hadn't backed down from anything thrown at her so far, so why should starting a fire be an unsurmountable challenge?

It was already sunset by the time she managed to coax sparks from the small firestarter she had concocted, but that was enough, and she gently nursed the tiny coals into a small blaze. Thankfully there was a lot of dry vegetation she could use. The little fire seemed homey somehow as the shadows of night fell across the field, its light blazing in defiance. Just like her, she thought. She could see herself in that hard-won little fire.

Actually cooking the things had been another issue she'd been thinking about during her preparations. Finding a long, flat rock had given her an idea, and now she quickly set up the other rocks she'd dug up, making a stand for the flat rock to rest on over the fire. She let it heat up, waiting until she could feel the heat emanating off of the rock when she held her hand over it. Hopefully that would be hot enough. She cracked open the first egg, which made a huge mess of broken shell everywhere. As she didn't particularly feel like wasting it, she grit her teeth and went with it, starting to mix the egg around on the hot rock with a flat stick she'd found and felt would be a good spatula replacement. Another egg, cracked much more carefully given how delicate they apparently were. The yolks were dark, so much darker than she remembered seeing before. They were so small, the amount of egg she had gotten from them was negligible, but it would do. She added one more, deciding to keep the rest for later. Once the eggs had really started to cook she dropped the mushrooms on top, stirring the whole thing around. A really crude omelet, but an omelet all the same. Better than nothing, after all. The smell was driving her crazy and it was so hard to wait until she felt as though whatever dangers might have lurked in said food had been cooked out of it. She ate it off the rock with the spatula-stick, and it was burning hot and slightly crunchy from the egg shells, but somehow it was the most delicious food she could remember eating in a very long time. It was a victory, she decided. She'd overcome another hurdle. She couldn't help but glance at the shed smugly.

The next day she managed to revive the fire, and ate one of the eggs that way. She was hoping to explore along the river a bit more now that she'd found it, maybe finding fish or other food. She returned much later in the day sweaty and tired, but with a couple more eggs, some more mushrooms, and a fish that she'd managed to spear with a broken stick. She had plans to improve on said stick design, and that meal was much more triumphant than the last, the fish roasting pleasantly skewered over the little fire.

The next few days passed in much the same way. She followed along the river and the small lake that it fed into, exploring more and more. Yet each day she found herself returning to the shed in the field. As her exploration took her further and further, she would have to push herself to make it back before it got too dark. One night as she sat there, trying to rekindle the fire that had gone out hours beforehand, she couldn't help but wonder why she kept coming back there. She'd gone far enough and figured out enough to make small camps anywhere else. She'd seen some signs of actual human life last time. If she had kept going instead of turning back, she might have found civilization of some kind.

The next day she tried exploring in a different direction, pushing the previous day’s thoughts out of her mind. Again, she ranged far, and returned late in the day, and couldn't help but wonder why. She'd torn off one leg of her jumpsuit to make a little pouch to carry food she found in, and she was so good at starting fires now that she wasn't worried about that. There was no reason to come back to that place. Her thoughts chased themselves in circles around her head all that night, and left her in a dreamless, restless sleep.

The next day she went out again, but it was a passionless, drifting effort that took her along places she'd already been. It was nothing new, but it was familiar, and comfortable, and all at once she turned and ran back to the field and the shack and the Companion Cube. Grabbing onto it as though its rough surface and pointed corners would comfort her, she found herself crying. Why was she crying? What had happened? She already knew, just like she knew why she had not strayed from that spot. Having a place to return to that was familiar had been a comfort in a world that had left her behind. Perhaps it hadn't been the implied hundreds of years, but it had been long enough that there was nothing familiar left to her. Whatever had happened had swept the world clean, and anyone left there were the descendants of strangers. Despite her drive and her fierce determination to survive and to be free, the thought of leaving behind the last bits of everything she had known was a terrifying prospect. She'd faced down death how many times now? All the horrors that Aperture had to offer she had borne… but yet, the idea of leaving the facility and all of the trauma it had inflicted onto her sent her into a dull panic, one that had driven her to return there every night.

Mechanically she set about making food and eating, and attempting to sleep. But sleep did not come that night, and she tossed and turned and stared at the stars, stared into the dying embers of the fire that she had coaxed into being one more time. She stared at the dark shadow that she knew was the Companion Cube, and the nearby electrical shack with its tiny emergency light that cast dim shadows all around. All comforts, but all reminders of just what she had suffered... and what she had overcome, in the end.

The next day she packed up everything she could take with her in her little pouch. She put out the fire carefully, stamping it down and digging up the ground to bury its remains. She cast one last long look at the shack, then hefted the Companion Cube in her arms and turned away. She walked through the field, letting her feet take her down the familiar path she'd worn into it, towards the trees and the river and the lake and whatever else laid beyond. She didn't let herself look back, not even once. Tears pricked at her eyes, but she forced herself to march onward until at last she was in the shade of the trees and the shed was too far away to see anymore.

She sat down and let herself cry again. It shouldn't hurt to say goodbye to all that had happened, but yet it did, somehow. She had been given her freedom, she needed to take it. To find herself. Who was Chell, in this world? Not a test subject for Aperture, not anymore. That chapter of her life was closed, the Companion Cube the bookmark to remind her that it existed, but that it was over and done and behind her. It was time to find out who the new, free Chell would be.

#portal drawtober 2023 #portal 2 #chell portal #chell #saying goodbye to aperture is hard to do

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