#this is what I do in my free time apparently

[mysaintkitten]

need a dom thomas shelby fic with bimbo reader!!! ur so good at it!!

thank you so so much !!! hope I did this request justice lol

Just wanna talk | Tommy Shelby x fem!reader

prompt: Tommy gets fed up with your rambling and decides to shut you up

WARNINGS: SMUT (18+ MDNI), mean/misogynistic Tommy, daddy kink, free use kink implied kinda, creampie

*not proofread*

“Daddy,” you huffed frustratingly for what seemed like the millionth time while patting his thigh, “daddy!”

Tommy, like always, was working. That’s all he seemed to do these days, and you were starting to grow sick of it.

You kneeled beside his office chair while wearing your favourite little dress without any panties. As you were running your hand along his thigh and hoping that the touches combined with the name calling would be enough to grab his attention, it seemed like Tommy just had one too many things going on today.

“I’ve missed you, daddy, I just wanna talk …”

Apparently, that was the thing that pushed him over the edge.

“Talk? Talk? All you do is fucking talk.” He spat at you suddenly.

With a groan, Tommy slammed his pen down and then nudged his chair back, standing to his feet as he hastily undid his pants. You were about to follow his lead, but he aggressively makes you stay down on your knees, “no, stay put.”

You bite your lip and bat your lashes while looking up at him, bringing your hand forward to palm him through the fabric.

“After a long, hard day, I don’t wanna fuckin’ talk, sweetheart. I want you either on your knees, ready to suck my cock, or in bed with your legs spread for me. Understood?”

He swats your hand away and tugs his trousers down just enough to free his semi hard cock.

As you’re about to reach for his length again he grabs your hair and the base of his cock, shoving himself inside your mouth before you can even process it.

You whine out of surprise and gag slightly around him as he begins to fuck your mouth. He pants and groans at your warmth, dipping his head back before bringing his gaze back down to watch your lips stretch around his cock.

“This is what you wanted, huh? Wanted me to get so fuckin’ fed up with your blabbering that I just shut you up with my cock?” Tommy growled through gritted teeth, relentlessly fucking your throat without care.

You can only whimper around him, and your eyes squeeze shut as your mascara begins to run down your cheeks. You instinctively place a hand on his thigh as a weak attempt to get him to slow down, he only slaps your hand away continues his harsh pace.

“No, no, you take what daddy gives you.”

As if you weren’t already turned on enough, Tommy’s unwavering dominance gets you wetter. He doesn’t care what you say or think, all he cares about doing is getting off while reminding you of your place as a wife.

Suddenly, his rough pace halts, and your nose is now pressed against his trimmed patch of pubic hair. You gag again and your eyes brim with fresh tears as you struggle to breathe.

“Look at me, princess,” Tommy groans sweetly with that deliciously deep voice of his. Through tear soaked lashes, you stare up at him, feeling your cunt burn hotter as he moans at the sight.

“My pretty girl, such a good little cock sucker …” he praises, knowing exactly how to push all your right buttons. Sprinkle in a few sweet words while degrading you, he is your husband, after all.

He starts to pull you off and brings his slick cock right back to you, his hot member lying across your face demeaningly while his fingers remain locked in your hair.

He doesn’t need to say anything, you know what he wants. Like the good girl that you are, you lick and suck on his balls gently, making sure to maintain eye contact while you do it. Tommy stands there mesmerized, his mouth hanging slightly agape as he groans a few curses and praises.

Finally, he releases his grip onto your hair- just before pushing you down onto your back, shoving you harshly against the ground as you mewl.

His large, strong hands turn you onto your stomach and as you begin to squirm Tommy plants his hand firmly on your back, forcing you down while he straddles your thighs.

He flips up the end of your skirt and spreads your lips apart, watching hungrily as your leaky little cunt clenches around nothing. You’re so desperate to be ravished it’s pathetic, but Tommy loves it. All of it.

He loves how he can use whichever holes he likes, whenever he likes, he loves how he can treat you like a filthy whore and all you’ll do is come crawling back begging for more.

“Jesus, look at that …” Tommy sighs, using his thumb guide his tip towards your opening, pushing his head in without any resistance. You whimper softly at the sensation before Tommy abruptly slides his entire member inside, his cock now resting painfully deep inside you.

