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da-birb-writes-sometimes · 8 months

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OMG I’m so excited for this!!! Can I request Vil with the prompt rainy nights?? Can it be fluffy and romantic? Anyway I hope you have a wonderful day!! :)

Rainy Nights; Vil Schoenheit

Content; Fluff, gender-neutral reader, established romantic relationship

Content Warning; Reader cries because of a movie, death (movie)

Word Count; 700+

Author's Note; I had a vision; watching old movies with Vil as the rain came down. I had a lot of fun writing this, and this is also my first solo Vil piece, so I hope I did him justice here.

As a reminder, do not put my work — or others for that matter — into AI as it steals. Link to Masterlist

You were rummaging around the TV console, going through the numerous DVDs and VHS tapes that were just sitting around and collecting dust. Tonight was your night for movie night, as yesterday was Vil’s, so you were weighing your options. Sure, there were streaming services, but there’s just something that hits differently with a physical copy, flaws and all. Plus it’s not like you could go out since it was raining like no tomorrow outside. So, movie night.

“Having any luck,” Vil gently called from the washroom, still doing his nightly routine.

Your eyes still scoured the various cases, trying to find the perfect one. “Not yet. Just give me a minute, m’kay?”

Vil gave you a hum as an answer, leaving you be.

Horror movie? No, he wouldn’t like that. Mystery? Too predictable… And then you found what looked like the most faded cases, colour worn away from age and a hand going back time and time again. That one.

Pulling it out, you dusted off the case, inspecting the title. Of the smudged-out words, you could make out The, some kind of smudged-out word, Blossom. It looked like a black-and-white movie, and on the front were the protagonists with their backs together, flower petals surrounding them, and a dagger above them. This, this is perfect.

Vil came out of the washroom, wearing his matching royal purple pyjamas and house robe, and glowing from the various skin products that he used. He looked curiously over your shoulder. “Hmm, The Bitter Blossom,” he mused, turning his gaze to you. “Is that your pick, Schatz?” His tone was light, a sign that he approved, and was mildly surprised at your pick.

“Mhm,” you hummed, placing the VHS tape into the VCR player. Whoever had played it last had saved you the trouble of rewinding it. “Have you watched it before?”

“Surprisingly, no. Copies of it are extremely hard to come by.” He got the sofa ready, adjusting the pillows, grabbing one of the many quilts, and a box of tissues, just in case. He noticed the look you were giving him, “I haven’t watched it, but I have heard about how it ends.”

You raised a brow, but shrugged. You pressed play and scrambled over to your spot next to Vil, getting comfy and pulling that handy quilt over the both of you — the rain had made it a little bit chilly.

The Bitter Blossom started playing. Not only was it in black-and-white, but it was also a silent film. The protagonists were two lovers who met by chance, their relationship going from cold strangers to a budding romance.

But why had Vil grabbed the tissues? The movie was almost over, it couldn’t possibly—

But then the antagonist, a jealous ex of one of the main protagonists, stabbed the love interest in the back with a dagger. The movie ended with the protagonist hugging their love interest, flower blossoms falling down around them.

“Do not let the bitter blossom of hatred and vengeance bloom in your heart or mind, my love. Do not let it ruin the happiness which we fleetingly had.” The words flashed on the screen before the movie ended with the screen fading into black.

That, that was why Vil had grabbed the tissues. Wait, were you crying? That would explain why Vil was gently dabbing away the stray tears as they rolled down your face.

“A lovely film, love,” he whispered, “I should have warned you about the ending—”

You stopped him by grabbing softly at his hand, bringing it up to cup your face. “No, it’s alright. It was a beautiful movie,” you hiccuped, leaning into his touch.

Vil caressed calming strokes on your cheek, the slow movements helping you focus on him. He placed a kiss on your forehead, a gentle hum escaping as the kiss lingered. “Oh potato,” your old nickname from when the two of you were still just only acquaintances, “what am I going to do with you?”

You grabbed a tissue and loudly blew your nose, “Cuddles?”

