#juno writes

[junbwun]

phainon x f!reader ☆ this is set in an office au, mentions of alcohol + mentions of being tipsy!!!!

There‘s a storm brewing inside of you, Phainon can tell. A mixture of liquors and laughter rumbling and sloshing inside of your stomach as you bump shoulders with him.

You‘re a force to be reckoned with— your movements sloppy and carefree as you let yourself slump against him for a second. One second, then two and then half a minute passes and your body is warm against his own. Even through layers of clothing separating the two of you, Phainon can tell how flushed your skin must be, how slight beads of glistening sweat collect at your hairline, a single one running down your temple before being wiped away sluggishly by your dancing fingers.

He cannot see your eyes like this— the most he sees is the tip of your nose and the warm color that sits atop it— but if he were to guess, he‘d say your eyes were swimming with mischief. Or maybe you‘re simply tired, heavy bones pinning your body next to his.

He can‘t say for sure and can’t further collect his thoughts spinning inside of his mind but instead feels the promising heat of burning liquor at the nape of his own neck and the pit of his stomach lining.

When you turn your head towards him, look up at him with a sheepish smile, the skin around your eyes crinkling, Phainon finds he is unable to discern his surroundings. Sound is drowned out by the eager blood rushing through his ears, his heart pumping with all its might, and even his mind quiets.

There‘s been an unspoken thing between you two, lingering gazes across the office and hugs that last a second too long to simply be declared as casual. Lunches that fly by when you giggle and delight at his storytelling and his silly jokes, and the walks towards your shared commute home spent huddled together beneath an umbrella, raindrops accompanying the wet sound of your footsteps and the insistent thumping inside of Phainon‘s chest.

It is there now, too. Thump thump thump.

He wants to lean in closer, see how your kind eyes flutter closed and feel your shuddering breath against his lips before he finally closes the distance you two have been carefully maintaining. He wants to feel your hand fall to his leg as you push yourself up, up, up to meet him more easily and feel your fingers flex and relax against his slacks. He wants to find out what your chapstick tastes like against your glistening lips and wonders how sharp the alcohol sits on your tongue. He wants to kiss you.

He wants to— but doesn‘t. Not today.

[haematicmagic]

Humility can be a sin, you know? And it's a curious one, because in its sinful form it comes as a sadistic method of self protection; you punch before others can, you assume the worst in order to lessen the blow. But if, after you punch yourself, others hit anyway, then you just hurt twice. And sometimes assuming the worst constitutes as the blow, causes the damage in the first place. You can speak unfavorably of yourself until so little is left that even love will sound unrecognisable, unbelievable, unlikely. When that happens, you will call yourself clingy, selfish, annoying, you will offer to pay penance for your percieved mistakes, and you will not be able to take "no" for an answer. If they refuse to be mad at you, to demand penance, you will nevertheless inflict it on yourself, because you have already, prematurely, decided you deserve it.

Humility becomes a sin in the form of insecurity, of envy, of self-consuming hatred - perhaps you'll find it easy to escape Pride, but all the more difficult to navigate the pitfall of Humility. After all, they are two coins of the same side. You may find yourself hungry for reassurance, driven by insecurity, tempted to ask your friends: Do you hate me?

Make no mistake: the flaw is not in asking this question, needing it answered. The flaw is in not waiting for an answer.

[avaritia-apotheosis]

Danny ends his first month as Bruce Wayne's PA being held at gunpoint.

This is not the first time he's been in this position, and lord knows with his luck it probably won't be the last. But this is the first time he's ever been held at gunpoint by a regular gun. As in one that fires bullets and has gunpowder, as opposed to the ecto-charged weapons back in Amity. The novelty of the situation makes him hesitate for longer than he usually would. An ecto gun would hurt like a bitch, sure, but he knew he was strong enough to tank it. But a bullet between the eyes? He's not sure how that would affect him considering, well, him, and he's really not in any hurry to figure that out.

The guy in the Michael Myers mask holding him hostage— one of six, all wearing horror movie villain masks probably taken from some local Party City—yelled at Danny to put his hands behind his head. "I know you!" Michael Myers said. "You're Wayne's dog aren't'cha?"