He doesn’t stay put for long and he quickly develops a steady, harsh pace that already has you gasping for air. Your entire body is buzzing, intoxicating doses of pain and pleasure flood your system.

You’re convinced your brain has completely melted at this point, and all you’ve become is a life sized fuck toy just for Tommy. Your mouth hangs open while pathetic moans spill out, your back arches towards him and your toes start to curl.

“Yes, yes, yes-“ you sob mindlessly while he abuses your velvety walls, his force and lack of care heightening your sensitivity.

“That’s my girl, you like when daddy fucks you like this, baby?”

Of course he already knows the answer, the way your pussy is fluttering and drooling around him is proof enough- he just wants to hear how ruined you’ve become.

“Y-yes, yes-“ you pant shakily before swallowing harshly, “l-love when you fuck me like th-is, daddy-“

You sound even better than he was imagining, making him chuckle breathily before smacking you on your ass, forcing a small yelp out of you.

“Such a good fucking whore, pretty little cunt takes me so well, s’like shes beggin’ me to come inside,” Tommy hisses while smacking your ass again in the same spot, intensifying the already painful sting.

You mewl for two reasons, one being the smack, the other being Tommy’s comment- watering you down to nothing but a good hole, you hated how much you loved it.

“You want daddy to come inside?” Tommy cooes sweetly after hearing your whines, not genuinely caring if you want it or not. Despite knowing this, you nod, begging for him to claim you.

With a few more deep thrusts, Tommy’s shooting his load inside, keeping his hips pressed against your ass while groaning through gritted teeth as the pleasure courses through him.

Once he’s ridden out his high, he slides himself out and watches in awe as his come spills out of your used hole. Your wrecked pussy along with your reddened ass cheeks cause his softening cock to twitch, nearly becoming hard again.

Really, you didn’t even care that you didn’t get to come, the rush from his touch and attention gave you all the dopamine you could ask for.

Then, with a grunt, Tommy gets up off you and stands to his feet while tucking his cock away. You stay on the ground before trying to push yourself up, your arms and legs much too shaky to get you up.

Tommy sees you struggle and clicks his tongue, leaning down to pick you up bridal style. Once you’re in his arms, he kisses your cheek and neck before nipping playfully at the skin.

“Let’s run you a bath, love.” Tommy hums warmly, and you smiled before nuzzling your head into his neck as he carried you off into the bathroom.

—

I know I said ‘free use implied’ but I would loooove to write more straight up free use, especially with Tommy :) teehee !!!!

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x fem!reader #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders #hope y’all like this #:)

[farfromharry]

Summary: Lando finally wins a race and learns all he needed was a good luck charm

Lando Norris x Reader

w/c 933

━━━━━━━━━♡♥♡━━━━━━━━━

It had been a long and tiring journey for Lando in regards to getting his first race win. 5 years in Formula 1, almost 700 points and 15 podiums and he thought it was never going to happen— at least not if Max Verstappen had anything to say about. And then came along you.

At first you were nothing more than a friend of a friend, someone who had suddenly started appearing at group hang outs, who maybe caught his eye once or twice, purely for the fact you were an unfamiliar face. Suddenly you were everything.

It was a party for someone’s birthday when you spoke for the first time. He had come to the bar for another drink, only to be completely ignored by the bartender in favour of some pretty girls down the other end of the bar. You appeared a few moments later, grinning at the racing driver’s clear annoyance. You tapped his shoulder gently to grab his attention, “Watch this.”

All you’d said was excuse me, which he had already tried, and the man came running. You ordered your own drink and urged Lando to do the same. From that point on he was in complete awe of you. It was such a simple action and yet he thought you were completely fascinating. He had found himself so speechless that he didn’t even say anything to stop you from walking away afterwards. Only then did he realise he’d gotten a free drink too.

It felt like the next few weeks of his life were consumed by thoughts of you, until he finally bucked up the courage to start asking around. It all felt pointless until he saw you again at a party he’d thrown in the hopes you would show up. And you did. It seemed his plan was off to a good start.

He tried not to make it obvious that he was looking at you, or for you. He didn’t want to creep you out. In the end it was you that approached him, which took a lot of the fear out of the situation. No longer did he have to find the courage to go up to you— which he was really struggling with.