Vil sighed softly, but put his arm around you, resting his head against yours and placing a kiss to your temple. “Alright,” he hummed and continued humming a gentle tune until you were falling asleep. While he would prefer sleeping in bed, he supposed he could stand to cuddle with you on the sofa as the rain eased up outside.

~~~~~~~

Schatz; German for treasure, a common term of endearment

Tags; @azulashengrottospiano [I've seen the Vil brain rot and gushing], @eynnwwyjth, @xxoomiii

#dove does events #follower event #twst #twst x reader #twst x gn reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x gn reader #vil schoenheit #vil schoenheit x reader #vil schoenheit x gn reader #also i decided to go with a VHS tape since i wanted them to watch an old OLD movie; plus i miss my VCR player #soft vil content to heal the soul #he also cried a bit but was very subtle in wiping away the lone tear #hopefully i wrote vil with some justice as I'm still trying to characterize him right #potato; said with love #sofia!#i also think this is the longest one as of yet ; just checked and yup! it is #that might change though as i write the others #thought about having reader call vil their 'schnucki' [sweetie-pie] but decided against it #but it does live rent free in my head #i wonder how many people read through all of my tags; cuz i do hide some gems in there as little easter eggs of sorts

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where-dreams-dwell · 6 months

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Loving the complexity of Madeline Ushers character: a woman who declares she doesn’t want to be limited by men, who’s life is defined at every turn by the decisions and actions of her brother.

……

Madeline Usher is doomed by her attachment to her brother, and it is the root of all her eventual pain.

When Verna offers them the deal, it’s Roderick who ‘charges forward, straight at it’ and accepts the terms despite the fact that the only ‘next generation’ they current have are his kids. Madeline agrees afterwards but only once Rodrick makes it know he is already in. I don’t think she’d have gone for it if he had objected, she’s always had a very ‘both of us or neither’ kind of attitude.

And then she is as much these kids parent (from what we have seen) as Roderick is. Granted we see next to nothing of the kids biological mothers so we have to assume they weren’t very involved (either by their choice or other circumstance) with their kids after Rodrick got his claws into them.

That first scene when we meet Perry Madeline and Roderick are equally dismissive of him, but she is the one asking questions and prompts: you’ve had a year to come up with an idea, is this it or is there more? How are you going to make this successful? Why will your pitch be different? She even asks Roderick to jump in ‘anytime now’ to help her handle this train wreck. And Rodrick has just received the news he’s dying but I think it’s telling that Perry is looking at both of them for validation, for support. They are equally intimidating but equally supporting him.

With Camille we don’t get 1-2-1 interactions between her and her father (despite her own obsession with winning his approval) but we do get a scene with Madeline. After Perry’s death Camille lobbies to be given the power to lead the family’s PR response, and Madeline takes her seriously and asks what she would do. When Camille lays out her plan it’s Madeline who gives a proud nod of approval and okays her actions.

Leo unfortunately gets no parental interactions from either senior Usher. Victorine only gets it right at the end just before her monstrous actions are revealed. Otherwise all she gets from Roderick is pressure and the interactions of an investor, not a father.

Tammy gets the most parental interaction from Madeline, which is tragic as she’s trying to show her father that she can be the heir to his empire. But her aunt is the one who shows up to her presentation, who gives her the pep talk, consoles Tammy (in her own way) about the failure of her marriage, who believes Tammy when she is terrified by someone in the crowd.

Frederik is always focused on his father so Madeline doesn’t get many moments with him, but again Roderick is more of a CEO or boss than a father: focused on how to protect the company, how to secure the future. Little to no concern or support to his son as he mourns his wife’s injuries, as he deals with his siblings deaths, as he takes on more pressure from the world and the family. Roderick only mourns his son (as opposed to his heir) after Fredrick is dead.

Added to this: the security on all the kids? Madeline arranges it. When more kids die? We see Madeline demand it be doubled. She’s the only one still fighting for them, fighting fate itself.

With Lenore we see more interactions with her and Roderick but her interactions with Madeline are just as sweet and show a close, loving relationship. Lenore even calls her Granny Madeline. And Madeline is the one planning to preserve Lenore via AI: this must have been the main reason she begged Roderick to kill himself. Not to save her to but to spare Lenore. What’s the bet that she started working on the AI project in earnest when Morelle announced she was pregnant?

Madeline tracks down the supernatural entity they made a deal with and tries to negotiate a new deal: again (now we know the original terms) this is likely for Lenore’s benefit, not hers. She faces down a power far beyond herself and tries to save or protect what’s left of her family. Not Roderick.

Madeline took steps to preserve and protect her nieces and nephews, and grand niece while her brother did next to nothing. Once you know the nature of their deal with Verna, Roderick’s attitude to his remaining children after they remember who Verna is is just baffling.

Madeline even makes reference to birth control that she took on the off chance the deal was real. She says to Tammy that she didn’t want children with her first husband and hasn’t since, but she has been a mother to Rodericks kids. This lack of biological motherhood hasn’t spared her for the heartbreak of loosing a child. Or a grandchild.

And it’s even the decision of a man (again her brother) which is going to end her family’s legacy in another way. His marriage to Juno, his treatment of her, his denial of her fight to get clean and his horrible reference to himself as Victor Frankenstein and Juno as his monster - this is what pushes her to sign away the company when she inherits it. Madeline speaks about the board choosing her and moving the company away from pharmaceuticals, into the fields of AI and tech. Sure Madeline then died but a lot of the groundwork was likely there, and it could have been a possible path for the company. If Juno didn’t inherit it all and break it apart. Because of Roderick, and the way he treated her. Once again Madeleine’s legacy is destroyed by her brothers actions.

The irony of 1970’s Madeline declaring she doesn’t want to be limited by men’s choices or by a man, taking steps to protect her self and her heart, focussing her work on things outside of medical drugs in the hope that one day that can be what they become known for… then being doomed to more heartbreak and failure by every one of her brothers careless actions is so sadly tragic.

#the fall of the house of usher #tfothou #madeline usher #mike flanagan #spoilers

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10yrsyart · 13 days

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Logos- the Word of God Erebos- darkness, gloom

i don't remember where i heard this analogy, but it really stuck with me. you can't stay on the fence of belief/ unbelief forever, because the devil owns the fence. he owns all the religions of the world, except for the only faith that can save you: faith in the blood of Jesus Christ. the Son of God came down, lived a sinless life, took our sins upon Himself in death, and resurrected so we might have life too. because He LOVES us.

the truth is, you don't know when the end of your life will be. when you come to stand before the Just and Righteous Judge, will you be covered by Jesus' perfect blood, shielding you from punishment? or will you still have all your sins covering you because you rejected Him?

i don't write this to condemn, but because i love you and want you to have an eternity of joy and peace. so i warn you with love: Jesus is returning soon, to take His people away before God's Wrath and judgement begins (Revelation 3:10, 1 Thessalonians 5:9).

signs in the sun, moon, and stars. wars and rumors of wars, people's love for each other turning to hate. the increased intensity of natural disasters and strange behavior of animals. every other week some expert talks of world distinction events in our future (AI, or famine, or disease, or WWIII). God has sent dreams and visions to all people about the times about to happen. you can feel there's something weird about the world right now. God is speaking loudly.

now is the time to repent, accept the sacrifice for your sins and put your faith in Him. now is the time to step into the Kingdom of Life that will never pass away 💙✝ "For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son, so that whoever believes in Him will not perish but have eternal life (...) There is no judgment against anyone who believes in Him. But anyone who does not believe in Him has been judged already, for not believing in God's one and only Son." (John 3:16, 18)

transcript:

Helel: What did they say that gripped your attention so much?

Girl: Prince Helel. She was just telling me about life in the Logos Kingdom compared to the Erebos Kingdom. I haven't really decided where I want to live yet.

Helel: Pffeh, I can assure you, she greatly exaggerate. I've been to the Logos Kingdom. Those people are practically in chains and they don't even realize.

Girl: ..But you rule the Erebos Kingdom. Doesn't that make you a little bias? Either way, I'd still like to decide for myself.

Helel: Of course, of course! Take all the time you want. We'd love to have you!

(years pass)

Girl: Helel, what's happening?!

Helel: That, my dear, is a curtain call.

Girl: I don't understand-

Helel: It's time you came with me.

Girl: Wait-! But I never picked a kingdom! I'm still on the fence-

Helel: Oh, I'm terribly sorry for the confusion! You see, I OWN the fence!

Girl: No! Get off me! I thought I had more time! Stop-!

Girl: King Yeshua!!

Helel: No, sshe'sss mine! Sshe waited too long-

Yeshua: (Release her. Serpent.)

Helel: (Fine. But they won't all want sssaving~)

Girl: Thankyou, thankyou, he almost had me! If You didn't... I'm so sorry. Please don't send me back to him-

Yeshua: I came to you when you called, didn't I? You made your decision. And I'm so Glad! Allow Me to welcome you home, Dear One.

#christianity #jesus christ #God #faithstuff #faith #rapture #tribulation #bible verse #bible scripture #religion #religious art #satan #lucifer #yeshua #digital comic #my art #long post.#end times

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3d-wifey · 8 months

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And They'd Find Us In A Week - Chapter 1

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Reader Word Count: 5.3k Synopsis: Here! Playlist: Listen up! A/N: Don't be scared to click the embedded links, you might get an auditory surprise (Ai voice cloning works wonders)

Past (i) - You

[15 & 16] - THE CAPITOL

Pine is a simple wood. It grows in abundance, representing purity and innocence. In Eleven, it’s saved for children. Children like Cane. Only thirteen years old, but at the end of his life. He died in the initial bloodbath from a knife in the heart, you saw it yourself as you were running away. You had made eye contact with him for a split second and had contemplated waiting for him behind one of the many buildings encased by overgrown greenery. But, within the next second, those eyes had clouded over and cannon fire rang in your ears.

He looks so small in his pine casket, you note. The pale shade of his little brown face is the only giveaway that he isn’t sleeping.

His parents come to stand before him, withdrawn in their grief for their youngest child. They each place a fruit in his hand: a pear in his left, and an apple in his right. One for himself and another to share with whoever comes to take his soul.

Neem, his brother, holds up his sister Venus, the youngest girl. She is distraught, wails bouncing through the clearing. Their oldest sibling, Vera, hadn’t been permitted to leave the fields to come to the burial.

Chrysanthemums represent death, mourning, life, and goodbyes. Roses represent life, grief, and sadness. You watch as the adults of the town move in to help his family cover him head to toe in the petals. A few of these flowers are shipped to the Capitol to be used aesthetically, you’re sure. Such an odd thought knowing the rest are used here only for funerals.

You can’t help but think about how close you came to being the one under all those flowers. You imagine your mom having to place the fruits in your hands by herself. The hand on your shoulder keeps you pinned in place as Venus’s knees buckle. Your mom squeezes you to her side and you look at her tightened face. You aren't the only one imagining it.

The grave has already been dug and above it sits his headstone, a rock bigger than both of your hands combined with his initials and his age carved into it.

C. B.

You stare at that rock long after they put him in the ground and cover him in dirt. At the end of the ceremony, all of the children in attendance get in line to hug the family. This one is no different. You’re only fifteen, but you’ve been to many funerals. Only one stands out: your dad’s.

You remember being ten and getting irritated at how sticky the pomegranate juice made your hands, but you preferred it to the painful lump in your throat. You had to be lifted so you could place the fruit in his cold hands and you don’t think your mom put you down after, holding you close to her chest as the town’s children hugged you.

You’re at the back of the line nervously picking at your nail beds. There’s a certain amount of guilt tied to being the one who survived, especially in the face of the grieving family. You haven’t spoken to them since you got back a month ago—it took a while for the Capitol to return his body—but you know they don’t blame you. That’s just not the way people think in Eleven. You don’t turn against your own.

You’re nervous because you have a bigger part to play other than offering condolences and you promised Cane you’d complete it.

Before you go in to hug his father, you speak.

“I, uh, have something for you.” You pull a small bear figurine out of your pocket, crudely carved from wood. “Cane, he gave it to me to give to his family the night before we went into the arena. Just in case I managed to come back.” Something neither of you had any real hope of happening, but you understood the gesture for what it was. He wanted you to bring him back to his family. So you protected it with your life, literally.

And now he’s home.

And that’s what cracks them, you think. His mom’s lips quiver and his dad makes a pained noise when you place it in his shaking grip. And Neem, who has tried to stay strong for his family, gasps around a sob. Venus pulls you into a hug, tears dripping onto your neck.

A breeze comes through, shaking the leaves in the tree and cooling you from the humid heat. You like to think that it’s Cane’s way of thanking you for not forgetting him.

“Your accent is just darling. Say something else, say something else!” The woman in front of you exclaims. You can’t remember her name, but you’re pretty sure she never introduced herself to you anyway. In fact, you don’t think anyone has introduced themselves to you.

"Like what?"

"Like what?" They mock your voice, clapping like you’re a dog that did a trick. You smile around the embarrassment. Maybe for your next act, you’ll play dead. "Oh, that is just a treat."

You've officially been the winner of the sixty-seventh Hunger Games for six months and thirteen days. It's the end of your Victory Tour and all you have to do is tolerate the Capitols poking and prodding at you until the night is over. Though, that's easier said than done.

You remind yourself to make a conscious effort to bury the accent, sound a little more like them. The old you wouldn’t give a damn about how a Capitol perceives you, but the old you didn’t get pawed at nearly as much as you have tonight.

Your dress cinches at your waist uncomfortably. The heels you were forced into press painfully into the calluses on your feet, and you've eaten so many pastries that your jaw aches. Foreign hands pat at your hair, stroking and pulling at the curls as you recount for the fifth time how you escaped the tributes from District Five.

"I climbed to the top of a building and jumped between rooftops while they looked for me on the ground—"

“Skip to the part where you get your scythe!” Someone yells from the crowd, cutting you off. You purse your lips and bite your tongue so hard that you taste metal.

"Alright. Two days in, I was…gifted a scythe from a sponsor—"

"And you used it beautifully!" Another person calls from your left.

