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#who wants to put money on me backing out and becoming a recluse again
cyncerity · 1 year
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alien terrarium au!!
here it is! i said it’d be today, so it’s done! 1 min before it becomes tomorrow!
minor thing, tho: this is extremely unedited. like, there are a lot of things i post that aren’t edited fully, but i didn’t even fully read this one in one sitting. but i’m not free again until this tuesday or wednesday, so i’m not gonna make you guys wait that long lol
basically it’s midnight and i’m way too fucking busy so i’m gonna post it and edit it when i have time to later in the week. if you wanna wait for the fully edited version, ignore this until i specify that I edited it. if you don’t care, i hope you enjoy! this has been an on again off again thing for a few weeks and i’m so glad to finally have it like 95% done :)
tw: soft safe vore, unconventional vore ig?
“We have to cut our losses here. We don’t have enough to fund this any longer, and there’s no one we can reach out to for more money. We can’t risk this getting out.” “Fine, I- I know, it’s just…this is a breakthrough. We can’t afford to give up now.” “We won’t. We just need some time to get back on our feet is all. Besides, he knows what to do now…” the scientists turned their heads to the one way mirror they stood behind. A little boy, barely a teenager, sat behind it on his bed, his eyes glassy and unblinking, turned a glossy pearlescent white. Their project, practically their life’s work. Well, the container for it, anyway.
***
Wilbur heard the three scientists come into the room, and somehow registered one of them motion vaguely with their hand despite his eyes being effectively turned off, which meant they wanted him back in their world. Ugh. Still, he cut off his thoughts with his practically other half, eyes beginning to function again and the scientists approaching him as they saw his eyes shift back to the colors they were supposed to be.
“Wilbur, what we’re going to tell you is very, very important, so you have to listen carefully. It’s your life at stake if this goes wrong. And his.” The one in blue said, gesturing to Wilbur’s torso. Well, that was certainly a way to get his attention. Wilbur didn’t say a word, though; the green one didn’t like it when he ‘sassed them,’ so he instead scooted back and placed both arms protectively around himself and his…what did they call him once, ‘cargo’? He was sure he heard Green call him a ‘parasite’ once, which was rude. Still, they must have noticed his panic, cause the orange one responded immediately. “It’ll all be ok, things will just have to change for a minute here. You’re…youre not going to be able to stay here for a while.” “What?!” Wilbur said, unable to restrain himself. The green one went to speak up but was silenced by blue, who just whispered something about him being ‘scared’ and how this was ‘probably a lot to handle.’ Yeah, no shit it was!
“I get this is a huge change, I do, but it’s necessary for now. We don’t have the necessary resources to keep taking care of you here. We need to find a way to keep you safe and healthy, both of you. You’ll be staying somewhere secure while we find somewhere more reclusive to hide you. We don’t want anyone finding out anything and putting the two of you in danger.” Orange said, sitting next to Wilbur and rubbing a thumb across his knuckles. Right. Right, he had a purpose. And if part of his purpose was to survive without his caretakers for a short while, he could do it. If it meant safety for his stowaway, he could do it.
“You doin ok, bud?” Orange asked, and Wilbur nodded slightly. Orange was his favorite of the main three. He was always nice, and even gave him extra treats when he was behaving! “When do you think you can be ready to leave, Wil?” Green asked, crouching to be at level with where he sat. “Whenever you need me to be, sir.” Green smiled and ruffled his hair. Wil always tried to be extra good for Green. It’s not like he didn’t like him, it’s just that Green was more likely to yell at him if he messed up. “Good kid. We’ll leave tomorrow morning and introduce you to who you’ll be staying with. Try to get some rest.” He said, smiling before leaving and leading the other two out with him.
***
“Sam! Hey buddy!” Dream said, jumping out of the side of his van and running over to his old friend. “Dream! How’ve you been?” “Pretty good, you?” “Doin pretty good myself.” Sam replied, pulling Dream in for a hug. “So, who’s this kid you found?” “Calls himself Wilbur. We found him a few months ago, but we’re a bit short on money right now and can’t handle another mouth to feed. He won’t stay here for long, promise, just till we find a more stable income.” Dream hated to lie to an old friend, but he couldn’t afford his secret to be leaked. “I’m always lookin to help out, especially for a friend. Anything I need to know about him?”
“Yeah, he’s a bit of an odd one, but that’s what we love about him.” Dream chuckled, hoping his friend was still oblivious. “He disassociates a lot. Like, constantly, and tends to get really upset if people try to mess with him when he’s like that. He also doesn’t do a lot of physical activity. Bruises take longer to heal for him, he gets sore easily, and his immune system doesn’t handle cuts well. He’s not very talkative, and he’s got some weird scars all over him. We think the two are connected, but we don’t know what this kid has been through.” Dream finished, and Sam nodded solemnly. Great, he was taking the bait. He was less likely to ask questions if he thought he was prying into the past of an abused child.
meanwhile, in the van…
“We found you abandoned. You’re just staying here until we get more stable jobs and can afford to feed you again. If he ever asks you about where you came from, you look away or change the subject as quickly as possible. You don’t know why you disassociate. You don’t know where the scars came from. Never do any of your caretaker necessities for him in front of Sam. He can’t know. Got it?” “Got it. He’ll never know.” Blue nodded back. Orange had just kind of been pacing in the van as Blue gave him the rundown again. Green came back to the van with a hand out towards Wilbur, giving him a reassuring smile.
Wilbur was about to take the hand before his arm got tugged and he was pulled into a hug from behind. A gentle one, obviously no one wanted to risk damaging what was inside of him, but a hug all the same. He didn’t get many of those. When the person pulled away he saw it was Orange, who was smiling proudly. “You’re gonna be fine kid. We believe in you. I’ll miss you, ok?” Wilbur just smiled back and nodded. “I’ll miss you, too. We both will.” He said before taking Dreams hand and walking outside with him.
***
It had been an…odd week with Wilbur in Sam’s opinion. Firstly, he’d been way more interested in things like trees and grass than any normal child would be, but refused to touch them. He also spent 95% of his time in the guest bedroom with the door locked, never making a sound. Who knows, maybe the kid just liked to sleep. He refused to play any sort of physical game, like Dream had warned him, but he seemed overly cautious of anything that could hurt him. But he wouldn’t pry, that wasn’t his job. His job was to take care of the kid until Dream, George, and Sapnap could take him back. Right?
That’s what he was supposed to do, but somehow, against all logic…he knew this kid. The giant brown eyes, the curly brown hair, his face shape, it was all so familiar. But why?
Until it hit him.
He’d woken up in a cold sweat, immediately racing to his computer to see if he was right. And his suspicions were confirmed, against all odds. There, on his friends facebook page, was a photo of him and his young son. His young son who was Wilbur’s age. His young son who used to have an identical twin brother who went missing when he was just a few years old.
Sam knew Wilbur’s face because Wil wasn’t the only person he knew with that face.
Sam wasted no time calling. He must’ve called 12 times before someone answered, which was fair given the ungodly hour, but this was urgent. “What the fuck, Sam…” and groggy voice answered. “Mate, it’s, like, 4 in the morning, what could possibly be this important-”
“Phil, I think I found your son.”
***
Breakfast was different the next morning. Wilbur walked downstairs only to see two strangers sitting at Sam’s table, one an adult and one a child around his age. The adult looked about as old as Sam, which was to say a bit older than his scientists. He had blonde hair and kind blue eyes, and was wearing a dark green sweater jacket over a white button up. The other had long pick hair pulled back into a loose messy braid and glasses almost reminding Wil of his own except square instead of circular. He wore a simple pink hoodie and dirtied jeans and surprisingly clean white sneakers, but he must have been staring, cause soon the kid looked over to him and-
Wilbur’s breath froze.
Why…why did this kid have his face?
At this point, the man had looked over to, and immediately shot up from where he was sitting, knocking over the chair he was sitting on in the process and making Wilbur flinch. “Orpheus?” Wilbur stared blankly for a few moments before the man rushed him, barely giving him time to react before he was pulled into a hug.
Not a gentle one like Orange knew to give. Not one given by someone that knew why so few people were even allowed to touch him. A lung crushing, tight hug that was unbelievably painful after so much time with such infrequent gentle touching. He rarely found his mind drifting back to his the feeling of cargo in him, given that he’d lived most of his life with him and had gotten used to the odd sensations, but now it was impossible to ignore. Everything in him, everything that had been worked on so diligently, everything that had been removed and replaced and rearranged to make him perfect for his purpose, and his stowaway inside were being crushed. His purpose, the thing he’d been raised to protect, his only true constant in his life, was being crushed. It was the most horrifying downpour of fear he’d ever felt.
Wilbur screamed.
He screamed bloody murder as the adult let go and backed away, eyes wide. Wilbur vaguely noticed that both the strangers were crying, but he didn’t care. Wilbur only stopped screaming once his air was gone and now replaced by jagged breathing and spasms in his lungs. He felt like he was about to collapse as his vision darkened and his limbs began shaking. He needed to know if he was ok. If he wasn’t, Wilbur would never forgive himself. He needed to know.
“Kiddo, I need you to take deep breaths, ok, I think you’re having a panic a-“ “Stay the hell away from me! All of you!!” Wilbur screamed, voice hoarse as he smacked Sam’s hand away and ran up to his guest room and locked the door. He sat on the bed with a thud and tried to stop his shaking, but couldn’t spare much time for that since he had to make sure his cargo was still ok. He needed him to be ok. God, he was still just a kid, even younger than Wilbur. He can’t have let him get hurt.
He tried to take deep breaths and reached his mind out to some foreign instinct he knew. He wasn’t sure what it was, or how it came so easily, but it was such a central part of his brain that he could find it with ease. The second he got close to it, his whole body relaxed involuntarily. He hadn’t done that, which only meant…
“Oh, Tommy, thank god.” Wilbur sighed out loud, though the rest was said just to Tommy in the special way only they could communicate. He felt Tommy slow his heart rate more as he felt like he was being sucked away from his body into a void that words couldn’t possibly describe. “Wilbur!” a voiced called out. It hadn’t come from anywhere, just everywhere, like Wilbur’s did when he was here. Wherever ‘here’ was. He didn’t really know. It wasn’t like a darkness or white area, it was just…nothing. Not a nothingness that couldn’t be seen, but felt. Devoid of anything that could make it describable. Wilbur liked to joke that it was the emptiness in Tommy’s brain. “What was all that outside? You know i’ve got se-“ “Sensitive hearing, I know. I was being loud. Sorry.”
Wilbur could basically see Tommy huff and roll his eyes, despite the fact that he’d never seen Tommy at all. He knew every detail of his little brother friend, and Tommy knew every detail of Wilbur. Despite neither of them being able to see in their respective nothings, somehow they could sense every “move” (aka the movement they imagined themselves making since they didn’t have bodies in the nothingness) the other made in the void. Also Tommy can sometimes see through Wil’s eyes to look at reflections, but he rarely does that. Green doesn’t like when he does that.
Still though, he knew Tommy. He may not know what he looks like perfectly, but he knew Tommy. In an odd sense, he knew his details, but never what he truly looked like. He could list the facts of how Tommy was, but he had a feeling of deja vu whenever he tried to imagine a face or any detailed image of his body. He never could, he just knew the facts, like he’d seen Tommy but the detailed image in his brain had been removed and blurred beyond recognition. It seemed kind of unfair to him, given that Tommy knew exactly what he looked like because of the shared vision things and mirrors existing.
Still, though, he knew the pale white-blue of his skin the bright blonde of his hair and otherworldly accents. The shining, almost glowing iridescence of his eyes and the strange markings found on his body. He was mostly humanoid, which had initially shocked Wilbur and the scientists. Orange had warned him once that since they had no idea what Tommy was, something inhuman and vicious could easily rip through him. It scared him a little, but at that point he’d seen Tommy’s egg once and had grown monumentally attached, lethal beast creature or not. But Tommy was humanoid, except for one thing; he didn’t have legs. Rather, he had a long predominately red scaly tail like a snake.
When Wilbur was first getting used to Tommy’s being in there, the hardest thing to deal with was one: the odd feeling of scales against his sensitive organs and two: Tommy was almost always cold. How he could stay shockingly chilly in almost 100° Wilbur didn’t know, but that’s probably a big factor on why Tommy couldn’t be in open air; he’d freeze to death. Or his aversion to any form of light (maybe that was an understatement: a dim lamp 2 rooms over could kill him). But besides that, his unnatural colors, and a few other random snake-like features, Tommy was far from the horrific deep space lovecraftian monster he or the scientists were expecting. He was more just a little person who also happened to be a snake from space. No biggie.
“I- I don’t know what happened down there. There’s…there’s these two people, and one looks exactly like me and the other called me the wrong name and rushed to hug me and I panicked cause I thought he hurt you. You’re not hurt, are you?” “I’m right as rain, mr. human man. I’m sturdier than you think. Er, well, you’re sturdy and I’m in here so yeah I’m good.” Tommy responded, letting out an unearthly mix of a rumble and a hiss as he did. Wilbur liked Tommy’s weird alien noises, it comforted him. He sighed. “Still, I should’ve been more careful-“
“No you shouldn’t have! Stop bein a..a uh…” he paused for a minute to mumble a series of his weird Tommy noises before starting again. “what’s the english word for someone who takes blame for no reason and thinks that they need to solve every problem ever cause somehow everything is their fault?” “I think you’re talking about a martyr complex.” “Stop have’n a martyn complex!” Tommy yelled back, making Wilbur laugh. He pressed a hand against where he felt Tommy within himself, in one of the open areas that had been cleared just for him. Tommy pressed back and started to purr, a common reflex for him when he was happy, excited, or just needed to comfort Wilbur.
Even if Wilbur’s and Tommy’s consciouses were in the nothingness, they could still feel their body’s and move a little bit, even if it was more difficult than when they were awake. Wilbur liked to think of it as the same type of gesture that his scientists would do when they rubbed his hair or gave him a side hug, something he would love to try but could never do with Tommy. He thought Tommy deserved to have his hair played with or to be hugged, but it could never happen. But the pressing in, the only amount of intentional contact they’ve ever had and could ever have, worked just fine as a replacement. Something comforting and quick to show he cared. Of course, Tommy knew he cared, they’ve lived together (well, one within the other, but same difference) for most of Wilbur’s life and all of Tommy’s.
“Still, though…i don’t know what to do. Sam hasn’t had anyone else over, i don’t know what they’re doing here.” “I’d say good old fashion spying, then. See if you can get closer and make out what they’re saying.” “Good idea-“ Wilbur said, beginning to break off the connection before Tommy shouted out. “Wait! Aren’t you gonna let me see?” Wilbur rolled his eyes and somehow, in a way he couldnt describe, let Tommy’s weird telekinetic force into his mind. He opened his eyes and he was back in his room, the nothingness vanished and his body back in his full control. He looked to his mirror and sure enough, the shiny white gloss that overtook his eyes when talking to Tommy had confined itself to just Wilbur’s pupils. He’d given Tommy access.
“There, is that better?” Wilbur asked quietly, unable to respond telepathically when not in his weird zoned out state. The lack of that void didn’t seem to pose an issue for Tommy, though, as Wilbur heard an enthusiastic “Yup!” mixed with a few alien chirps echo through his mind as a response. Wil nodded to his reflection (and Tommy by proxy) and went to the stairs. He probably didn’t need to go down, he just needed to be able to hear them.
***
Ok that was, in hindsight, a bad decision.
“‘Dad?!’ I have a dad!? And a brother!?!” Wilbur whisper yelled, pacing back and forth across his room. With Sam and the now-not-so-much-strangers still talking in their kitchen, he figured it’d be safe to talk outside of the mind void. Tommy, meanwhile, laid himself against the front of Wilbur’s storage, rubbing circles into the walls to try and calm him down. “Maybe that’s not so horrible! I mean, you’re not an orphan! That’s normally a good thing, right?” Tommy said skeptically.
“Maybe it would have been 9 years ago! But now I have you!” Wilbur said, stopping to sit on his bed and pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “I don’t know them. I don’t remember them at all; you’d think if they were a good family to me I’d at least recall that they existed. But I don’t. How could I ever trust them with knowing about you?” “I…I don’t know. But…you have a dad, Wil! And a brother! That’s not something you can just ignore! Neither of us know what it’s really like to have a family, maybe…you could learn for the both of us?”
Wilbur sighed. He knew Tommy was right. And they’d both wondered where their families were; if they missed their sons, if they even wanted to give them up in the first place, what ever happened to them. Wilbur always felt awful because Tommy would likely never know. The odds that his parents were even still alive were slim, and it’s not like he ended up on earth with very specific instructions on how to take care of him by accident. But Wilbur had never thought his family could show up, either, yet here they were.
“What do we do about the trio?” “You know how I feel about them. Let’s see if those two are any better.” To be fair, Wil did know how Tommy felt about them; he didn’t like them at all. Tom didn’t like the tests they ran on him, he didn’t like what they put Wil through in order to do tests on him, he didn’t like how they treated his big brother caretaker as the less important one in their experiments, and he didn’t like how damn nosy they were. That part even bugged Wilbur. How the hell did they expect Tommy to be able to explain so much about what he was? He’d never met anyone like himself either, he’d been hatched on earth!
“Well, at least we know them. They’re predictable, and we know they have our best intentions at heart. Our. They know how to help the both of us and I- I don’t know if I can do all this alone.” “Wilbur you haven’t been alone since the day I was born. You’re not gonna start now.”
“What if something happens to you and I don’t know how to fix it? It’s my job to make sure nothing bad happens to you. I couldn’t live with myself if I let myself get caught up in some familial adventure and you ended up getting hurt because of it.” “I get it but don’t you think that’s unfair?” Wilbur paused. “Wh..what do you mean ‘unfair’?” “We’re kids. You’re a kid. It sucks for you that I’m your responsibility, it’s unfair that you gave up your childhood to keep me safe. But you can get it back, some of it, at least. Just…see if this can work out. If not for you, then for me. I hate seeing you put yourself on the back burner like this, Wil, I hate it. I can’t stand that i’m the reason you can’t have friends or play or be a kid. But this could change that. If it can’t, we’ll go to whatever lab the trio puts us in next. I’m sure they’ll be sooo thrilled that you’ve met your family.”
“Tommy don’t say those things about yourself.” Wilbur said, hugging his arms around himself. “I chose to take care of you, and I’ve never regretted it. Not for a second. You’re worth everything I willingly gave up, ok?” He heard a disgruntled noise in response. “Fine, we’ll come back to this conversation later. For now…ok. I’ll..I’ll give them a shot-” He heard Tommy cheer with a mix of wooing and trilling that he made when he was excited “-but Sam obviously knows the trio, so i’m sure he’ll tell them about my family at some point if he hasn’t already.” “I figured, but what are they gonna do? They can’t take you if you want to stay.” “Emphasis on if I want to stay, remember?” “Got it, bossman.”
“Wilbur?” He heard a voice outside call while knocking before the door opened a crack. “Were you…talking to someone..?” Sam said, poking his head in through the gap a bit. “Uh, no, I just..uh..kinda talk to myself sometimes. But I’m, uh, I’m sorry.” Wilbur said, trying to move past his previous conversation as quickly as possible. The less Sam questioned why he was talking to an empty room, the better. “I shouldn’t have freaked out like that, I just…don’t like being touched.” Not exactly true, but if it would keep the blonde guy and his clone from touching him it could be the truth for a while. Sam just solemnly nodded. “I’m sorry, I told him about you and how you were just kinda found with no memories, but…I don’t think he believed that your amnesia was as bad as I told him it was. I don’t think it hit him that you really didn’t know him until you ran off…Wil, he’s-” “He’s my dad, apparently. I was eavesdropping, i heard you talking downstairs.” Sam stared wide eyed for a second before he nodded solemnly.
“I know this must be a lot. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable by calling them here, you obviously didn’t expect to meet your long lost family while you stayed for the month. But…I’ve been friends with Phil for a while. That’s the blonde guy, by the way. He…he didn’t take losing you well. I was there for him when he and Techno were grieving and it..it was horrible. They were so broken.” Sam said, eyes beginning to shine from unshed tears. “I can ask them to leave if you want, I understand if-“ “I don’t want them to go.” Wilbur interrupted, almost mad at himself that he’d let Tommy talk him into this. “I want to meet them. I want to see what they’re like again.“
“Really? I mean, you can, but I just thought-“ “I’ve made up my mind. Can I meet them again?” “Y-yeah, yeah, absolutely.” Sam said, leading Wilbur out the doors down the stairs. He heard Tommy make a few more excited chirps before he started purring again. Like always, it put Wilbur at ease a bit. He followed close behind Sam down the stairs and back to the kitchen, where he saw the pink haired boy leaned over the blonde guy, who was sitting at the table with his head on his folded arms. The pink haired boy’s head snapped up from where he’d been comforting his father as Sam and Wilbur re-entered the room, eyes narrowing at Wilbur like he was a rabid animal. In the awkward silence, Phil looked up, and it almost pained Wilbur too see his red cheeks and puffy eyes. He really hadn’t meant to hurt the guys feelings, he just panicked. They all stared at each other for a moment before Wilbur realized that they were probably waiting for him to speak up. Great.
“Uh…I’m sorry for screaming at you, Mr. Phil. I don’t do well with…surprise contact. You just scared me, is all.” The man just continued to stare back at Wilbur for a moment. “You…you really don’t remember me, do you, Orpheus?” Wilbur looked back and took a deep breath. This may have been for Tommy, but he had to stand his ground here. “I’m going to say this once, and only once cause I don’t think you can handle hearing it a second time, ok? You think you can handle this?” Phil looked a bit confused at the annoyed tone but nodded, prompting Wil to continue. “Good, cause here it is: I don’t know who Orpheus is. I don’t know who he was. All I know is he’s not me. Maybe he was, but not anymore. So maybe your grieving wasn’t in vain: because he is in fact very much dead.”
Wilbur paused as Phil’s face fell and tears started to run down his face again. Even the pink haired boy had started crying. He tried to ignore it. “My name is Wilbur. If you want to know me, not Orpheus, me, I…I’m willing to try to connect with you again. I don’t mean to be heartless but I need you to understand that if you want me back, there will be no prior standards for me. I won’t try to change how I am now to be the person I used to be for your amusement, because frankly? I couldn’t give less of a shit about what you want, because I don’t know fuck all about either of you. If you came here to find the son you lost, I’d suggest leaving. Any questions?”
Shocked silence filled the room. Phil stood silent and still as tears poured down his face, his clone even started to cry when he saw Phil crying, and Sam looked like he’d just watched a bomb go off. Wilbur just stood at the center waiting for something to change. For Sam to send him to his room, for Phil to break down even worse or for him and his son to deem Wilbur too different and abandon him (again), but nothing was happening. ‘Way to sugarcoat it, Wil.’ quietly played in his head, as if Tommy was afraid he’d somehow interrupt the group despite them not being able to hear him. He’d elbow himself in the gut later, that’d probably look really weird if he did it now.
“…Do you want to come home with us?” Phil said after a few minutes, shocking Wilbur. “Do you want me to?” Phil just nodded and wiped a few more tears from
his face. “Even if you don’t remember us, you’re still my son. You always will be. I’ve missed you so, so much Wilbur.” He said, kneeling to be at eye level. Wilbur just sighed. “Ok, then…let’s go home, I guess. I didn’t come here with much, I can just go with you now?” “Really?” Phil said, surprised but seemingly excited. “Oh, o-ok then! I thought you’d want a few days but, uh, sure! As long as Sam is ok with that?”
“Oh yeah, Sam!” Wilbur interrupted, turning to face the man who’d just kind of been standing silently, clearly unsure of what to do in the situation. “I need you to tell my guardians what happened. They’ll
probably understand, but they’ll also want to meet my long lost family
since they raised me and all.” ‘More like interrogate them and possibly file a restraining order so they can never take us again, but same difference I guess.’ Tommy chimed in unhelpfully. Wilbur ignored him. “Give them Phil’s address asap so they know where to find me. Also give me their phone numbers, i don’t remember them.” “Wait, guardians?” Phil chimed in, lightly tapping Wilbur on the shoulder with a concerned look. “You have legal guardians?”