“I heard you’ve been asking about me?”

His cheeks burned pink. “I, um… yeah, I—“

You laughed. The sound was music to his ears. “It’s okay. I’m honoured, really. A world famous racing driver is interested in me?”

His eyebrows raised. “You know who I am?” The first time you’d properly met you made no indication of such, so he’d just assumed you didn’t know.

“I might have done my own research,” you shrugged. Not a single part of you seemed embarrassed about it though, not like he had. You were owning up to it, you were outwardly telling him he interested you.

And he knew in that very moment, he was completely hooked.

The first race you attended, not only of the year but ever, was the Miami Grand Prix. Lando insisted it was a good atmosphere, unlike a select few that weren’t always the greatest. It was also warm and there were places he could take you after that he thought you would like. You had no hesitations. All you wanted was to see your boyfriend succeed. You didn’t know all that much about the world of motorsport, but you knew Lando hadn’t won before and seeing it in person would surely be something special.

But he had his doubts. He had qualified 2nd, beside Max, for what felt like the thousandth time. He knew exactly how this would play out. But you didn’t feel like letting him get in his head.

“You’re going to win. You’re such a good driver, Lando. Believe in yourself.” He wished he could have taken your words seriously, but he didn’t have it in him to do so. He had already spent 2 years doing his very best just to get stuck behind the world champ anyway. His hope was burning out the more it happened, it was almost ashes at this point. But even if his hope did disappear, you were there to believe in him on his behalf. It was refreshing to have someone think he could win for once.

“I’ll try.”

You frowned. “If you won’t try for you, try for me?”

Apparently that was all the motivation he didn’t realise he needed. He was going to go out there and win it for you. He couldn’t let the first ever race you attended be one that was forgettable.

And when he crossed the line in P1? Everybody went wild.

While waiting for him to get out of the car, you were almost lost in the sea of papaya surrounding the barriers, but there was no way he would let that happen. He threw himself at his team first and as soon as he pulled off his helmet he was throwing his arms around you.

“You did it! You’re a race winner!” you cheered.

“I’m a race winner!” It felt so good to say. He couldn’t stop grinning. “You must be my good luck charm. Gonna have to come to all my races now.”

Your expression was a mirror of his. “If this is how you’re going to perform at every one, count me in.”

So it had taken him 5 years and a whole lot of time, effort and emotion to get him to that top step of the podium, when all along he had been waiting for the final piece of the puzzle to make it happen; you.

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#formula 1 #lando norris #lando norris x reader #formula one #lando norris fluff #lando norris x you #lando norris fic #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you

[yappersblog]

no one knows — paige bueckers [blurb]

synopsis. paige and you aren’t together, but you’re definitely something.

trigger warnings. nothing, except maybe non-exclusive relationship (?) and little tiny bit of possessiveness.

author’s note. second time posting on tumblr 😋😋😋 and it’s kinda lame & not proof read so sorry people 🙏🏽 my requests are open sooo don’t be shy and request!

more fics. my emily engstler one. go take a look 💋

everyone knows—your teammates know, your friends definitely know, your families know, your coach knows—hell, even your rival teams know too.

everybody knows that something is going on between you and paige, something that gets bigger and bigger everyday and that you should stop ignoring if you don’t want things to go wrong.

but, being your stubborn and dumb selves, the two of you don’t take your relatives’ advices seriously—apparently finding comfort in denial and in your instable relationship.

you’re not taken, but everyone in the university knows better than ask you on a date; all of them knowing perfectly well that paige might become their worst nightmare if they do.

same for paige—even if people didn’t really know how to approach her before, due to her being her intimidating self. they retract themselves even more now that you’re always attached to her hip, and the basketball player doesn’t help them either: the girl immediately playing with her chain—where your initials are written in gold—when someone starts to flirt with her, waiting for the stranger to understand that whatever they’re trying to do is pointless.

but despite all of this possessiveness, care and love that you feel for each other, none of you tried to make this a real relationship—one whose exclusive, and not only to the people but to you two.

the both of you are in love; it’s literally written on your foreheads and necklaces.

however, neither of you are brave enough to man-up and confess your feelings. so, for now, the two of you are stuck in this situation-ship, with unspoken feelings.