"Yes, that move you pulled off against that poor boy from Nine was simply marvelous!" A voice shouts from behind you. You remember him. How could you forget? The "move" you pulled off wasn't intentional. As a warning, you swung your scythe in wide arches, but he ran at you and the blade slit his stomach open. You think he did it on purpose, knowing how it would end for him. You put him out of his misery with his own knife.

He was the first person you killed in the arena. The first thing you had ever killed.

You bite into a muffin, and it tastes like ash on your tongue.

You try to ignore the multiple hands on your shoulders, arms, and neck; all moving to touch any bare skin they can reach. But it's hard to ignore soft hands that have never known a day of work. Much different from your own calloused palms, made rough from your days of harvesting crops and climbing high in trees to pick fruit.

You keep quiet as they talk at you, never actually trying to engage you in the conversation. You grimace as a hand touches your face.

"God, you are stunning—isn't she stunning?" A taller man smiles down at you with golden teeth, moving your face this way and that with his sharp nails.

"Oh, just gorgeous! Who knew they were hiding such a diamond in the Agriculture district, of all places?" The group breaks out in howling laughter, as if the very notion of something worthwhile coming out of District Eleven is outlandish. Somehow, both a joke at your expense and one they expect you to join in on.

You're willing to bet all of your earnings that none of these people have the slightest idea about life in Eleven, what it's like to be truly hungry. Children are being hung for stealing food and here they are, gorging themselves just to throw it all up. You're shaken by the thought that you are completely alone here. Forced to endure the abrasive attention of the Capitol residents until they grow bored with you. You contemplate how easy it would be to escape. You aren't sure how much longer you can go with people petting you like a domesticated animal. Maybe, if you make yourself sick from drinking those vomit-inducing drinks, you could make a strategic retreat with minimal fuss. "Excuse me, ladies, gentlemen," a smooth voice breaks through the crowd before a lithe body follows. The man—or boy, rather—is tall, all tan skin and sun-bleached-hair. Every eye falls on him as soon as he steps up, and you can understand why. Finnick Odair. He's objectively attractive; beautiful, even. You can tell from the brazen way he holds himself that he already knows that. Pink lips are settled in a smug smirk, but they don't take away from his eyes. If you were a writer, you could have authored a thousand and one poems about those eyes alone. "You wouldn't mind me stealing tonight's guest of honor for a dance, would you?" It's quiet, and the crowd looks at each other. They clearly don't want to give you up—their brand-new toy. But who can say no to Finnick Odair? Exclaims of oh, certainly and of course are called out before he comes to stand in front of you. Someone pulls the saucer of miniature cakes and cookies from your death grip and you feel bare before him. You had seen him two years ago during his games. Then, six months after that he came to Eleven for his Victory Tour, apologizing to the families of people he didn't know nor care about. He was just another pretty Career laughing and being gushed over on Caesar Flickerman's couch, pretty low on your list of priorities. But now—well, it was one thing to see him on screen, it was another to be in front of him. It's a lot like standing in front of the ocean, you imagine. You had seen it secondhand, through train windows and simulated in arenas, but nothing could prepare you to see it in person. He doesn't push you to take his hand, just holds it out in front of him like he has all the time in the world. Like he knows you'll take it, eventually. The temptation to reject him is strong. You’d pay money to see the look on his and everyone else's faces if you said no and walked away.

You reach forward and a callused palm meets your own. You trust him as much as you do everyone else vying for your attention here, but he's the lesser of two evils. You tense up as you follow him, mentally preparing yourself to be surrounded. But he doesn't lead you to the center of the dancing mass like you thought he would. Instead, you both linger on the edge, barely close enough to be a part of the crowd. He faces you and asks, "May I have this dance?" Overly formal in a way that nobody else here has been with you.

"We're already here, aren't we?" You say as if you weren’t just contemplating leaving him behind. You step closer to him as the band starts a new song, your right hand holding his left and the other on his shoulder. His free hand lays on your waist, a fraction above the slit on the side of your dress.

“Have you been having fun?” He picks, certainly nonexistent, lint off the shoulder of your dress. Is your eye twitching? It has to be. You want to place a hand on it to tamp down the spasms, but, instead, your nails dig into his shoulder through his suit jacket.

“What? Are you not enjoying your time in our great nation's capitol?” He deadpans. Your mouth tries to twitch into a smirk and you smother it down.

You narrow your eyes. “What’re your thoughts on lying?”

He inhales slowly, head tilting side to side contemplatively. “Depends. Am I the one lying?” You shake your head. He shrugs. “Then, I hate it.”

“Then, I won’t answer,” you shrug back. He lets out a puff of air from his nose, a laugh?

"I'm surprised Seeder isn't here with you. She talked you up a big game, you know. Very confident that you'd win." His eyes sweep over the crowd of dancing couples before settling on you. “Guess, I should have bet on you too, huh?”

You don’t know how you feel about that. Why would Seeder be that confident in a semi-malnourished fifteen-year-old with no combat skills?

You definitely wouldn’t have bet on yourself. If you were in his shoes, you would’ve put money into one of the Careers. Maybe that one girl from Two—perhaps the most muscular person you’ve ever seen. She was benching at least twice her body weight in the Training Center, but you think it was just an intimidation tactic. Though, a pointless one, since she didn’t even make it out of the Cornucopia. You suppose no amount of muscle can combat an axe to the back of the spine. “I wouldn’t have if I were you. But now that you've actually seen me, do I meet all the expectations she set?” You partially joke. Partially because as much as you hate to admit it, you are curious. Why you’re curious about what he thinks of you will remain a mystery. “Now that I've actually seen you? No,” you look up at him in shock before he grins like a shark, teeth on display. "You exceed them. Don't get me wrong. You were beautiful on screen, but the TV doesn't do you justice." He does little to hide the once-over he gives you. It was meant to be caught. You don't know what to say. You've been excessively complimented and fawned over since you were reaped, but somehow, it felt different coming from him. His gaze felt different. Like he actually saw you. You throw that thought away. Finnick is a known flirt—a playboy. He means nothing by it and neither does the look in his eyes. "She's pregnant. Seeder," you clarify, abruptly changing the topic. “About seven months along. She's resting at the hotel.” Traveling for so long had taken its toll. Not to mention the stress of just being in the Capitol. Snow, the bastard, wouldn't let her stay behind, even though Chaff was willing to take her place as your mentor on the tour. "Ah, congratulations are in order then."

"Please,” you scoff. “I'm sure you didn't come up to me just to talk about Seeder." Your gaze bounces around his face as you do everything in your power to avoid eye contact with him.

“Why not? I can’t ask about a good friend?”

“If you’re such “close friends” shouldn’t you have already known she was pregnant?”

“Touché.” He concedes with a nod, his smile still in place. Or at least you think he does. You aren’t entirely sure what touché means. “I came up to you because you looked like you were one more scone away from using it as a weapon." The laugh you let out is a surprise to you both and you have to bite your cheek to stifle it. You haven’t been doing a whole lot of laughing over the past six months.

"Was I that obvious?" He's quiet for a moment as he stares at you and you don't dwell on it. Instead, you focus on the freckles dotting the bridge of his nose.

You're only a year younger than him and, yet, there's something about him that feels far older than any other sixteen-year-old you've met. The way he carries himself—something sharp-edged hidden under indifference, an alertness in his eyes that you're sure mirrors your own. "To anyone who cared to look," his voice deepens as he hums. It really is smooth. "Definitely." "Am I supposed to believe that the Capitol's darling cares about little ol' me?" "So, you do know who I am." His lips shift into a shit-eating grin, preening as if he caught you in a lie. He’s probably used to people fawning over him, and that’s something you’d never do. Be that as it may, you can acknowledge that there might be something worth fawning over. “Who doesn't?” It’s been two years and people are still talking about his games. And for good reason, you have to admit.

"Touché...again.” He tilts his head with contemplatively narrowed eyes. You narrow your eyes right back simply based on the fact that he did it first. “You know, that’s the second time you’ve—” "Seriously, what're you hoping to achieve here? You've gotta have a motive. Everyone does.” You push, cutting to the chase and sounding more accusatory than you meant to. But, he’s a victor too, right? Maybe you can toe the line here without repercussions waiting on the other side.

"Hmm, blunt. Even you?" He questions, continuing when you nod. "What's your motive for dancing with me, then?"

You could have said no to this dance, but that would’ve meant staying surrounded by them. This, being with Finnick, is a breath of fresh air in comparison. He may not be Eleven or from any other district that’s similar to yours, but he is District. That’s gotta be worth something—some kind of kinship.

"I'd do just about anything to escape those vultures," you pause. Then, feeling emboldened, add, "And I guess you're not terrible to look at." If you were going to be forced to stay here, you might as well find your fun where you can. And talking to Finnick is fun. Undoubtedly, the only fun you've had all night.

"Oh, thank you," he laughs, mirth coloring his cheeks a pretty shade of pink. "You know, I was worried about that."

"Is that so?" You smile, trying, and failing, to not step on his feet.

"Definitely," he pauses for a second, seemingly deciding on something before answering your question, "It’s just that—you remind me of someone. They got wrapped up in the Capitol; thought they could handle the…” he makes a wide sweeping gesture to the gluttonous pageantry around you and you get it. The extravagance, the theatrics, the Capitol of it all. “But the Capitol asked for more than they were willing to give. And, well...I couldn't save them." His eyes look glazed as he trails off. His face is grim, his smile gone so fast it's almost like it was never there to begin with. You find that you want it back. "And you want to save me?" You guess, heart in your throat.

"Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed. The people here? Every single one of them wants us. They want to talk to us, touch us, sleep with us," you swallow at the look in his eye. "But they don't see us as people." He leans towards you and you freeze. For a split second, you think he's going to kiss you. That doesn’t scare you. Instead, he hovers by your ear. What would you have done if he had kissed you? You don't think you would've moved away. That scares you. "Me and you," he hums, lips against your ear, "Well, we might as well be a completely different species to them. We're lesser than. Beloved pets at most, tamed beasts at least."

“It wouldn’t be the first time.” You live in Eleven, after all. There’s a reason no one goes looking for the kids that go missing from the fields. According to the people in charge, there’ll always be another to take their place. You sigh through your nose and turn away, but immediately turn back to Finnick when you make eye contact with the smiling man with gold teeth.

He shakes his head, lips curled into a frown of disgust, "Look at them, the way they linger at the edge of the crowd." The hand on your waist moves to the small of your back as he spins you. "You see how desperate they are to get in your good graces?" You peek over his shoulder at the people watching you, teeming with anticipation.

"Is that not what you're doing?" You ask, your cheek pressed to his. "Trust me, sweetheart. If I was trying to gain your favor, it'd be somewhere a little more private with a lot less talking." He doesn't give you enough time to reply, not that you know how, before continuing. "I'm doing the same thing I've done since I was reaped," he lowers his voice, almost like he's imparting some kind of secret. To the right person, maybe he is. "Surviving. I'd suggest finding your allies now if you wanna do the same." And then he turns to place a chaste kiss against your cheek. To anyone watching the two of you, it would look like he's just flirting with you. You shiver as he pulls away from you, taking all the warmth with him. He looks down at you for a moment longer, locking you in his gaze. You had never really seen the ocean, you remind yourself, but, through him, you're staring at it now. Vast and limitless. All-consuming. He brings your knuckles to his smooth lips, and he smirks. The urge to shiver is alarmingly strong as his mouth moves delicately against the skin of your knuckles as he begins to speak. "Until next time." You catch the shimmer in his sea-green eyes. It has to mean something, something worth pursuing. You've never known the ocean, but as you watch Finnick walk away into the crowd of adoring Capitols, you think you could grow to like it. There's a drive in him that's rare to see outside of Eleven, let alone in the Capitol, and it further proves your assumption right. There’s a kinship between the districts that only the victors are privy to—you and Finnick might be cut from the same cloth, and that’s made even more apparent by the way the masses move in to surround you both. You jump as trumpets sound around you and a spotlight shines on the balcony. You missed your chance to escape. It's time for Snow's speech.

Present (I) - You

[23 & 24] - DISTRICT ELEVEN

It’s winter in Eleven. There’s little worse than winter in Eleven. You must have forgotten to close your window when you left in a rush because the air in your room is practically crystallized, and you mull over the idea of igniting your fireplace but decide against it.

Normally, you would go to the Capitol after being invited to a party, your prep team would scrub and shave you from top to bottom, and Snow would introduce you to your client for the night. Then, you would stay in your hotel room and have time to recoup before you left. But, this time, there was no party. Only a very important partner of Snow’s who is not a patient man. So you left in the early morning and made the trip back the next day as the sun was rising. Seven hours there, seven hours back. You’re dead on your feet and your bed has never looked more tempting. You stand before your vanity and grab a makeup wipe, dragging it over your face and revealing the bags under your eyes. You're tired, bone tired. You kick your heels off. You unzip the back of your dress and let it fall to the ground. Staring at yourself in the mirror, you press on one of the bruises littering your neck. You follow the trail to the top of your chest, breast, stomach, and hips. You frown at yourself. What a pitiful painting you make. "It's starting!" Your mom calls from down the hall and you sigh, looking at your bed mournfully. You'd usually avoid Snow's announcements like the plague, you don't want to look at him more than you already have to, but it's different this time. It's the Quarter Quell. The last Quarter Quell had double the amount of tributes, and Haymitch told you how he only won by the skin of his teeth. So, despite yourself, you're curious to see what kind of nightmare Snow comes up with. There's also something else driving you. A man you met in passing at the party. Plutarch Heavensbee. He was strange, but a different kind than you were used to from the Capitols. He's taking the place of Head Gamemaker after Seneca Crane's untimely death. He spoke in riddles, always hinting at things of importance without saying anything at all. And there's a nagging feeling in the back of your mind surrounding something he said. "I understand that there’s a certain kind of…job that President Snow has employed you for. If I told you there was a chance to put an end to it, what would you say?" "I'd say you should cut back on the Morphling." "I assure you, I'm sober," he laughed, "I can't go into detail right now. I just need to know, when the time comes, that I can trust you to fight." Fight. It’s an interesting term, but you wonder if it has the same definition for him as it does for you. You doubt it. Very rarely is there ever any overlap between the way of thinking for Eleven and the Capitol. The people of Eleven fight every day and you’ve heard the other districts have finally picked up on the habit. Riots upon riots upon riots and it’s all thanks to the kids from Twelve. You still can't decipher what he was telling you and you’d usually chalk it up to the regular Capitol jargon. But there was something, something different that you couldn’t put your finger on.