Danny rolled his eyes. He shoots Tiffany, one of the front desk clerks, an exasperated look. God forbid people actually call Danny by his job title.

Tiffany shrugs as best as she could from the ground.

"I'm his PA, asshole," Danny snapped.

"Why you—"

"Oh just shut the fuck up!" Scream, well, screams. "He's just some punk kid. The cops will be here any minute, and we still don't know where the fuck Wayne is."

In the most innocent way Danny could manage (and by innocent, he means the most annoyingly straight face he could pull) Danny says, "Do you have an appointment?"

Tiffany face palms. Scream blue-screens. "What."

"Do you have an appointment?" Danny stalled, straining his senses for any sign of the Bat. Really, it shouldn't take Bruce this long to respond. They were literally in his building. "Anyone that wants to see Mr. Wayne needs an appointment."

Michael Myers fumes. "Yeah, I do. It's under do what we say, or I put a bullet in your teeth!"

Danny tilted his head just so. Was that footsteps he heard overhead?

"Interesting name." Danny made a show of pulling out the palm-sized planner he kept in his breast pocket and flipped to today's date. "Is it foreign?"

He made it a habit to keep a physical copy of his boss' agenda as a back-up in case something happened to his work phone. (See: Vlad messing up the work phone he bought Danny after Danny purposefully squeezed in a month's worth of work into one week). If Danny wasn't so sure that Michael "trigger happy" Myers wouldn't shoot Danny's fancy new work phone, he'd have pulled that out instead and called an ambulance for these poor bastards.

"I am going to enjoy hurting you."

The lights overhead flickered.

Danny hissed in mock-disappointment. "Oooh, would you look at that. It looks like Mr. Wayne is fully booked. Guess you can't see him today." He batted his eye lashes, mouth widening in a shit-eating grin. "But luckily for you, it looks like there's an opening with the Batman."

The room was swallowed up by darkness.

The sound of horror villains screaming was music to Danny's ears.

[smokyvrbada]

General Headcanons II: [MK9] Cyrax

a/n: a little gift for @scaryspears because we both agree that the lack of original timeline cyrax is criminal, i hope you enjoy! :) warnings: mentions of injuries, brief mention of medicine/bandages, canon-typical violence/blood, cyrax might be slightly ooc(?)

Very educated in mathematics and science, especially physics and chemistry. He has this massive chalkboard in his workshop that is often scribbled with equations and ideas. There's blueprints here and there too, it's the messy kind of organized. He will 100% notice if the smallest thing is missing. Medicine bottles are handy for his headaches when he's working too much.

Cyrax has a lot of small, faded scars on his hands from tinkering with machinery and just metal in general, he likes to run tests on training dummies when spit-balling ideas. He's also got a small burn scar on his wrist from testing out some of his early bombs, keeps his hands in bandages most of the time to prevent more cuts.

Loves spicy dishes and has a high tolerance. It's comfort food in a way for him, since the Lin Kuei diet is essentially just the bare basics for keeping themselves alive. Cyrax is also a great cook, and enjoys making meals when the opportunity presents itself (Sektor denies it but gets called out for grabbing seconds).

Cyrax trusts Kuai Liang the most out of the 5 main Lin Kuei. He acts as another 'big brother' type figure aside from Bi-Han, and opens himself up to the younger cryomancer (Smoke too, if he's with Kuai) a lot, especially during missions. They share most of the same morals and respect each other, but when it comes to Bi-Han, they're at odds with how his views are.

Cyrax is a very patient and straightforward man, but sometimes people can be put off by his bluntness. Once during an undercover mission with Sektor and Bi-Han, he made a comment towards the red-clad warrior that ended with a small scrap between the two. They both agreed to keep the cause of the bloody noses and busted lips to themselves when returning to the temple.

As a child (pre-Lin Kuei), he would often play rugby back in Botswana with the other kids. There was this one occurrence where he tripped on a shrub and accidentally cut his chin on a rock. When he was older, he started keeping a small beard to hide the scar.