“yoooo! what up?” kk loudly screams while entering your dorm room, the rest of the team trailing behind her.

nika, aliyaah and inês make their way to you—the three of them hugging you—while the rest of the group goes to your fitted kitchen to put their snacks down.

“girl boo, don’t tell me you’ve been rotting on this couch since this morning…” kk literally exposes you, making ice chuckles and azzi slaps the back of her neck.

“kk, i know something else whose been rotting for more than a morning…” you say, munching on a cheeto that’s coming from aliyaah’s bag. “your braids!” the whole group bursts with laughter, kk side-eyeing you before laughing it off—taking a seat next to you.

that’s when paige finally decides to make an appearance, her arms free of bags full of snacks. laying against the softness of your couch, you don’t even hide yourself and check out the girl in front of you—your eyes moving from her grey nike tracksuit and her fitted shirt that shows off her biceps, to the glasses on the bridge of her nose and her slick back ponytail.

God, she’s so fine, you think to yourself—paige watching you intently with that smirk that makes you want to give her everything. she knows what’s going through your mind and you don’t even mind this fact.

“yo, get out of my seat kk” the blonde says, her hands deep in her tracksuit’s pockets.

“your seat? girl boo, since when?” kk says back, the sassy little girl coming out of her. you can’t help but chuckle, making paige’s blue eyes look in your direction.

“since forever, move!” trying to stand her ground, kk stays five more minutes next to you until paige decides to take matter into her own hands and pushes the girl on the floor carpet. “how you doing, ma?” the blonde’s arm makes its way around your shoulders, while it’s owner looks at you dead in your eyes and takes place on your right.

“doing good, you?” she doesn’t even respond, only nodding her head and licking her lips the next second—her blue pupils already trailing on her lips. you roll your eyes, popping a cheeto into her mid-opened mouth.

paige laughs, her arm tightening around your shoulders, and munches on the chip.

she smells clean, like a mix between fresh shower and sweet cologne. your favorite scent. actually, everything about her happens to be your favorite thing.

she looks like she’s about to say something, but kk—who has taken place on the floor carpet since she lost her spot on the couch—screaming to her phone screen, with ice on her right and aubrey on her left, stops her.

“oh god, always on live bro” the blonde mutters, glaring at the camera and detaching herself from you—making you frown.

popping another chip in your mouth, you side-eye her, not really understanding what her problem is.

oh so that’s how it is? okay.

your heart stings, but when invasive thoughts are starting to take hold of your mind—you feel a head on your chest and big ass biceps around your waist. your eyes look down, and you can’t help but grin when you see paige comfortably laying on your body—her right cheek pressed up against your breast.

immediately, your hand is playing with her blonde locks—all your attention focused on the girl in front of you and not on the recording live of kk.

“what’s up with y’all gay asses? come say hi to the people!” you hear the light-skinned player says, her head turned in your direction.

“hi people!” you don’t have any other choice but to greet the fans when the screen is being shoved in your face.

comments are flooding, and you try to read some of them, even if you already know that practically all of them are about paige.

“say hi!” paige groans against you, hiding her face even more into the crook of your neck. “okay, grumpy ass” kk laughs and takes back her phone. “what’s up with you?” you whisper-ask her once you’re ‘alone’.

“nothing” she grumbles and you know that whatever-it-is: it’s not nothing. you two keep up the eye contact for a few minutes, before she finally gives in and mutters against your collarbone: “i just don’t feel like sharing you right now, even though i don’t have the choice”

your brain doesn’t know to function for like two minutes before it works again and tells your blood to rush to your cheeks.

paige smirks a little, mushing even more herself into you, then presses a sneaky kiss on your neck.

she loudly hums against your skin, her nose sniffing it—snatching a frown and a giggle out of you.

“the fuck are you doing?” you laugh and she can’t help but laugh too—in love with your big ass smile.

“smellin’ you” the blonde does it again, but way more exaggerated than the first time, tickling you on purpose. “you smell good baby” she stops her little game once she feels you pinching her hip.

you thank her by smooching her cheek, feeling one of her dimples on your lips.

she retakes her place on your body, humming loudly. her arms tighten around you, and it feels like she’s trying to sneak herself into your body because she snuggles her face even more into your collarbone.

but you don’t mind, so that’s okay.