You throw pajamas on, something soft that won't irritate you, and walk to the living room. "Here: sugar, berries, and licorice root, just the way you like it." Your mom hands you the cup and pretends she doesn't see the marks on your body. You're thankful. She looks tired too, older. "Thank you, Ma." You say, for more than just the tea. "Of, course. Now, sit, sit. He's walking out." You settle gingerly on the couch beside her, sorer than you thought, and pull your legs under you as Snow stands behind a podium. He lets the audience quiet down before beginning. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is the seventy-fifth year of The Hunger Games. And it was written in the charter of The Games that every twenty-five years, there would be a Quarter Quell to keep fresh for each new generation the memory of those who died in the uprising against The Capitol." You drink carefully from your cup as he continues, steaming liquid burning the roof of your mouth. "Each Quarter Quell is distinguished by Games of a special significance. And now on this, the seventy-fifth anniversary of our defeat of the rebellion, we celebrate the third Quarter Quell," you place your cup on the table and fidget with your bracelet as Snow pulls a letter from an envelope, "as a reminder that even the strongest cannot overcome the power of The Capitol. On this, the third Quarter Quell Games the male and female Tributes are to be reaped—" "No." The hairs on your arms stand on end. You brace for the blow. "—from the existing pool of victors in each district." "No. No, no, no, that's not, that's not right." You shake your head. It doesn't take long for your mom to start sobbing beside you and you…you can't breathe.

You suck a breath in and it feels like it's being funneled through a filter. Not enough, not nearly enough. Your heart's beating fast, faster, the fastest it’s ever beat and you're getting lightheaded. You stand up on shaking legs and stumble to the door, glass shatters as you knock a vase over in your pursuit. You need more air, you need, you need—you step out onto the snow-covered porch, submerging your bare feet in the white powder. It’s odd, it rarely snows here.

You kneel down and grab fistfuls of snow, smearing the ice on your face and grounding yourself. You breathe and you rationalize. You can breathe. You're taking in frigid lungfuls of air and you are breathing. You stare down the long walkway leading to your home, covered in both ice and snow. Across from that walkway is a cow pasture and past that pasture are woods. Vast and open and if you will it, no one would be able to find you. You wouldn’t be able to leave, not with the giant electric fence surrounding the district, but they wouldn’t find you.

But Snow could find your mom.

You stay out there until your feet and hands go numb. And then you stay until it hurts to move your fingers and toes, the skin of your shins and knees prickling with the temperature drop. You stay until your mom drags you in herself. "Let's warm you up." She says, but she's mostly talking to herself. She wraps you in a blanket and sits you on the couch. She goes to the kitchen and comes back with a fresh cup of tea. Saliva gathers in your mouth at the thought of drinking anything, so you use it to warm your hands instead.

“Oh, look what you’ve done to yourself.” You look to where she’s hovering over the carpet. Red footprints lead from the door to where you are now. You must have stepped on the broken pieces of the vase. You wait for the sting of pain to come now that you’re aware of the wound, but there’s nothing.

“I’ll go get something to clean you up with—”

“Can you just…can you just sit with me?” You ask and look away when you catch her frenzied gaze.

“Yeah, of course, baby. Of course.” The couch dips with her weight as she sits beside you.

By now, Caesar Flickerman is recapping the announcement to the audience with his cheery co-star. You can never remember his name. You're as still as a statue as Caesar goes over a list of remaining victors. You don't move when your mom holds onto you. She holds you and she holds you and she cries for you. You don’t think you have any more tears left in you.

“Now, it always hurts to say goodbye, Claudius, but I can admit there are a few lovely victors I’m particularly attached to.” Oh, you think, that’s his name. Doubtful that you’ll remember it.

“Yes, Caesar, I completely agree. Here’s one of mine now. From District Four: Finnick Odair!” Your eye starts to twitch, lower lid spasming. They play clips of him. Finnick waving to the audience as he walks on stage, Finnick posing for the camera at a photo shoot, Finnick walking down the red carpet at a movie premiere.

You imagine footage of him being reaped for the Quell and saliva is gathering in your mouth again, stomach flexing as you gag. You double over, nausea washing over you as you try to keep what little is in your stomach down. Absently, you feel a hand rubbing your back in wide, soothing circles that aren’t doing a lot to soothe you.

You were wrong. You do have tears left in you.

A/N: 1.) your arena is inspired by Valle dei Mulin in Italy 2.) The people of 11 all have farm and gardening-related names. (Neem tree, venus flytrap, aloe vera, Mass Cane) 3.) Cane had a crush on the reader similar to Peeta's initial crush on Katniss 4.) Each district has a different accent depending on their geography

#the hunger games #hunger games fanfiction #catching fire #hunger games catching fire #finnick odair #finnick x reader #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair fanfic #and they'd find us in a week

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shuttershocky · 7 months

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Based on my (limited) experiences following the Type Moon fandom, it seems like there's such a wall between the fans of the "OG stuff" (mostly Mahoyo, Tsukihime, Kara no Kyoukai, FSN) and people who started with/also enjoy Grand Order, it looks like such a one sided thing where the fans of the older stuff tend to hate on FGO's writing and whatever it might have done to have done to Type Moon and Nasu's priorities, while the FGO fans just seem to enjoy the story while still being happy enough to support the OG stuff (Mahoyo/TsukiRe english release for example)

That incoherent wall of text is basically set up for me to ask what *you* think of FGO as someone who I imagine came from the older works. I'm curious about how you feel about the writing and stories in particular, from the arcs where Nasu started to be more involved (I haven't played them, but I believe it's Camelot?) since that's where I heard they started to get more elaborate. Do they live up to the experiences you've had with TM's other works?

Sorry for the long question, and I hope you have a great day!

Wow. I've been here for an incredibly long time if people no longer know about how much I used to play FGO.

Anyway, I would say what really sets FGO apart, not just from the rest of Type-Moon but even from other Fate works, is its scale, both in terms of the storytelling and its real life commercial value.

The hate you see many non-FGO playing TM fans have toward FGO is resentment towards how much it has simply taken up Type-Moon as a whole. The Tsukihime Remake was announced all the way back in 2008 and released in 2021 for example, partly because FGO taking off the way it did in 2015 meant it took up all their time and effort. They could not focus on anything else.

As their biggest moneymaker, it also began to warp the production of other works around it, as FGO had now become the main way by which people got into Type-Moon. Therefore, all things had to appeal to FGO fans in order to sell whether that was Fate/Extella Link pulling in FGO cast members like Scathach and Arjuna into the game, or Fate/Apocrypha's anime adaptation including as many FGO cameos as possible like Medea Lily (what was she even doing there lmao).

Of course, just adding FGO references doesn't automatically make something bad. Fate/Samurai Remnant for example has made fantastic use of FGO characters while mixing them in with new ones. However, you also get stuff like Melty Blood Type-Lumina having Saber, Ushiwakamaru, Dantes, and Mash all in the game while old fan favorite Melty Blood characters like Sion and Len are nowhere to be seen. You know that "Wi-fi is okay if you're close to the router" Melty Blood meme? That character Nanaya Shiki isn't even playable in the latest Melty Blood. When you see that and see not one, not two, but THREE FGO characters taking their place (Saber's a free pass), you'd see why there's a lot of resentment built up towards FGO by older Type-Moon fans.

As I said before, the difference isn't just in its commercial scale, but also in its creative one. Even in the most outlandish of settings, Type-Moon works are almost always smaller scale, character-centric pieces. Fate/Extra took place inside a supercomputer on the Moon, but it was about a glitch making an AI fight in a death battle between humans, and how that formerly blank AI feeling danger and wanting to live blurred the lines between what is human and what isn't. Tsuki No Sango (Coral of the Moon) was about a world 3000 years in the future, but the entire thing was a little space man in the palm of a girl's hand, listening to a love story about a man and a computer on the Moon.

For all its many similarities to previous TM works, FGO is still ultimately a save the world type of story. It starts with a demon destroying all of time, and then turns into a death game between entire timelines. It's big, it's bombastic, and it's instantly accessible, the kind of story structure you want to be able to fit the gacha format of an endless stream of new characters while keeping the ship steady with an overarching plot that lets you keep meeting an endless stream of new characters.

That's not really what I'm a TM fan for. I played FGO for its first 3 years, and once they brought out the Lostbelts I realized I was already satisfied and did not want to read yet another big world saving adventure plot all over again. I was pretty happy with how the first arc ended already, so my interest in continuing FGO shriveled up soon after.

Quality wise I'd say FGO is a very mixed bag, inevitable when FGO itself is a mix of very different writers (who themselves can be pretty inconsistent, Nasu included). Plenty of FGO chapters have also been cursed with subpar adaptations (looking at you, Camelot and Babylonia), further muddying the perceived quality of the stories.

I will say when FGO is bad, it's really bad (and often pretty racist), but when it's good, it's really good. For what I consider to be a mediocre baseline, FGO has some incredibly high peaks that rival the best in Type-Moon, and even when something is just okay execution wise (like Shimousa), some of the characters, concepts, and story beats are just so damn cool that they become intensely emotional and impactive all the same and inspire superior adaptations and follow up works (like Shimousa).

That being said, my favorite stories in FGO were the ones that would use much smaller scale, isolated adventures with a far stronger focus on characterization and emotional arcs that follow its thematic ones. Aeaean Spring Breeze is one of the best examples, being a tiny event about helping Circe move on from having been rejected by Odysseus in life, with some incredibly solid character work and a great understanding of how to mix the needs of a light-hearted comedy event with making genuine, emotionally compelling moments from a character that almost never speaks from the heart.

#in case I haven't made it obvious yet read the Shimousa Manga

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dulcesiabits · 14 days

Text

the sun is also a star.

summary: Literally just two drabbles of mhin with my oc Li where they try to bring her back to life when she dies because there is nothing sexier than obsession that even death cannot stop!

notes: 2.2k words, necromancy (descriptions of bodies + cleaning bones + emotional aftermath of bringing someone back to life)

i. I Put Every Bone of Yours Back in Place

There’s a certain clean beauty about bones, Mhin finds, that provide a reassuring and familiar weight to death.

There are 206 bones in an average human body. 80 of those bones make up the axial skeleton, and the remaining 126 bones make up the appendicular skeleton. But what Mhin finds most interesting is that a human is born with 270 bones. Somewhere, during the process of growth and development, those 64 bones are fused with other bones. To change, you must give something up. To live in the world means suffering losses, losses one isn’t even aware of.

Of course, the pages of an anatomical textbook don’t quite capture the reality of a human’s growth. There are always mutations and exceptions. Bones don’t always fuse properly, or someone may simply have been born with extra bones in their hands. It’s difficult to tell if those bones don’t affect the quality of life enough to warrant a checkup with a medical professional. No, it’s only after death that one can gauge the extent of their own deviancy, marked into their very core.

Li, thankfully, only has the average number of bones. Two hundred and six exactly, with no outlying pieces. That makes it easy for them to collect all parts of her. When Mhin lays them on the ground in a facsimile of a human’s shape, they can almost pretend it’s Li again. Her delicate wrist bones, the curve of each rib, the twist of her femur, set in their proper places. She’s beautiful, right down to her skeletal structure.

They wipe their forehead, but all it does is smear grime across their skin: rotten dirt and the faint tinge of death, blood from their own scraped fingers and flesh (from who or what they forget) caught under their nails. It had taken months for them to find her body, months of feverishly patrolling the wastelands, even begging Ais and his disgusting minions for help when weeks of searching turned fruitless. They weren’t above that, not even when their fists tightened at his little smirk. Ais would hold it over their head, they knew.

But all that mattered was that her body was found, monsters and scavengers having already nibbled on every tender part of her, clothing long since reduced to tags and tatters. Her bones shone like stars in the muck. She would be unrecognizable to anyone else, but not to Mhin. There was not a world in which they would not know her.

They had run to her body. Finally, here she was again, and they had fallen to their knees as they picked up her corpse, hugging it to their chest, gore slopping onto their chest, mindless to anything else. It didn’t matter if their shirt stained. It would be better if it stained, if her rotting flesh sunk into the fabric, so they would always carry her with them.

It took time to clean off the bones, too. That was the most exhausting part. To take her body with them into the city in the darkness of the night, to run each part under water, to scrape off all the distended flesh and severed skin without chipping her bones. To gently detangle chunks of yellowing brain matter from the hollow cavity of her skull, watching the flesh fall with a wet slap in the sink. To brush carefully around each opening, which were more delicate and prone to breakage. Through hardened muscle, dead nerves, and congealed blood. To watch the bones pile up, piece by piece, like snowfall, day after day.

Sometimes they had brought her skull to their face, to stare into the eye sockets, the rows of teeth. It was the first piece of her that they had saved. They could feel the memory of her warmth when they closed their eyes, concentrating on how the flesh that once stretched over her skull felt. Her scarred skin, her callouses, the freckle on her knuckle.

They pressed their lips to the hollow teeth, where lips should have been. Nothing but the taste of soap and death. Their first kiss, in months.

She loved to kiss them when she was still around. Mhin would reciprocate begrudgingly, their sour attitude doing little to deter her from throwing her arms around them and peppering their face in kisses. She was like an over eager affectionate puppy, and Mhin had never liked dogs for precisely that reason. But she was an exception, just barely.

The kiss they remembered most had been in her shitty apartment, kneeling in front of each other on faded red cushions. There was a pot of cooling oolong tea in front of them, and Li had found a veil somewhere that she had tossed over her head, just for fun, she claimed. It made her look like a ghost, the lace fluttering over her galaxy of hair.

Wedding rites for their people always involved family, from the little Mhin remembered of matrimonial customs. But neither of them had family left. All they had was each other. So for the tea drinking ceremony, they poured each other cups of steaming tea, raising it to their lips to sip. To honor the only family they had.