“Three college aged guys, yeah. But I wouldn’t say legal,” Wilbur explained, “they just kind of took me in when I was lost without my memories. They tried to find you for a few years but gave up after a while. I couldn’t really give them any info to go off of.” “Oh…do they treat you well?” “Yes.” ‘No.’ Wilbur and Tommy said at the same time, though obviously only one was heard. “That’s…that’s good, i guess.” Phil said quietly, then it was back to the awkward silence. Godammit, Wilbur hated silence. Was it gonna be like this all the time with Phil?
“Well then, let’s get a move on.” Said the pink haired boy who Wilbur had only remembered was in the room when he spoke up. He’d been pretty silent, but at least his tears had dried. That was better than Phil was doing. “And you are?” Wilbur asked. “Technoblade, but most people call me Techno.” he said, holding a hand out. Wilbur just stared trying to figure out why he was doing that. Was it a high five? Sometimes orange would give him a high five when he did a good job testing, but why was he doing it sideways?
Wilbur smacked his hand quickly and pulled away, smiling awkwardly. Techno just lowered his hand and stared. Shit, he was wrong about the high five, wasn’t he?“Ok…” Techno said, “we’re gonna have to re-teach you some stuff, aren’t we?” “Uuuhhh…maybe.” Wilbur said quietly as he heard Tommy laugh at him. Asshole.
Wilbur made his way to their car after grabbing his bag and saying goodbye to Sam. The packed into the car, and Wilbur was met with the silence again. Phil seemed…weary of him, to put it best. Like he was dam one bad storm away from breaking. Techno seemed more disinterested in him, just playing on a phone as Phil started to drive, never looking up at him. Well, he wasn’t going to be the one to break the silence this time. He didn’t want to talk to them anyway.
Instead, he let himself fall into his nothingness, connecting with Tommy on the other side. “Well that went great!” Tommy said sarcastically. “I stood my ground.” Wilbur shot back. “I don’t want to be treated like some lost broken kid. I’m 13. I know what I’m doing.” “Well, I like them. They seem nice!” Wilbur wasn’t sure how to respond. Sure, Phil seemed like he wanted to care about him. Techno seemed…willing, at least, even if he was a bit nonchalant. But could he trust these people? They were the people who abandoned him and left him to almost starve to death in the woods as a toddler. That wasn’t exactly something a loving family would do, but they seemed happy to see him alive. Was it a mistake? How could they have fucked up badly enough that he got amnesia and almost died at the ripe age of 4?
But Tommy seemed so excited. As much as the scientists always tried to make sure it didn’t happen, Wilbur loved Tommy. He really was like a little brother, they’d grown up together. They’d both always been told that it would be for the best that they didn’t make that kind of connection in case something where to go wrong, but who else did they have? Tommy was family to him, and damn if he wouldn’t do anything to make the little boy happy. He sighed. “Yeah, well…let’s hope so.”
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featheredomen · 3 years
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guess which bitch has an appointment with a psychologist after thirteen years of putting up with whatever bullshit her mind has been pulling? this bitch
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vampiregirl1797 · 3 years
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The Starlight Stone
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GIF not mine.
Rhysand x Reader
Word Count: 4,898
Summary: Y/N comes from a different reality, where the characters and world she’s now living in, exist in a series of books. Rhysand takes her in, and she learns how to do something she’s never managed before… live.
Warnings: Can’t think of any? If I’ve missed anything, let me know.
Masterlist Here :)
Falling in love with new characters was as easy as breathing for me. In fact it was so easy, that before I realised it, I was only falling for them. Reading became an escape for me, a teenage girl without a shred of self-confidence, used to being the overlooked one in a group of friends, used to not attracting any kind of male attention. It was perfect, because the men I fell in love with always loved me back, never hurt me with the crushing pain of rejection, never thought I wasn’t pretty enough, or skinny enough. They loved me for me.  
I just never imagined I’d wake up in one of the fictional world’s I’d read about, and come face to face with the High Lord I’d most recently falling for. I’d arrived several months ago, and of course hadn’t been able to keep a thing from the High Lord of the Night Court who’d found me trespassing on his lands. He’d gone into my head, not too far, but far enough to assess whether I was a threat to him or his people. He discovered pretty quickly that I had absolutely no skill set to be a threat, and that I absolutely was not from his world.  
He’d found the concept of Prynthian being presented in a series of books both interesting and amusing, as well as him and his friends existing as characters within the novels. I was just glad he hadn’t gone far enough to find how invested I got in each of the books I read, and those who existed within them, him being one of those people. It would have been mortifying and I had wondered on more than one occasion what his reaction would be. But coming face to face with a man who had been fictional to me, and then become real overnight… it had thrown me into my insecurities. Into taking my feelings for the High Lord and shoving them down as far as I could.  
‘Y/N?’ I was snapped out of my thoughts by Cassian popping his head into my room. Rhys had offered me a room at his town house when I first got here, and I’d never left. He’d offered the money to buy my own place, but I hadn’t been comfortable with the idea of that at the time, and now I had a place on his court, along with a wage of my own, but this had become my home.  
‘Hey Cass, what’s up?’ I smiled, patting the empty space beside me on the enormous bed; in my world I’d never had bigger than a single, and this was about three singles put together.  
‘Not much, I was gonna go into town for a little while, do you want to come with?’ His hazel eyes studied me with warmth and kindness, which was probably what had made me comfortable around him so quickly. He’d never looked at me with the disinterest I was used to being on the receiving end of from men; he saw me as a person and I appreciated him for it.
‘Sure. Anything in particular you’re after?’ I wondered letting my hair down from the messy bun I’d pulled it up onto when I’d come to relax in my room.  
He shrugged, trying and failing to be nonchalant, ‘not really. Just felt like getting out.’
I sighed, shuffling to the edge of the bed to slip on my boots, ‘Rhys sent you to check up on me didn’t he? Let me guess, he thinks I’m becoming a depressed recluse?’  
Cass gave me a look that was a mixture of concern and exasperation, ‘Rhys worries about you because you never leave the house. He doesn’t think you’re depressed, but he worries you’re not living either. You lose yourself in books, and you barely speak to anyone, even me.’  
I turned away, pretending to busy myself with lacing up my shoes to hide the tear that slid down my cheek. Rhys was more observant than I gave him credit for. The truth was, since I’d gotten here, I’d basically been living the same as I had before; reading, sleeping, eating and more reading. I ate meals with everyone sometimes, but more often than not, I allowed the new fictional worlds offered to me here to consume me. I’d never been called out on it before. No one had ever cared enough to notice that I wasn’t just reading because I loved it, I was reading to escape the life I didn’t know how to live.  
‘I-I’ I stuttered, forcing myself to stop and take a breath.
‘Hey,’ Cassian’s voice softened and he shuffled beside me on the bed to sling a muscular arm over my shoulder. My head went to his chest, not even trying to hold back my tears anymore, it seemed pointless when he could probably scent them anyway, ‘I didn’t say this to upset you, just to let you know that you’re family to us now, Y/N, and we care about you. We want you to live and enjoy life, not to fall solely in love with fictional places.’  
‘This place was just a fictional place to me once.’ I murmured quietly.
‘And now you get to be here, and still choose to read yourself to death.’ He teased, chuckling softly.  
I smiled, wiping away the moisture from my cheeks, because he was right. Rhys was right. I had been blessed with the opportunity to live in a reality I’d once yearned for with all my heart, and I’d been wasting it. Why? Because I was afraid to face the feelings I had for a certain High Lord, feelings that had only blossomed since coming here, despite my best efforts to avoid him. I’d been throwing myself into reading because I wanted to live in the fantasy that he would return my feelings for a little longer. But that had to stop. I wasn’t immortal here—at least I didn’t think so, I didn’t have Fae characteristics and I didn’t have any powers—and it was time to stop squandering my life being a scaredy cat.  
‘You’re right. Rhys is right.’ I moved away from Cassian’s chest, wiping all evidence of my tears away, ‘lets go into Velaris. I’ve always wanted to stroll through the City and take everything in. It looks so beautiful from up here.’  
Cassian grinned, and allowed me to pull him from the bed, and just like that we left the town house and were swallowed by the life of Velaris.  
Six Months Later
‘I don’t think so.’ I shook my head, levelling the Shadowsinger with a no-nonsense glare, ‘it’s the Winter Solstice, which is the first one I’m spending here, it’s basically Christmas, and it’s a family holiday. You’re not flying off to wherever the heck you’re planning to go, with only your shadows for company.’  
His hazel eyes were blank but he visibly stiffened. I sighed, realising that telling Azriel what he could and couldn’t do was not my place, and it definitely wasn’t the best approach.  
‘I’m sorry, I don’t mean to act like I’m your keeper or anything.’ I stood from the couch where I’d been sitting, to move to where he stood in front of the fire. I placed a hand on his shoulder, and relaxed a little when he didn’t shrug me off, ‘it’s just… this means something to me. Back in my old reality, we had Christmas, which was something similar. We’d all gather, exchange presents, decorate a tree, hang decorations… but what made it special to me was the time spent with the people I loved. With the people I considered family. You’re my family now, Azriel. You, Cass, Ameren, Mor… and Rhys. Obviously it’s your choice, but if you could afford to, please don’t leave until after the holiday.’  
I thought his eyes had softened at my words, but honestly it was hard to tell with the Shadowsinger. I left him alone to think over my words, kissing his cheek as I made my way outside; I still had some things left to buy for everyone. I’d gone a little overboard, but I couldn’t help it. I’d pretty much finished Mor and Ameren, I had a few last things to pick up for Cassian and Azriel, and the majority I’d left to buy were for Rhys. I already knew what I was going to get him, and most were already purchased and wrapped at each store, I’d just waited until now to get them, because while Rhys was trusted with everyone else’s presents… well giving him his own gifts just didn’t seem right. It might just have been me, but I felt like it took away the surprise, at least a little bit.  
I smiled as I walked through the city, nodding in greeting to a few friendly people. Since that talk Cassian had with me six months ago, I’d started venturing out of the townhouse more and more. I still read, but it was for the fun of it now, rather than the escape from reality. I’d fallen in love with Velaris. The city was beautiful, and teeming with life and acceptance and peace… seeing it first hand really made me appreciate the efforts Rhys and everyone had gone through to protect this place, to make it a home.  
‘Hey girl!’ Ameren’s voice had me looking to my right, to see her running across the cobblestone street to catch up to me, ‘you wouldn’t be out to purchase my Winter Solstice presents now would you?’ she grinned, her silver eyes sparkling with more life than usual.
I playfully rolled my eyes, ‘even if I was, I wouldn’t tell you. Your otherworld intimidation doesn’t work on me, Ren.’  
She huffed, but I could see the amusement swirling in her silver irises, ‘fine. It amazes me sometimes though,’ she mused, going on to explain, ‘Cassian cracked like an egg in two seconds, told me what he’d got me straight away. But you’re immune to what makes me scary to people around here.’  
I chuckled, being able to picture Cassian folding perfectly, ‘I wouldn’t say I’m the only one. And Cassian doesn’t prove anything, he’s like a big kid with this stuff. I’ve had to actually shush him to keep him from telling me about my presents, I think the excitement just gets to him. Now if you told me you’d broken Azriel, I’d be impressed.’  
She huffed a laugh and tilted her head in acknowledgement of my words, ‘yeah, you might be right. He didn’t only tell me what he’d gotten me, he told me about everyone else’s too.’  
I rolled my eyes affectionately, ‘that boy.’  
‘Indeed.’ She shook her head, but when she met my eyes again the wicked glint in them made me brace myself slightly, ‘so what are you getting our High Lord?’  
‘I’m on my way to pick up Rhys’ presents now. You can come with me if you want, so long as you don’t spoil anything.’ I gave her a pointed look and grinned at her offended look.  
‘I’m not the gossip Cassian is, thank you very much, girl,’ she waved her hand dismissively, ‘anyway, I was just wondering if you were finally going to gift him with the truth.’
‘Who?’ I frowned, pulling open the door to the blacksmith’s—I’d requested a few specific weapons for Azriel, Cassian and Rhys, each custom made and fit to them specifically, ‘what truth?’
She opened her mouth to reply, but was had to wait until the blacksmith had handed over the three weapons he’d perfectly made for me. Azriel and Cassian had plenty of swords and knives and daggers, but their abundance in bows and arrows was clear. I’d seen them practice with the same one, and I doubted they had any specific for battle, which seemed a waste when they could both fly. So I’d asked the blacksmith to create some custom for them, and both now had their own bow, plenty of arrows and a quiver. Their names were engraved inside the buttery leather of their quivers, and each were made to be lightweight and able to be worn whilst flying without losing any arrows.
For Rhys I’d asked for a pair of daggers to be crafted. I’d seen him with a couple of swords, and I was sure he already had daggers too, but picking this particular weapon had just felt right, even if I knew it was likely he possessed some already. Each was pure silver, one held an amethyst stone at the hilt, while the other held an onyx stone. One for his eyes, the other for his court.  
It was when we exited the shop that Ameren decided to resume her train of thought that I’d almost forgotten about, ‘the truth that you are in love with Rhys.’
It took a lot of effort not to stumble from shock, ‘what?’
‘Don’t play dumb. It’s obvious. Has been for months,’ she smirked, ‘we have bets on when you’re going to tell him. I have over the Solstice, so if you could do a girl a favour and tell him already, the winnings will be mine.’
‘Not to put a damper on your betting habits,’ I pulled her hand towards another shop I needed to go into, ‘but I’ve not got any “truth” to reveal to Rhys.’  
She swore under her breath, ‘I knew I should have had spring, but there’s me being the optimist thinking you would have grown some balls and realised what we’ve all already seen by now.’
I frowned, ‘what the hell are you talking about Ameren?’
‘Rhys loves you just as much as you love him. Actually knowing him, he probably loves you even more, but he’s as much of a coward as you.’ She rolled her eyes, tucking her onyx hair behind her ear as I accepted another bag full of pre-wrapped presents for Rhys.
‘You can’t be serious.’ I didn’t know what else to say… the idea of him feeling a fraction of the love I had for him made my heart pound in my chest. I couldn’t fathom it.
‘Honestly, you’re both blind.’ She shook her head, but let the subject drop, and I was glad. Talking any more might have launched me into a full-blown panic attack.
I’d admitted to myself that fallen in love with the High Lord three months ago—for a long time I’d fought it, convincing myself I was just in love with the fictional version of him. But that theory had gone down the toilet when he’d laughed—really laughed—at a joke Cassian made, and I’d been powerless to stop myself from being overwhelmed with happiness at his happiness. It was then I accepted I was an idiot in love with a man I’d never have. But Ameren saying he did feel the same, well it made me panic because I’d never considered it a possibility before—I’d never had a man interested in me before, and the idea of it, the unfamiliarity, made me panic. So I forced it down and made myself focus on collecting the rest of my gifts.  
//
The morning of Winter Solstice saw me rising bright and early, eager as a kid on Christmas morning. I realised that we wouldn’t be exchanging presents until the evening, after we’d all eaten, but I couldn’t tamper my excitement. So after I’d showered and dressed in leggings and a white woolly jumper, I headed to the living room to put the finishing touches on the decorations. Everything was basically done, but Rhys had found an eight-foot pine tree; I’d been telling him about the traditions of Christmas in my old reality, and he’d surprised me yesterday with a real tree. I’d hugged him tightly for it, unable to hold back my tears of gratitude at his thoughtfulness, and declared we’d have to decorate it tomorrow, after it had time to settle in the room overnight. A part of me wondered if he’d remember, but my doubt floated away upon the sight of him standing in the living room, observing the tree like he was sizing up an opponent on the battlefield. The thought made me chuckle, and he looked up to me with a smile.  
‘Good morning.’ I murmured, coming over to join him, ‘is there a reason you seem to be sizing up this poor, defenceless tree?’  
He grinned, his violet eyes sparkling with mirth, ‘well, other than the fact that it’s bigger than me and has an unfair advantage size-wise,’ I missed his soft smile as I laughed again, ‘I was simply wondering exactly how we’re going to decorate it.’
I softened with understanding, ‘well, lucky for you, I’m ridiculously prepared.’ I moved to pull out the box I’d stored behind the tree last night, after retrieving it from one of the shops in the art district. Magic was such a blessing here, and after I’d explained what I’d needed, and demonstrated with some awful drawings, they’d had everything made within a few hours. I pulled a few ornaments out, marvelling at the craftsmen’s ship for a moment before hanging them on the tree; there was a mixture of circular shapes and stars, in amethyst, silver, blue and black. They’d also crafted a silver star to go on top of the tree, fashioned after the star that always shone the brightest in the night sky of Velaris on the first night of Winter Solstice. It was so well made, I’d been struck speechless by how realistic it looked; as if they had plucked the star straight from the sky.  
I nudged the box closer to Rhys with my foot, ‘just hang them however you want, like this.’ I gestured to the few I’d put on and smiled when he reached in and immediately followed instructions.  
‘You know, if I used my magic I could have this done in under a minute.’ He commented, looking at me from the corner of his eye as if he knew my reaction before I voiced it.
‘Absolutely not! Decorating by hand is part of the fun, and the tradition.’ I protested, flicking his shoulder when I noticed his smirk, ‘if you use a flicker of magic, then there will be no presents for you.’
I frowned at the look of surprise in his eyes and he must have noticed my confusion because he said, his voice soft, ‘I didn’t think you’d gotten me anything. I didn’t mind, of course, I’m just surprised.’  
‘Why would you think that?’ I turned to face him fully, ignoring the task of decorating for the moment.
‘Because you didn’t give them to me to hide.’ He shrugged, carefully placing another ornament onto the tree, ‘and I never expect gifts, from anyone regardless. I went a long time being consumed by disappointment after my mother and sister died, because my father never cared for the holiday before. But after their deaths, it bore a reminder of another year of them being gone. Then he and I enacted our revenge, and it was a while before Morrigan, Cassian and I were able to spend the Solstice together.’  
I pulled him into a hug, winding my arms around his neck and not flinching at the appearance of his wings. They didn’t often appear without purpose unless he was feeling a strong emotion, but I didn’t question it when they cocooned us, his warmth radiating all around me.  
‘I didn’t give you any to hide because I felt like it took away from the surprise of the holiday if I was asking you to keep your own presents.’ I murmured into his neck, missing the small shiver that passed through him, ‘I’m sorry, that you had to spend so many Solstice’s alone, Rhys. But you have a family now, one that would sooner die than leave you.’
He held me a little tighter, and I returned the gesture, burrowing further into his neck and wondering if I was imagining the increased heartbeat I could feel against my chest, or if I were perhaps mistaking it for my own.
//
I smiled from my seat in the armchair, enjoying the warmth emanating from the fire, and from the mug of hot chocolate I held in my hands. We had just had Winter Solstice dinner, and were taking it in turns to open our presents.  
Ameren had gone first, and was grinning so wide it was almost scary at all of the jewels everyone had bought for her. Cassian had mostly been gifted weapons from everyone but Mor and me—she’d given him a sweater in the brightest green I’d ever seen, and I’d also gifted him some of his favourite liquor, a box of chocolates that Rhys had mentioned his mother got the General every year for solstice, some new books on war strategy, a new set of Illyrian leathers, and the bow and arrows I’d gotten him.
Azriel had also gained an abundance of weapons, along with a startlingly bright pair of purple socks from Mor, and some of his favourite liquor, a series of books on adventure and war I had a feeling he would enjoy, and a new set of Illyrian leathers and his new bow and arrows, from me. Mor had been given high quality clothing from everyone, and some of her favourite chocolates, wine, bath foams and salts from me. Rhys had been given a set of old leather bound books from Ameren, a Hawaiian themed shirt from Mor—mother knew where she found that—, what looked like a six-pack of beer from Cassian that had Rhys shaking his head with a reluctant smile, and a new set of Illyrian leathers from Azriel. I’d given him his new set of daggers, some of the chocolates Cassian had mentioned his mother and sister gifted him every Solstice, a painting that captured the beauty of Velaris perfectly, and something else I hadn’t yet presented to him.  
I’d actually left the other gift in his room, on his pillow; it was a pendant that had caught my eye when I was buying Ameren’s Solstice gifts. The shop attendant had noticed my stare and pulled it out from beneath the glass—it wasn’t overly huge; about the size of a bottle cap. It was antique silver, with a stone at the centre that was so beautiful I’d been unable to look away from it. It reminded me of the night sky, to put it plainly. It was so blue I thought it was sapphire, but the flashes of pure light that I saw when I turned it reminded me of shooting stars. The attendant had explained it was a pendant often presented to a perspective partner as a way of showing your intentions—as a way of showing your love for them. It was often the step before the mating bond sparked, to acknowledge what you already felt for them. She mentioned that it was an out dated tradition, and many only bought the Starlight stone now purely because it was beautiful.  
I didn’t know what possessed me to buy it. Maybe it was the possibility that he wouldn’t even know what it meant, maybe it was because a part of me wanted to tell him, and this was the only way I could muster the courage to do it. Either way, I’d left the small wrapped present on his black silk pillow before I’d joined the party tonight. And I’d had knots in my stomach about it since. A part of me wanted to excuse myself and take it back, but I forced that anxious part of my brain to shut up, because as much as it terrified me… I had to tell Rhys how I felt somehow, even if it meant that he didn’t feel the same way.
//
After the events of the evening, I decided to have a bath before I went to bed; Cassian and Azriel had passed out in the living room, one on the floor, the other on the sofa, but both were snoring loudly. Mor had made it to her room on the first floor, and Ameren had returned to her apartment. Rhys had said something about flying over the city before he turned in, and I was too awake with nerves to just slip straight into bed. So I ran some warm water into the gigantic tub that looked as if it would overflow onto the mountain below, and added some of my favourite bath foams that scented of lavender and honey—a gift from Az. I forced myself to breathe and just not think, and when my eyes started to droop I climbed out of the cooling water to dry off. I changed into the new silk gown Mor had gifted me for Solstice, and entered my bedroom only to stop short.  
My heart stopped at the sight of Rhys sitting on the edge of my bed… and then picked up triple speed. He was wearing loose pyjama pants, and no shirt… and he was holding the gift box I’d left on his pillow. The lid was missing and he was staring at the pendant inside. I took a deep breath and crossed my arms over my chest to hide how my hands shook.
‘Hey.’ I bit my lip, unsure about what to do. Should I sit next to him? Stay standing in front of the fire about three feet away from him? Ask him if he liked the gift? Ask him if he knew what it meant?  
His violet eyes lifted to meet mine, and I felt a wave of uncertainty wash over me at the guarded look in them, ‘do you know what this stone means?’ he asked, his voice quiet as he carefully held up the box, as if its contents were precious to him, ‘are you aware of the tradition that exists in Velaris? About what it means when someone presents this stone to another person?’
I took a deep breath, my heart pounding even faster now, and I was pretty sure I was starting to sweat. I wished I could read him better, wished I could know if he was hoping I knew, or hoping I didn’t. But he was a master of hiding his emotions, so I decided to go with the truth.
‘Yes, I know what it means.’ I admitted quietly, and knew if he didn’t have advanced hearing he wouldn’t have been able to make out the words; I could barely hear myself say them.
‘No, tell me. Tell me why you gave this to me.’ His eyes were still guarded, but his voice held a tinge of desperation, a tone I couldn’t resist from him.
‘I gave you that stone because the attendant at the jewellery store told me that the Starlight stone is what you give to a perspective partner, to acknowledge what you already feel for them, before the mating bond has sparked.’ I could feel the wariness on my face as he stood from the edge of the bed, stopping right in front of me.  
He tilted my chin up to meet his eyes with his index finger and whispered, ‘and what is it you feel for me, Y/N?’
‘I love you Rhys.’ I admitted softly, missing the way his eyes softened as my gaze fell to his lips.
His hand caressed my cheek, his thumb moving back and forth across my cheekbone. I was powerless to stop myself melting into his touch, and felt my eyes sheen with tears when I saw the affectionate look in his eyes. I watched as the dark mist of his magic swirled around the pendant, and lifted it from the box to secure it around his neck. My hand went to rest against his chest, where the pendant lay against his skin.
‘I love you too, Y/N darling.’ He murmured, wiping away the tears that fell silently down my cheeks.  
I vaguely heard the gift box fall to the floor, his free hand now landing on my hip and pulling me flush against his body. My arms wound around his neck, my fingers going to his silky soft hair as his mouth covered mine.