“their guns’ hot pink, that’s for sure” kk tells the live, fake side-eyeing the both of you while the rest of team cackle loudly—each of them knowing perfectly that they are hot pink as hell.

the two of you just exposed yourselves in front of an unknown number of fans, and none of you care—even though your faces might be trending on twitter tomorrow, people asking what kind of relationship you two are sharing.

and the most funny, is that even if you want to: neither you or paige can answer that question—and you don’t really care actually, the both of you just happy to be snuggled up together on this old couch, labelled or not.

written by © yappersblog, i do not accept plagiarism—this is my work and only mine.

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers imagine #paige bueckers x y/n #paige bueckers fluff #paige bueckers fic #wcbb x reader #wcbb #wcbb fluff #kk arnold x reader #kk arnold #wlw #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #uconn women’s basketball #azzi fudd #caitlin clark #hailey van lith #emily engstler

[deadsetobsessions]

Okay I got some sleep- here’s pt. 2 of my nightmare:

——

They spoke to each other as they moved, the surroundings that had egregiously attacked the group of heroes earlier easily parted way for his sister.

‘How has everything been, habibi?’

They talked to each other in a language known only to them. The rest of the Justice League team, the members of this mission: Batman, Flash, Superman, and Zatanna did not understand the signs, a feat worthy of his sister.

‘Alright. They are not bad. I like it here.’ He told her, eyes not quite wary but fear of disappointing her running through his small frame apparent all the same. ‘I would… like to stay.’

She ruffled his hair once more, wistfulness growing in her heart. How her little brother had grown. It seemed like yesterday she held him as a babe, swaddled in even more opulent green and gold silks than her own clothing. Now, he stood in front of her, daring to express his own thoughts with a domino over his face and strength of free will in his eyes. ‘That is good. I am glad you are happy.’

Batman lurched forward to stop her from touching Damian, only to freeze as his son accepted the touch without a hint of resistance. Even Dick couldn’t get that reaction, not without some grumbling and scowling. Who was this…?

The rest of team agreed to wait and watch. Part of it was strategy. Most of it was the wonder of a such Bat-like Robin being so open with someone.

‘Have you been here before?’ Damian, relaxed as she all but gave him her blessing to stay with father, peered at the local fauna as it bowed away from her sister. She shrugged, his katana sheathed on her back. She was at ease with it as he was with her blade, the training they did to get there unwavering despite the time they spent apart.

‘Sometimes. The tower we’re headed to, I often go there to relieve stress by training with the monsters there. They like to… attack everything that moves.’

Something told Damian it was more of a one sided massacre on his sister’s part.

‘Why would the magician hide there?’

‘It would serve adequately as a natural barrier, should he have a safe space put there ahead of time.’ His sister tilted her head, masked face still in the way he knew meant that she was thinking. Her hands moved. ‘Perhaps it was Grorgiantue that attacked you. He often goes there to experiment with alchemy and demonic remains. He often wears a maroon headband.’

“That’s him.” Damian confirmed.

“Are you going to clue us into what you’re saying, you two?” The Flash zoomed around the pair, skidding to a stop in front of them. Damian’s sister simply stepped around him, slicing apart a thorn bush that attacked when it got startled by the Flash’s speed. He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly as Robin scowled at him and the unknown ally spared him one quick, neutral glance of displeasure.

“No. Do not ask again, you eavesdropper.” Damian curtly replied, surly Robin mask back up.

“Robin.” Father reprimanded. Damian acknowledged it, but did not offer an apology. His sister remained silent and watching.

She’s relying on him to navigate these allies, Damian realized. His shoulders went back at the show of trust. He does not acquiesce to Father’s silent command. Had it been Richard… perhaps.

“Ouch, but still, if your… friend knows what’s up ahead, it’s be good to let us know.”

“We do need to take care of this as fast as possible, Robin. And we’re not the best team against magic.” Superman hovered. He would have gone and scouted ahead, but magical planes always had nasty surprises that he found extremely hard to escape.

“Speak for yourself,” Zatanna joked. Regardless, she looked askance at Damian’s sister.

Damian scowled and opened his mouth. His sister placed a hand on his shoulder and Damian sighed, readying himself to act as a translator. He knew she could sign in practically every standard sign language there was, damn it. She’s lucky he loved her enough to be a translator when she’s unwilling to socialize.