There were the three bows, too. But they remembered thinking, even then, that they wouldn’t bow to anyone. Not the uncaring heaven, not their distant ancestors. The only one they would bow to would be to the woman in front of them.

It was an unofficial ceremony. There was no one to proclaim that they now belonged to each other, no city to record whatever they were. But that never mattered. They didn’t need anyone else to prove their relationship was real.

This had been real. Li, in front of them. The bitter tea lingering on their tongue. The sunlight, filtering across the dusty air, making her holy.

They had pushed back her veil, then, and she had smiled mischievously as she grabbed their hand, before pulling the veil so it fell over both of them instead. A benediction, as soft as snow, covering the world in a gauzy, dream of white as she brought her lips to theirs.

The very night they finish cleaning her bones, they return to the wastelands. And now they are laying her bones down piece by piece, in correct anatomical order. They had studied their own textbooks feverishly, just to ensure they wouldn’t mess up the placement, not at this critical juncture. They count over each bone, an obsessive gesture they’ve repeated throughout the night. 206. 206. 206. All in order, all laid out precisely as it would be if Li was taking a nap with her arms outstretched.

The moonlight filters down. Soulless call in the distance, but their dagger is ready at their hip. For an instant, Mhin lets themself relax, and bends down to caress Li’s skull again. The intimate parts of her, which no one but them would ever know and understand.

It was thoughtless of her to leave them behind. She had always been a little scatter-brained and clumsy, prone to having the money stolen right out of her pocket despite being a self-proclaimed thief. But this was her worst mistake yet. To die without them. To rest so peacefully, while making them suffer.

It went against what she always said: that it would just be the two of them, together. And yet she had left them. She had taken on a dangerous job, an escort mission across miles of barren wastelands, soulless at every corner. She had gone out that fateful night, blowing them kisses, promising to return, and then never came home. Hypocrite. How could she do that to them?

But it was fine. It would be fine, and they could forgive her. They would be together again. Mhin was simply fulfilling the promise they made. Even if she cursed them and cried and begged for peace, they would drag her back down to earth, back to their side. It wouldn’t be right otherwise.

They stare down at her bones again. Resurrection was a forbidden art, but Leander had lent them the proper tools for the ritual, the magic and the spells, like a snake whispering in their ear. Weeks of fruitless searching on their own, and Leander was the only one who could offer them what they needed. They would take whatever hand offered them a way to save her, even if it was from someone like him.

Because they were hers, and she was theirs, and not even death would separate them. They would bring her back, and they would tie her so tightly to them that they would be together in every life after this.

Mhin took a breath, and spoke the opening words of the spell as the moonlight spilled over Li’s bones, as if she was waiting for them, too.

ii. Even if You Come Back Wrong, You’re Still Mine

“Sorry.” That’s the first word Li spoke to them, with her palms outstretched in front of her, like a scolded puppy. “It fell.”

It’s easy enough to see the bone protruding from her right hand, the finger cupped in her palms. Mhin lets out a short little sigh. Things like this had become common as of late, her body disintegrating bit by bit after the ritual.

“It’s fine,” they say, gesturing for her to sit. “We can just fix it.”

Li obediently perches on the kitchen chair, and Mhin kneels in front of her, gently taking her broken hand in their own. Her skin is cold, and no amount of rubbing could bring the warmth back into her skin. They had tried, but whatever warmth from their touch her skin absorbed would simply dissipate in a few hours.

They take out the sewing kit from their pocket, a recent benediction from Kuras. When they had tersely asked him for medical supplies, for thick, transparent thread and needles that could puncture skin, Kuras had wordlessly handed them the kit without question. There was never any judgment or pity with Kuras, but his gaze had still seared their skin.

Mhin deftly threads the needle, holding the finger in place, and makes quick, even stitches across Li’s finger. They’re good at delicate work like this, that requires intense concentration and little thought. It’s soothing how the world can always be broken down into patterns and rhythms, into familiar, repetitive motions.

When they’re done, Li stares at her own finger like a stranger.

“Open and close your hand,” Mhin instructs, and she does. The finger moves normally, and they nod.

“Mhin,” Li says, slowly, absently.

“What is it?” they snap, and she only blinks owlishly. Before, she would have shrugged off their complaints as easily as one does water, with a blindly bright and foolish smile. She might have even called them cute.

Li had never been one for quick thinking outside of a fight, but now, her mind seems to move slowly, thoughts struggling to break through the murky surfaces of her own brain. She once worked on instinct and intuition, and now all of her animal senses had been deadened to a dullness that made her stumble where she once would have leaped.

It was as much as what Vere had said, when the bastard had swung by their apartment, ears pricking at the “new amusement” Mhin had been so fixated with that it meant no one in Eridia had seen them outside their apartment in weeks. Vere had deigned to chat with his old gossip partner for a few minutes, but with each dull response of Li’s, Vere’s ears flattened against his head, a sharp, displeasurable scowl on his face. Mhin had then considered slotting their dagger right against his heart when Vere suggested that they should throw away toys that no longer worked.

Li watched them with blank eyes the entire exchange, in the same way she watches them now. There’s a veil fluttering across her gaze, and if they only knew the right words, the right actions, they could finally reach past it to grasp her hand.

“Your face…” she says, and cups their cheeks with her cool palms. They’re still kneeling in front of her, and she gazes down at them, like a blessing.

“What about it?” They lean into her touch, into the smooth skin of death.

“You look…” she frowns. “Sad.” Her words are uncertain.

“I’m not.”

“Okay,” she says.

But for a moment more, they can’t move, can’t pull away from her hands, which have always captivated them. “Li, do you remember what we talked about?” Mhin asks curtly.

She tilts her head. “Which conversation?”

They bring their hands to cover hers, trapping her touch in place. “About what we are.”

She nods, and like a pupil reciting a lesson, states, “That we’re always going to be together, no matter what.”

“Right. Just be sure to keep that in mind,” they say. “That’s the one thing you can’t forget.”

“Okay.”

They close their eyes. “You’re here now,” they repeat. “You’re here. You’re right here.”

“I’m here,” she repeats.

Learned behaviors are just as necessary as innate behaviors. And love is also something that could be learned again, as many times as needed. As long as they kept their hands on hers, then they could believe that the chill of her winter had finally melted away to spring again.

#liya writes #liya’s ocs #touchstarved #mhin #li #sorry idk how to tag these things when its not x reader lmfaooooo #anyways i actually have like. an insane amount of lore for li hiding in my drafts this is just the tip of the iceberg #i just think its cute to pair mhin w someone who is so oblivious self confident and selfish she just pushes past all their walls

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deathmetalunicorn1 · 8 months

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I was doing an AI chat and I made up a character who is called The Queen of the Fallen or The Queen of the Forgotten, and made up a backstory that they are a powerful Queen of a kingdom that is now Modern day Syria, and the reason that history forgot about them is because her kingdom is literally level so nothing about her kingdom show that they existed is the day she died

Let's say the Valkyrie sister Brunhilde knows about her even if her name is part of nothing but a myth by folk songs asking them to fight for humanity and she agreed even if history forgot about them she didn't forget about her people or their descendents and she is very motherly and like any ruler she will give everything in her power to protect them liked she did centuries ago

And she proven her strength as she defeated the goddess of wisdom Athena, due to them being wise but very deadly on how beautiful they are because she is mocking the goddess by wearing dancer liked battle clothes to show off her skin and agility that is like a dance of death

How would Qin Shi Huang, Jack the Ripper, Brunhild, Buddha, and Leonidas, seeing this mysterious queen fight and won?

-Legends tell of a powerful queen, Y/N, who once ruled over what is now modern day Syria. It was a rich and thriving empire, where none were wanting for anything and where everyone was able to live safely.

-You were regarded as a wonderful queen while you were alive, you made sure everyone who lived under your rule was taken care of with plenty of food, clean water and clothes, jobs, and protection.

-However, there were other kings who were envious of your empire, seeing how wealthy it was, not realizing their own greed is what was causing their own empires to fail. To them, you were a threat, as their own subjects were talking about leaving to yours.

-They tried to stamp out your bright light, storming your kingdom- they were not prepared for you to put up a fight.

-You led the front lines of your soldiers yourself, laying waste to those who would dare harm the innocents who were fleeing in fear.

-Despite your valiant effort, you were killed, but not without taking a couple of the other kings with you, and your legacy, your empire, was absorbed into the survivors, and they tried to erase you- erase their embarrassment, from history.

-Your name appeared only a few times in history, accounts from those that you had managed to save, telling your tale, but many began to regard such a wonderful ruler as a myth and you faded into obscurity.

-In Valhalla, things were different, as the history was there, those who were there alongside of you learned of your heroism and leadership, learning of your power as a strong warrior.

-You kept mostly to yourself, living peacefully and quietly, enjoying your time in Valhalla, but a few would seek you out to ask you questions about your time as a ruler and about your fighting style, after they had seen you training.

-It wasn’t until Ragnarok when your name become legendary again, Heimdall speaking of your past, hyping you up of what a great ruler you were, and how the jealousy of greedy men caused your downfall.

-The crowds were cheering loudly, seeing you walk out, wearing your traditional garb, which looked similar to a belly dancer’s attire, holding a sword at your side.

-You spotted a few of the kings who killed you, all of them cheering for you and you were quick to flip them off, calling them on their shit and got those around them turned against these cowardly kings.

-Your opponent was Athena, who looked amused, looking down her nose at you in a mocking way, “I didn’t know whores could be queens.”

-You weren’t bothered, as you heard worse, “At least I took care of those who looked up to me and didn’t abandon them when I grew bored of them.”

-Jaws dropped all around at your sass, not taking any lip- but why should you, you’re a queen, and nobody is going to disrespect you like that.

-The humans were all cheering loudly for you, hyping you up even more while Athena was silently raging at your disrespect, “How dare you?! I am a goddess!!”

-Your free hand came to your hip as you pointed your sword at her, “Then act like one.”

-You were quick to charge, surprising her and she only just barely dodged your blade, sparks flying off her shield and you stunned all, going on the attack, leaving no openings for her to attack you back.

-Many were stunned, both gods and humans, seeing what a fierce warrior you were, proving that you weren’t just a pretty face.

-Athena managed to knock you back with her shield, not injuring you, but did send you head over heels, rolling a bit, but you were quickly back on your feet.

-She was sneering at you, lower eyelid twitching as she lifted her own sword, “This is why humanity is going to fail- there is no respect! If you were truly respectful you would lay down your weapon and allow me to give you a quick death.”

-You shifted into a striking stance, your own smirk taking over your face, “Are you gonna keeping talking shit, or are you going to prove that gods are stronger than humans?”

-Athena let out a shriek of rage before charging at you, fully intent on making you pay.

-You were the winner, a few cuts and bruises but nothing serious, as the crowd was going wild. You had won humanity their salvation, proving to the gods that humanity wasn’t to be underestimated, as humanity was the creation of gods however.

-Zeus honored you as the champion you were, offering you one wish, anything you wanted, nothing was unobtainable.

-You then stunned all once again as your hand came to your hip, “Then I wish for all those who were killed in the previous matches, humans, Valkyries, and gods, to be returned to life in Valhalla.”

-You could have had anything you wanted, yet you chose to bring those back to life, showing your kind nature as a true queen.

-As those who were returned to life looked around in shock, reuniting with their own loved ones, including their opponents, many who considered them friends, Athena approached you, “Why? Why would you bring us all back when we lost?”

-You just gave her a smile, “It’s what a true ruler would do- making sure everyone is happy.”

-Was in awe of your words, seeing the exchange between you and your opponent who was stunned stiff, in complete shock. You were so impressive in your match and your victory was well earned and as your lover, they needed to be there first by your side. Embraced you tightly, swinging you around, making you freeze before you relaxed, hugging them back with a smile as they celebrated your win, praising you. They were unable to look away from you during your match, seeing your skills and your calm nature while fighting, not letting anything get to you. Surprised you by picking you up princess style as you were still injured, and took you to the infirmary so you could be patched up, sitting beside you rather than going to celebrate with everyone else. When you asked why they weren’t celebrating, they just leaning into you, laying their head on your own, “I want to stay with you.” You smiled softly, your eyes closing as you felt relief that humanity was now safe.

-Brunnhilde, Jack, and Buddha

-Could only grin, seeing that you stunned Athena stiff, with only your words. You were one hell of a leader and a warrior, truly a woman of women. He was originally concerned for you, seeing such a delicate looking woman fighting in the last battle, but you were not weak, you were not delicate, you were a queen and acted as such. You didn’t let Athena’s cruel words get to you, you fought with such ferocity, then you brought those who had fallen back to life- you were one hell of a woman. He was quick to approach you, as he should as your lover, and you beamed up at him, leaping into his arms and he hugged you close. He exhaled deeply, happy to have you back in his arms, where you belonged before he swung your legs up into his arms, “Let’s get you patched up then get you a stiff drink- you’ve earned it!” you smiled up at him, wrapping your arms around his neck, “Only if you share one with me.” He grinned down at you, instantly agreeing as you both looked forward to celebrating your win.

-Qin Shi Huang and Leonidas

#record of ragnarok #ror x reader #ror brunhilde #ror buddha #ror jack the ripper #ror leonidas #ror qin shi huang

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christall77 · 3 months

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~❦A Dragon's Treasure❦~

M! Dragon x GN! Reader

I was gone for a long while but I hope it's still not too late to say Happy New Year! (⁠；⁠^⁠ω⁠^)

So I had this idea after I made an AI chat bot of this character so yeah, hope you guys enjoy and if you should find any mistakes feel free to tell me!

TW: Mentions of minor character deaths