//
One Year Later
‘I’m just saying, Cassian is a great name for a tiny warrior.’ Cass grinned from the sofa, across from where Rhys and I sat in the love seat he’d bought for us about a year ago.  
‘Absolutely not.’ Rhys drawled, his hand gently moving back and forth across my swollen belly.
‘Do you have names picked out?’ Mor asked, her face holding the beaming expression that was always present when we were talking about the baby.
‘We do,’ I murmured, Rhys and I shared a secret smile at Mor’s squeal of excitement.  
‘We’re not revealing anything until the baby is born.’ Rhys grinned at the sounds of disapproval from his cousin and Cassian.  
‘You’re boring.’ The war General grumbled.
We all chuckled at his childish behaviour and I felt my expression soften with affection when Rhys leaned over to kiss my baby bump, murmuring words about how his uncle Cassian would always be the biggest baby in the family. Cassian grumbled louder, much to our amusement. My hand fell to Rhys hair, idly playing with the strands. He kissed my forehead and my eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of contentment that washed over me.  
Home. This was home.
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Alternate Endings (Pt. 2)
Title: Alternate Endings (Pt. 2) 
Genre: more angst, possibly more than the last part. this is your warning. 
Pairing: Victor Nikiforov x GN!Reader
Notes: This is a part 2 to the previous part, and I still used the angst prompt list from the aforementioned previous parts to form this piece.
With that said, I think that this will be the only part following the first unless I can find some way to continue the storyline. I intend to keep the ending somewhat depressing and sad, so I guess proceed with caution due to such. 
If you want something similar to this for any other character, please let me know, though! I may also mention that this went from a drabble, to a scenario, and now borders on an imagine - I can’t help that I got caught up! 
Part 1
Below the cut! 
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You practically fell off the face of the Earth as soon as you left. 
Harboring all of the money you saved and deciding upon negotiations to make with your employer, you left Russia. You left Japan. You just...left. 
Travelling became a huge part of your life afterwards, and though many people had tried to regain contact with you, you ignored most of them - save for a few. Only Yuri Plisetsky and Yuuko Nishigori were available to your whims, but they were still advised to stay as quiet as possible regarding your whereabouts. 
You changed your whole appearance, changed your mindset, and even changed something as generally miniscule as your wardrobe. Still, as much as you did change and throw away, you couldn’t rid yourself of the many frivolous gifts that Victor had given you over the years. 
Some things you just can’t give up, but you knew that it would be fine. At the very least, you had something that would never let you forget about him. 
Victor, on the other hand, fell off the deep end. 
He had come across the note you’d slipped under his hotel room door and for the first time in a long time, he cried. A true mess was what Yuuri had come across, and as many times that he was able to help him through unconventional methods, this was nearly impossible. 
Victor didn’t leave Japan, but he did become so reclusive that even Yakov was extremely worried upon finding out about the occurrence from an offhand comment that Yurio made when talking to Yuuko over the phone before practice. 
Everyone around him saw the typically extravagant man become so dulled by misery that it became painful to watch. 
He didn’t even know where to start since he’d already tried to find you - looking everywhere that he knew you loved, everywhere that he knew you were often obligated to be at - but had failed to do so. 
It wasn’t until, when Yurio was free, that he overheard him and Yuuko talking at the front desk of the rink as Yuuri was warming up and he was getting his skates on. 
“Yeah, they’re in America right now. They just got a raise, actually - they were even thinking of dropping in when they get enough saved up,” Yuuko recollected, excitement dripping from her tone. 
“Well, they’d have to come by when Victor isn’t here. That would also mean that I’d be gone, but at least you could update me,” Yurio responded. He seemed more nonchalant about the whole thing, but Victor became hysterical. 
Granted, he did suppress what he could to eavesdrop further. 
“Of course! I am still a little worried about them, though - you remember how Victor had gone crazy trying to find them?” Yurio grunted in response. “Well, what if he decides to do something impulsive again and leave mid-competition?” 
The light-blonde teenager in front of Yuuko flinched at the thought. “That’s a good point...but we’ll never know unless it happens when it does.” 
A solemn chill fell upon the two, but the conversation split onto Yurio’s next routine and Victor left it to them. He stared wide-eyed, in pure disbelief, at the wall of lockers in front of him. 
“So they’re...(Y/n)’s in America....”
Ideas began to run through his head as the room became eerily quiet. Even Yuuri, who was sat in the corner and preferred a calm and quiet atmosphere, was perturbed by the sudden shift. 
“I know what I’ll do! Yuuri, skate if you want - I’m going to be out for a while,” Victor announced, generally resembling the flamboyant figure skating icon that everyone knew. 
He took his skates off and capped the blades, putting them into his bag and reaching for his cell phone and scrolling through listings. Katsuki was left dumbstruck, but he went on about what he was doing and decided to run through his routine a few times. 
Yurio had left by this point, and Yuuko was too far in the back to catch the tall man’s outburst. 
It wasn’t until the next day that he was extremely prepared and anyone who understood his issue was suspicious. Victor had hunted for every listing to America from Japan, and memorized the closest ones. Yuuko was the one person who was going to be there that he had to ask. 
“Yuuko, I must ask you something! Would you mind?” was Victor’s burning introduction, shocking the normally upbeat mother. She was a little taken aback at the bold attention grabber. 
“Mmm, yeah?” She tried to be as ‘typical’ as possible, considering that her suspicions were up now. She knew what was going on, she knew what Victor was burning for. 
“You said that you’ve been in contact with (Y/n), yes?” 
Yuuko deadpanned, eyes blank and dropping the facade that she was going to attempt to maintain. “I knew it. Listen, I know that you’ve been troubled since they left, and that they have been as well, but please - give them some more time.” 
Victor visibly deflated. He didn’t think it would work, really, but it was worth a shot. Maybe, just maybe, though.... “How about a hint? Is it hot? Cold? What is a landmark?” 
“No, Victor. Sorry.”
And he was back to his dejected being by the next hour. 
Victor was willing to annoy both her and Yurio, but gave up once they stood their ground with firm hold. “No. (Y/n) is fine, and they will come when they want.” It was always the answer, no matter who he asked. 
Daily, Yuuri would keep him company and skate to the best of his ability. It seemed to quench his troubles just a little bit before the up and coming competition season. 
Eventually, the Grand Prix rolled around again. Yurio was competing, as well as Yuuri, and Victor was there to maintain support for his ever-promising prodigy. 
Amongst the drama that had ensued, the two of them decided to take a break romantically and focus on the practice rather than devote too much issue to their worryingly stagnant relationship. 
It wasn’t until Yurio had pulled Yuuri aside when Victor was getting changed that he was let in on soem information that, had Victor heard, would send him into a frenzy. 
“(Y/n) wanted to me wish you good luck and let you know that they are here to watch. If you wanna talk, they’ll be waiting in the lobby.”
Yuuri almost faltered and told Victor, but decided against it. Your wishes were still high up, even if you two weren’t amazingly close. 
Sadly, Victor was still shaken and hurried. It was a large competition, and as much as he wanted to focus on the task at hand, you never left his mind. 
Over the year that you had fallen out of reach, he began to realize where he screwed up. Maybe he did like you at one time, but he let his own fears get the best of him and he fell to putting more of an interest to Yuuri. 
He truly loves Yuuri, but he truly loved you (romantically) at one point, and you slipped from his reach before he could manage to comprehend anything. 
So, upon making eye contact with a familiar pair of (e/c) eyes and an eerie copy of a blazer that he had given you as a birthday gift years ago, he was left idle. 
“(Y/n)?”
You sucked in a breath and shrugged, sighing afterwards and shaking your head. “Yep, it’s me. Hello, again, Victor.” 
Tears flooded his eyes as he ran to you, arms open and tight as his hug enveloped your frame. You didn’t reciprocate, not immediately at least. With obvious hesitance, you returned the hug, but pushed him away only a couple seconds later. 
“You’ve got a skater to support. We can talk later, okay?” 
“But, you’ve come back and-” 
“Victor. Go support Yuuri.”
He bit his lip, but nodded nonetheless and embarked to the rink. 
After the free skate, the next day’s events were prepared and everyone was sent out for the day. Yurio had caught up with you before heading to his hotel room, and Yuuri had popped in before he changed out of his costume, but Victor was most eager to meet you.
Upon seeing each other, yet again, in the lobby, the two of you parted ways but decided to meet at a restaurant in town. Yuuri would be dining with Phichit and some other competitors, and Yurio was with Otabek going sightseeing, so this was a prime opportunity. 
Silence loomed over the two of you, slow walking and sounds of nature overwhelming your senses. 
“So, you’re probably curious as to where I’ve been,” you began, breaking the tension as calmly as possible. You could have sworn that your heart was going to burst out of your chest if you let the quiet settle any longer. 
“Yes, (Y/n). I really have been.” Victor, for once in the time that you have known him, was quiet. He was never really afraid to speak to you about anything, but the way he was acting now let some of the more obvious pain show. 
“I’ve also been extremely worried. I never realized that you felt like that.”
You stopped upon the sentence, eyeing a nearby bench. Victor followed suit and looked down at you, eye contact being maintained. His gorgeous blue eyes were glassy and he appeared on the verge of tears. 
“(Y/n), darling, I never realized how much you actually meant to me. I was stupid. I- I really, truly did love you. I always thought that you were too good for me, though, so I tried to make the ideas disappear. It worked, but only for a while. I love you, (Y/n). Honestly, I really do, and...
“I don’t know how much longer I can endure this.” 
Your brows furrowed at his proclamation. The thought had never really crossed your mind, but you had always been drawn to his personality and how driven he was. You knew that he would do this, though, as he could also be notably daft regarding certain things. 
“Victor, I-.... Listen, I loved you at one point, but you found Yuuri. You found your match. You made your decision. Out of respect for you and him, I left. But I also did it to respect myself.
“I know my habits. I know that I can fixate, so I needed to get out of your hair if I wanted to feel better. So I did. I’m engaged now, Victor, and the person that I met is amazing. I thought that could have been you. But it wasn’t, and I’m okay with that now.” 
“You- you’re engaged?”
“Yes, yes I am. We haven’t planned our wedding date quite yet, but it is being discussed. The fact of the matter is simple: I knew what would happen if I were to stay, and as much as I love you, - platonically - staying here wouldn’t do me any good. Life comes, things change, and sometimes we just gotta give up.”
Silence fell on you two yet again, but it was interrupted by the slight sniffling coming from the tall Russian. 
“Victor, I came back not because I wanted to fight for your affection, but because I’ve been worried about you. I just want you to know that...I still do care for you, and I have still supported you and Yuuri. But what you want, what I wanted...that’s not possible anymore.” 
Pausing, you thought over your next words. Nothing was ever going to completely repair what was broken, but at the very least, you could try. 
“How about this? Here’s my new number,” you handed him a small slip of paper with the nine digits printed on it in your handwriting. “Let’s start talking again, and you can meet my fiancee sometime. Sound good?”
His mood nearly took a 180, but his demeanor was still sullen and sad. A weak smile crossed his face, and he responded in kind, “Of course. How about we go back to the group and enjoy dinner, though? You’re here again, and it’s more than I could ask for - but we have a lot of catching up to do.” 
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simplyotometrash · 3 years
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Some Obey Me Headcanons!
Part One!!
Lucifer
Lucifer has always been the dad sibling. After each of his brothers were “born” while they were angels, he was the one to raise and teach them everything.
It’s common knowledge that Mammon is his favorite. Even if he hates to admit it. He’s hardest on Mammon because it’s the only thing he knows how to do anymore.
Despite the fact that they don’t seem to get along because of Mammon’s antics, Lucifer only ever confides some of his most pent up feelings to the second born. 
The only other person he confides in this deeply is MC.
Before the fall, Belphie was his second favorite brother. Even after things have settled after Belphie was free again, he can never look at the youngest the same.
All he wants is for his brothers to be happy and live on. Even if it means working himself into the ground for their sakes.
He doesn’t ask for help. Help has to be forced upon him.
With how much he works, even at home, it’s not uncommon to find him napping with a pen in hand at his desk and his head on his paperwork.
He wishes he had done better raising Satan. He blames himself for their strained relationship, but he feels as if it is too late to truly fix it.
Sometimes he also wishes he had raised Satan as his son and not his brother, considering Satan was born from his wrath.
Children, for some reason or another, flock to him.
His control issues and needing to know everything that happens under his roof stems from the trauma of the war, the fall, and what happened with Lilith. 
It’s his deepest fear that he will lose his brothers and be completely and utterly alone.
A bisexual mess of a demon. No one can convince me he doesn’t have at least a small crush on Diavolo. 
Mammon
Oh the second born brother. He just wants to see everybody happy. But he always messes up and ends up making people angry instead.
He has severe impulse control issues, hence why he’s broke all the time. It isn’t that he doesn’t want to save his Grimm, I headcanon that his sin of Greed compels him to spend. It controls him and so he struggles to keep money. 
But by gods does he have great luck with gambling. Get him going and he will win big every single time.
But keep that money where he can’t just grab it or else he will be compelled by his sin to buy things.
He doesn’t even want most of the things he buys. His sin took root in that empty space left from the fall and being cast out by the one he called his father. 
His sin pushes him to try and fill that void with objects and money when really he just wants someone’s love.
After centuries of being called scum and a degenerate because of something he has little control over, he gave up trying and gave into just being his sin.
He cries easy but only to MC or Lucifer. He won’t show his tears to any of his other brothers. Maybe Beel sometimes. But only sometimes.
He knows Lucifer’s most precious and deepest secrets. He’s his brother’s confidant. But he doesn’t even breathe a word of these secrets to anyone else.
He tries so hard to get attention, so he does stupid shit. After falling to Devildom, his family was changed forever. So any attention is good attention even when it’s him being punished. 
MC is the one who showed him positive love and attention again. It is one of many reasons he sticks to their side like fucking super glue to skin.
He’s actually a total mom-friend, though you wouldn’t guess it. You’d think he is the type to get drunk and pass out at a party? His alcohol tolerance is actually much higher than he lets on. He cleans up and takes care of people after they’ve all passed out.
Leviathan
He wasn’t nearly as anxious and against socializing before falling to Devildom. He retreated into himself out of fear of the unknown world they had all fallen into after the war.
He has an anxious attachment style. He knows it isn’t healthy. It’s rooted in the trauma that losing Lilith created.
The longer he stayed closed in on himself, the worse his anxiety got. To the point he became a recluse. 
He fears getting close to someone. He feels insecure in relationships, not just in himself. He doesn’t feel like he’s good enough.
He’s had relationships in Devildom before, but the first one ended poorly and it only made things worse for how he saw himself. The demon only dated him because of who he was, and preferred his status as the Grand Admiral of Hell’s Navy. Not as who he really is. 
The few relationships that came after all ended before they really could begin because his anxiety monster was screaming that he wasn’t really good enough. That they only ever pursued him for who he was in status and power.
MC’s persistence to become his friend is what made him begin to do some self-reflection.
They tried so hard to become friends with him, they put so much effort into him, and they encourage him to just be himself. If they do all of that, maybe he really is enough as he is.
He does try to step outside of his comfort zone more because MC opened his eyes to the truth of himself. 
But baby steps are needed.
He taught himself how to code just so he could make games. He got bored after making one and preferred playing to creating.
He doesn’t actually hate Mammon. Their little rivalry traces back to when they were angels and still growing up, competing for Lucifer’s attention. He actually loves his brother very much, despite how irritate he gets.
His envy is its own thing. It took root within his insecurities and has a voice all its own. It used to be so loud that he couldn’t think. But the growth he’s had since MC came into his life helped quiet that voice down a lot.
He’s closest with Satan and Asmo, feeling like he doesn’t fit with his older two or youngest two brothers anymore. 
Satan
He knew from day one that he wasn’t like the rest of his brothers. He was always different. Born a demon, never once an angel. He knew that they weren’t truly his brothers.
All he ever wanted was for Lucifer to be his father. Not his brother. 
Lucifer once was his hero, the person he admired and respected with all his might.
As he got older, his wrath only grew with him. And his anger at Lucifer grew as well.
He wanted to find himself as separate from Lucifer. He knew where he’d come from. But everyone treated him as if he were just some offshoot of Lucifer. He wanted to be his own person. For everyone to see that. It fueled his anger and built the wall that came between them.
He’s an excellent shoulder for comfort. He often comforts Levi when he breaks down or provides reassurance to Asmo.
These three are the middle children, they stick together.
He was alive when the Library of Alexandria was burned. Even though he wasn’t supposed to go to the human realm, he saved some texts from the library and keeps them safe.
The real reason he wears his jackets the way he does is just like when you’re in bed. If it’s full on with both sleeves, he’s too hot. If he doesn’t have it on at all he’s too cold. So one arm in a sleeve and one arm not in a sleeve.
Asmo has tried and failed to give this boy fashion help. He refuses to take it. He thinks he looked like an intellectual (for the love of god please lose the black undershirt at least, Satan).
He carries cat treats and cat food in his bag at all times in case he comes across a kitty in need.
He has sneaked many cats into the House of Lamentation. Lucifer knew the entire time but let Satan have a few days before he “found out” about the cats.
His wrath has burned strong for so long, even when he was passive, that he didn’t know what it was like to feel calm. But MC’s very presence sends a wave of peace right to his very core. 
Asmo
If you’re insecure and you know it clap your hands. 
Levi might seem like the king of insecurity, but Asmo takes the cake.
He masks his insecurities with what people think is narcissism and over confidence. He puts on a show so nobody knows how he really sees himself.
Lust was always shoved down his throat as sexual only. So he went with it. He was supposed to be the Avatar of Lust. To be what was expected of him and to make sure he was liked, he did what he thought everyone wanted.
And it turned him into someone he never wanted to be. He didn’t know how to find himself again.
He isn’t nearly as sexual and lewd as everyone thinks. He’s touchy and clingy, yes, but touch is his love language.
When he’s hurt or doesn’t feel well, if he’s had a bad day, if he’s sad- all he wants is to be held by the person he loves and who loves him. He wants to hold hands or link arms. He wants to wrap his arms around them all the time. 
But because everyone in Devildom only saw him as a sex symbol, he had to bury his truest desires. He had a persona to keep up. 
While he does love to take care of himself, he used to break mirrors because he was so sick of who he had become. It took a lot of time for him to get through it. 
His MC is the only one who wasn’t tainted by his power. A power that seemed to just be active all the time whether he wanted it or not.
Everyone was all over him but it wasn’t as if he could control it. His sin was always active, it attracted people.
But MC wasn’t interested or affected. 
And that was what was most attractive to him. 
They saw him for who he was and encouraged him to just be the true Asmo. Not the Asmo everyone wanted to see.
He is excellent at sewing. He loves making his own accessories and clothing from his own designs. 
He’s ambidextrous. You think that the king of fashion only uses one hand? Darling, if he only used one hand then his homework would never get done. He write with one hands and be painting his toes with the other. 
One of the few people that can get Levi out of his room to hang out. They’ve always been close. Sometimes he does that just so the others can get Levi’s laundry and dirty dishes.
He’s the most emotionally open and stable of the brothers. He’s made peace with his inner monsters and can coexist with them. He’s also surprisingly good at advice. 
Can and will break into Lucifer’s study to make the eldest relax because he’s working too har.
He has bobby pins on him at all times. Not just for fashion but for lockpicking! He can be clever and beautiful!
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mypoisonedvine · 3 years
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A Beautiful Little Fool | dark!Sebastian Stan x reader (The Great Gatsby AU)
well, The Great Gatsby entered the public domain today, so I thought I’d besmirch it with some filthy dark smut.  overall I did not put too much effort into relating my story to the plot or themes of the novel, just the setting and basic instigating actions, so don’t look too hard for an obvious allegory or familiar characters.  this stunning moodboard (and, best of all, the incredible edits of seb as gatsby) was made by @nsfwsebbie​ who was also so kind as to beta for me and be my sounding board, thank you so much!!
summary: a reclusive millionaire throws extravagant parties in hopes that his lost love will attend and he can get one more chance to win her back.  one can get used to getting whatever they desire, a little too comfortable with the idea that money can attain anything.
word count: 5.2k
warnings: smut (noncon/heavy dubcon), forced infidelity, a touch of breeding kink, period-accurate sexism (if anything it's a bit more toned down compared to 'period-accurate'), very slight yandere energy, obsession, one (1) slap
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all my works are 18+, if you are under 18 please do not read
I was within and without; simultaneously enchanted and repelled by the inexhaustible variety of life.
You could already hear the music and you were still a block away.  “Sounds like quite the ball,” Walter observed, and you clung tighter onto his arm as you walked with him along the damp pavement.  “Seems like the rumors might just be true about Stan parties.”
“All the rumors are true,” you informed him quickly, pulling your shawl up to protect your shoulders a bit better from the chilly evening breeze, “except for one.”
You took in a slow, deep breath as you observed the mansion from the outside; partygoers were mingling about in the yard and gardens, even though it was much too cold to be outside for very long, in your humble opinion.  Walter opened the door for you, being polite that way, but you found yourself hesitating before you stepped in out of the dark and the cold into the overwhelming light and warmth of his mansion.
You thought maybe you could avoid him, at least for the first hour or so of the party, but it was like he had been waiting at the door just for you to arrive, twiddling his ring-adorned thumbs in that gaudy tuxedo of his.
“Darling!” Sebastian greeted with a beaming grin, outstretching his arms (a cane in one hand, and a drink in the other) to wrap you in an embrace.  “You’re late!”
“Fashionably,” you defended with a nervous laugh, pulling back from the hug a little sooner than he seemed to want you to.  You almost forgot Walter was standing right beside you, and an awkward beat made you suddenly remember they ought to be introduced.  “Oh!  Sebastian, I’m not sure you’ve met my fiancé, Walter Penner.”
“Pleasure,” Walter offered his hand for a handshake, smiling warmly.  “Your home is stunning, I must say.  You… really know how to throw a party.”
Sebastian just shrugged like it was nothing before returning the handshake, but his cheeks were a little pinker than they were before— maybe it was just the draft you’d let in when you and your date had entered the front door.  “The pleasure’s all mine,” he assured, “I’ve been hearing so much about you from your lovely fiancée here, I’m excited to see if it’s all true.”
“Walter said the same thing about you, outside,” you admitted with a sheepish grin, and your date cast you a brief glare of embarrassment.
“She’s never been too good at keeping secrets,” Sebastian chuckled, “yours, mine, or hers.”
The negging comment made your cheeks warm a little, wondering if you should defend yourself, but Walter spoke instead.  “You must be used to it by now, I hear the two of you have been close friends since you were children.”
Memories of summer flashed in your mind, of green soft grass between toes and secret hideaways in trees and warm sunshine casting the countryside in a golden glow.  It seemed like that was all so far away now, the hilly landscape replaced with industry, the sun outshined by the electrical lights that seemed to cover nearly the entire mansion these days.  
“Yes,” Sebastian agreed, tearing you from your train of imaginative thought and turning to address you, “you’ve known me since I was just a penniless dreamer with two good legs.”
You were a little surprised he was so comfortable admitting that he didn’t come from wealth.  Maybe some people thought it was more inspiring that way, but others would say that it was impossible for him to truly shed his place in society as a poor sharecropper’s son.  
But then again, they would say the same thing about you, and you’d become engaged to the wealthiest bachelor in Manhattan, as well as a man you were lucky enough to say you were truly in love with.
Sebastian let the two of you go and enjoy the party for a while, though you were sure you could feel his eyes on you all the while.  Walter went and fetched the two of you some drinks, while you waited beside a small statuette that Sebastian must have collected some time, tilting your head as you observed it.  He had an eye for art that you couldn’t relate to, although you at least understood why he might enjoy a bronze cast of a beautiful nude woman.
As some young women flocked in a group beside you, their conversation became impossible to ignore.  “He’s single,” one of them announced, “and fabulously wealthy.  The perfect man.”
“Yes,” another agreed, “but he’s so reserved.”
“I like that!” the first defended.
“I think you’d like anything about somebody who could afford to throw a party like this,” yet another accused with a smirk.  A fit of giggles made it seem like the rest agreed with that sentiment.
“You’re all just jealous because he was looking at me,” she frowned defensively.  “He’ll want a wife sometime, and I’ll be here waiting.”