Keeps a small bonsai tree in his room that he always makes time to care for, especially with constantly being in and out of his workshop. It was a gift to Cyrax when he was younger, it's a very important thing to him. He cut off a small piece of it's branch to make a new tree before he was cyberized (I'd like to think Kuai Liang has it somewhere).

[robojoshi]

has anyone in my phone ever thought about how dazai and fyodor are completely perfect for each other

no but seriously. has anyone ever thought about the way that dazai is the only person fyodor could ever touch safely? or the way fyodor is the only person who could never give dazai the sweet release of death by touch, a simple death where he wouldnt have to suffer?

has anyone thought about this

like i know realistically someone has thought of this before but have you really sat down and had a think about it

[cadaverre]

omg to anyone who wanted to read the folklore trio fic i started for english class here it iss

It all started with Betty. 

James doesn’t remember when Betty turned from a face in the halls to someone that consumed all his waking thoughts. The one thing he does remember is that day in the cafeteria during sophomore year when he saw a girl with gleaming saffron hair and a smile that could not be dimmed by the sickly green lighting or dreary walls of the school. Seeing her sparked something in James that he had not felt since his mother walked out two years ago, and he was immediately addicted to it. Betty was the sun, beaming her untouchable joy through the forlorn clouds of high school. The mere thought of her became addictive – she was all-consuming, taking up all of James’ brain.  

But he knew Betty never noticed him. Who even was James Martin?  

By the time Christmas break of sophomore year rolled around, Betty had exchanged four conversations, twelve smiles and twenty-one glances in the halls with James. He didn’t need to write those numbers down. They were as ingrained in his head as the lyrics to his favourite song. James spent the break with his family, unwrapping books, and video games. After Christmas day, his father led him into a shed where a shiny new bike sat, gleaming in comparison to the rust that was taking over the unused space. It was a nice gift, but James knew that the bike was only because they couldn’t afford to buy him a car and his older brother was too busy with his job to drive him everywhere. James didn’t mind. He liked the bike and was grateful for his father for thinking of him.  

James rode his new bike all through the rest of the vacation, even through the cold snap and drifty snow that breezed through his small town in Tennessee. He couldn’t think of anything else to do; football training didn’t start until the summer. On the second last day of the break as he was rolling his bike out of the shed, he saw a girl leaving the house next to his. A rush of heat flooded through him as he realised it was her, the girl that would not leave his mind alone.  

“James! Hi!” Betty called out, noticing him and waving. 

James waved pathetically; his voice suddenly gone. He had never known that Betty lived right next to him, so close. It made no sense – but also made perfect sense. But could she have felt the waves of emotion radiating from him every night? Did she know that he thought of her so often, it felt like he knew her so well already?  

He tilted his head down and got on his bike, hoping to limit his conversations with Betty because he knew he was going to embarrass himself in front of her. But Betty had a different idea.  

“Hey wait up!” She walked down her front path, meeting him at the road. “Where are you going?” 

“Uh, just, around, I guess?”  

“Cool.” She smiled at him, her cheeks tinted pink by the cold. Betty’s small frame was covered in a large coat, her hands in chunky knitted mittens.  

“I’m gonna— “James started, but Betty interrupted him. 

“I was planning to get some coffee. You wanna come?” This shocked James so much he didn’t respond for far too long, leaving Betty standing there, her perfect face hopeful. 

After the silence, James remembered how to talk. “Yeah, sure.” He didn’t have the heart to tell her that he didn’t really like coffee, but her presence was so hypnotising James had a feeling he would have said yes to anything she asked him. 

“Great! Let’s go.” 

James rolled his bike alongside Betty on the walk to the centre of town. It didn’t take long, but in the time that they did have Betty asked him about his Christmas and described her trip to Nashville to see her grandparents. Every time her clear blue eyes landed on his he felt a tug in his chest, reminding him of how much he’d thought of her over the break. How obsessively he loved the idea of her, and the idea of her and him together. In that moment with Betty in the cold, James had the strange feeling that this would not be the last time.  