——

“Your sword,” Damian tried to hand her sword back. Her little brother, for a genius, was an idiot. She huffed, pushing the sword back.

‘Keep it. How will you cut through a magical tower without a magical sword?’ She signed to him, emphasizing her amusement.

“What about you?”

‘I must report back. I am... a bit late. I’ll see you later, habibi.’ She tapped her hand four times. A reminder that she cared about him. Before she disappeared through a swirling portal of mist grey and acrid blue, she saw him repeat the sign.

Behind her mask, she smiled.

——

“Who was that, Robin?”

Robin stared up at Batman. Damian Wayne stared up at his father.

“She... protected me.”

Not quite an answer. But it was an olive branch, to tell him who she was to Damian himself, but not who she truly was in relations to Damian.

“That’s it?”

“That is all you’re getting.” He replied, hands tightening around the hilt of his sister’s sword. Her magic hummed beneath his fingertips, the feeling of indescribable violence softening to a sense of protectiveness the moment the sword felt his presence. Damian respected Father. He might even love him. But Damian loved his sister first, and he would not betray her trust.

A new file is added to the database. Nightwing gets an update. When a familiar masked face pops up, Dick Grayson sped out of Bludhaven to interrogate his littlest brother.

And so the wheels turned.

——

“Tell me, granddaughter, what it is you truly think of me.”

Despite the conversational tone, she knew it was an order. The scars on her back burned, a reminder of another rebellion and the cost of failure.

There were many, many ways she could answer. All of them unpleasant. Yet, she must be pleasant. He must hear how she’d been broken, or else he’d keep trying to break her.

She tilted her head down, so he would not glimpse the hatred brewing in her eyes.

“I respect you, grandfather.” Because she did respect his ability to bend her at his will, for all that she hated him. It took a special kind of scum to be so cruel to one own blood. “I wish to obey your every order.” Because if she didn’t, pain would follow. But that wish was a temporary one, only in effect until she managed to kill him and come out on top.

Ra’s laughed, a warm and rich sound. Hollow, because he loved none but himself and so only reserved warmth for his own flattery. It sounded like the sharpening of a blade and it felt like balancing on a precipice. On one side, an eternity of torture. On the other, the pain of those she loved. Damian... and maybe, just a little, Talia herself.

"Do you love me, granddaughter?" He crooned, mocking and cruel, in a way one might ask a jilted lover. The reincarnation held her breath and answered. She will not lie. She can not lie, not to him. He had gouged the order into her tongue with magic and brutality. And so, she will not lie.

"No, grandfather. But I do not dislike you." The reincarnation said, soft as velvet. It was true, because what she felt for Ra's al Ghul was the cold, pervasive hatred. "I respect you."

"I see I've managed to beat some of that foolish sentimentality out of you," he said, taking a sip of his wine. Oh, how she wished she could slip poison in his cup. How she wished to make him choke on his own words, his own blood. But she could not. Not. Yet. "Alas, I can not undo the magic. I suspect you'll be serving at my feet for... quite a long time more."

She snapped her mouth closed, phantom rage hovering between her teeth. The world swirled around her, greens and purples, and the revolting touch of his hands on her.

No, she will bide her time.

She knelt, the motion familiar, on plush carpet that she could not appreciate. Luxurious cloth rustled in front of her.

And when her time comes, she will revel in Ra's al Ghul's agonizing death.

——

"Damian, you have to tell me who that is!"

Damian could be stubborn at times, he knew that. He worked with him on it. Damian was as much, if not more, Dick's Robin as he was Bruce's Robin. So why...?

"And for what reason do you wish to know her identity, Richard?"

Dick paused. He couldn't. He couldn't tell him. No one knew, except for that masked person. It happened so long ago- not long enough- and Dick could not wash the taint, could not wash the trauma from his brain, his heart. Whispers that sounded like Catalina surrounded him when he thought of that rainy night, telling him how disgusted his family would be, if they knew. Those things went away, now that he's pulled up the file on the batcomputer. The whispers fade a bit as he looked upon the masked face of the person who saved him. Just in time.

"For your safety!"