You were almost compelled to butt in, but if you told them the truth they probably wouldn’t even believe you.  Some papers had reported that the elusive Mr. Stan was disinterested in dating or engagement, but usually attributed it to eccentricity or promiscuousness.  What they had not discovered was that he was still hung up on his childhood love, the girl next door who had captured his heart as a boy and never given it back— not for a lack of trying.
It wasn’t like you hadn’t considered it, in fact you had returned his affections many years ago when he left to fight in the Great War.  It seemed that with you and Sebastian, it was always the right person at the wrong time; and maybe, deep down, you knew that Walter had been the wrong person at the right time, but your love for him was true if forced.  He didn’t make you laugh like Sebastian could, but in the end it was best that the two of you stay friends and that he finally take up any of the lovely girls vying for his affection.  Maybe some were only seeking his money… okay, maybe all of them were only seeking his money, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a girl worth his time in the bunch.  An ambitious man like Sebastian wouldn’t have much trouble forging a real connection with someone like the woman standing beside you know, gossiping about how secretive and handsome he was.
When the chit-chat stopped, you looked up to see what had garnered their attention… only to find Sebastian standing right beside you.  “I bought this in Sicily, thinking it was an original, but I learned recently that it’s a fake,” he informed you.  You furrowed your brow in confusion until he pointed forward and you realized he was referring to the statue you’d been staring at.  
“Oh!  Right,” you mumbled.
“I still keep it on display because as of yet, nobody else can tell the difference,” he admitted.  There he was lifting that façade again, letting his guests see a glimpse of the dirty truth he usually hid away.
“What’s inspiring this openness, Sebastian?” you asked him with a nervous giggle.  “Are you high on something?”
“Just your presence,” he returned with a flirtatious grin, “and a bit of opium.”
You knew he was joking, although the ladies eavesdropping nearby didn’t seem so sure.  “Yes, I think an opium addiction would suit you nicely,” you rolled your eyes, “to go with all this excessiveness you indulge yourself in.”
“I think I’ll just stick with the champagne for now,” he decided.  “Have you had some yet?  It’s exquisite.”
“Walter went to fetch me some,” you remembered, glancing out into the crowd to see if you’d find him there looking for you.
“Oh, perfect!” 
You weren’t sure what was perfect about that.
“I’ve been meaning to speak with you, in private, if I can,” he explained.
That idea didn’t sit right with you.  Even just speaking to him now without your fiancé nearby was a bit scandalous, but at least there were plenty of people nearby to witness to the fact that nothing especially untoward had occurred.  Being truly alone with him sounded much more dangerous.  “You can,” you replied solemnly, “but I can’t say that you will.”
“Please,” he whispered, just a hint of his desperation becoming apparent.  You nodded and he smiled back at you, guiding you across the foyer and up the stairs.  He grabbed a drink from a waiter and handed it to you as you dutifully followed him upstairs, glancing down over the banister at the merriment before he led you into his room, the sounds of the party fading to near silence behind the door as he closed it behind you.
"Do you like the party, darling?" he asked as you swallowed a gulp of champagne which tingled at the back of your throat and did less to calm your nerves than you’d hoped.
"Yes," you nodded, "your parties are always… lavish."
"It's all for you," he informed you with a gentle smile.  "All this: the music, the fireworks, the champagne—" he motioned to the glass in your hand— "it's all for you."
"For… me?"
He stepped closer with a chuckle, that light little chuckle that you’d grown to understand meant ‘oh, you silly little thing.’  “Of course.  Who else?  I love you, darling, I’ve loved you all my life— you know that.”
“And I’m engaged to Walter,” you reminded him. “You know that, too.”
His smile faded slightly, and you saw him trying to shake that anger that was always waiting just below the surface.  “Yes, I know that.  I’m not stupid—”
"You must be if you think this is going to work, that I’ll leave him for you because… because what?  You threw me a party?”
“I threw you a thousand parties.  Every single one, it was all a show— all the dancing and the small talk, I don’t need it.  It could just be the two of us, for all I care.”
“I could hardly imagine we’d finish all the booze…”
“Don’t joke with me.  Do I look like I’m joking?”
“You’re funny either way; you hardly speak with me, you hardly know me, and you think you love me.”
You gasped as he stepped forward, grabbing your wrist tightly.  A sharp sound made you understand that your champagne flute had fallen to the floor and shattered, but you didn’t see it because you couldn’t look away from his icy blue eyes piercing through you as they burned with rage.  “I love you.  I’ve never loved anyone or anything like I love you.  And you’re gonna love me, too.”
Protests died in your throat as the air was knocked from your lungs when he pushed you back into the wall.  He forced his lips over yours, holding the back of your neck so you couldn’t turn your face away.  Your free hand beat at his chest before it, too, was pinned by the wrist while he sighed and moaned against you, pushing his tongue between your lips.  A swift kick to the shin deterred him more effectively, knocking him back just enough to let you run for the door.  Your fingertips just barely brushed against the cold metal of the doorknob before he grabbed you at the waist and pulled you back.  “Help!” you screamed hoarsely.
“Nobody’s gonna hear you,” he laughed, pressing his chest against your back, his breath hot on your neck.  “The party’s too loud.”
He spun you around quickly, leaning in for another kiss.  “Walter!” you yelped, purely out of instinct, but he stopped you with a hand clamped over your mouth.
“How dare you say his name,” he hissed.  “How dare you bring him into my house?”
You couldn’t answer with his strong fingers holding your mouth shut, but you could mumble indistinctly as you began to cry.
“Has he fucked you?  Hm?” he interrogated coldly.  Afraid of giving no answer at all, you hesitated before shaking your head.  Sebastian smiled a little bit as he let his hand slip down from your face, his expression softening.
“He’s… he’s a real gentleman,” you explained weakly.
“Oh, I’m sure,” Sebastian chuckled incredulously.  “Never thought you’d want someone so… traditional.”
“He treats me right,” you continued.
“That can’t be true, if he hasn’t taken you properly,” he smirked.  “God, you don’t even know how good you can feel, do you?  Poor girl.  I have half a mind to throw you over that bed and show you right now.”
“N-no, Seba, please, you wouldn’t,” you stammered anxiously, watching his eyes drift from your own down to your lips, and your neck, and your chest.  You knew the plunging neckline was a bad idea.
“You haven’t called me that since we were children.  I miss that, when you still cared for me.”
“I’ve always cared for you, it’s you that pushed me away,” you reminded him.  “But it’s okay, we’ll be close again, like we used to.  We’ll be friends.  Just… just let me go, we should go back outside… your guests are expecting you.”
“What was that game we used to play back then?” he wondered aloud, ignoring your suggestion entirely.  “It was your favorite.”
“Ch-checkers?”
He grinned, more devilish than before.  “No… it was ‘I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.’”
You looked away, wincing at his mocking laughter as he held you a little tighter; the back of your dress was rather low, meaning that his rough hand was stroking your exposed back which made the hairs at the nape of your neck stand up.
“Do you still remember how to play?” he purred as he spun you back and tossed you onto the bed.  You tried to sit up but he was already on you, reaching under your dress to grab at your pantyhose.  
“W-wait,” you whimpered, but he had already found your undergarments and begun to pull them down your thighs.
“These legs,” he growled, “god, I can’t get enough of ‘em.  You know what you do to me, sweetheart?”
He answered his own question rather quickly as he grabbed your hips and pulled you closer to where he was kneeling on the bed— pressing the back of your thigh against the hard shape tenting his trousers.  You grimaced and looked back up at the ceiling, but he grabbed your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, pulling your face back down to look at where he was hovering over you.  
“No, no, darling, don’t look away,” he cooed, “I want you to see this.”
He lifted your leg as he turned his head to the side, never breaking from your gaze as he started to kiss your skin, moving up your calves and dipping lower to reach your inner thigh.  You weren’t entirely sure what he was doing, but you felt it sending shivers up your body as he moved closer and closer to somewhere he was very much not supposed to be.  “Seba,” you whimpered, not sure what you were pleading with him for but hoping it would get through to him anyways.
He just smiled wider, letting his teeth nip the delicate skin just beneath your hips.  You yelped a bit before biting down on your lip to keep quiet; you knew that if someone walked in now, you wouldn’t be able to say that he’d forced himself on you… not when you were lying back and letting him do this to you.  
Just when you thought his mouth couldn’t get any closer to the part of you that was suddenly throbbing of its own accord, he pulled back and pushed up your dress even more, growling at the sight of you spread wide for him.  “What a gorgeous pussy, darling.”  It didn’t seem like a sign of approval though, when he brought his hand down against it with a harsh smack, forcing you to cry out and throw your head back.  It hurt, at first, but then it felt so oddly good and you couldn’t explain why.  When he did it again, the pain and the pleasure were even more intense than the last time, making your legs quiver a bit.  “Oh, you like that,” he realized proudly.  “You’re getting so wet already.”
He hit you again, and again, until you were sobbing and begging for him to stop— not just because he was hurting you, but because you knew if he didn’t stop, you would reach your peak and that could not happen under any circumstances.  You couldn’t like this.  If you came, he would be able to tell so easily; he was literally staring right between your legs, there was nowhere to hide from him.
“Fuck, I can’t wait any longer,” he groaned, “I need to get a taste of you.”
You, being foolish and innocent in these regards, thought he was going to kiss you again.  In a way, he did; he grabbed your thighs tightly as he leaned down and latched his mouth onto your aching, swollen sex, moaning loudly as he explored you with his tongue.  Your eyes shot wide open, your hands reaching down to push him away only to falter halfway through and dig into his hair instead.  Between his lips, his tongue, and his teeth, it was like you couldn’t keep track of all the ways he was touching you.  Each moan from him vibrated right through you, until you were moaning even louder.  It was shameful, and your heart ached to know you were betraying Walter like this, but you were lost completely in the throes of pleasure that Sebastian was giving you.
Forcing your eyes shut only made the feeling more intense as your hands tightened into fists, gathering the satin-y through beneath you in your clammy palms.  But opening your eyes and looking back at him wasn’t much help either, with the way he was staring back at you so intensely.  You’d never seen his eyes so dark before, not in all the years you’d known him, and it made your skin crawl.
He stopped briefly to catch his breath, his prideful smile glistening with your arousal; it was awfully lewd, and you hated how attractive he looked all disheveled and hungry like this.
“You really ought to be spoiled,” he decided, his voice deeper and rougher around the edges.  “It’s a waste if nobody’s making you come like this every day, getting a taste of this sweet little cunt.”
That word made you wince, and you realized you were more offended by what he was saying than what he was doing, oddly enough.
He got back to it with more vigor than before, pushing his tongue into you as you bit down on your lip to keep from screaming.  How could something so wrong feel so thoroughly right, so perfect?  You hated him just as much as you loved him in that moment, and you wanted him to stop just as much as you wanted him to keep going.  The tricky thing was that you didn’t get to decide if you loved or hated him, or he stopped or continued.  Your body and mind were his playthings, pliable to whatever he wanted to take from you.
Apparently, he wanted to take more from you; when he had pushed you to your peak against your wishes, and done so much more easily than you would’ve liked to admit, he sat back and tossed away his jacket, freeing him to shirk his suspenders and unbutton his trousers.
“N-no, Seba, you can’t—” you whimpered mindlessly, attempting to crawl back away from him on the bed.
“You’ll let me devour you until you come, but don’t want me to get mine, too?” he grinned.  “Greedy little girl.”
He grabbed you and pulled you back down into him, gripping the neckline of your dress and tearing it down the front in a few quick rips.  You fought back but it was laughably useless, your strength nothing against his.  
“I hate when you wear things like this— things he bought you,” he explained with a snarl.  “These pearls, too, he got you these, right?”
There wasn’t even time to answer before he grabbed the string and snapped it, sending the pearls flying everywhere and rolling across the floor.  You felt more naked without them than you did without the dress.  Still, you felt especially naked when he pressed his hips forward and his length slid through your folds.  “No,” you sighed, “no— stop, it’s not funny anymore.”
“Funny?” he grimaced.  You yelped when he grabbed your jaw tightly, forcing you to look back up at him with wide, watery eyes.  “I love you.  You hear me?  I love you.”
“I know,” you sighed shakily.
“Say it back,” he demanded.  “Say you love me, too.”
“I can’t,” you shuddered, crying when he released your jaw to slap you harshly across the face.
“I’m sorry that I had to do that,” he sighed.  “I don’t think it’s right for a man to strike a woman, even if it’s with an open hand, but you need to get some sense into you.  I know you love me, darling.  You just need to say it.”
That false impression of mercy faded quickly when you only responded with silence.
“Say it!” he yelled, dripping with rage.
“I love you!” you finally cried, and he made swift work of reaching down to push his cock right up against your entrance, driving forward with brutal force.  Your back arched and your head fell back, your hands gripping at his half-buttoned shirt— some kind of silent plea that he slow down a bit, perhaps.  It didn’t seem to work, each thrust deeper and faster than the last already.  The only sounds now were his quickening breaths right beside your ear, his skin slapping against yours, and your weak little cries that you choked out each time he pushed himself all the way into you.
It stung and burned inside you, just like your eyes stung with fresh tears and your chest burned with some incomprehensible storm of emotions.  You wouldn’t call anything about this a relief, and yet there was something cathartic about it as well.
“He’s not gonna want you once he knows what I’ve done to you,” he whispered in your ear, tickling your leg as he pulled it to wrap around his waist.  “Once he knows I’ve taken your innocence, made you mine.”
You whimpered as sobs made your chest convulse, but said nothing; you knew he was right.
“He’s not gonna want you once I’ve knocked you up.  Nobody will… but me.”
You started to struggle underneath him, pushing at his shoulders helplessly.  “No, you can’t— you have to stop.”
“You’ll make such a beautiful bride, darling, especially if you’re already showing,” he grinned, bringing his hand to rest just below your bellybutton— just over your womb.  “I’ve dreamed all my life that you’d carry my child,” he admitted wistfully.
Crying did more to egg him on than anything, it seemed, as you barely managed to speak enough to plead with him not to finish inside you.  Maybe you were naïve, but not so much that you didn't know how easily you could become pregnant if he didn't pull out, or how quickly your engagement would be broken off and your reputation ruined if that happened.
He ignored your denial and moved faster, running his hands all over your body with a few brief detours to grope your breasts and pinch the hardened nipples.  
As his lips attached to your neck, you felt his teeth sink into your skin as he sucked just by your pulse.  “Don’t,” you whimpered, “you’ll leave a mark.”
“Good,” he mumbled, breaking away from his work at your neck to teasingly nibble on your ear.  “It’s no trouble to me if everyone knows what I’ve done to you.  I want them to know.  Don’t you think they saw us come into my room?  Maybe if you moan loud enough they’ll get to hear you coming for me.”
It should’ve made you try even harder to stay quiet— and it did, it just didn’t work at all, and soon your moans were echoing around the room as he smiled down at you.  “Close again, already?  You’re so sweet for me,” he praised, somehow angling his hips just right to hit the most sensitive places inside you, your walls rippling and convulsing around him.
“You have t-to stop,” you breathed, holding the waves of pleasure back with everything you had.
“I can’t,” he groaned, “you feel too good.  It’s okay, darling, just let go…”
He continued with a string of whispered praises, but you couldn’t hear it anymore as your body began to erupt in jolts of pleasure, your arms and legs shaking uncontrollably where they were wrapped around his neck and hips, respectively.
“Keep going,” he encouraged gently, “you sound so beautiful when you come, darling.”
But the sensation threatened to consume you, burned you from the inside out until you couldn’t take anymore.  It was overwhelming to the point that you lost all control over your words, needing this to end more than you needed to preserve any dignity you had left.  “Please,” you sighed, “please come, Sebastian…”
He laughed a bit, kissing your ear again.  “Sweet girl, I knew you’d come around.  Want it inside, darling?��
You shook your head, he laughed again.
“Yes you do,” he sing-songed condescendingly, “you want to have my baby, don’t you?  Wanna leave that awful man and be with me, like you should?”
He must’ve known there was only one way to get you to agree to that.
“Remember, darling,” he whispered, “it won’t end until you say yes.”
“Yes,” you choked out, “I want to be with you, Seba, I want your baby— just please come and get off of me.”
He grinned and fucked you faster, the slapping of skin so loud now that surely anyone in the hall would hear it.  His own moans were quiet but desperate, breathless as he started to pump and flex inside you, his warmth coating your insides as he groaned your name weakly.  He laid on top of you, motionless, for quite some time until finally sitting up and pulling out; unfortunately, you were too weak to do much with that freedom, just laying there and staring up at the ceiling as numbness chilled your extremities and fogged your mind.
“You just stay here and catch your breath,” he instructed gently as he gave you one last kiss before sitting up, readjusting his trousers and suspenders before finding his jacket on the floor to put back on.  He circled the bed to look out his window into the gardens, seeming much too relaxed and satisfied with himself.   
“W-Walter,” you remembered suddenly.  “He’ll be looking for me.”
“Hm, doesn’t seem like it,” Sebastian frowned, “I can see him now, having quite the conversation with a fine young woman.”
“What?” you shivered, sitting up to look at him as he stared down into the yard.
“I’m looking right at him, darling.  I figured you knew about his… reputation…”
You did, but you never really believed it; the papers lied about Sebastian all the time, so surely rumors about your fiancé could be just as unfounded.
“I need to go,” you decided as you jumped up off the bed, trying to cover yourself with your torn dress.
“Sweetheart,” Sebastian cooed sympathetically as he looked back at you, “where are you gonna go dressed like that?  Or, should I say, not dressed like that?  I know my parties can get a little wild, but we try not to have any nudity.”
You hated that he was right; you were trapped here, until you found some way to dress yourself.  And frankly, leaving his room dressed in different clothes than when you came in was nearly as bad as leaving his room naked.
“I’ll get you something to wear, just give me a moment, alright?” he offered, stopping to give you a peck on the forehead before slipping out of the door and back into the party.
He took a deep breath when he shut the door behind him, closing his eyes briefly to stabilize himself before putting on a smile and rejoining his guests.  A lot of people tried to stop him on his way, congratulated him on the party or asking him mundane questions, but he shrugged them all off as he continued his search for Walter Penner.  He found him looking rather lost somewhere by the west wing of the house, a drink in each hand.
“Two at a time, I like your style,” Sebastian boomed as he patted Walter on the back affectionately.  “The drinks, I mean.  I don’t believe everything I read in the papers.”
“Good,” Walter chuckled, “because it isn’t true— about girls or drinks.  The second glass is for my lovely fiancée— you haven’t seen her, have you?”
“Oh, I believe I have,” Sebastian put on a face like he was thinking about where he’d last seen her.  “She was just leaving.”
“Leaving?!” Walter pshawed.
“Yes, she said she’d forgotten something she had to do and scurried out the door.  I tried to stop her, but you know how she is when she gets her mind on something.”
“Hm,” Walter frowned.  “I suppose I’m meant to go looking for her.”
“Take a coat, it’s cold out there,” Sebastian offered.  “And if you see her, do tell her I give her my best.”
“Always,” Walter nodded, setting his drinks down and merging back into the crowd as he navigated out of the party.  Sebastian hummed a little tune to himself as he made his way back to his room; he could hardly wait to see you again already, tell you all about how your unfaithful betrothed had run off with one of his more promiscuous friends, but he had to be careful not to run too fast on his bad leg.  He figured you wouldn’t believe it, truly, but you’d give in to the story anyways if it was reason enough to justify your affair with him.  You had a talent for accepting whatever reality served your purposes best, and he was happy to give you whatever you wanted.  He figured you’d want an extravagant wedding, too; that would be easy enough.  
Ascending the stairs and resting his hand on the knob to open his door, he braced himself to see you there and finally know you were his— and only his, forever.  All he’d ever wanted, just on the other side of a door.  If a poor boy can become a millionaire in spite of everything, and he can finally get his girl in spite of a pesky engagement, then maybe anything’s possible. It was you that had told him since he was a boy that dreams were just dreams and couldn’t come true; such a fool you were, a beautiful little fool— the best thing a girl can be, and now that you were his girl, he intended to cherish your foolishness rather than attempt to educate you. Because truthfully, you were a smart girl, and only a fool for him.
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delicioussshame · 3 years
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In the never ending series of “things that aren’t wips because I can’t, I have to finish something before starting something else”, have this thing I posted as a wip before, featuring a version of PIDW where LBH collected his harem... differently, with guest star NYY.
Luo Binghe immediately recognises the man dressed in cultivator garb as Yingying’s shizun.
Beautiful and serene, she said. The perfect image of an untouchable immortal, dressed in white and pale greens. Always holding a fan of exquisite manufacture.
But more than her vivid descriptions of her shizun’s loveliness, he remembers what she said next.
She’d been lying on her side, her long cascading hair not managing to hide her luscious curves.
Luo Binghe had known she wouldn’t be ready for another round just yet, and so had been pleased to listen to her lighthearted pillow talk.
Today’s topic had been her exasperation with her shizun’s lack of sex life.
“Sometimes I can’t believe how obtuse he is. Liu-shishu has been courting him for years, and I don’t think he ever noticed. And don’t get me started on the sect master! All Shizun would have to do is bat his eyelashes and the sect master would drop everything to worship him! But no, he never takes him on it. For a while I thought maybe Shizun just preferred women, but more than one female disciple has tried her hand at him, all to no avail.”
Luo Binghe could imagine the type. Cultivators could be lofty. They think they’re above the needs of the flesh.
He always enjoys teaching them how wrong they are.
If the demonic part of his heritage revels in desecrating those pompous righteous cultivators, no one else could tell. Luo Binghe was too good at his chosen hobby to let his personal feelings interfere.
“I love and respect Shizun more than anyone. Without him, I would never have become the kind of cultivator who can afford A-Luo’s company. So I am motivated by filial piety and nothing else when I say that I have never met anyone who needs to get laid more than Shen Qingqiu.”
Luo Binghe had laughed. “Oh? Is Yingying going to replace me with her old teacher?”
Her scandalised look had sent him into another bout of laughter. “A-Luo! I would never!”
“Then why is she telling me this? Does she want me to take care of him?”
Ning Yingying had stared at him, a glint in her eyes. Luo Binghe could see the plans form in her head as she spoke. “Actually, that wouldn’t be a bad idea. It would do wonders for Shizun, and I know A-Luo loves breaking people like him.”
Luo Binghe had blinked, inwardly caught off-guard. He wasn’t blind. He knew Ning Yingying was a lot more observant than she appeared. It wasn’t the first time she had made that kind of comment. “Yingying knows me so well. Should I be worried?”
She had swapped at him. He could have easily evaded the blow, but he didn’t bother. “A-Luo doesn’t have anything to fear from me. But honestly, if I sent Shizun your way, would you take care of him? I really think he could benefit from it. And Shizun is very beautiful! Many will definitely be jealous if they ever find out.”
Luo Binghe had nothing against the idea of taking a peak lord to bed. He bet Xin Mo would love to feed on such high-quality cultivation. “I would be honored to entertain your teacher.”
He could tell from the way she had brightened he was about to be thoroughly thanked.
She had paid him too, both for herself and for her shizun’s future visit. Generously enough that Luo Binghe had wondered if he should praise her filial piety to her shizun.
She didn’t lie either. Shen Qingqiu really is exquisite.
Not as handsome as Luo Binghe himself, but nobody is. “You must be Shen Qingqiu.”
“Luo Binghe, I presume.” Luo Binghe cannot quite decipher the look he’s being given, which is rare enough to catch his attention. He’s pretty certain there’s some attraction there, but the rest? Trepidation? Outright fear? Disdain? Excitement?
He’s sure he’s going to find out. He gestures for Shen Qingqiu to sit down as he moves to prepare tea. He could have one of his servants handle it, but Luo Binghe has always preferred taking care of things himself. That personal touch has seduced more than one client, if they didn’t visit him only for his food.
Shen Qingqiu drinks the offered tea in silence before he starts talking. “If you would please tell me your fee, I will be refunding Ning Yingying a corresponding amount. I am sorry for wasting your time, but I have no interest in procuring your services.”
Ooh, that’s cute. If Luo Binghe wasn’t an expert at perceiving the signs of physical attraction, he might even believe him. Shen Qingqiu is interested, he’s sure of it. He’s just a prude, like Yingying said. “Yingying won’t accept it. Why refuse her most thoughtful gift?”