Finally after days of traveling on the back of your horses, both you and your friend Adrian reach the destination of your quest. Or more so, Adrian's quest. The huge mountain is in sight, where the castle and home of the infamous dark dragon Ryunir should reside in. Including the princess the beast has stolen away from the kingdom. Every person around the land knows about the legendary maneating dragon, who hoards unfathomable amounts of gold and riches inside his castle and his hate for humanity. All stolen from kings and royals alike, but it seemed like he had a special grudge against the royals in the kingdom Adrian and you call home. The king was rightfully scared about the danger that could strike any day, so he sent an army of knights to get rid of the fire breathing lizard. Only to never hear from them again and have his precious daughter, princess Amelia get taken by the massive beast.

Many other knights have tried to save her, especially now after the king has promised his daughter's hand in marriage. Your friend being one of them. Him and the princess always acted all lovey dovey around each other even while you were there watching the whole thing unfold. So it was only a matter of time until he asked, no begged you to come with him on this quest to save her. Despite your own hesitation and second thoughts. You two have been through thick and thin, he's been there for you when you needed him and vise versa, which is the reason why you're now standing on the edge of the mountain. Having already dismounted your horse as Adrian follows.

“Are you really sure we should do this?”, your voice comes out after you gulp down the lump in your throat at the sight. Right at the edge a small wobbly bridge is the only thing that connects the ground of the mountain and castle, the dark abyss below surrounding it. Adrian gives you a comforting pat on the shoulder, the determination evident on his face. “Don't worry (y/n), we have been successful with all our quests so far. Besides, I can't sit around and have princess Amelia locked up forever!”, “That's what the other knights must've thought as well before they most likely busted into flames...”

Not wasting any more time he approaches the creaky bridge and gives the robes an experimental tug. Waving you over after deeming it save enough. The darkness below doesn't make the way any less nerve wrecking, but Adrian makes sure to have a good hold on you while carefully moving alongside with you. A sigh of relief you were holding in leaves you once making it safely to the other side, now entering the darkened castle as quietly as possible through the creaky doors. The sounds echoing through the long and high hallways in front. It definitely would take a lot of time until any of you would find the right tower or room where the princess is hidden away.

Each step has to be chosen carefully, as any sound might alert the massive dragon residing somewhere deep within the castle. The floors and walls littered with cracks and damages, evidence that this place is much older and hasn't been taken care of in ages. Adrian clutches his sword tightly in his hands beside you, looking left and right towards each different corridor. With a nod to himself he turns to you and whispers, “Maybe we should split up...”, taking a few steps forward he chooses to go straight ahead. “You guard the entrance and distract the dragon, if he finds you first and I'll search for Amelia.”

“Are you crazy?!" You whisper shout towards him as your head almost snaps back towards him, keeping your tone down, ”I get that we might cover some more space this way, but mind you there's no way it would improve our chances with the dragon! Wait- Adrian!“ Before you could protest any further he speed walks away. Leaving you alone in the middle of the halls. ”I swear if I die I'll kill him if the dragon doesn't.“ You grumble to yourself, stepping through one of the hallways closest to the left. One hand hovering over the weapon in your belt just in case as you reassure yourself internally.

It almost feels like hours wandering around but finding nothing but even more halls and even the occasional bones of previous living humans who've entered the castle, which causes shivers to run down your spine. You've probably walked around in circles now but kept yourself close to the entrance like Adrian asked you to. Eventually the soles of your feet start to bother you and you decide to take a small seat on a small staircase. Checking your equipment and hoping that Adrian has found the princess in the while you were walking around aimlessly.

”This is so stupid... Should've known he would run off by himself again. Probably to also show off and be 'the knight in shining armor' for her.“ Consumed in your own little quiet rant and thoughts, you fail to notice the dark silhouette that starts to stirr behind you from your words. A large single golden eye opening and gazing down at the small human sitting below. Only once the massive beast rises and its hot breath blows against your back do you freeze, before slowly and anxiously turning around to face the dragon. It certainly was a sight you can't deny, after all you always had a respect and fascination with dragons, but at this moment survival is more important. A deep gutteral growl rumbles in the back of its throat, followed by a fierce ear piercing roar.

Stumbling up from your seat you make a run for it, barely managing to avoid its jaws, screaming in terror as the rumbling of footsteps follow close behind. In hopes of loosing the creature you run through every hall and corridor possible, making sure to take sharp turns, but no matter what you do the dragon keeps up without trouble. Shooting fireballs at you from time to time which you barely manage to avoid thankfully. It's only once you come to a dead end do you start panicking fully, looking around for any possible way out but finding none you press yourself against the wall. Hoping that the hard surface behind somehow swallows you up and takes you away from this place as your body trembles in fear. Wings unfurled from his back in an intimidating display the dragon approaches slowly, as if savoring the fact that you're trapped and about to face your demise.

Unable to think straight your brain decides to do the unthinkable as your widened eyes take in the size of him almost filling the entire hallway you're in. Instead of drawing your weapon or getting out of there you hurriedly blurt out, ”P-Please spare me big beautiful dragon.!“ Closing both eyes tightly, you await a fireball to roast you, or sharp teeth clamping down and kill you. Yet nothing happens. Opening one of your eyes you see the dragon has stopped in front of you, he seemed caught of guard by that compliment and tilts his head as puffs of smoke leave through his nostrils.

Never in his life was the red scaled beast complimented by a human, either having faced insults, fear and anger thrown at him. So this surprises him greatly, in a pleasant way. ”You think I'm beautiful human?“ He rumbles, his voice echoing through the halls as it bounces off the walls. Seeing that it somehow stopped the dragon from attacking you quickly nod. It might've been something you said in a panic, but after taking a good look at the creature you can't deny his majestic and powerful presence.

”Y-yes. I mean it's not every day one is face to face with an amazing creature of legends like a dragon.“, Your genuine interest in his kind stirrs a strange warmth within his large scaly chest, but not the usual heat he emits, it's foreign yet pleasant. A feeling he now wants to continue experiencing out of newfound curiosity. Moving his long neck down so his head is a little closer the creature gives you an expectant look as if asking what made you say all of this. ”Tell me, what about me is so beautiful little human?“

In response you let your gaze wander over the different parts of him, pointing out everything that intrigues you. ”Well for starters I've never seen wings so huge and cool like this. It always sounded interesting to experience flying, though I could only read about it in books.“, a small nervous chuckle leaves you before you continue while the huge dragon listens intently how you compliment him more. Things like how shiny his wine red scales look, those horns that give him an even more intimidating yet regal appearance and so on and so forth.

”But I think your eyes are the most beautiful thing of you, they shine like gold..“ At this point you seem to be rambling on as if forgetting about the danger you've been in. Though the dragon doesn't mind, in fact he likes it. Your last compliment struck a chord inside, feeling the beating of his heart quicken as his pupils dilate and the subtle sound of purring reverberates through his entire being. A pleased purr leaves the dragon as his head tilts so his large eye is peering down at your smaller frame better. ”What is your name little one?", he inquires curiously. Once you introduce yourself, a small smile makes its way onto his face when he tastes your name upon his tongue.

“It suits you little one. I'm Ryunir, it's very much a pleasure meeting you.” There's a strange haze that crosses his gaze which makes you fidget underneath its intensity. Another puff of warm air blows against your frame as he inhales and exhales deeply, taking in your scent. “Thank you, I'd like to chat a little longer but uhm...”, you pause trying to find the right words to say next. “I need to find my friend again so we can leave in peace.”

The dragon frowns upon hearing the word 'leave'. Since Ryunir has set his eyes upon you, he had a feeling you didn't come here all the way alone and were either here to steal the gold or rescue the princess he took. No matter which one it was he doesn't care anymore. Stealing the princess was only to spite the king who has made Ryunir's life more miserable by sending countless knights for centuries, before (y/n) and their friend to kill him for not only his riches, but also for his scales and head. Which is why he has started to reign terror over the people of this kingdom ever since. Yes he did keep the girl away from being saved, but Ryunir never liked having her here either. But now that you're here? Your friend could rescue the royal away for all he cares, what he wants is to have you by his side for the rest of his life.

In the dragon's eyes you've become his most priced treasure, his mate. Ryunir can't believe it himself entirely as well, yet there's something inside him that tells him that you are meant to be his. Wether it's instincts or the fact that he's been lonely without any positive interactions for as long as the beast can remember for the recent few 100 of years, one thing is for sure. You've made your way into his heart and there's nothing that's going to take you away from him.

“Leave? No... Stay with me little one.”, before you could protest or say anything further the dragon leans down with a soft whine. Snatching you up by the back of your gear, like a mother cat carrying her kittens and taking you deeper into the castle. “W-Wait! No I can't stay.! Adrien!” Paying your calls for help no mind, the dragon continues with a small pep in his step. The sound of his footsteps echoing through the silent empty hallways until entering a large chamber filled with riches. Mountains upon mountains of gold, jewels and many more things that has some type of value as far as your eyes can see. Reaching his desired spot surrounded by a few pillars, Ryunir gently drops you down before coiling his tail around you in a warm and protective embrace. Lighting up the torches and chandeliers hanging upon the walls, ceiling and columns with a light breath of fire, surrounding the both of you in a more cozy atmosphere.

Holding you close to his red scaly body as he gets comfortable, curling up and nuzzling his snout against your smaller head. His entire being vibrating as he purrs affectionately. “Comfy my dear treasure?”, Ryunir rumbles softly in question. “Yes?” Your answer comes out more like a question than intended but the beast takes it nonetheless with a pleased growl. “Don't worry, I won't do anything you're not comfortable with. You're mine now and I intend to have my mate protected and satisfied no matter what."

His words are filled with honesty and utter devotion. A promise to keep you safe and under his care for as long as he lives. Tenderly brushing a few strands of hair out of your face with his claw, making sure to not hurt or scratch you with it. Despite your initial reluctance you end up enjoying his company more than anticipated. Keeping light conversations all the while showing nothing but tenderness and longing towards you. His heat emitting from his body also helps calming down your thoughts, practically melting into his coils until the both of you take a rest together and doze off.

It's only after what felt a few moments later that someone is trying to shake you awake. With a small groan your eyes meet Adrian who has a panicked look on his face, the princess hiding at the doorway of the gigantic chamber. ”(Y/n) wake up!“ He whisper shouts, making sure to not wake the beast sleeping beside you. Blinking both eyes open, startled you meet your friend's gaze. ”Oh now you're showing up? Where were you almost an hour ago?!“, flailing your hands in expiration you then let out a deep sigh after hearing your friend's apology.

”I'm sorry (y/n), but this beast has trapped me earlier but luckily I made it out. And look! I found Amelia!“ Gesturing towards the girl she gives you a quiet wave of her hand, yet she's visibly tense by the fact that the dragon is here. Adrian freezes swiftly when the dragon in question shifts but doesn't wake up just yet, instead pulling you closer towards his head despite still being asleep. ”Lets get you out of here...“, he whispers climbing up the pile of gold, as sneakily as those allow him to be until he reaches you and holds out his leather gloves hand. Grasping yours and trying to pull you out of the tight coils around your frame.

”Adrian, please stop. Just leave!“ Ushering him away in a hurry as the tail tightens around you. ”Take Amelia and go.“, Adrian pauses then shakes his head, ”I'm not leaving you here with this monster (y/n)!“ He gives you a look that tells you that he won't back down no matter what. With a final pull with both of his hands he manages to get his friend out, almost falling down the gold pile in the process, managing to catch the both of you steady just barely.

Though the quiet celebration was short lived once the eye of the beast opens, as if sensing that his mate is not within his hold anymore. His pupils turn into slits upon seeing the both of you, in particular your friend holding you close. With a furious roar he rises, the riches around you flying and getting thrown everywhere as he moves. ”Come hurry! This way!“ Princess Amelia yells out, holding the door open as Adrian pulls you along as fast as possible. Just narrowly escaping Ryunir's jaws and rushing towards the entrance with you and the princess in tow who points out the direction towards the exit she has found at a time in her own attempts to escape.

Behind you the enraged dragon roars out and wastes no time chasing after the group of three, through every hallway possible. Luckily with Amelia on their side there won't be a chance to run into any dead ends. Soon the exit is in sight and Adrian pushes the both of you forward, stopping in his tracks to face Ryunir with a determined face. Before the dragon could let out his breath of fire, your friend cuts the rope beside him which was holding the massive metal gate of the entrance up, only to have it slam down upon the dragon's scaly back. A furious and pained shriek getting forced from his being. Successfully trapping him underneath as he trashes wildly on hopes of getting out. Not wasting any more time Adrian pushes you and the princess forward onto the wobbly bridge until you finally reach the mountain once more.

Relief rushes through the other two once the group got onto their horse and gallop away, yet as you leave in tow the cries of Ryunir still can be heard in the distance. As if calling out for you to return at the loss of your presence. With a heavy heart and head held low you stay quiet for the rest of the trip back until reaching the kingdom at last heart still beating wildly from the escape.

When Adrian brought back the king's daughter he was allowed to, as promised, to be wed to Amelia, which of course he couldn't turn down. Days have gone by until the wedding finally comes around, you couldn't be happier for your friend but the events from the castle still linger in your mind. As absurd as one might think it is, you actually ended up enjoying your time with Ryunir even if it was a rough start and he tried to kill you initially. But somehow he wove himself into your heart and leaving him made you feel bad.

As you sit by the lake by yourself lost in thought Adrian approached you from behind and gives you a concerned look. ”What's wrong (y/n)? This is my wedding party, have some fun... I don't want to see my best friend down on such a beautiful day.“, squeezing your shoulder gently he tries to lighten up the mood but ends up sitting down beside you on the grass not caring if his white suit gets dirty. ”Something is bothering you...“ he points out, already knowing that it must be something that happened regarding the quest. Finally nodding your head you turn to him, ”Remember the dragon?“