Betty sipped her caramel latte, glancing over at James. They were sitting on a frozen bench near Starbucks, James’ bike on the ground beside them.  

“So…” Betty started, always the one to start conversations. 

“What else did you do?” James cut in, desperate to keep talking to Betty. He didn’t want her to get bored of him.  

She went on to tell him a funny anecdote about her older brother. James listened, enchanted by her. When Betty asked about his, he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t mention that his grandmother left halfway through Christmas dinner because she couldn’t remember why she was there. He didn’t mention that his mother still didn’t reply to his letters that he had been sending since last June, every six months. He didn’t even mention that his father couldn’t afford a car for him, so he got a bike. 

“Yeah, it was cool. Nice to see family.” James said instead. 

A few days later, James was back at school. James walked through the hallways, his friend Max snickering at all the guys in their new cars. James nodded in the right places, but he couldn’t help glancing around the halls, longing to see a blonde head. Betty had waved to him that morning from her porch, and he couldn’t think of why he hadn’t seen her there before.  

“James!” Betty called out to him after the last bell had rung and James was walking out of the building towards his bike. She ran after him, her face shining despite the overhanging clouds.  

“Hey!” James said, surprised. “What’s up?” 

“Do you want a ride home?” 

James realised that she noticed his lack of car, his bike leaning against the school fence.  

“I uh…” James trailed off, unsure of what to say. His emotions fought a battle inside of him, his desire to talk more with Betty going up against his deep-rooted pride. If he accepts, he will have lost. He was 16. He should’ve been able to take care of himself. 

“It’s alright if you’re busy.” Betty noticed his silence, and while her smile never wavered, her voice dropped a bit. Guilt rolled through James. 

He politely declined her invite. 

One month later, and Betty kept offering to drive him to and from school. It took two weeks for James to accept, and soon Betty started hanging out at his house. Always in the living room – God forbid he bring a girl into his bedroom. It was like all the tension in the room evaporated the moment Betty walked in. James was comfortable with her, and it wasn’t hard for him to push his feelings aside. Betty seemed to like hanging out with him. It was a miracle. 

“Are you bringing anyone to homecoming?” Betty asked one afternoon while James was doing his Physics homework. James straightened his spine. He was trying to avoid the idea of homecoming, for he feared that he would accidently ask her out.  

“I mean…I wasn’t planning on it.” James said carefully, looking over at her. She was spread out on the couch, her hair up in a bun and long sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Betty didn’t seem to be embarrassed around him. She was just perfectly at ease with him. James couldn’t remember the last time that someone had just always wanted to be near him.  

“Would you…” Betty trailed off, her eyes wandering to meet his. “Would you want to go with me?” 

It was as if time stopped. This is exactly what James had been wanting to hear for the past year, probably more. Betty’s face was a picture of hope, her eyes wide and smile unsure. Paused in a moment of being so sure of wanting, James’ voice was stuck in his throat. Breath caught in his lungs like smoke, choking him from the inside and not allowing him to say anything.  

“Betty…” He said, his voice shaking and quiet. Betty’s eyebrows turned upwards, her face dropping slightly.  

“It’s ok if you don’t want to.” She said, clasping her hands and shrinking her figure. 

“No! It’s not that.” James said. He moved from the floor and sat next to her on the couch, clasping her hands in his. They were small and warm. 

“Yeah?” Betty said, the corners of her mouth upturning slightly. 

“I would be honoured to go to homecoming with you.” 

[asilverfellow]

PINNED POST WOAH

Hi I have no idea what I’m doing.

This is basically a dumping ground for my art and writing and I am here only to entertain myself.

Feel free to ask/ message about the stuff I post. I love you. Interactions are food for me.

PLEASE DONT REPOST ANY OF MY STUFF

My main blog is @a-wine-dark-sea so likes/ follows will come from there, it’s my fandom blog where I’m much more active and messy.

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[cicadatemptress]

owo….? what’s this???

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

i published chapter 3!!! it’s been a while but i’m still going,,, i had a bit i hated and couldn’t make myself write but i powered through. thank God