“My disciple should put her money to better uses.”
“I assure you, employing me is money well spent. You could find that out yourself.”
Luo Binghe bites back his amusement as the man stumbles, obviously embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to imply you weren’t… a credit to your profession. Please don’t take it personally. As I said, I have no interest in finding out myself.”
“But how will it look if you were to leave without finding out? My reputation will be hurt.”
“How could something this insignificant hurt the reputation of such a famous courtesan?”
Luo Binghe grins. “So even renowned cultivators have heard of me? Nothing bad, I hope?” And where did an isolated scholar like him caught wind of such lowbrow rumours, huh?
The sigh he’s answered with does not cloak a hint of amusement. “How many of the sect’s disciples have you seduced? You even managed to steal away Liu-shidi’s little sister, whose beauty and virtu are known across the land. Of course I have heard of you. More than I would have liked, if I am allowed to be honest.”
Ah. He should probably have expected that. Cang Qiong is full of eager young men and women. Apparently, Shen Qingqiu isn’t such a recluse that gossip doesn’t reach him. “I see. Still, you must have heard good things, or you wouldn’t have come into my parlour.”
Red is a good look on the man. Luo Binghe feels the first stirrings of desire rise into him. He just knows Shen Qingqiu would be stunning, lying despoiled on those formerly pristine robes, trying to discover what he’s begging for more of.
Not to mention he can almost hear Xin Mo purr. What a feast Shen Qingqiu will be.
Time to press on.
Luo Binghe reaches for the now empty cup of tea he’s certain Shen Qingqiu drained without tasting, making sure to caress the fingers still holding it with a touch just light enough to possibly be accidental, if one were very dumb or very blind. “Let me serve you again,” he says as he pours more tea with deliberate grace.
Instead, Shen Qingqiu rises from the table. “Don’t bother! I am obviously wasting your valuable time. If you won’t share with me how much Ning Yingying paid you, I will compensate her otherwise.”
Like Luo Binghe is letting him leave like this. “Would you have me waste the tea already prepared?”
“Drink it yourself! Surely it’s nothing compared to your usual breaches of propriety.”
Damn it. Luo Binghe miscalculated. Shen Qingqiu is too spooked to be open to further advances. Really, what a prude, to be so destabilised by a simple brush of hands.
If he can take a step back and defuse the tension enough for him not to leave… “You seem in such a hurry. Do you think I force myself on my visitors? I’m hurt.” As if he ever needed to use force to have someone.
Well, never without their consent, at least.
Shen Qingqiu doesn’t seem like he’d be into that, but then again, people can surprise you.
“I’m not scared! I just have no reason to be here any longer. Thank you for your time. I’ll be leaving my student in your care.” For a moment, there’s a glower in his eyes that Luo Binghe wouldn’t mind seeing more of. “Be good to her, or my next visit will be far less pleasant.”
Aww. Shen Qingqiu cares! How cute. “So I have to get a bit rough if I want to see you again?”
His outraged face almost makes him laugh. “Don’t you dare!”
“Or are you looking for an excuse for our paths to cross again? I assure you it’s unnecessary. I’d welcome you anytime.”
“I will keep that in mind,” says Shen Qingqiu absentmindedly, already crossing the door.
Luo Binghe lets him leave. Obviously, this will be going nowhere today.
Really, he’s offended. He cannot remember someone rejecting him so blatantly, ever. Worse, Xin Mo will be cranky. A treat was dangled in its metaphorical face, and then was cruelly taken away before it could have a taste.
He can’t let this humiliation stand.
He won’t have to. The delicate fan Shen Qingqiu came with, red spider lilies on a stark white background, is still on the table, forgotten in his haste to leave.
Luo Binghe’s customer service is impeccable. He’ll be returning the abandoned item himself.
It’s not like finding the peak lord of Qing Jing will be a challenge.
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jaskiersvalley · 3 years
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I've been doing nothing but read your fics for three days straight and I am in LOVE with your wolf pack fics. I love me some happy witchers and their bard.
I’m always so humbled when people read my stuff :) Thank you for coming along on this odd ride of who the heck knows what’s going to come next. But I am right there with you on happy witchers and their bard. So have some more :D
To say Jaskier was pissed off was an understatement. Nobody sent him packing with such cruel words. He would prove to Geralt that he was better than that. In fact, he would prove to the whole world! Revenge was a dish best served with a delicious side of “I told you so” and what was the point Jaskier had been trying to prove over the last 22 decades? It was that witchers weren’t the terrible, heartless creatures that the world liked to demonise them into. Well, maybe Geralt was but the others didn’t have to suffer because of his buffoonery. That left Jaskier with only one choice. He returned home to lick his wounds and prove his very own point.
It started, like many things, as an uphill struggle. Gone was Jaskier the bard and his place was taken by Julian Alfred Pankratz Viscount de Lettenhove. His parents had wanted him to take a more active role in ruling the lands and that was exactly what he was going to do. But on his own terms. The decree went out that no witcher was to be turned away. Payment was to be prompt and fair and, of course, it would be subsidised by the Pakratz treasury. If word got out that a witcher was shunned or shortchanged, that particular village or town would be paid a personal visit and not a good one either.
Word started trickling back. Witchers were suspicious at first. Some outright refused the offer of a decent bed and a meal, opting to kill the creature in the area and flee with a bigger than expected pouch of coin. However, it seemed that a few more intrepid witchers sniffed out the area and deemed it ripe for the plucking. One corner of the Lettenhove lands even seemed to get a resident witcher. At first, the locals were wary but, it turned out, they could only see a witcher a handful of times doing very human things like fumbling a pouch or staggering back injured before they bonded. And suddenly, a cat witcher found himself a home. Not only that, allegedly he had a friend in the shadows, elusive and rarely seen. A rare sighting or two could confirm he was grumpy, suspicious and more likely to pick a fight than accept any kindness. Jaskier would put money on the fact that it was a wolf.
The fortune of one cat meant another was bound to turn up to try and get in on the good fortune. It was just as well Lettenhove was big enough and this cat took the southernmost corner which also happened to be the warmest. Surely nothing to do with the viper witcher that scouted the area before settling in too. So now Lettenhove had three, possibly four witchers who didn’t seem inclined to move on to other contracts. In fact, the settlements nearest to them seemed to be doing a great job of finding contracts for them - not all monsters but a witcher’s might was definitely needed in the fields when the ox were being stubborn and rumour had it, the wolf was quite impressive if let loose in a forge.
A messenger came pleading for help on a sunny afternoon. The wolf witcher had dragged another one into the village but seemed aggressive to any who came near and tried to help. Even the cat was no use, seemingly preoccupied with tracking down a human companion of the injured wolf. Without hesitation Jaskier jumped onto a horse and rode hard and fast, heart breaking already. Surely Geralt hadn’t found another human companion so quickly. Even worse, he hoped that the companion wasn’t dead, he didn’t want Geralt on his own again.
It was an odd relief to see a mop of dark hair than white. Not that Jaskier ever wanted anyone to be hurting but he still did hold a torch for Geralt despite his cruelty. While he wasn’t allowed near the injured witcher, Jaskier could make an educated guess that they were Lambert and Eskel which earned him a sliver of trust. He was allowed to get things from the local healer and apothecary to help Lambert care for Eskel. Even better, Lambert finally accepted a room at an inn that he could carry Eskel to. If only that had been all the drama. Jaskier didn’t expect the cat to come into the village at a pull gallop, a body slung across the horse’s back. Thankfully the healer got there before Lambert and the human got carted off with worried cat in tow.
Jaskier only left when he was confident everyone was healing and was staying put for the foreseeable future. The little he gleaned of the unusual group had his heart warming up though, glad that even out on the harsh Path, they had each other.
Of course, Jaskier’s act of generosity had consequences. Two more vipers, another cat and allegedly a griffin also took up residence throughout the lands. Which meant that contracts around the continent were being left unfilled. Witchers had plenty of work throughout Lettenhove and were well compensated for it, they had no reason or need to go further afield into harsher conditions. However, it gave Jaskier a business opportunity he just couldn’t resist. Especially when the messengers started trickling in, begging to borrow a witcher. There was no obligation for any of the witchers he considered ‘his’ to step in. But Jaskier made his home the middleman for contracts. He could negotiate pay, accommodation and other sundries for his witchers before they were offered a contract. Funnily enough, cats were the most likely to venture out, needing the change of scenery. While reclusive and prickly, it seemed that Lambert had found himself a new stomping ground he was reluctant to leave. Sometimes Eskel headed out, feeling the need to do good but never again was he chased from a village without pay, food and rest. The one time a viper was run out, Jaskier blacklisted the whole region for contracts until the king himself came to ask for forgiveness. Watching someone regal apologise to a bewildered witcher may have been the inspiration for Jaskier’s next ditty.
A grizzled wolf turned up on Jaskier’s doorstep, assessing and shrewd. He never did leave as Vesemir’s talents were put to good use with negotiations and also information gathering. Overall, Lettenhove was becoming a force to be reckoned with. Crime was at an all time low, the people were happy and witchers were beginning to be treated better throughout the continent. Yet there was no sign of Geralt. Slowly, Jaskier stopped hoping.
“He’s a stubborn ass. Should have started a new school just for him,” Vesemir grumbled one evening. “School of the Mule.”
It had Jaskier snorting a halfhearted laugh but his still pined. Months went by and other regions began to take inspiration from Lettenhove, offering their own versions of protection for resident witchers. It both filled Jaskier with pride and dread because now Geralt could settle somewhere else. The continent was vast and the safe havens were cropping up thick and fast.
Whispers started up. An elusive witcher had been spotted to the north. Nobody quite knew what he looked like, yellow eyes flashed from below the deep hood of a cloak. That was ruined by reports of Lambert tackling the mysterious witcher and Eskel piling in. Vesemir only smiled as he listened to the messenger relay the happenings while Jaskier’s heart thumped hard in his chest.
“Stubborn idiot. But also a loyal wolf.”
There were only four wolves in existence and Jaskier already housed three. Which meant the fourth could only be Geralt. His hopes and dreams were brought to life by the thumping knock on the door. Opening it, Jaskier regarded Geralt coldly.
“I have come to apologise,” he said as a blonde head poked out from behind him curiously.
“Only six years late.”
“My head was stuck so far up my ass, it took this long to get free.”
As much as Jaskier wanted to hold a grudge, he was also relieved Geralt was alive and well. Even better, he had his child surprise in tow.
“You have a lot to be making up for. But come on in.”
The rest, they say, is history.
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fridayfirefly · 3 years
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Cowboy Like Me
Read Cowboy Like Me on AO3
Masterlist
Written for Maribat March Day 5 - Last Time
Now I know, I'm never gonna love again
Marinette was a terrible sentimentalist. After such a bad breakup it might have been cathartic to tear up the pictures of them, but Marinette just couldn't do it. No, she could bring herself to destroy the evidence of her six-year relationship. Marinette kept all the pictures, all the movie tickets, all the handwritten notes and put them in a shoebox at the top of her closet, somewhere that she couldn't reach without the help of a stepstool. Maybe the pads of her fingers could brush against the smooth cardboard if she stood on her tiptoes. But Marinette could never open it again. Inside that shoebox were the memories of being in love, kept safe, locked away, just out of reach.
As Marinette boarded the plane, she looked back on everything that had gone wrong. Though the cause of all the destruction in her life was uncertain, Marinette could pinpoint the effects exactly. There were a few things Marinette knew for certain: Marinette would never fall in love again, the city Marinette once loved now only held bad memories, and once the plane took off, Marinette would say goodbye to Paris for the last time.
Never wanted love, just a fancy car
The socialite scene of Gotham was dreadfully boring in the winter, Marinette learned. The weather was so brutal that anyone who could afford a second house in Key West or Malibu left as soon as the first snow-fall hit. Marinette stayed inside her penthouse apartment for weeks, designing her wardrobe for the next few months. It had been so long since she had been able to design for herself, without input from anyone else. It was freeing, to work with the colors, the patterns, the styles that she wanted. Marinette had forgotten what freedom felt like. For so long, she had worked for the whims of others, crafting to someone else's design.
Marinette made her first friend two weeks after the move. Silver St. Cloud was Marinette's neighbor in the apartment to the left. Silver was a model and influencer, and a self-proclaimed expert on all of the rich single men in Gotham. Upon their first meeting, Silver offered to show Marinette around Gotham and introduce her to the socialite scene. Marinette, hesitant but hopeful, accepted.
"Bruce Wayne is the best that Gotham has to offer," said Silver as they leave Starbucks, lattes in hand. "But there are plenty of men who are worth your attention - women too, if that's what you prefer."
"Bruce Wayne is the best?"
Silver nodded. "The Waynes have owned this city for as long as Gotham has been on a map. I wouldn't set your sights on him completely, though. Bruce Wayne doesn't date anyone, not even a former member of Kitty Section."
Kitty Section was known around the world, the biggest band to come out of France in the last decade. Their songs topped charts. Their albums won awards. Their well-crafted image of reclusive, mysterious artists led to a media sensation over the members of Kitty Section. Everyone wanted to know them - Luka Couffaine and Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the lead vocalists whose relationship enchanted their fans. Rose Lavillant, the backing vocalist and keyboardist, and Juleka Couffaine, the bass guitarist, who were unashamed of their love for each other. Ivan Bruel, the mysterious drummer who had the name Mylène carved into his drumsticks. They were famous. They were at the top of their game. They were unstoppable.
Marinette ruined it all when she left the band. Her split had been big news, exposing a dark side of Kitty Section that their fans were never supposed to see. But after their breakup, Marinette quickly realized that she never loved music. She loved Luka, and once that love faded away, she loved nothing.
"I guess I'll find someone else," said Marinette, but it was a lie. There was Luka Couffaine, and after that, there was no one else. She might be able to love fancy dresses and expensive cars, but Marinette would never love a person again, not the way she loved Luka. When it came to love (deep, true love, not just the infatuations of childhood) Luka was her first time, Luka was her only time, and Luka would be her last time.
Perched in the dark, telling all the rich folks anything they wanna hear
Marinette quickly learned the art of charming everyone she met, either through her impressive resume (founding member of Kitty Section) or through her newfound ability to flirt. It turns out, once you turn off your feelings it becomes very easy to pretend that you can still love.
Marinette and Silver became thick as thieves. The girls became a popular pair, charming every birthday brunch and charity dinner. For Silver, it was all about networking. As she explained to Marinette, "I'm trying to create a brand. I'm trying to turn my own name into something that can be sold, and for that, I need connections.
For Marinette, it was something to do. As long as she used her money wisely, Marinette had enough saved to comfortably live out the rest of her days. The real problem came in finding something to pass the time. Marinette rarely felt joy in living her life, the way she used to back when she was a child, the bright-eyed girl who aspired to be a designer. Now, everything from charming a billionaire to designing a new dress felt like a chore.
"Come meet Bruce Wayne," urged Silver as she grabbed Marinette's hand. "He just got back from Nepal. It's his first time in Gotham in six months. He skipped his own New Year's Gala to go soul-searching in the Himalayas. It's my job tonight to convince him to stay in town for longer than a week."
There was a determination to Silver's voice. From everything she had heard about Bruce Wayne, Marinette doubted that Silver could make him change his ways. However, that wouldn't stop Marinette from helping her new-found friend.
Silver's whole body-language changed, shifting from a determined march to a delicate float as she made her way over to a dark-haired man in a well-fitted tux. "Hello, Bruce. It's so nice to see you again."
"Silver." Bruce acknowledged her, sounding bored. "Who's your friend?"
"This is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She was the lead singer of Kitty Section before the band split up a few months ago."
"Kitty Section... I might have heard of them before. The band was... French?"
Marinette nodded. "Yes. All the members were born and raised in Paris. Have you heard of any of our music?
"I'm certain now that I have. It was very... commercial."
Marinette ought to have slapped him across the face right then and there. Not only was commercial not a compliment, but it also wasn't even true. It was the biggest criticism of Kitty Section, their reticence to work with popular music trends. Despite her overwhelming desire to assault the most wealthy and influential man in the ballroom, Marinette instead steeled her face and gave Bruce a pleasant smile. "Thank you. So what do you do for a living, Mister Wayne."
"I travel."
Marinette resisted the urge to roll her eyes. He spoke two words to her. The conversation was anything but interesting. "How interesting. Have you ever been to Paris?"
"I'm not a tourist, Miss Dupain-Cheng. I travel to much more interesting places."
Marinette officially gave up on the conversation. She would let Silver (who looked to be itching to have her turn to talk to Bruce) try and fix the train-wreck of a conversation that Bruce created. "You sound like a man with a lot of stories to tell. I hope you can tell me them over lunch someday."
"Perhaps."
Marinette gave Bruce her politest smile. "I have to excuse myself. Silver, why don't you tell Bruce about your new sponsorship from Lululemon."
Silver lit up. "Oh, you have to hear about this email I got last week. It was amazing, it's so good for my brand..."
Marinette walked away, letting her distaste towards Bruce leave her. Secretly, a little part of her hoped that Bruce would leave Gotham, as he was well-known for doing. Though Silver was her friend, Marinette didn't think she could pretend to like Bruce.
"He's intolerable, isn't he?" joked a voice from beside Marinette.
Marinette turned to face the stranger, a beautiful woman, taller than Marinette by quite a few inches, with dark hair, dark eyes, and tanned skin. She wore a dress of royal blue silk, so elegant it reminded Marinette of the sort of thing she always dreamed of making. "Who?"
"Bruce Wayne. Who else would it be?"
Marinette let out a quiet laugh. "He is quite unpleasant. I take it you know him."
"I accompanied him on some of his travels. Bruce is a good friend of mine, but these parties tend to bring out the worst in him. He hates this city and he especially hates the wealthy of this city." The woman grabbed a glass of wine off of a server's tray and handed it to Marinette, who gratefully took it.
"Then I doubt Silver will have any luck convincing him to stay." Marinette tried to keep the satisfaction out of her tone, but the woman laughed anyways, an indication that it didn't work.
"You're quite funny..." The woman paused for an introduction.
"Marinette Dupain-Cheng. And you are?"
"Diana-"
The sound of shattering glass interrupted Diana's introduction. The crowd started to get frantic, and Marinette was pushed one way while Diana was pushed the other. The glass of wine was knocked out of Marinette's hand, staining the fabric of her dress. Marinette struggled to stay on her feet, desperate to not twist an ankle in her four-inch heels.
"Listen up!" shouted an oddly-dressed man. "You're all going to listen to me, and no one will get hurt."
Marinette had a very odd feeling that this would be a moment she remembered for the rest of her life.
Never thought I'd meet you here. It could be love
"They're calling him a supervillain. Apparently, his name is The Riddler," reported Marinette, looking up from her phone, where she was reading about the events of the night before.
Silver glanced up from her seat on the sofa across the room where she was painting her nails a delicate shade of pink. "It's about time Gotham got its own supervillain. Metropolis has had Superman and all the villains that follow him around for years."
Marinette snorted out a laugh. "You think that a supervillain is a good thing?"
"Sure. It means that Gotham will be getting a superhero of its own soon." Silver brightened up. "Plus, the hostage situation from last night meant that I got to spend a whole two hours with Bruce."
Marinette groaned. "I can't believe that you two are going on a date. Bruce Wayne is one of the most insufferable men I've ever met."
"It's not a date. Bruce specified it as just dinner between friends. You should come too, Marinette. I'm sure that once you spend some time with Bruce you'll warm up to him."
Marinette gave Silver a skeptical look. "You want me to come with you on your date with Bruce?"
"Again, it's not a date. Bruce said that he would be bringing one of his friends along as well."
Marinette finally understood Silver's intentions. "You want me to come with you so that I can partner up with Bruce's friend, and you can get some alone time with Bruce."
"Well it doesn't sound very nice when you put it that way," huffed Silver.
Marinette giggled. "I love devious plans. We'll just have to make it look natural."
It took a little time to get all the details, but Marinette and Silver got their plan in order. Silver would arrive first and meet Bruce and his friend. Marinette would arrive later, strike up a one-on-one conversation with Bruce's friend, and spend the night engaging Bruce's friend in conversation so that Silver could flirt with Bruce. Marinette's only concern about the evening was that Bruce's friend would be just as unbearable to talk to as Bruce himself.
The restaurant that Bruce picked out was very fancy, but Marinette didn't mind. It allowed her to wear her new dress, a pale blue and silver creation meant to mimic the shimmering quality of ice. Marinette thought it might be a little too experimental for the old-fashioned Gotham society, but Silver approved of it, and Marinette trusted her friend.
As soon as Marinette walked through the doors her eyes caught sight of Silver's white-blonde hair. Then she noticed Bruce sitting beside her friend, his eyes trained on Silver with an odd intensity. Finally, Marinette noticed Bruce's friend. She was shocked to see that it was Diana, the very woman that Marinette had met at yesterday's gala, the very woman whose introduction was interrupted by the untimely arrival of the Riddler. For a second, Marinette was shocked into stillness. The chaos of the night before had overshadowed her meeting with Diana to the extent that Marinette had forgotten how very charmed she had been by Diana. Now, it seemed Marinette had the perfect opportunity to get to know the charismatic woman from the night before.
"Marinette," the surprise in Diana's tone told Marinette that she was just as blind-sighted by their meeting.
"Hello, Diana. Fancy meeting you here," said Marinette with a smile.
Bruce raised one eyebrow. "I didn't know you two knew each other."
"We met last night," explained Diana. "I wanted to let her knew that you aren't usually so insufferable."
Bruce looked affronted. "I wasn't insufferable."
"You lied about having listened to Kitty Section," piped up Marinette. "There are a lot of valid criticisms of Kitty Section. However, our music being too commercial is not one of them."
Bruce had the decency to look guilty. "I apologize, then. I'll make sure to take the time to give your music a real listen."
For Silver's sake, Marinette was willing to forgive him. "Maybe next time you can give me some real criticism."
Bruce nodded graciously. "I'll do that."
Diana took that moment to bring back up their introduction the night before. "So Marinette, I don't believe we got the chance to finish our introductions last night. I'm Diana Prince, newly a curator at Gotham's Art and History Museum."
"I'm Marinette Dupain-Cheng, former member of Kitty Section, currently taking a soul-searching sabbatical."
"Soul-searching for what?" asked Diana.
"I suppose I'm trying to figure out what I'm going to do with the rest of my life. When I was younger I was so passionate about fashion. I made my own clothes, entered my creations into design contests, spent years creating a portfolio. I'm trying to rediscover that passion."
"Maybe you could show me your designs some time," offered Diana.
"I would like that," agreed Marinette.
"Actually," chimed in Silver, "Marinette made the dress she's wearing right now."
"Really? I would have assumed that it was professionally made. It's a gorgeous dress," praised Diana.
Marinette blushed, a warm fluttery feeling stirring deep within her. The rest of the night passed in a blur, with Marinette hanging on Diana's every word. It was easy to talk to Diana. She was so naturally charming that Marinette couldn't help but enjoy herself. As the evening winded down, Marinette felt only regret that they would have to part so soon.
As Marinette stood outside the restaurant, waiting for a taxi, she felt Diana's hand settle on her shoulder. It had been a while since Marinette had felt such an intimate touch. "I had a nice time talking to you tonight." The feel of Diana's fingers gently trailing down Marinette's arms was almost more than Marinette, touch-starved and hungry for more, could bear.
Marinette smiled. "I did too. I hope to see more of you."
"I'm sure you will." Marinette took comfort in the certainty in Diana's voice.
And in the back of her mind, Marinette began to rethink her policy of never falling in love again. Something about Diana made Marinette think that Luka wouldn't be her last time after all.
And the skeletons in both our closets plotted hard to fuck this up
Marinette could not believe he did this. After everything they had been through together, Marinette's one final request to Luka was that he not release a song about their breakup. But there it was, top of the charts, the lead single of Luka's new solo album, Different Cities. And if it wasn't bad enough that Luka broke the only promise she asked him to keep, included in the song was a snippet of the last voicemail she sent to him. She left it for him weeks after they broke up, as an explanation to him, to let him know she was leaving Gotham.