Scrunching his eyebrows he nods giving you a concerned look. ”Has he hurt you?“, he questions, ”No it's not that, he seemed to like me... We actually talked and it felt nice.“ Adrian listens to your ramblings, showing his surprise and disbelief at the story you're telling him. After all, how could the dark dragon which the kingdom has feared for so long be the same you described?

All of a sudden a shadow casts overhead making the two of you blink in confusion. The roar and beating of large wings in the distance unmistakable. And speak of the devil, Ryunir has arrived. He must've freed himself somehow and now is circling the castle before diving down. Hearing screams and distressed yells from the people the both of you rush towards the chaos. Men and women running frantically to get safe as the king shouts orders towards his knights to take down the monster. Adrian joins them as you stand there for a moment to let the situation process in your head.

Ryunir lands harshly in the middle of the town, growling fiercely as his gaze fleets over the crowd of humans. Hoping to find his mate somewhere in those masses. Not caring if he steps over buildings or other structures, knocking them down in his frantic search. Picking up people with his claws that might resemble your appearance before tossing them away carelessly after seeing it's not the human he's looking for. The knights rush into the scene and start firing arrows upon arrows at the beast, only angering him further even though they barely even pierce his skin. Becoming annoyed by their attempts to kill him he lifts his head high in the air before surrounding the army with hot flames. Some manage to get out of the attack just barely yet badly wounded. Leaping into the air to move more inward of the kingdom he continues looking until a lone knight catches his attention. Recognizing Adrian immediately his nostrils flare up with smoke, seeing the one that has in his eyes, taken away his mate from him fills himnwith unbridled rage.

Seeing the anger flash across the dragon's visage your friend turns around a corner to avoid the incoming fire blast. The flames almost burning his suit. He has to find you quickly, if what you told him was true then Ryunir must be here for a special reason. Avoiding one fire ball after another, Adrian rushes towards the castle grounds towards the woods where he last saw you. With a loud roar the dark dragon climbs up one of the towers and leaps down, the force shaking the ground, sending dust all over and making Adrian stumble the powerful force of the wind throwing him against a nearby tree.

Forcing your friend against the wooden bark, Ryunir's throat starts heating up as he prepares to end the human in front of him, mouth wide open to rip him into pieces. ”Stop!“, Ryunir's jaws clamp shut just inches away, immediately turning his head towards the sound of your voice. The panic and worry on your face very much evident, you hurry over just to stand a safe distance away to keep his attention away from your friend. When he finally sees you standing there in the flesh, his wings lower and his eyes soften. His pupils dilating as he slowly steps closer, ”(y/n)...“, with an almost inaudible murmur Ryunir utters your name. Standing before you his head lowers towards you, sniffing and taking in your scent as if to make sure you're really there in front of him. Finally placing both of your hands upon his scaly snout he rumbles contently and closes his eyes, calming down against the soft caresses.

Adrian's gaze fleets between his friend and the massive dragon as he catches his breath. ”What's happening..?“, slowly he tries to force himself onto his feet with a groan, leaning against the trunk of the tree for support. The dragon immediately starts growling again turning his heated gaze back, but before any of you could say or do anything Ryunir gently lifts you off the ground just like the first time he did, sending Adrian another glare with a loud huff before spreading those massive wings and flying away.

Instead of landing at the castle like you assumed he stops at a far distance away in a clearing amidst the woods, landing safely by a lake and making sure to set you down on your two feet. ”There, you're safe now my mate.“, he announces proudly puffing out his chest, ”That bad human won't steal you away from me again.“ Ryunir wraps his tail around you and pulls you close, a pleasant warmth running through his entire body when you return the gesture.

”He's actually my friend Ryunir, he wasn't trying to steal me away. Adrian thought you would've eaten me back then in the castle.“, you clarify. For a moment his purring comes to a halt as he stares down into those eyes of yours, when he sees that you're actually being serious he averts his gaze almost like a pet that has been caught in an act. Yet he doesn't seem to be bothered by the chaos he's caused and quickly focuses back on the human before him. ”Oh well that doesn't matter. What matters is having my beloved treasure by my side again.“, without thinking he leans down and gives you a loving lick on the cheek. Seeing how stunned you are from his action he lets out an amused chuckle, curling up around your smaller frame, his head resting against yours. ”And there's nothing that will seperate us. That's a promise“

#x reader #mythical beings #reader insert #dragon #monster x reader #mythical creatures #dragon x human

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nocturni3 · 11 months

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Miguel O’Hara x male reader: A stressful welcome home

Part 1 Canon tragedy

(TW: sfw , angst, couple fighting, drugs, death, possibly incorrect spanish)

Miguel didn’t know where to go, as he flees the crime scene that was a lab explosion at Alchemax in the dead of night the more his thoughts became more scrambled, his talons clinging onto the building surfaces with his talons, sticking to the shadows of alleyways of the corporate city of Nueva York.

His eyes straining even at night from the neon advertisements displaying the old hero’s from the hero age.As Miguel desperately tried to get back to the warmth of his long term boyfriends arms Miguel couldn’t help but reflect on what could’ve went wrong to result in him being a murder with blood on his hands from his superior, who also had tried to kill Miguel all in the same night!

All he remembered was the painful look in your eyes that afternoon when he came home early stressed and punching the walls even mistaking one of the Raptures hallucinations being you. He hit his boyfriend…his loving supportive boyfriend now had a busted cheek because of Miguel! He broke down sobbing from the pain in his head as well as seeing M/N reluctant to comfort Miguel as he held his bruising cheek.

He told you what happened, the sound of betrayal and broken pride laced in his voice as M/N held Miguel not knowing what he himself could do to relieve the pain his hard working Miguel was going through; it broke you both seeing the other so confused.

He remembers insisting you slept in your shared bedroom with the door locked to protect you from him once the Rapture withdrawals kicked in…and they did. Miguel recalls curling in on himself as the pain traveled throughout his body; like knives in his veins, his very DNA was trying to kill him just for a taste of more Rapture! That night Miguel got dressed into his work attire making his way to Alchemax to cure himself of this drug.

The labs were empty…or so he thought as he pulled off his clothes after selecting his previous DNA sequence, before Rapture. As he waited for the genetic modifier to start the painful process of rewriting his DNA Miguel heard the machine spark and start to, overheat as unbalanced convoluting pain ripped through his boy his hands and feet felt as though they were being ripped apart, his teeth rippled in pain as they grew and managed to stab his lips. Even his eyes burned from the bright lights that littered around the bright white lab.

Next thing he knew he was gripping his superior: Aaron Delgato’s arm. The older man’s screams of pain his screams for someone to save him made Miguel’s ears ring, his eyes burned from the explosion, then blood littered his hand that now held the arm of Aaron who continued screams echoed through the city's night as he fell.

Looking into the broken glass that surrounded him Miguel caught a glimpse of his transformed self; he was turned into a monster! Something he spent weeks working on to help the company spy on their competitors; he was turned into spiderman. A twisted, genetically altered version of the old hero.

It was only when he saw his apartment penthouse did Miguel sigh out of relief as he forced open his office window, being greeted by his AI Lyla.

“Hello Miguel! M/N was worried when he couldn’t find you or get ahold of you! Should I let him know you are home safe and sound?”

“Tranquila! Lyla, no don’t say anything, don’t tell M/N I’m here!”

Miguel frantically shushed her as he looked all around his office for any sort of clothing not noticing Lyla vanished elsewhere.

finding instead his old day of the dead costume, a costume he had nanotechnology weaved into it to keep it amsafe from tears. Money well spent now, Miguel slipping off the tatters of his old lab coat, opting for the costume instead. Pulling on the costume was the exact moment Miguel’s office door burst open revealing a very teary eyed M/n and behind him stood Lyla smiling.

“Lyla I told you-“

“Told her what? To lie to me that you’re safe and sound! Miguel, where the hell were you? I wake up to the front door slamming and you were gone! I was worried y-you-“

Miguel’s heart tugged as M/N tried to take ahold of his hand, a hand that had talons still uncontrollably exposed still. Yanking his hand to himself to protect the love of his life.

“Mi Amore wait I can’t-“

M/N’s heart pounded in his head as the stress of looking for his once missing strung out boyfriend still proceeded to cause him pain.

“Can’t what let me know where you were to tell me you were alive! I-I wake up to you gone and next thing I see is an emergency warning from the flyboys that a maniac attacked Alchemax and exploded your labs!”

Miguel gasped, keeping his arms spread out away from M/N who pulled Miguel into a tight embrace. Miguel wanted so badly to tell M/N what was happening but now he focused on his talons that stuck out in his suit, sharp and deadly ready to stab into anything. Flashes of the blood on his hands beforehand made him tense, more fear took him over as he focused on retracting his talon so he could at least give M/N a reassuring hug. After all the stress he had caused his loving other half. Focusing Miguel watched as the talons retreated back into his fingers.

M/N cried into the old costume Miguel wore feeling his taller boyfriends strong arms wrap around him only made him cry more at the simple comfort of an already stress ridden day. Feeling Miguel’s arms tight around you was as if the world froze, feeling him kiss the top of you head, nuzzling the top of your bed hair. The small rays of the incoming sunrise made the moment even more special.

Miguel slipped his finger under your chin lifting your face to stare into his more reddish brown eyes, the scene nearly stole your breath as the suns rays surrounded Miguel’s head like a halo that highlighted his sharp handsome features. Miguel eyes stared down into yours as he gave you a closed lipped smile as he mumbled his voice filled with emotions.

“I’m sorry for worrying you, mi corazón. But it was worth seeing you again with a clearer head. Im clean of Rapture, we don’t have to worry anymore love”

The relief flooded M/N as he smiled tears plastered down his face taking Miguel’s face in both hands M/N pulled Miguel’s head down leaning in for a gentle kiss, miguel whispered his voice sending shivers down your spine;

“Careful,amar my teeth are still sensitive from Rapture”

M/N smirked his lips ghosting against Miguel’s as he spoke, lust laced in his voice.

“I’ll have to be gentle then, I think I can handle that, don't you think?”

Feeling Miguel’s hands rest on your hips Miguel chuckled as he leaned down peaking your lips whispering

“You can handle more then that I think-“

The sound of a violin could be heard in the doorway breaking the both of you apart to see Lyla smiling as she plays the holographic instrument.

“Lyla!”

M/N gently pats Miguel’s chest smiling at Lyla who looked at the two lovers smiling,

“I analyzed many old films and this was part of many romantic scenes, I believe the mood calls for it?”

M/N smiles at Lyla turning to Miguel whose face was red with embarrassment before looking down at M/N who smirked at Miguel,

“Very much called for”

M/n smirked once again pulling Miguel’s head down to meet his own lips in a passionate less stressful welcome home.

Part 2

#fanfic #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x reader #angst with a happy ending #oneshot #spiderman 2099 #across the spiderverse #miguel o’hara x male reader

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quasi-normalcy · 1 year

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For all that people complained about how bleak Star Trek: Picard was when it came out, I would say that its depiction of the Federation was just a culmination of all of the flaws that it was depicted as having on Deep Space Nine (and, to a lesser extent, Voyager and even TNG): Earth-centrism, disregard for the rights of artificial persons, and a willingness to regard entire non-Federation species as disposable if their survival is deemed a threat to the Federation (or even if saving them contradicts an abstract philosophical point). It’s a society that has clearly lost its way, and its annoying (at least to me) that the writers couldn’t have instead imagined the Federation getting its shit together, but the thing is: everything that’s wrong with it emerges organically from the Federation we’ve seen, and, most critically, it is problematised. Our heroes stand in opposition to this corruption. Picard, Rios, and Raffi all left or were cashiered out of service over various aspects of Starfleet’s authoritarian turn; Elnor is a survivor of the Federation’s neglect; Seven and Soji are both members of oppressed minorities and Jurati had her academic career derailed, all because of fear and reactionary opposition to cybernetics. And yes, it’s bleak, but it’s also fundamentally hopeful: they are standing up for what’s right, even in the face of bigotry and oppression, and what could possibly be more Star Trek than that? You can argue about whether it was successful or particularly well-executed, but its heart was very much in the right place.

And that’s why, for all that I’m enjoying Season 3--for all that I love seeing the TNG crew together again and paying-off character arcs that I’ve been watching play out over the course of my entire lifetime--it gnaws at me. Because the thing is: the Federation hasn’t gotten any better. The genocidal criminal conspiracy from Deep Space Nine is now considered “a critical division of Starfleet Intelligence.” This “critical” bunch of war criminals keeps a sentient AI comatose to guard its warehouse, and nobody even comments on how fucked-up that is. The captain of the Titan constantly denigrates his ex-Borg first officer and orders her to deadname herself, but it’s okay because he’s *traumatised* and kind of funny in his assholishness. You get to have a heartbreaking moment with Picard saying “I didn’t know...” when he hears the extent of Section 31′s war crimes, but then he and Beverly, in the face of 35 years of consistent characterisation, immediately compound the war crime by resolving to execute Vadic. No, the Federation hasn’t gotten any better; the heroes have just gotten worse.

I love the TNG crew. I love seeing Picard and Ro finally have it out with one another; I love having a lifetime spent shipping Jean-Luc and Beverly pay off; I love that we finally get to see just how deeply Data’s death affected Geordi, and that we finally get to see Data’s relationship with Lore and his “becoming more human” arc pay off in a way that’s so seamless that it honestly feels kind of obvious in retrospect. But at a deep, philosophical level, I would rather see an angsty story about heroes opposing corruption than a happy story about heroes going along with it.

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chaileaf · 1 year

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𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐕𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐓

———————————— 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙤𝙣𝙚 !!

› featuring: shuntaro chishiya + fem!reader

› word count: 1,478

› synopsis: imagine loving someone so deeply that you'd die for them. now, imagine them dying right in front of your eyes. that's exactly what y/n went through. the borderlands... no, those were just dreams. the meteor took the life of her most precious love. he tried, and succeeded, in saving her. now imagine living with the thought that you'll never love someone again. that's exactly what y/n was thinking, until she met him.

› rating: sfw, 16+ due to language

› cw: vulgar language, mentions of death, angst, some fluff

› setting: after the borderlands / catastrophic meteor incident