In the last few seconds of the song, Marinette's voice is hesitant as she speaks. "I know that you wanted me to stay so that we could work things out, but I don't think that our relationship is fixable. So I guess I'm calling to tell you that I give up. I'm leaving Paris next Friday. I've already bought the plane ticket. You can't change my mind. Goodbye, Luka."
It was the rawest emotion Marinette had shown since the breakup, and Luka exploited it for his own gain.
Marinette spent the day joylessly deleting emails from various news outlets begging her to tell her side of the story. As if she would give Luka the satisfaction of giving free publicity. Everyone loved drama, so Marinette was going to make her reaction - or lack of reaction, in this case - as boring as possible.
Every time her phone rang, Marinette ignored it. The voicemails started to stack up, and eventually, Marinette found herself going through them one-by-one. One from Alya, letting Marinette know that she was there for her when she wanted to talk. One from Adrien, more joking in tone, trying to cheer Marinette up. One from Ivan, directly threatening to punch Luka in the face if Marinette wanted it (and that was the only voicemail that actually brought her spirits up). One from Juleka, an apology.
In the voicemail, Juleka's voice was rough, like she had been crying. "I'm so sorry, Marinette. I begged Luka not to release it, but he wouldn't listen to me. He said- he- he said-" Juleka broke off into a sob, and Marinette couldn't help but sniffle along with her. "I can hardly recognize him anymore. Rose and I aren't on speaking terms with him now. He's no longer my brother."
Marinette wished that she could pick up the phone and tell Juleka that it was okay to forgive Luka, but Marinette couldn't. The wound was still fresh, still bleeding out.
One step forward, one steps back. Two days after Marinette considered the idea of loving again, and she was right back where she started - in too much pain to even consider friendship, let alone love.
Speak of the devil, Marinette's phone rang, Diana's name lighting up on the screen. Part of her wanted to throw her phone across the room and curl up under her blankets. The other parts of her answered the call. "Hello?" spoke Marinette, wiping away the moisture at the corner of her eyes.
"Marinette, are you okay?" Diana's voice was soft. It was the most comforting thing Marinette had ever heard.
"Not really. I can't decide if I want to punch Luka in the face or if it would hurt too much to ever see him again."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
Marinette sighed. "I met Luka when I was fourteen. He was my classmate Juleka's older brother. Luka had his own band, so all the girls in our class thought that Luka was so cool, but he mostly ignored us. Then one day his backing vocalist got bronchitis and he needed someone to fill in. I was a soloist for the school chorus, so I volunteered. Luka was hesitant to let me join his band until he heard me sing. He told me I had the voice of an angel. Two days later he kissed me, and I fell in love with him so hard and so fast I didn't have a chance to consider if he was really the one."
Marinette took a deep breath, then continued, "It was a whirlwind after that. We started dating. We started a new band and named it Kitty Section. We started writing songs together. The weird part was, he never asked how I felt about any of it. He never asked me if I wanted to date him, he never asked if I wanted to join the band, he always assumed that I wanted what he wanted."
"And what did you want?" asked Diana.
"Back then, I thought I wanted a future with Luka. Now, I guess I just want to feel passion again. I've felt so empty since I left him."
"You might feel better with some company. Do you want me to come over to your place?"
Marinette looked around at her empty apartment, at the way the shadows filled the room, at the way seemed to lurk in every corner. "Sure."
"You could show me some of those designs you were telling me about the other day," suggested Diana.
Marinette glanced over at her sketchbook, which had laid empty for months. "That sounds good."
As she hung up the phone, Marinette realized that talking to Diana had made her feel a bit better. The knife wound that Luka had left in her heart had begun to close up at the edges. Marinette took a deep breath and picked up her sketchbook. If she wanted to rediscover her passion, she needed to work for it.
Now you hang from my lips, like the Gardens of Babylon
Marinette let out an appreciative noise as Diana re-entered the room, modeling one of Marinette's creations. "Give me a little spin."
Diana turned herself around, letting the red fabric swirl around her legs. Something about the way that the dress looked on Diana made it so much prettier in Marinette's eyes. Suddenly the fabric wasn't just red, it was carmine. The dress wasn't just being worn, it was being modeled. It didn't just move, it flowed. "It's a gorgeous dress," complimented Diana as she looked over her shoulder at the mirror behind her to admire it.
"It is nice, isn't it." Marinette had been so caught up in her head she had forgotten to truly admire her creation. Suddenly an idea occurred to her. "You should keep it. One of Bruce's charity galas is coming up in a few weeks. You could wear it there."
"I couldn't," protested Diana.
Marinette shook her head. "It looks best on you. I could never pull off such a vibrant shade of red." There was a second part to the sentence that was left unspoken. If Marinette made the dress knowing that it wouldn't look good on her, she must have made it for another reason. She must have made it with Diana in mind.
Diana smiled, seeming to have caught those unspoken words. "Well if I'm going to wear the dress, you'll have to put up with me gushing about how talented you are all night long."
Marinette flushed. "It's no big deal. It's just a dress."
"It's not just a dress. It's your passion." There was truth in Diana's words that Marinette couldn't deny. It was so much more than a dress. It was the passion for design that Diana had helped her rediscover. It was the newfound friendship with Diana that chased away the loneliness and despair that had taken over her life. It was the glimmer of hope for a future with Diana.
Takes one to know one, you're a cowboy like me
Diana looked beyond gorgeous in that carmine dress. Marinette could keep her eyes off of her as they mingled around the ballroom. Marinette's dress was nice, made with the same passion that Marinette had in her younger years, but it paled in comparison to Diana. However, Diana made up for this disparity by gleefully explaining that Marinette was the creator of the dress every time it was complimented. By the end of the night, Marinette had spent so much time blushing over compliments that she worried her face would become permanently flushed.
The gala was a complete success for everyone involved. The charity, which happened to benefit Gotham Child Protective Services, raised twice their goal amount. Marinette got to spend time with Diana. Even Silver had spent the night looking very pleased with herself, her hand resting on Bruce's forearm as they walked through the ballroom together.
As the night winded down, Marinette and Diana found themselves walking out of Wayne Manor towards Diana's car. Diana had offered to drive Marinette there and back, and Marinette had eagerly accepted. Marinette hated driving in Gotham, as Gotham was known for its aggressive drivers and high rates of automobile accidents.
Marinette sat down in the passenger seat with a sigh, kicking off her heels. "Tonight was nice."
"It was nice," Diana agreed. "We'll have to attend galas together more often."
"You just want an excuse to get your hands on another one of my dresses," teased Marinette.
Diana laughed. "I wouldn't say no to another dress. But really, Bruce's rich friends are much more bearable when I have someone to make fun of them afterward with."
Marinette shuddered. "And to think I thought that Bruce was bad. His friends are intolerable. I never want to talk about golf again in my life."
The two women chatted as they drove through the dark streets of Gotham, back to Marinette's apartment.
"Thanks for driving me home," said Marinette as the car pulled up in front of her apartment building.
"It was no problem." Diana hesitated, before continuing. "I was wondering if you would like to go out to dinner with me tomorrow night."
"Dinner sounds good," Marinette replied, strapping her shoes back on.
"I'm asking for this to be a date." Diana finished.
Marinette looked up at her, surprised. Her friendship with Diana had been so easy that Marinette had forgotten that it could be anything else. She had half a mind to decline, to stay in the familiar, but that little bit of hope in her heart urged Marinette to take a leap of faith and accept. "I would like that. What time will you pick me up?"
Diana smiled, her whole face lighting up. "How does six sound?"
Marinette smiled back, her heart feeling lighter than it had in years. "Sounds great. I'll see you tomorrow."
And as Marinette got ready for bed, she realized that all of the sadness that lingered in her heart since the breakup had gone away. All that was left for her to feel was hope for the future.
@maribatmarch-2k21
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spideypoolbigbang · 3 years
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SPBB 2020 Masterlist
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 Artist: Cheermione 
 Rating: Explicit 
 Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence 
 Word Count: 28,511 
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Author: Jennicide — AO3 and Tumblr
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Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
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Artist: TheLazyDrawer
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence
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Artist: @violettavonviolet 
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Implied/referenced homicide, implied/referenced character death 
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Rating: Teen
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Title: To You
Co-Authors: AnGoose — AO3 and Tumblr; Y_ellow — AO3 and Tumblr
Artist: PastaPapi — AO3 and Twitter and Tumblr
Betas: Atem — AO3 and Tumblr; Water — AO3 and Tumblr
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Word Count: 13,653
Summary: Deadpool’s quest to make best friends with Spider-Man is a strange and convoluted thing, made all the more complicated by the letters he keeps finding in his safehouse. They’re all addressed to “Ben, Love Peter.” And they’re all just a little too on the nose regarding Spidey’s personal problem of the month. Wade isn’t going to say no to a little extra insight into how to woo his very best Spider-Friend, though.
Or, five times someone mistakes Wade’s crummiest safehouse as a post office, and one time Wade plays the sexy-mailman part in this (emotional) porno and hand delivers a letter to Spider-Man.
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Title: Lost in a Shadow of You
Author: @lunastories​ (AO3)
Artist: @ah-geee​
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Major Archive Warnings Apply
Word Count: 34,514
Summary: Peter always suspected he’d be a shitty fisherman, but after some rather unfortunate events in New York force him to be a recluse in a secluded coastal town, he can say for certain he sucks at this. Fortunately for him, the resident cryptid, one Siren known as Wade Wilson, is around to save him from himself. Misunderstandings and shenanigans ensue when Peter’s ‘thank you for saving my life’ gifts are mistaken as ‘please have babies with me’ courting gifts by the Siren. Only time (and some low-key therapy) will decide if they figure their shit out.
This is a story of two monsters who despite all the odds, find a home in each other.
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Title: Heatwave
Author: TimidTurnip [Ao3 | Tumblr]
Artist: VictoryThorn [Instagram | Tumblr]
Rating: E
Warnings: No Major Archive Warnings Apply
Word Count: 16,911K
Summary: Peter can handle anything life decides to throw his way. He didn’t freak out at all when Wade professed his love, the heat wave isn’t turning him into a puddle of goo and he’s totally got a firm grasp on his finances. And Wade… he just wants to know why Peter won’t date him, even if he has to push a few boundaries to find out.
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Title: Snippets Through Time
Author: Lalapaya | Tumblr: @manyfandomsnotime​
Artist: 343EnderSpark | Tumblr: @343EnderSpark
Rating: Teen
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Word Count: 9,668
Summary: Peter Parker has to face the normal tumultuous daily routine of being the only child of a famous billionaire philanthropist and a historic icon. The one to help him through this is his best friend and partner in crime Wade Wilson. But what to do if this said friend suddenly becomes the target of affection?
A few excerpts of Peter Parker’s life growing up with Wade Wilson as his best friend and Iron Man and Captain America as his fathers.
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Title: Nothing Gold Can Stay
Author: cheekysstyles (tumblr)
Artist: aquamerryne (insta)
Rating: M
Warnings: Author Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Word Count: 30k
Summary: A year and a half ago, sixteen year old gymnastics prodigy Peter Parker left in the middle of the World Championship competition, costing Team USA a chance at a medal. After one too many run-ins with the law, Peter gets an ultimatum: return to the sport he left behind or end up in juvenile detention.
When he arrives at X-Force Gymnastics, an elite gym owned by Wade Wilson, Peter is unprepared to rediscover his love for the sport and to confront the very thing that made him quit in the first place.
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Title: A Mate Most Begrudging 
 Author: Vixen13 (Twitter) 
 Artist: Gensyz 
Rating: Explicit 
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply 
Word Count: 46,189
Summary: It’s the height of the Gilded Age in America where everyone is searching for a new life and a new fortune from booming industry to the colonization of the wild frontier. Wade Wilson is a disgraced alpha trapped in the in-between of east and west, high society and labor, recluse and shunned. Though he’s convinced himself that he’s just fine on his own, others are more than happy to meddle in his perfectly quiet life before he loses his grip on reality more than he already has.
Peter Parker is a down on his luck omega who needs money fast. Knowing that laying tracks is a quick ticket to a short life, he let himself be talked into joining the mail order omega program. He’s careful about the alpha he chooses and determined to carve out a life for himself with a handsome stranger. But the shock of his alpha’s appearance is nothing compared to the slamming of the door in his face as Wade declares he has no intention of mating with anyone, especially not some gold-digging omega tart.
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Title: Three Steps to Inferno
Author: @waterme-stories (Ao3)
Artist: @atemy (Ao3)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence
Word Count: 31,399k
Summary: On August 26th, 1934, Gwen Stacy brushed past the doorman at the Ritz-Carlton, walked into the dining room, and set herself on fire.
With the city plunged into pandemonium, I didn’t think twice before I hit the pavement: both as private eye Peter Benjamin Parker, and behind the scenes as The Spider, New York City’s most notorious vigilante. The criminal underworld cowered at the sound of my name and the shadow of my webs — but there were some parts of the Big Apple’s seedy underbelly that I couldn’t begin to imagine…
(A Spideypool Noir Mystery)
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Title: Mutable Materials 
Author: @ciceqi (AO3) 
Artist: @nhrive (AO3) 
Rating: Mature 
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply; warnings for Temporary Character Death, Suicide, Insectophobia 
Word Count: 12,853
Summary: Ever since the field trip that hijacked everything from Peter’s genetic profile to his daemon’s shape, he’s had to hide his entirely-too-recognizable daemon from the world.  He doesn’t expect to come across a man with an embarrassment of daemons, or maybe…no daemon at all.  Is Deadpool as delusional as everyone thinks?  He’s certainly been helpful, but how long can that last if his reality hinges on the existence of a daemon no one’s seen in years? 
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Title: A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes
Author: @mscaptainwinchester​
Artist: cottonclover
Rating: Teen
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Canonical Character Death, Physical Abuse (Alluded To), Emotional/Psychological Abuse
Word Count: 21,551
Summary: This is the Disney Cinderella AU no one asked for. In a faraway kingdom, in a comfortable cottage in a comfortable village, Peter Parker grew up with two wonderful parents who loved him very much. And then those parents died, and he was left to life with his stepmother Liv, and her two terrible children, Jessica and Eugene. His happy home turned into an unhappy life of servitude with no end in sight.
An invitation to a Royal Ball reminds Peter of a long-dead wish to see the palace his mother told him stories of, and he becomes determined to attend despite the protests of his miserable family. With the help of his new fairy godmother, a little bit of magic, and a whole lot of hard work, his dreams of visiting the palace and finding his very own Prince Charming will come true. Or will they?*
*They totally will. What kind of Cinderella story do you think this is?
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Title: Thanks for the Memories
Author: Actionpackedlips
Artist: Moemai
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Sexual Content, Canon Divergence
Word Count: 50,461
Summary: What if Mysterio never outed Peter?
Deadpool comes back from a mission to find his favorite Spider-Man, his only Spider-Man, the boxes so helpfully remind him, missing. Specifically, kidnapped. Mysterio’s remaining crew were brimming with the need for revenge after their leader’s death, and so they vowed to use updated B.A.R.F tech to learn Spider-Man’s specific superpowers in order to harness it for themselves; another failed attempt to continue Mysterio’s grandiose plans of becoming the best superhero ever. With the help of the Avengers Peter is found, connected to a device not even Tony has full comprehension of.
Deadpool valiantly volunteers to be hooked up; death was a regularly scheduled program for him, after all. He’d guide Spider-Man to a subconscious level that was safe to be extracted from, and (total bonus!) hopefully win his favor as Spidey’s knight in shiny leather! But once Deadpool enters, his deepest, darkest, repressed memories are on display for him and his friendly neighborhood spider to see. Deadpool fears not only what Spider-Man will think of him after it all, after everything he sees, but just what he’ll have to relive in order to rescue the man who not-so-secretly holds his heart.
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Title: Paradise Awaits
Author: bisexualbarry
Artist: doctoring
Rating: Mature
Warnings: canon typical violence, minor character death
Word Count: 32k
Summary: “For those who prove worthy, paradise awaits…”
Fifteen years after assuming his childhood best friend died, jaded treasure hunter Peter Parker comes out of an early retirement when Wade Wilson comes back into his life. Now fully scarred and clearly hiding secrets, Wade drags Peter back into the thrill of searching for legendary pirate Captain Henry Avery’s lost treasure.
Fighting for their life from the Shoreline mercenaries chasing after them, Peter and Wade continue the dangerous search of a pirate treasure worth 400 million, at least. It’s too bad their ex-partner, Harry Osborn, wants them dead to take the treasure all for himself.
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Title: Ducks!
Author(s): Devral
Artist: LordAvon
Rating: Teen
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Word Count: 7,994
Summary: After a fight with Peter, Wade goes stomping through Central Park. He stumbles upon something extremely unexpected. He’s not ready to be a mama!
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Title: Puppy ex Machina
Author: riseofthefallenone ( Tumblr | Ao3 )
Artist: Jennicide ( Tumblr | Ao3 )
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Word Count: 83,044
Summary: A year after his divorce, Peter is trapped in a depressive cycle and still not quite over Mary Jane. When she shows up at his door, begging him to watch her dog for a week while she leaves town, he can’t really bring himself to say “no”. No one was expecting that little Pomeranian to turn his life around and help him realize that his friendship with Wade has been teetering on the edge of something more for a while.
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Title: The Fourth Wall
Author: RansomNotes (Ao3)
Artist: thelazyartist (Ao3)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Word Count: 13k
Summary: Between college and his side jobs and his alter-ego, Peter barely has the time to sleep at his apartment, let alone spend any time hanging out there, which works out since it’s a cheap and empty and depressing apartment, now that he and Ned aren’t roommates on-campus anymore. So hearing his rude loudmouth neighbor through the wall all the time shouldn’t matter much, except it’s classic Parker to somehow make friends with the crazy guy next door, to the point he’s actually sad to leave his crummy apartment. But Peter seems to have a real penchant for bad company, since he’s spending all his free time with someone he’s never seen, only heard through the wall, and spending most of his patrolling time with someone else crazy, since Deadpool showed up recently and somehow monopolized his time as Spider-Man. It’s probably just a phase. Everybody goes through a fall-catastrophically-hard-for-separate-but-unavailable-people phase, right?
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Title: In Which Peter Finds Hope
Author: ladyamante (AO3)
Artist: Areon (tumblr)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Canon-typical violence, sexual content, Past child abuse
Word Count: 62,245
Summary: Peter just wants to relax after last year. He hit a rough patch, and Deadpool helped him get through the worst of it. After identity reveals, therapy, and a few explosions, things have finally started to settle down for them both.
But just as Peter’s getting into the swing of things, a strange man with a metal arm shows up claiming to be a time-traveller. He says Peter is the only one who can help him save mutant kind.
Peter finds himself pulled from his home and dragged through different dimensions as he and Cable search for the key to their survival. Meanwhile, they keep running into different versions of Peter’s boyfriend. It seems that everything connects back to Wade. Cable thinks it’s just a coincidence, but Peter is sure there’s a deeper reason behind it all.
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Title: Whether By Accident or By Design 
Author: crookedswingset 
Artist: thelonebamf 
Rating: Explicit 
Warnings: Graphic Violence, Temporary Major Character Death (Wade), Sexual Content, Cannibalistic Symbiotes, Blood and Injury, Secret Identity, Body Horror
Word Count: 188K 
Summary: Peter is about to graduate college and become an officially licensed Pro Hero. Too bad he’s already burnt out. Years of operating as an illegal vigilante with a supposedly subpar Quirk will do that to you. But just as he’s about to quit altogether, he meets actual Pro Hero Deadpool, a reformed villain who works hard to make sure others don’t follow in his footsteps. Despite this achievement, Wade’s just as jaded as he is and has completely given up on making things better.
As their relationship deepens, Peter realizes he is not quite ready to give up on being a Pro Hero, a resolve that is tested when a new Pro Hero agency comes to town and takes over. The so-called “Guard” is a group of four eight-foot men with eerily similar Quirks—and they have no intention of making nice with New York City’s friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.
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rjhpandapaws · 3 years
Note
Soooo you don't have to spoil anything but I would love to read a lil story about Elijah's and Gavin's childhoods together, and how that relates to them now
//OkI!
They didn’t get together like this often, and Gavin was starting to remember why. On the rare occasions he came to visit Elijah he was reminded of how different they had become. Elijah was still just as much of an oddity, he now had the money to fund all of his strange interests. He was waiting in the living room for Elijah to finish whatever he was doing, he knew he was welcome to go into the office, but he didn’t like the charade Eli used when he was working. He was here to visit his brother, not the eccentric billionaire Elijah Kamski. He missed how it used to be. They both did, back before Elijah’s mind put him on the fast track to fame and fortune. When they could just be kids.  Before the were divided by titles like boy genius and his problem child step brother. That’s why Gavin had wanted to start doing this. To give Eli a break. They usually just talked instead of getting into trouble, but it was still nice. At they very least with time Elijah had stopped holding it over Gavin’s head that he was technically the older brother. They were step siblings with only a couple month between them, but for a while after the wedding Elijah never let him forget it. Back then it had been something that drove Gavin up a wall, it was never something he thought he would look back fondly on, but here he was. They had just started to get along when Elijah got put on the gifted track and bumped up a grade.
He was pulled out of his head by the heavy clunk of Elijah’s office door shutting, “God I hate video calls.” He said in way of a greeting. “What happened to just uploading a still of your face and talking.” Gavin quipped. “So that didn’t exactly go over well.” Elijah replied, “Apparently a picture of me in an open silk bathrobe “is not business attire,” like, excuse you it’s my company, I think I can answer a call in a bathrobe if you call me at seven am thanks.” “Ah yes, the struggles of being a groundbreaking entrepreneur who does is best work in between the hours of ten at night and one am.” Gavin remarked dryly. “Okay, fuck you Gav.” Elijah laughed, “So what’s the plan.” “Are you in the mood to go out at all?” He asked and Elijah gave him a look, “Alright, staying in it is. We could order lunch or something I guess and catch up.” “That works, I just don’t really feel like dealing with anymore people right now.” Elijah admitted. “That’s fair. Got any place in mind or do you want to wait until later?” He continued. “Later.” Elijah replied.
They got the small talk out of the way. Gavin remarked on Elijah still being single,and he was relentlessly teased about still not getting in a relationship with Richard. It was nice. Once Elijah dropped his business persona it was almost like they were kids again. This is what exactly what Gavin had missed most when Elijah had graduated and made his way out into the world. They wound up ordering from a pizza place that Gavin wouldn’t have even looked at given how expensive it was. They were sitting on the edge of the deep red pool with their feet in the water as they had lunch.  “I still can’t believe you did this,” Gavin said and kicked his feet in the water for emphasis, “It reminds me of the time we filled the inflatable kiddie pool with Kool Aid every time I look at it.” “The magic of red tiling,” His brother laughed, “Red Kool Aid would have been too sticky, but I had remember our greatest moment some how.” “Your greatest moment,” He remarked, “I began a reign of terror one you started high school.” “Don’t worry, I heard all about it.” He replied. “Why can’t things be that easy again, I miss it.” “Because we’re adults now.” Gavin grumbled, “With responsibilities and all that.” “Speak for yourself.” Came the half joke response, “But seriously Gavin, we should do this more often.” “i can’t come out here all the time, maybe try visiting me every once in a while yeah?” He pushed. “Maybe. But I worked hard for my title of recluse.” He teased. “I can and will push you into this pool.” Gavin threatened.
“You wouldn’t-” Elijah didn’t get to finish because Gavin made good on his promise, “You are the absolute worst.” “And yet, you keep inviting me back.” He grinned.
(Prompt from this list)
@irrelevantbutfabulous
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oceannocturne · 2 years
Text
Spoiler-filled emoting about the new Batman movie (IT WAS SO GOOD YOU GUYS LIKE SO MUCH BETTER THAN I EVEN DARED HOPE FOR)
You can totally see this going from ‘let me list a few things to rant about on tumblr dot com tomorrow!’ to ‘I am having Emotions and must Express’
'Being Vengeance isn't enough. I need to be hope.'
Getting called out for being rich and privileged
HUSH money to a journalist named Elliot...
Penguin having to waddle
Bludhaven
Seeing that violence isn't enough (when crazy radical says 'i am vengeance')
Bruce slowly self-destructing - he's someone i could see relating to Tim's own spiral and wanting to help Dick (also if this is what Bruce was like when Dick came along he would TOTALLY relate to Tim re:trying to stop Bruce from killing himself). Alfred being worried about his self-destruction, trying to help this poor kid not be afraid by teaching him fighting, both of them feeling guilty for Martha and Thomas's deaths
The significance of the kid being the first one to take his his hand
Selina getting her own fleshed-out backstory and arc!
Bruce telling her that killing would make her just as bad as them...he's holding her back because he doesn't want her to lose herself, and i could totally see him trying to have the same conversation with Jason years later
The way the other fatherless kid kept popping up in the narrative and subtly influencing Bruce's action - making a beeline to save him from the car, accepting his help at the stadium. The way Bruce went to the memorial when he's barely shown his face in public for years, almost certainly just because of the connection and empathy he felt for that kid
Bruce assuming the worst in people, and Selina naming that and not outright rejecting him for it
Bruce saying 'youre not my dad' one minute and then having a very repressed Bat-emotional breakdown at Alfred's hospital bed when confessing he cares about Alfred and us as scared to lose him as he was scared after losing his parents
Bruce is a person who loves so deeply and wholeheartedly. It's why he's so repressed, because he's scared of attachment that will hurt him again.
The Batmobile and motorcycle were SICK AS HELL
Built-in grapple gun? So cool.
Video-game tech like the contact lens things? Also rad.
Going around in a hoodie and baseball cap with the grease paint still around his eyes? A+
'Why here?' 'Because I couldn't get you to go there.'
Having staff other than Alfred! A novel concept. Bless this poor woman working in a gothic-nightmare-tower for a well-known recluse.
Edward Nash or whatever? Cowards. It's Nygma
Bruce doing actual detective work! Huzzah!
In the end! Gotham citizens! Recognize him as a hero! As their personal hero! (Or like at least start to)
The guy at the funeral calling bullshit on the Renewal program and on the Gotham elite right to Bruce Wayne's own damn face
All the times throughout the film honestly where people call out Renewal and you can see rusty gears start turning behind Bruce's eyes. Slowly. Slowly turning.
Also going from 'I don't care about my parents' company Batman is the Wayne legacy' to actually going through his dad's Renewal files (B Bruce Brucie-boy why'd you put the whole dramatic chain and padlock on their door my dude). Like you can totally see! Him starting to move in a new direction! You can see him becoming the Bruce that will donate to infrastructure and welfare programs just as much as he hunts down clues and criminals!
I'm just so emotional about the growth in this move like. Yes it's dark as hell. But there is a message of hope at the end! Of moving through grief and not letting it define you! Bruce never gets a 100% answer on who killed his parents. He gets two stories and two 'probably's and then Falcone dies. But by the end you just Know he's going to throw himself into revitalizing the company and pledging all kinds of donations to rebuilding Gotham. He's learning to move beyond not fearing death and beginning to find meaning in life. And y'know, after the city is finally stable and Bruce has run himself ragged, maybe Alfred buys him some tickets to a circus that's come into town, as a way to take a breath after all his hard work...
Also all of Selina's wigs A++ loved them all
Weirdly, Bruce wandering vaguely through the Manor in ragged sweatshirts and those dumb bangs? A Mood. My poor son. Someone give this man a Robin. Or like, a lollipop.
Rat With Wings = Pigeon my Mom ALWAYS said this growing up and now I feel Vindicated #newyork #eastcoast
Bruce having his whole setup in an abandoned Wayne subway tunnel and living in a tower in the city? Refreshing. Original. Solid.
His expressions??? Like when people write about Bruce's smiles being a twitch of his mouth I'm like. Yes. But also I have no idea how to visualize that. But now I do??? Like 90% of the movie he's clenching his jaw and then at the end with Selina his face his somehow softer, even though it's the same expression. He's feeling emotions again!! And somehow Rob Pattinson took what I always figured to be fictional hyperbole and made it real!!!
Oh and going back to the hope thing, like the guy he saved at the subway station at the beginning of the movie was
Also the Riddler calling him out on how Batman is his true self...like I don't know if he was right or not, if what Bruce does as Batman is his 'real self,' but Bruce was definitely on the path of letting 'the mission' consume him
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honeyginsen · 3 years
Text
wahooooo infodump time it’s like 2 am and i feel like talking incessantly 
lore on my dragonborn after da cut (don’t kill me if my writing is bad lmao) (when i said i was gonna ramble ithis is what i meant. efficacy of how i write is up for debate)
So. Basic stuff. Dersei’s father (Saerin) was a member of the Altmer nobility in summerset, who became apraxic after fleeing from an arranged marriage, and subsequently threw his Calian into the sea, making himself an aprax on his own volition (which at sometimes he regrets). Soon after leaving Summerset, he has papers forged to become a “imperial” citizen and living in Cyrodiil. After acclimating to the local culture and slowly dropping his sometimes snobbish attitude, he came to love Cyrodiil and decided to join the imperial legion (boot licker lol). He served for a good 30 or so years, before being forced to retire after having like. His entire left arm blown off (I’m shit at timelines so he might’ve served longer/less i dunno)
His mother (Arileth) is a member of House Hlaalu who left Vvardenfell after the red year (I’m fairly certain the Hlaalu stopped being a great house soon after the tribunal fuckin died but i could be wrong and i could not be fucked to care), and became a tailor in Chorrol. She'd always been a shrewd businesswoman (girlboss imo), but that had come from years of being a grifter, travelling around Tamriel scamming people and slowly amassing a small fortune in her wake before settling down finally in Chorrol to do something that involved stability. The two of them met (that’s a whole other story hdjks), slowly fell in love and had two children, Dersei and Sulnwe. They were, surprisingly, a very happy family, at least for a while. But Saerin’s past life soon began to catch up with him. Saerin’s arranged marriage, much to his behest, had resulted in a child (Vorindil). And that child was knocking at his door, 60 something years after he had abandoned his past life. A fully grown dude was telling him he was his son. He tried to deny it, but the way he had reacted to hearing his family name for the first time in gods know how long shook him, and he reacted. And so, he tried to shut the door. Ignore his child, pretend he didn’t exist. This- infuriated Vorindil. His father, who he assumed left for some noble cause, was living in a run-down house with two half-breed mutts he calls his children, and an ash-skinned bitch he called his wife. He left a life of luxury and nobility, anything he could’ve asked for… for this? And again, this infuriated him.  woo record skip. I missed a part. So around the time Vorindil comes to pay a visit, Dersei is maybe 25? And his sister is 18 or so. Dersei is apprenticing under Sinderion to become an alchemist, and they become friendddsss :) (lmao just wait till this dude finds his skeleton in blackreach it’ll be a riot) kinda a grandfather/grandson type. Dersei’s relationship with his father has always been kinda strained, not because he actively disliked his father, but more because he went against his wishes. Saerin wanted Dersei to join the imperial legion as soon as he turned 18, and well. Dersei didn’t. He wanted to study the arcane, it fascinated him. The main reason that Saerin didn’t want Dersei to become a mage, was because of an incident from his childhood. When he was Around 12, Dersei attempted to learn a simple flame spell- no biggie. Well. Stupid fucking kid decided to go do this in his super-secret fort! So no one would catch him. But uh. Sticks? They catch on fire vveerry easily. And poof, the whole fort was going up in flames, Dersei trapped inside. The only reason he survived the whole thing was 1) He’s half dunmer on his mother’s side and got a bit of that flame resistance, and 2) Saerin saw the smoke and went to investigate, just to find his son’s fort going up in flames, and Dersei’s yelling coming out of that blaze. So Saerin runs in with little regard for his safety and drags his son out. (Which is quite the feat considering he only has one arm lmao) leaving the both of them with some pretty gnarly burns. Dersei,  on the most part, was alright, but his ear ended up getting kinda fucked, and he has partial hearing loss due to it. Saerin was also kinda okay, though now he sports a burn scar going up against his remaining arm and some limited mobility due to it. After this whole ordeal, Saerin stops trusting Dersei with any kind of magiccccccccc. This kinda led to Dersei rebelling by running off and finding teachers wherever he could, trying to scrape by with some basic knowledge. Alchemy and Enchanting were the things he has always excelled at, and he hears of Sinderion, whom he finds and practically begs him to let him apprentice under him. Which he does after a lot of persistent pestering on Dersei’s behalf. He travels back and forth from Chorrol to Anvil (i think? can’t be bothered to check) quite a bit, living half the time at home and the other at Sinderions. Yadda yadda back to Vorindil. So after he came and visited, he saw Dersei and Sulnwe, and of course, he was furious- and extremely jealous. The mutts got what he could never had, a loving family- a father who was present (daddy issues). And he fucking despised them. He hated the fact he was even related to them. Dersei, he disliked a little less so. He didn’t look Altmer and didn’t look like his father. You can barely tell he’s Altmer. In his head, that made him associate him with his Father a bit less. Sulnwe on the other hand…. Was the spitting image of her father. Her skin, her face, the way they spoke. He hated. And this hatred turned to a murderous rage. That night, the night that Vorindil had paid the house a visit, the whole house was in chaos. Sulnwe had gotten into a fight with her father, and Arileth also was peeved with Saerin (she had already known of Saerins past, though only what he told her. The fact that he had another child came as a surprise to everyone, even Saerin hdjsks)Sunlwe left the house that night, but she didn’t return. The next day she was found dead in the streets, murdered. And her murderer? Vorindil of course. Though, he was never caught. Not that he could be caught.  wooo richboy Ough okay let's see. After Sulnwe’s death, Dersei entirely blames his father. They get into a fight (literally) and Saerin ends up kinda… disowning him? i guesss. Saerin probably takes this all kinda hard. In the span of a few days, he lost two children, and found out about one he never knew existed. After getting disowned (?) by his father, Dersei goes to live with Sinderion, and does so for a few years, until Sinderion tells him he can’t live with him anymore as he’s going to Skyrim on a research expedition. Dersei wanted to go, but Sinderion ended up leaving without him. Feeling somewhat betrayed and abandoned, Dersei began to wander around Cyrodiil, doing his own research on fauna and flora he could find. After a few years of wandering, he finds a partner in Bruma. Nord dude, and while he looked kinda brutish, he was a scholar who specialized in enchanting, weapon enchantments in particular. But, long story short, this dude was the person who ended up reeling Dersei into a cult of hermaeus mora. At first, it was in the pursuit of knowledge, but it soon devolved into something darker, and Dersei wanted no part of it. (wooo lore. Dersei has a page of one of the black books endued in his chest, and due to it, a minor boon of hermaeus mora. I think he has it removed during the events of The Dragonborn DLC? It’s still a work in progress. Due to the page, Mora has an even greater hold on him during the whole miraak thing, and it’s ultimately the thing that gets him to kill miraak, ei. He’s compelled to. I’m not sure what the boon might be. dshkja this is dumb) For around 10 or so years, dersei was in that cult, until he had decided to leave. It was, for a long time, the only thing he knew, and something he had grown familiar with, and he had grown close with some of the people in it. him leaving was more just self preservation than anything, he never wanted to leave, but he knew if he didn't he probably wouldn't live much longer. he loved a few of the people there, and abandoning them to go out into a world he was now somewhat unfamiliar with was something he regretted for a while, till he was able to come to terms with; if he hadn't left he would've most likely been killed, or died by some other number of things. but the first few years after leaving, things were... tough. He knew no one, and he knew his family most likely wouldn't want to take him back. so he wandered around cyrodiil once again, getting by mostly on selling alchemical ingredients he would come into town to sell to get enough money to buy a few essential items. but outside of coming into town every few weeks, he rarely talked to, or even saw others. and his isolation soon drove him a bit mad. the main reason for his isolation was fear. he was so scared that members of the cult he was once in would try to come and find him, he became kinda a recluse in the woods. The anxiety of believing he was being constantly followed, or that people who would potentially want to harm him were looking for him left him unable to function some days. He couldn't sleep, couldn't eat, and all he could do was think. and he'd go spiraling, and he just wanted to stop thinking some days. but he couldn't. He felt like he could no longer function in normal society anymore, the belief that anything he would say could potentially be used against him, or that every person he talked to was secretly in on some big ruse drove him mad. and he hated it. he missed being able to function like a normal person, but the sheer thought of even trying to return to normal life left him spiraling once again.  It wasn't until he had finally decided that he hated the life he had put himself in that he needed to get help. He needed something normal, and he needed something or someone to give that to him. and so he decided to attempt to go see his mother. He managed to drag his sorry ass from the woods near bruma/chorrol, and took himself to where he believed his mother to live. and it was there where he kinda. started his slow road to rehabilitation (neet looooll). He stayed with his mother for around a year, before deciding he needed to give himself a goal once again, and so he decided to set his sights on the college of winterhold. He worked to save a bit of gold, mostly through selling potions and alchemical ingredients, and occasionally attempting to teach people who might want to learn alchemy (for a modest fee, of course), and eventually he felt he had enough to try and make his way to skyrim.  annndd i think im gonna end that there as i need to sleep. i might delete this in the mmorning. if you fuckin read through all this kudos 2 u. there’s still so much more fuckingBULLSHIT BUT yeahheayh 
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Do you think they would actually enjoy the modern world? Or would they want to stay in their current time period?
Hm, well, I think that may vary depending on each suitor if I’m honest! (I’ll be excluding Sebastian from this one, only because he is a modern man and I wager he would want to stay in the mansion in order to finish his thesis) 
Under a cut bc it’s a long boi:
I think for people like Arthur and Theo, for instance--who always seem to live in the fast lane--it might not really prove much of a problem. They would continue enjoying the night life and move with their busy schedules. Tl;dr: (For them? Same shit, different day)
Vincent would likely be doing just fine given how Theo often provides assistance in places where he struggles; to promote his art, to spark intrigue in the general public and benefactors. He might be a little overwhelmed by the influx of stimuli that comes with the modern era, constant noise and interaction and movement--perhaps worry that people are losing their ability to live in the moment. (Not to mention what’s being done to the environment...) There might be a learning curve/adjustment, but I think Theo would help him ease in. Plus, it would be a little easier to promote his art given the less stringent restrictions on public exhibitions. He’d still have to work for his fame, but at least the van Goghs wouldn’t have to live in constant unease in the proximity of the cutthroat academy.  Tl;dr: (Mixed feelings, but tries to stay positive about modern times)
Dazai is more familiar with this kind of life of quick turmoil and breakneck speed, if anything he falls back into his old coping mechanisms--hello writing, drinking, and smoking. An overwhelming influx of information and suffering would probably be hard for him to manage, despite how expertly he hides it. I think I would be worried he would lose himself in the dismal reality of diminished connection with other people. Yes I’m shoving him into therapy, I want him to start living for himself and taking care of himself ffs
That isn’t to say there aren’t happy possibilities for him, just that I think he really needs to heal first. I could see him very happy in a kind of writer’s circle with people he loves and trusts; less expending his energy in a desperate attempt to fill the void and please others, more cultivating his own happiness... Tl;dr: (Positive potential, but honestly part of me thinks the past quieter/simple/rural life suits him better...he still loves meme culture tho, he finds it so expansive and creative)
Isaac is in a similar boat as Dazai, I think! He has wonderful potential as a mentor and professor, and living in a world that has a little more patience and respect for genius might help encourage him to put himself out there. That being said, I think the pace of life would exhaust him though--he is very much the kind of person that prefers to keep to himself and just puzzle and tinker. Baby boy just wants to do equations, build little inventions, and read up on the recent discoveries in astrophysics (BRUH WHEN THE IMAGE OF THE BLACK HOLE CAME OUT HE FORGOT HOW TO B R E A T H E) Napoleon is the only reason he eats anything healthy or on any kind of regular schedule s m h. Tl;dr: (Not a lot changes, honestly? He was reclusive then, he still is now--he just has more toys/academic resources. If anything he might get a little too lost in his work because of it, somebody please make sure he’s eating/sleeping/socializing;;;)
Poor Jeanne is SUFFERING. Please release him from this nightmare he is begging. Jk jk, I don’t think it would be too bad for him--but I do think that he would have the aforementioned problem of too many stimuli and too much interaction. I think he would ease into it a little with Mozart’s help; he would just be awkward and wooden until he got the hang of it. Most people just find him quirky in an amusing way, and don’t think too hard about it. I’d wager he’d probably become literate at this point because of the abundance of resources and necessity to read/write (okay but imagine this baby with a little kid workbook iM GONNA CRY!!! TAKE ALL MY CRAYONS JEANNE). 
Can you imagine this mofo at a Starbucks??? Tall and stoic, dark and debonair (EVERYONE IS S W O O N I N G), and he just asks in a light tenor “can I have a mocha with eight shots of expresso” with a completely straight face. “Sir, that could kill you” “Don’t worry, I’ve been dead a long time” And he just moves to wait for his order. 11/10 cryptid I could watch an entire show just about his daily adventures
He works with Napoleon a lot given their similar skillsets. They coach kids at high schools that have fencing teams (it’s really REALLY cute bc if they’re on the younger side, Jeanne will very dramatically lose bc he wants to encourage them and the kids are delighted--but the parents are INCHES from laughing so hard they’re in tears). Otherwise, he mostly takes up gigs as a security worker/bodyguard, only really works for the money. He prefers to spend his time in ways that feel meaningful if he can, so don’t be surprised if you see him in foster homes and in social working spaces. He has an uncanny understanding about him, a kind of silence/patience that doesn’t stifle; it makes the kids/teens calm down in milliseconds. They really listen when he does talk, and he sets good and clear boundaries--he knows how to be firm when it’s required. He gives them the structure and placid grounding they’ve never had, and really pays attention to what’s important to them. Brings them little things he notices; brings flowers to the one that likes to draw, brings CDs (he is bad with technology, but they usually only have access to older/outdated stuff anyway) to the one the one that struggles to write with white noise in the house, brings little plushies to the ones that lose theirs. He’s simple but solid, and he finds a lot of meaning in helping kids overcome the similar kind of struggles he faced.  Tl;dr: (Steep learning curve, but he just sees it as all the same really--just more work to be done with the literacy requirement and adjustment to technology. Will be resistant at first, but when he gets accustomed and starts finding people who are important to him, he wouldn’t want to change anything/go back. But will admit there are some days he just wants to go to the most remote place he can access and just live there for a month with no human interaction whatsoever; people are inefficient and insufferable sometimes)
Mozart’s life honestly doesn’t change much? I feel like he would easily be able to keep composing and continue releasing his work as per usual. Given his quick capacity to schmooze and say what people want to hear when he must, he’d be more than able to network his way into success. I think the only thing he might struggle with now and again is inspiration, given the world operates on a very surface level in the modern era sometimes. Profound insight and depth are not quite as cultivated in many ways, and he can struggle to find something that just sparks motivation/novelty in his mind, makes him start composing at breakneck speed. He reads a lot and watches some TV shows/movies when he’s at really low inspiration levels, the kind of guy that sneers at Game of Thrones--but finds things like BBC’s Sherlock more passable (wants intrigue and complexity, doesn’t much enjoy the sensationalized drivel). When Arthur finds out he loves ATLA he about falls off his seat. “It’s a children’s show.” “Yes it is, with a remarkable level of depth and craftsmanship, what are you trying to say?” He begins to find a kind of rhythm in his composing, and Jeanne and Dazai often drop by with so many crazy stories he finds himself filled with music anyway LMAO Tl;dr: (Same as Isaac, really just keeps doing his thing without being impeded, and he enjoys the luxuries/conveniences of the modern era. Will be slightly resistant at first because of how alien some of the changes are, but will fall into the habits/customs slowly and surely. Fine with it, will whine a bit at the growing pains tho)
Leonardo actually canonically owns a bar, and does that really surprise anyone? He really enjoys the excitement of meeting new people and hearing about their myriad histories, the influx of cultures/languages/experiences. It’s a nice but lowkey place, people stop for a drink, listen to some good music--chat amiably and relax after a long day’s work--before heading out. There are regulars and people that just stop for that single day; tourists, vacationers, so on and so forth.
When asked, many people note a sleek black cat with sharp eyes that led them to the bar... Tl;dr: (Don’t Let the Existential Dread Set-in: The Prequel, adapts well to the modern era because of centuries of experience but also...he’s so tired...somebody please hold him I can’t watch him live like this, lord jesus)
Optimally, I see Comte filling his time with myriad pursuits; ranging from philanthropy, indulging in art/music/theatre (often a benefactor as well), and keeping track of his chirren (they may exist more independently now, but he still worries about them ;-;). Otherwise nothing much changes for him, still goes to galas and fancy gatherings, still enjoys fashion and spoiling people, still seeks to occupy himself with social interaction and care-taking--if he doesn’t have a family of his own. He’s basically just that meme that’s like DON’T LET THE EXISTENTIAL DREAD SET-IN. DON’T LET IT SET-IN!!!!!!!!! Tl;dr: (Not to repeat myself but also Don’t Let the Existential Dread Set-in: The Sequel, literally just desperately trying to fill the void please somebody help him he also just needs to be held fuck’s sake, I’m going to drag him kicking and screaming into happiness--but otherwise has no great trouble adjusting to the modern era. I feel like he would have a more minor form of what Dazai struggles with, maybe a lack of personable connection that he once had; fewer chances to be himself and relax. Also probably worried about the increasing unhappiness and turmoil building in the world in general...)
Napoleon is similar to Comte in that he often checks up on Isaac and Jeanne from time to time, and does the aforementioned fencing lessons with kids. He also takes a lot of basic security positions--for venues, concerts, museums--you name it. He dislikes the idea of sitting behind a desk a lot, so he prefers to do a lot of different things; he even cooks from time to time at the restaurants  that know him very well. One gig he particularly enjoys is battle choreography for movies/theatre! He tends to stay away from anything too historically close to his era of origin, but he has fun coming up with realistic (smaller scale) hand-to-hand combat scenarios and duels. Tl;dr: (This era doesn’t feel like too much of a change. It’s a little more intensive in terms of pace, but he manages to keep up pretty well, it just exhausts him from time to time--and he usually goes on trips or hikes to unwind when he needs to like Jeanne LOL they do not go to their happy place, they go to their high lonesome place).
Shakespeare also continues to do his drama thing, organizes troupes on tons of different levels--from community level to more intense, skilled groups that re-enact his own work. His life doesn’t change all that much beyond a new form of theatre logistics, and he adjusts to the technology fairly easily out of necessity. He’ll stop by Vincent’s place from time to time to show him recordings of his latest shows, but otherwise is almost always on the move. Tl;dr: (So long as he can keep following his greatest passion, he doesn’t really mind the changes in how theatre happens--he doesn’t have any sizable issues with the modern era.)
Ability with technology (phones mostly):
Arthur: more than capable, well-versed, loves to do everything on his phone no prob--maybe lives a little too much on his phone (Vine/TikTok/Youtube can kill his productivity RIP) also yes he has a fidget spinner on his desk, no I will not be taking any constructive criticism at this time
Theo: yes but with a lot of cursing at first, had to do it for work and now looks down on anyone that can’t keep up with him (except for Vincent)
Vincent: knows the basics, taking and sending pictures, writing things in notes for later, texting (tho sending emails is a little harder for him); he does his best but he can be slow. Really really enjoys the paint programs on his iPad for when he’s on public transit, but he starts setting alarms after he gets the hang of it (he’s missed his stops before because of it LMAO)
Leonardo: what kind of stupid question? Man knows how to pick them apart and put ‘em back together for crying out loud, uses it like a pro--comes to him naturally, and he’s the guy that keeps coming up with ways to jailbreak Apple products and thwart their money-grubbing tactics. Catch him playing Minish Cap on his emulator on the way to work, brah
Comte: just vibing, keeps up with the times easily since he’s been doing it for so long, much like Theo uses it to keep in touch with the people around him--he’s the “prefers to call instead of text” sorta guy though, he worries about losing emotional subtleties and he likes to hear people’s voices. Doesn’t do anything special on phones, more just a tool; will read/listen to podcasts/does have emulators (courtesy of Leo) and enjoys playing Pokemon when he’s bored
Jeanne: types one finger at a time, it will take a while--but he’ll get there (deleted all his contacts by accident once and Mozart was just. HOW.) He barely knows how to use a phone, and it’s a steep learning curve for him
Mozart: purely functional when it comes to his phone, refuses to rely on it beyond the necessities that only tech can do (for instance, sending emails or reading articles or uploading compositions) he still writes his music before making more polished digital copies. He will sometimes listen to pieces digitally, but prefers to play them in-person; he feels that a lot of the soul in a piece is lost despite the convenience
Dazai: you absolute fools. you baboons. why would you ever give him this kind of power. it is 3AM and he has been on a wikipedia trail spanning hours, started with Cleopatra being the seventh in her line with that name all the way to cotton candy being called “daddy’s beard” in French. please help him he hasn’t slept in years. Also probably binges anime and manga lbr. He’s the one making vine references every other second, always up to date on the memes^TM
Isaac: also mostly uses it as a tool for research and calculations; it’s a way to keep track of information. He also likes to play background music while he’s working, so he finds the device nice and convenient--plus less having to go around pestering people in-person. he does start to get interested in coding and tinkering with apps/programs eventually, too
Shakespeare: finds it a delightful little contraption, so useful because it lets him jot down ideas as they come to him quickly, and he can edit his texts much more easily with digital interfaces. also likes that performances can be recorded, because now he can analyze his staging more efficiently--it gives him a good sense of what needs to be adjusted, and encourages him to keep streamlining/try new concepts
Napoleon: likes it because he can keep in touch with people more easily, the kind of guy to drop a line before checking on a friend. he really likes to look up recipes and find out more about cooking techniques he’s never encountered before. Isaac starts making an Instagram account just to show Napoleon’s impeccable plating, and Napo gets quite the following without knowing for a while
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songtoyou · 3 years
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Epiphany - Part Four
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Paring: Luke Crain x Female Reader
Chapter Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 3,080
Warnings: Talks of drug use and recovery. Swearing and self-doubt.