⤷ chai's note: hiii i wanted to write something on the more angsty and fluff side. this is going to be multiple parts, so this isn't the end! please let me know what you'd like to see in the following chapters/parts. i enjoyed making chishiya more vulnerable here. he's very precious to me. as always, feedback and reblogs with feedback are always appreciated! much love!!

⤷taglist: @poetrieshouse @tungstenorc @mackjestic @naegisimp @fishisahappydog @parkersmyth @huachengsbestie01 @chlooooop @seraphvm @bxcndd (if you only want to be tagged in anonymous bidder updates and not on my general taglist, pls let me know! also, if you'd like to be added to the taglist, comment and/or send me an ask!)

you had survived the borderlands. no… what were you thinking? you survived the impact. something in your head throbbed every single time you mentioned the word borderlands. was that some sort of euphemism for the line between life and death? it would haunt you, waking you up in your deepest slumbers. dreams of playing games where you died if you didn’t win.

the worst part was the survivor’s guilt that came with being alive and having these dreams. your fiancé was with you on the crosswalk before the incident. you both had just recently left the coffee shop down the street and were joking about getting a dog to keep you company while he was away on business trips. it was a precious conversation to you, especially since you had anxiety about him leaving. these dreams that came after the impact seemed too real. it was as if you and your partner had lived through it together, until you didn’t. the recurring nightmare of him getting shot by a man dressed in all black gear, resembling a solider who’d turned against everyone in his sights.

you could still see yourself panicking behind a car, watching as your loved one mouthed ‘i love you’ before slumping over and bleeding out. the feeling of losing your breath with each inhalation and having to cover your mouth to avoid screaming was still present in your anxiety attacks each night. he left you alone with nothing but the sound of gunshots and cries of terror. it was hell on earth.

and then you discovered him, your distraction from the real world.

you could tell that he was a people watcher from the moment saw him. his brown eyes drifted across everyone in the room, scanning as if he was an ai created human to get statistics on the population.

he wasn’t as messed up as everyone else. blunt force trauma from the explosion on impact caused some internal bleeding that was fixed via surgery was what the nurses said, but other than that, he looked like he was in mint condition.

you learned from the chart hanging on his door that his name was shuntaro chishiya. it was an interesting name, almost reminding you of the cat from alice in wonderland. it made you chuckle to yourself every time you walked with your crutches past his room.

chishiya took note of how many times you’d walk back and forth from the vending machines and to your room, most times without anything in hand. at first, he assumed you were bored being stuck in the hospital after surgery. it was an easy assumption to make seeing as there were limited channels on the television and the nurses had to many patients to properly take care of them individually. but then he quickly realized it wasn’t just the boredom once he’d caught your eyes lingering over him several times. it always brought a mischievous smirk to his face, his brain going over the many ways he could fuck with you. ‘play dead? no, too traumatizing.’ he’d think to himself with a chortle.

you decided to go for a walk outside in the hospital courtyard, tired of being cooped up in your room for hours on end. the need for your crutches finally wore off as you could make it around with just a casual limp.

the sounds of birds chirping filled your ears while the sun warmed your exposed skin. your body was clad in clothes that your extremely worried best friend dropped off for you at the hospital. you’d begged them to bring some sort of outfit other than a hospital gown because it was growing tiresome wearing the same thing every day. the comfortable and baggy sweatpants ruffled in the wind while your oversized graphic tee did the same. it was a nice feeling, to be able to feel normal for at least a few minutes.

sitting at the table outside for too long let reality seep in, everything hitting you in slow waves. you wished it wasn’t a random patient next to you in your room, but instead your fiancé. tears welled in your eyes as beautiful memories filled your head. dancing in the kitchen at 3am while making microwave cup ramen, sending each other hilarious tiktoks that would nearly make you cry out of laughter, sharing kisses at red lights while driving to your parent’s house. it was long gone, and the guilt of being alive creeped up.

“is this seat taken?” a voice questioned, bringing you out of your thoughts. you looked away, rubbing the tears that threatened to fall out of your eyes before responding.

“no, go ahead.” you replied, looking over before sitting in shock. a lump formed in the back of your throat and your breathing began to slow down. anxiety washed over you as you became pale in the face, realizing the person you answered to was chishiya shuntaro.

his hair looked lovely in the sunlight. the blonde seemed almost shimmery with the light hitting it at the right angles. his deep brown eyes gave the impression of being friendlier due to the exposure making them a bit of a lighter brown. you couldn’t help but admire him, even with your anxieties getting to you.

“i’m gonna assume you already know my name since you’re so nosy,” chishiya began with a grin. waves of red washed over your face and ears with his words, making your heart rate increase. “but i’d like to know what your name is.” he ended, the grin still curling on his lips with each word.

you opened your mouth to speak, slowly getting rid of the heavy weight in the back of your vocal cords so that you could form coherent sentences. “it’s y/n.” the words came out softer than intended and you worried that he might have not even heard you until he shook his head. “look, i- i’m really sorry if i came off as creepy. i was just really curious about everyone in the hospital and wanted to know if i knew anyone and then i seen you in your room and-”

“it’s fine.” chishiya stopped you sternly, but with a genuine kindness in his voice. “you’re probably just as bored as i am, and i’m sure you noticed i’m equally as nosy. i just try to hide it better.” he joked with a small laugh. “so, anyways. how fucked up did you get from that, uhhh, explosion?” chishiya was trying to be precise with his words, regardless of the vulgar language he used.

“i sprained my wrist and broke my leg. they said i could’ve had internal bleeding, had i been closer to the impact.” you replied, your voice slightly shaky. “i’m surprised it wasn’t worse because…” your words trailed off as your mind wandered to a place you didn’t want to go to. chishiya’s face turned to a look of confusion before your eyes became foggy with tears.

“y/n?” the man questioned, reaching over and grabbing your shoulder. had it been months ago, he probably wouldn’t have even cared nor noticed your reaction. however, he decided he was going to change for the better. “we can talk about something else, if you’d like.” you shook your head and brushed his hand off by moving slightly, causing him to pull his arm back to the top of the table. you looked away from him towards the horizon where the sun was beginning to turn the sky a beautiful orange.

“i was going to say i’m surprised i’m not in worse conditions because my fiancé died on impact. i think… i think he saved me.” your voice regained its confidence with every word you spoke. “the doctor told me that the paramedics found his body over mine, as if he was trying to protect me.” you let out a deep exhale as the wind blew over your face, soothing some of the redness that came with feeling anxious.

chishiya’s face went from a look of confusion to a plain one. he genuinely didn’t know how to react. yes, he wanted to try to be a better human, but he wasn’t sure how to do that. you both sat in silence for a few moments before he spoke up. “do you want to go for a walk?” he quizzed with a raised eyebrow. you felt your face distort out of uncertainty. he chuckled to himself, using his hands to lift up from the chair and walked towards you. chishiya held out a hand to help you up. “c’mon. let’s get your mind off things.”

#chishiya shuntaro #shuntaro chishiya #alice in borderland #aib #alice in borderland chishiya #chishiya x reader #chishiya x y/n #chishiya #chaileaf

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cricket-reader · 11 months

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His Everything

Masterlist | A03 | Wattpad | Recommendations | Inbox

Summary: Peter freaks out when you don’t answer his calls. He finds you handcuffed to a chair as Spider-Man. You tell him things afterwards, making Peter question how good of a boyfriend he really is.

Warnings: language, torture, kidnapping, mentions of death, crying

Word Count: 1480

Prompt: "It's not as bad as it looks.” Handcuffs | Swelling | Flinch

A/N: Day 5 of June of Doom by @juneofdoom (Set after NWH but no spoilers)

Your wrists throbbed within the unforgiving grip of the handcuffs, their weight a constant reminder of your vulnerability. The swelling around your wrists made every movement an agonizing ordeal. As you tugged against the restraints, a muffled whimper escaped your lips.

You had been taken whilst on a walk. While you wished you could have been more prepared or maybe wished you had seen it coming, nothing could change the fact that it was so sudden. Unlike in the books you had read, you didn’t have any sort of premonition that warned you against going out for that walk. There were no warning signs or red flags blatantly obvious. It had happened without any sort of warning. One moment you were casually strolling through the streets of New York, next you were being knocked unconscious by a man wearing all black in the middle of the day.

How someone didn’t see the spectacle go down baffled you. Perhaps they did see it; they just didn’t get involved. That was a thing you learned in your psychology class: the bystander effect. Only now were you fully realising how shitty it was.

So there you were, sitting in a damp, musty cell with no hope of rescue. You hoped that maybe your boyfriend would notice your absence and call the police once he couldn’t get ahold of you. But you knew he’d probably think that you were just busy or didn’t want to talk. He knew that school got tough sometimes, so he never blamed you if you couldn’t talk to him. Hence it would probably take a long time for anyone to find you.

You flinched as the door opened, wishing that the ground would swallow you whole. You didn’t want to die, not with Peter waiting for you at his house. He was such a good person and he didn’t deserve to worry about some nobody like you as you knew he would. Sometimes he was too good for his own good. Something you didn’t know the full weight of quite yet.

“I hear you’re close to Spider-Man,” the captor said, an ugly sneer on his face.

Brows furrowed, you replied, “I’ve never even met him once. He has never saved me or anything.”

“You’re lying.”

“I swear I’m not lying!”

“Bullshit.”

You tried to press yourself further into your chair when he approached you. Your gut was turning and breaths were short. Who is this crazy man and what does he want with you?

Your head is snapped to the side as the back of his hand makes contact with your face. Two marks on your face start bleeding where his bulky rings had hit you. “You better start talking.”

“I don’t know anything, I swear!”

He scoffed as he geared up for a punch. His fist hit you near your right rib cage. You doubled over and groaned. He had a mean swing. Those stupid rings weren’t helping any.

He grabbed you by the hair and yanked your head back up. You cried out, hoping maybe someone would hear you. His fist began driving itself to your body, anywhere he could reach. Your screams and cries did nothing to make him stop, if anything, it only made the twisted man continue his relentless abuse.

Just when you were sure that you could take no more, the glass window to the room shattered. You screamed, and you weren’t sure if it was from the terror or from the last blow he delivered to your stomach.

In an instant, white webs were flown across the room. Guards and your tormentor were wrapped up in the all too familiar spidery substance you had seen on the news. In all your years, you never thought you’d be able to meet a superhero. You just wish it was on better terms.

Spider-Man rushed to your aid, calling out your name in an anguished voice that sounded a bit familiar. Your head drooped, exhaustion tearing you down. You could hear Spider-Man talking to you, telling you everything was going to be okay. You saw him reach for the phone, presumably to call for help.

You grabbed his wrist, not caring that the handcuffs were digging further into your skin. With a weak voice, you muttered, “no ambulance, just take me to the hospital.”

You saw his big white eyes narrow. “I can’t afford an ambulance. Hell, I’ll barely afford the medical bill,” you chucked at your own expense, stopping immediately because it hurt too bad. “If you don’t want to bring me call my boyfriend. He’ll pick me up.”

The hero’s eyes widened again and he rapidly shook his head. “No, no, I can get you to the hospital.”

He searched the man’s pockets, trying to find a key for those pesky handcuffs. He was unsuccessful. Sighing, he decided he’d just have to break them. There was no time to waste. You could be seriously hurt.

When the handcuffs were removed from your wrists, you practically cried out in joy. You rubbed your swollen wrists, wincing at how tender whey were.

“Let’s get you outta here, yeah?” Spider-Man muttered as he helped you up. You limped alongside him down the stairs to the street.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” You had asked him. He seemed so familiar. His eyes widened.

“You’ve uh… probably seen me before, y’know… as Spider-Man,” he stumbled over his words. You almost laughed at how he tried to make his voice sound deeper. It was adorable. It reminded you of something that Peter would do.

You gasped, “Peter!”

Spider-Man’s head whipped towards you. “I have to tell him I’m okay, that’s my boyfriend. He might be worried about me.”

“We can call him when you get to the hospital okay?” Spider-Man gently told her as they got in a cab that he had hailed down. Peter told him to drive to the nearest hospital as fast as he could.

“Okay, sure… I’m sure he probably hasn’t noticed anyway. Y’know I was goin’ over to his apartment to surprise him. He’s been workin’ so hard on school and I jus’ wanted to make him feel better. He’s been so stressed lately.” You pouted. “Now I s’pose he’s gonna be even more stressed.”

Tears came to your eyes. You wished you could say it was all from the pain, but a part of you knew that you were sad that your boyfriend would only have more on his plate with you in the hospital.

“Y‘know what… maybe I shouldn’t call him. I don’ wanna burden him any more than he already is.”

Underneath the mask, Peter was crying. He couldn’t respond to you. He knew that you’d pick up on the wobble of his voice if he tried. How could you think such things? You were the most important thing in his life. More important than his classes, more important than his Spider-Man duties. You were his everything.

How could his everything think that she was a burden? It pained his heart to know that you thought that way.

Clearing his throat, he said “I think you should tell him. He’s probably worried out of his mind right now.” He wasn’t wrong. Peter was scared shitless. You never opened up like this to strangers and your head was lolling onto his shoulder.

“C’mon, stay with me, baby. Don’t do this to me!” He pleaded. He couldn’t let someone else leave him. He couldn’t watch another important person in his life die. He didn’t want you to join the list of loved ones he had lost.

Peter didn’t even care that you or the cab driver knew he was crying now. He had every right to cry when the girl he loved was falling into unconsciousness.

“C’mon, baby. Be strong for me, yeah? I know you can do it. You’re so strong.”

Those were the last words you were able to hear before you blacked out.

Upon waking up, you saw your red-eyed boyfriend hunched over in a nearby seat. “Peter?” Your voice came out groggy and dry, but it got his attention. He cried out your name as he ran to your side. Tears were falling from his eyes as he held your hand and called for the nurse.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m okay, Peter. It's not as bad as it looks. I’m fine really.”

Truthfully you didn’t feel much pain, but that was probably the drugs they had you hooked up on.

“Please don’t leave me, please. I love you too much. Please don’t leave,” he pleaded, like a broken record. You knew your boyfriend had abandonment issues, but you’d never really seen them as bad as in that moment. “It’s okay, Peter. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You’re my everything you know that?”

You just nodded and rubbed your thumb over his hand. “I know, baby. I know.”

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