Description: Life has never been easy for Luke Crain. After the death of Nell, Luke realizes that he needs to make some changes. He decided to stay in Massachusetts and attend rehab. He was determined to remain on his path of sobriety. When you get assigned to be Luke’s sponsor, it opens a new door of possibilities that neither you nor Luke expected.  
A/N: I am sorry that it has taken me so long to write and upload this chapter. I have not been feeling so good since I posted that last chapter. Lots of anxiety keeping me from doing things such as write. Anyway, here is the new chapter. I wanted to write about Aunt Janet. I felt that the show didn’t really tell us much about her except that she took care of the kids after the events of Hill House in 1992. 
Note: Italics represent the past or past conversations.
Feedback is wonderful. It is nice knowing if people are actually liking this fic.
I do not permit my work to be posted on any other site without my permission.
Tag list: @morningstar09
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~Aunt Janet’s House – 2002 ~
“Luke! Hurry up, or you’re going to be late for school!” Aunt Janet yelled up the stairs.
“Luke! Come on!” exclaimed Nellie. “I’ll go check on him.”
“Thanks, sweetie,” said Janet. Her youngest nephew often worried her, especially since it was the tenth anniversary of Olivia’s death this past summer. Janet started to notice that Luke became more recluse and stayed up in his room. The only person Luke would interact with was Nell, which was not surprising to Janet. The twins only managed to become closer as they got older.
What really began to cause Janet to worry was catching Luke steal money from her purse. She asked him what he was doing and why he was stealing. However, Luke could come up with a pretty decent lie about needing money to buy flowers for Olivia’s grave.
In truth, it was to buy beer. Luke had taken a liking to the barley and hops beverage. It helped him feel numb and not worry about anything. Unfortunately, Luke had one too many beers last night and was paying for it. Nellie found him headfirst in the toilet regurgitating the contents of his late-night beer binge.
“Eww, gross. What is wrong with you?” asked Nellie. She pinched her nose as the stench of Luke’s puke was overwhelming.
“What does it look like! I’m sick! Tell Aunt Janet that I can’t go to school.”
“Luke, come on. You have missed too many days already. They’re going to hold you back another year if you miss any more school,” Nellie argued while searching through Luke’s drawers and closet for clothes.
Luke managed to get up from the bathroom floor when he felt it was safe. He rinsed out his mouth to relieve it from the after taste of throw-up.
“Come on! Get cleaned up and put these on,” ordered Nell and shoved Luke’s clothes in his arms.
Luke groaned and plopped down on his bed. “Nellie…I can’t go to school today. I’m too sick.”
“Well, your sickness is also making me sick, but I managed to get up and ready for school today. Now move it! I’ll keep bugging you if you don’t move. I’m not going to let you fall to the waste side. Do you hear me, Luke?”
“Fine! I’m getting dressed!” Luke yelled to get Nellie off of his back.
No matter what occurred between them, neither twin could ever hate the other. They were each other’s best friends and closest confidante. They had to be. Especially now that they were the last two left in Aunt Janet’s care. As soon as their eldest siblings turned eighteen, they hightailed it out of Janet’s house for college.
Luke slowly trudges down the stairs with his backpack slumped on his shoulders.
“Hey, there he is,” greeted Aunt Janet. “Would you like some breakfast, sweetie?”
“No! No breakfast,” Luke replied with his head on the table.
However, Nellie pushed a plate of dry toast in front of him and told him to at least nibble some bites. “Here’s some orange juice. Take slow sips. The last thing we need is you spewing junks in the toilet again,” whispered Nellie while Aunt Janet was in the kitchen. She would not out that her brother was hungover. That last thing Nell wanted was to cause any more trouble for Luke.
She knew why Luke did not want to go to school, and it had to do with, what else, their family. Some of the kids at school saw Luke as an easy target to bully and terrorize. The topic of their “messed-up” family was their go-to whenever they wanted to antagonize Luke. Nell often found herself a target for bullies but could stand up for herself a lot better than Luke.
With the anniversary of Olivia’s death, the bullies made it their mission to torment Luke about growing up without a mother or father. They would push him against the lockers, knocking his glasses off his face, and trip him in the hallways. It was too much to handle, and Luke was tired.
Leaning back in his chair, Luke re-read the words on the computer screen. His instructor loved the essay he turned in and advised him to expand upon it. Luke pushed aside his reservations about exploring his past traumas through writing. It was a better outlet for Luke to help cope and tackle past stressful life experiences.  Not only did Luke have support from his instructor and you, but his counselor at Banyan Treatment Center, Rob, also supported the idea of using expressive writing as a way to heal.
Luke could not deny that writing helped clear his head. Something he learned while being in rehab back in Los Angeles. It allowed him to face things from his past that he had pushed aside. However, Luke had some reservations about how much he should…open himself up when it comes to sorting out his past events. There were still things that Luke was not quite ready to face.  
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Oh my God!" exclaimed Luke. "It has been a month and a half since we have seen that movie. It would be best if you got over the ending. It happened. There is nothing you can do about it."
"I can't, Luke. It was total bullshit!" you yelled back furiously.
Luke calmly said your name to get your attention. "Listen to me; we don't even know if Steve Rogers actually stayed back in time to be with Peggy. He may have…"
"Then where did he go? Huh? He just up and left his friends who he just got back. Steve and Peggy never even dated! They kissed, that is it. Yes, there was an attraction that each had for one another, but that was all it ever way…an attraction. They are a 'what could have been' type of couple—the movie completely throughout all of Steve's character development…right out the window. Whatever, I'm over it," you stated, throwing your hands up in defeat.
You and Luke were driving to his Aunt Janet's house for a visit. He mentioned to you about wanting to visit his aunt for some time but had not gotten around to it. You were surprised that he asked you to come along.
Luke mentioned that Shirley and Theo were too busy to come with him and did not want to go alone. You agreed on the condition that he drive since Aunt Janet lived an hour and a half away from Wilmington. Lately, your anxiety has been going up and down, so you were not comfortable being at the hands of the wheel, especially on the freeway. You did not understand why you had such anxiety these past few days. You chalked it up to being nervous about your final project at school. The assignment was to create a self-portrait. It should be simple enough, but of course, the art instructor wanted students to "think outside of the box" and not have it be a regular standard portrait of themselves.
Each draft you came up with was of you in some state of turmoil, whether it be you depicted on a gurney getting resuscitated from your heroin overdose or lying in a pool of your own vomit. You could not understand why this particular project was giving you such a hard time. You were three-years sober. You had a steady job and gone back to school. Your relationship with your parents was better than ever. So, why the thought of a self-portrait brought upon negative thoughts about oneself?
You mentioned your troubles to Luke, and he was very sympathetic. While he was now 206 days sober, there were times where he felt…like the achievement did not mean much.
"What do you mean by that?" you asked him while on the way to Aunt Janet's house.
"It's just…this isn't my first rodeo when it comes to recovery," Luke began to say. "There is always this little voice in the back of my head that…"
"That it is only temporary. I have that little voice too. I'm not too fond of that little voice. Three years sober, and there are times where I still feel like a total failure. I shouldn't, but…I can't help it," you revealed to Luke honestly.
"Thankfully, there is another little voice in the back of my head that gives tells me that I'm doing a good job now and then. It's just that positive little voice has been a tad quiet lately," you added.
Luke could pick up on the little defeatist tone in your voice, and he did not like it. You immediately felt his worry about you. "Hey," you said to get his attention and placed a hand on his arm. "Don't worry about me, okay. I'm fine. I have my fears like every recovering addict. It is nice to talk to someone about it, particularly someone who understands, you know. That helps."
Silence soon filled the car, but it was not awkward. You never had awkward or uncomfortable silences with Luke. For some reason, Luke was one of the few comforting presences in your life. Regardless of all of the hardships he has gone through in his life, he offered a sense of hopefulness. With his 6'3 stature, Luke really came off more like a gentle giant. It was like he did not view himself as this grown tall man, but probably still felt like that little kid hiding under the bed from the "Tall Man" at Hill House.
"Luke," you said to get his attention. "Are you happy?"
"No," he replied immediately, then clarified when he saw the look you gave him. "I mean, am I happy that I am over 200 days clean, then yes I am, very much so. But…I don't know, there is a small part of me that is scared to be happy…to be content in fear of something going wrong."
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When Luke pulled the car into Aunt Janet's driveway, the older woman immediately came out of the house to greet her youngest nephew.
"There he is, my little boy," she said and wrapped her arms around Luke, which he reciprocated.
"Hi Aunt Janet, how are you?"
"I'm fine, darling. How have you been?" Aunt Janet asked, pulling away to get a good look at Luke. He looked much better than he did at Nell's funeral.
"Good. I'm doing good. Everyone is doing…fine," Luke replied, then turned towards you. He introduced you as his friend and not his sponsor to his Aunt, which kind of surprised you.
"So nice to meet you," said Aunt Janet taking your hand. She motioned for you both to follow her into the house. "I hope you both are hungry. I made an array of sandwiches and salads for lunch. Luke, I also made your favorite…chocolate pecan pie bars."
"Thank the Lord because he was hoping you would make them on the car ride here. It was all he talked about?" you teased.
"Once you have one, then you will know what I am talking about," Luke responded with a smile.
Aunt Janet lead you both into the kitchen.
"Can I use the bathroom to freshen up?" you asked her.
"Oh yes, dear. It is down that hallway, the first door to the right," told Aunt Janet as she showed you where to go. "Luke, you should probably wash your hands first," she added.
"Yes, Aunt Janet," he said and went to the sink to wash his hands.
When you were no longer in earshot, Aunt Janet stood beside her nephew and said, "Your friend seems really sweet."
Luke could not hold back his smile, "Yeah, she is genuinely nice. She's fun to hang out with. We have a lot of the same interests. Shirley and Theo have met her as well," he mentioned and shared that both of his sisters really liked you.
Aunt Janet turned her head to see if you came if you were around the corner. When you were not, she leaned over to Luke and said, "Very pretty too. She'd make a lovely…"
"Aunt Janet, she is just a friend. I can't date her anyway. She's…they say you shouldn't date anyone while still in recovery."
"I'm so proud of you," Aunt Janet said as she placed the food on the kitchen table. "You are becoming the man I always knew you could be."
Luke would be lying to himself if he denied that there was some form of attraction that he had for you, both physically and emotionally. He knew that the feelings that he was slowly developing towards you could be considered wrong. You were his sponsor…a dedicated one at that too. It would not be right for him to act on any attraction he may have for you—no doubt, that you would not reciprocate them, which would be disappointing to Luke.
"Better to just suffer in silence," Luke thought to himself.
"Don't you want a girlfriend? A family of your own someday?" asked Aunt Janet.
"Yeah…maybe. Someday. I'm just learning to take care of myself without drugs in my system. There is no way I can be a dedicated father or husband to anyone… at least not right now. I am still a work in progress," Luke admitted to his aunt. "I do like…" But Luke stopped when he heard your footsteps approaching.
"Oh, my goodness. The pictures on the wall… I'm assuming the little kid with glasses is you, Luke."
The three of you sat around the kitchen table with your plates stacked with delicious food.
"Luke was the absolute cutest kid. He had a little lisp as well," Aunt Janet shared. "I have more pictures of the kids if you would like to see them?"
"Yes," you replied ecstatically.
"No," Luke disputed, "We are in the middle of eating."
"We can multitask. Let's see those pictures," you asserted gleefully while Aunt Janet got up from the table.
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With a belly full of food, the three you were now sitting outside on the patio, drinking tea, and eating Aunt Janet's yummy chocolate pecan pie bars. You already looked through three photo albums that showed Luke and his siblings' younger years.
"I wanted to take as many pictures as I could of the kids. They hated it, but I told 'em they would appreciate it when they got older," expressed Aunt Janet. "Here's a picture of Nell on her wedding day. That's her husband, Arthur. Sadly, he passed away a couple of months after they got married. But…they are together now."
You looked at the photo of the young couple. Nell looked very much like her older sisters and her mother. You could tell that there was a kindness about Nell just by looking at the picture. She was the type of person to go above and beyond for her family and even strangers. Luke would say that Nell was just that type of person to care about everyone, no matter who they were or where they came from.
Luke did share with you that one of his biggest regrets was not going to Nell's wedding. He said that he tried, but Shirley told him to leave. Luke said that it was for the best and that he was in no right state of mind to support his twin the way she deserved on her wedding day.
Thankfully for Luke, Nell understood and held no hard feelings. She never did when it came to her other half.
Aunt Janet began to sniffle, and when you looked up from the photo, you saw the older woman dab her eyes with a napkin. Out of instinct, Luke grabbed his Aunt's tiny hand and squeezed it with his as a way to show support. Just as he was Aunt Janet's little boy, Nell was her little girl. She was the one to raise them, take care of them, and guide them into adulthood.
None of the Crain children were perfect; they were far beyond that notion. However, there is no denying that if they did not have Aunt Janet take care of them and love them, they could have been worse off. Luke had the overwhelming feeling of guilt encompassing him at the moment as Aunt Janet tried to hold back her tears.
You instantly looked up at Luke. You could feel his sense of guilt towards the way he treated his aunt while growing up. He looked over at you. It was a silent conversation you both were having between one another. You mouthed, "Do you want me to go?" so he could have this moment alone.
With a shake of his head, 'No,' Luke spoke up to get his aunt's attention. "Aunt Janet…I'm sorry. I'm sorry for…for all the Hell I put you through while living here. You did so much for Nell and me, and the others that I…shit all over it. I stole and lied to you like it was my job. You deserved better. I just want you to know that…me getting hooked on drugs…well…that was…no matter what had happened…it was my choice to go down that path of destruction. I love you, Aunt Janet, and I am so appreciative of the sacrifices you made for my siblings and me. I wish that I weren't such a fuck up…"
"Oh sweetheart, no, you are not a…fuck up," Aunt Janet interjected and continued, "Not at all. I love you so much that…I would do anything for you, you know that, right? Your childhood is in the past. It happened. It is a part of you. The fact that you are continuing to remain clean after all that has occurred…well, that is something you should be most proud of. It shows that you are dedicated to your sobriety and turning your life around. No one said this process was easy, but you stayed the course and continued to make good decisions. As I told you earlier, you are becoming the man I always knew you could be."
"Now, I'm going to cry," Luke giggled as he dabbed his eyes with a napkin. "I didn't mean to turn this into a sob fest, but I wanted you to know that I'm sorry for what I put you through and that I love you very much, Aunt Janet."
Aunt Janet emerged from her seat to wrap her arms around her nephew and kiss the top of his head. It was a sweet moment to witness.
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pretendalleys · 3 years
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                                CHERRY GROVE .
cherry grove .  a small town sitting quietly on the edge of west virginia .  tucked deep within the valleys ,  it’s a miracle if this town ever makes a ripple in space and time .  centuries pass without even a possibility of a scandal .  generations and generations have built this town from the ground up ,  everyone who stumbles into the peaceful town ends up staying .  legend says it’s cursed ,  that it will swallow you whole with no intention of spitting you back out .  ancestors say it’s charmed ,  a town that seeks out it’s inhabitants and keeps them safe from the rest of the world .  a dreamy ,  mysterious kind of place .  but what happens when the charm disappears ?  when the centuries of peaceful uneventfulness ruptures with such force ,  it will never be the same again ?
                                CLASS OF 2011 .
they wanted a summer to remember in a town where remembrance is fought for .  to make leave a mark on their sad ,  empty town .  it was a wish .  a coin thrown into a fountain ,  a shooting star hurtling across the sky ,  the bigger half of a wishbone .  if only they could go back ,  if they could take their wishes and drown them in the bathtub .  it was supposed to be their last trip before they went off in seek of  fortune ,  fame ,  or family .  twenty students with backpacks filled to the brim ,  tents ,  coolers ,  and pillows pressed up against their car windows .  a trip to remember .  that it was .  NINE GRADUATES FOUND SLAIN JUST FOUR MILES NORTH OF CHERRY GROVE .  the headline was everywhere .  in the newspapers ,  on the television ,  burned into the backs of the survivors eyelids .  the headline had made national news ,  sending their quiet town into a spiral .
                                              2021 .
it’s been a decade since the murders at the hollow heights campground ,  most of the survivors left cherry grove as soon as they got their feet on the ground .  wanting to rid themselves of the horror that had stuck to their skin like glue on that one fateful night .  some had promised themselves to never come back ,  to stay as far away as they could .  that was just wishful thinking though .  cherry grove chooses you and once it does ,  you’ll never be fully disconnected from it’s remarkable enigma .  bentley foster ,  cherry grove high school alumni ,  class of 2011 survivor has been found dead in his apartment in an apparent overdose .  and just like that . . .  they’re back .  every last one of them .
                                             RULES .
there will be mature themes ,  because of this i will only be accepting muns that are 18+ .
no highly problematic or deceased faceclaims !  as well as those who have explicitly stated that they would not like to be used as faces in roleplays .
no godmodding ,  gatekeeping ,  or ooc drama .  period .  if someone or something is making you uncomfortable ,  please do not hesitate to tell me !  i can serve as a mediator and help come to a solution from an unbiased standpoint .
any basic roleplay etiquette is expected .
threads and discord channels will take place in both  2011  AND  2021 ,  meaning that you will need two fc’s for your muse .  please try to cast them as ethnically accurate as possible !  all characters would have been  18  in 2011 and will be  28  in 2021 .
please send in an app through my ask box !
                                              APP .
(  young fc/older fc ,  gender , pronouns )    ━    ❛  first last ,  the 2011 cherry grove high school alumni  left / stayed in  the town following the murders .  they were known for their  negative  and  positive  traits in high school ,  who’s to tell how they are now ?  they tend to associate themselves with   3/4 aesthetics  ,  perhaps it’s because they are a  zodiac sign  .  |  name/alias ,  age ,  timezone ,  pronouns
                                     TAKEN  10/10.
(  olivia holt / elizabeth lail,  cisfemale , she/her )    ━    ❛  joanna watson ,  the 2011 cherry grove high school alumni  left the town following the murders .  they were known for their  reclusiveness  and  intelligence in high school ,  who’s to tell how they are now ?  they tend to associate themselves with  the smell of old books ,  coffee shops ,  reading in the bathtub ,  and  putting on fuzzy socks in the winter .  perhaps it’s because they are an  aquarius  .  |  anna ,  24 ,  mtn ,  she/her
( rudy pankow / max thieriot ,  cis man , he/him )    ━    ❛  jack cooper ,  the 2011 cherry grove high school alumni   stayed in  the town following the murders .  they were known for their  meddling  and  adventures  in high school ,  who’s to tell how they are now ?  they tend to associate themselves with  salty hair , footprints on wet sand ,  and chill vibes . perhaps it’s because they are a  libra  .  |  jam ,  23 ,  est ,  he/him
(  cindy kimberly/charisma carpenter ,  nonbinary, female presenting , they/she )    ━    ❛  lucifer lemongrass ,  the 2011 cherry grove high school alumni  left town following the murders .  they were known for their  explosive temper when provoked but  otherwise sweet disposition  while in high school ,  who’s to tell how they are now ?  they tend to associate themselves with   messy paint palettes, far too many crystals, & the smell of incense mixed with weed ,  perhaps it’s because they are a  pisces  .  |  bee /b ,  21 ,  central ,  they/them
(  charlie gillespie/adam brody , cismale , he/him )    ━    ❛  parrish walker ,  the 2011 cherry grove high school alumni  stayed in town following the murders .  they were known for their  over talkativeness and outgoing  traits while in high school ,  who’s to tell how they are now ?  they tend to associate themselves with   busy diners, the color red, old horror movies and quiet walks ,  perhaps it’s because they are a  leo .  |  riley ,  19 ,  cst ,  they/meow
(   aaron liebregts/stephen james ,  cismale , he/him/his )    ━    ❛  james ‘jamie’ ritter ,  the 2011 cherry grove high school alumni  stayed in town following the murders .  they were known for being a  flight risk and their cleverness  traits while in high school ,  who’s to tell how they are now ?  they tend to associate themselves with   with too many tattoos, the smell of gasoline, leather and combat boots, ,  perhaps it’s because they are a  gemini .  |   krys ,  26 ,  est ,  she/they
(   emily alyn lind / camille razat,  cisfemale , she/her )    ━    ❛  anette ‘annie’ wald ,  the 2011 cherry grove high school alumni left the town following the murders .  they were known for their superliciousness and their sedulous  traits while in high school ,  who’s to tell how they are now ?  they tend to associate themselves with   with fast-paced  ,  eloquently rehearsed lies and lines, the deception of an unfeeling smile, perfectly manicured fingers crossed behind your back, and wearing inherited power like a security blanket,  perhaps it’s because they are a  capricorn .  |   em ,  24 ,  est ,  she/her
(  sydney sweeney / margot robbie ,  cis female , she/her )    ━    ❛ talullah ‘tally’ warren ,  the 2011 cherry grove high school alumni left the town following the murders .  they were known for their  egotistical  and  compelling  traits in high school ,  who’s to tell how they are now ?  they tend to associate themselves with money & time spent in company of those who you never called friends , red wine stained lips ; sticking to the corners of a pout  &  solitude becoming the best medicine , perhaps it’s because they are a leo  .  |  elly ,  22 ,  gmt+1 ,  she/they .
(  mason dye / oliver jackson-cohen ,  cis male , he / him )    ━    ❛  thomas “ tommy ” kinsley ,  the 2011 cherry grove high school alumni  left  the town following the murders .  they were known for their  arrogance  and  athleticism in high school ,  who’s to tell how they are now ?  they tend to associate themselves with   staying up late to finish a project, using a motorcycle as your only form of transportation, and hosting superbowl parties like they’re banquets  ,  perhaps it’s because they are a  gemini  .  |  hazy ,  24 ,  est ,  she / her
(  florence pugh / iskra lawrence ,   cis woman , she / her )    ━    ❛  elizabeth ‘libby’ jackson - thomas ,  the 2011 cherry grove high school alumni  left the town following the murders .  they were known for their  tractable  and  lyrical  traits in high school ,  who’s to tell how they are now ?  they tend to associate themselves with  laughing & dancing in the rain , a smile that doesn’t match your feelings , the haunting feeling that you could’ve done more and a heart of gold that’s been stained , perhaps it’s because they are a  leo  .  |  saz ,  19 ,  est ,  she / they
( alex fitzalan/matthew daddario , cis male , he/him ) ━ ❛ ares hawthorne , the 2011 cherry grove high school alumni stayed in the town following the murders . they were known for their apathetic behaviour and intelligence in high school , who’s to tell how they are now ? they tend to associate themselves with burnt matchsticks, frown creases and unanswered texts , perhaps it’s because they are an aquarius . | nora, 25 , gmt , she/her
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