Damian crossed his arms, a look that spoke of an unbending unwillingness present in his eyes. Dick knew then that Damian would not tell him. "I will never be in danger if it's her on the other side of the blade."

"Come on, Damian, I won't tell B. Promise. Don't you trust me?"

Damian's face softened, and for a second, Dick had thought that he'd managed it. "I do... trust you." Damian struggled to say. "That is hardly ever in question, you imbecile. But to tell you would mean betrayal. And I will not betray her trust. Especially not for your personal satisfaction."

Dick wondered what this masked woman did for Damian to be unhesitatingly confident in her. He wondered if his own desperation meant something he had yet been able to put into words.

"For what it's worth, Dick, I think we should trust Damian and not pry."

Dick and Damian turned to Tim in surprise. Damian, because it was an unexpected vote of confidence.

"Woah, I do not want to hear that from you, Mr. Tiny Tot Stalker McGee."

"It's called preparation!" Tim said hotly back. Then, he subsided. "She, uh, saved me once. Back then, before I was... associated with Bruce."

"What?" Dick and Damian demanded.

——

Innocuous. The worst and best things always happened on innocuous days.

The beginning of her slavery began on a regular, if painful, sunny day.

The beginning of her freedom began on a regular, if painful, cloudy one.

She'd have to thank the little photographer later, she decided. His work all but forced her grandfather to rely on a handful of backup Lazarus pools only he, mother, and herself knew about. She stared at the green pools as her grandfather stripped to his waist to step in.

"Guard me," he commanded her as he stepped towards the pool. The sting of the command settled familiarly around her neck. “Once I am done, you will depart to force Damian or the detective back to Nanda Parbat. By any means necessary.”

It was his first time ordering her to hurt her brothers, past physical pain disguised as training.

His first mistake today.

That's the thing with her grandfather, she mused as she silently unsheathed Damian's sword. He was so complacent, that he could fathom her betrayal.

His second mistake. His last mistake.

Then again, it was her who lulled him into it, with the shows of loyalty and seemingly willing obedience outside of her magical collar's commands.

After all, he had commanded her to guard him. From outside threats, surely, but he hadn't commanded her to guard him from herself.

"You-!" He coughed as her- Damian's- blade slid in between his ribs and straight towards the other side. It missed his heart by a hair's breadth, Ra's having moved the moment he felt the blade. Truly, it was hard to beat a near-immortal's experience.

"Kill yourself!" He barked at her, clutching at his chest, trying to stumble towards the pool.

To kill herself, she had to remove the blade lodged in his chest. The magic urged her to follow his commands immediately with searing pain. But she's had over two decades to endure and adjust to it, to grit her teeth and learn how to move with the torture of being alive. So she follows it just to dislodge the blade. The reincarnation then, with the magic trying to break her, cripples Ra’s with two blows.

He collapsed, screaming bloody murder and slurs at her. Before he could say another command, she stabbed down and to the side, cutting deep enough to cut his voice box and spill his life-blood, his unceasingly irritating throat, over the craggy rocks surrounding the pool.

Then, she slit her throat with a cut that was a touch too shallow to kill her right away.

"I do not dislike you," she said, the pain easing as she spoke to him. The red she's taken from others now spilled on the front of her shirt. She stared at his enraged glare, vicious glee at making him choke on his own actions. "No, I hate you."

She bent down, twisting and breaking his arms with little effort. She patted his cheeks and raked a trail of pain down his face with her metal tipped gloves. Her blood dripped onto him, blinding his eyes.

Fitting, she'd thought. "No one will come for you, grandfather. But... I do have to ask," She looked down, voice tilting in the cruel way that he'd unintentionally taught her. "Don't you love me, grandfather?"

She walked backwards until she reached the edge of the pool. She knelt once more, a mockery of every time she's knelt for him.

The reincarnation watched his blood spill, the light leave his eyes, and the way his body stilled and the way his rage was stifled like he'd smothered her voice so long ago. She memorized it, because hate was an active emotion. But she was tired, and she wanted to rest. So she watched him die and felt nothing but peace.

Then, as she felt the magic take hold and tear her soul from her body, she tipped backwards and plunged her corpse in the glowing pits that awaited her.

——

It felt like drowning.

(did y’all know cats lay on your chest?? bro i straight up couldn’t breath bc of that)

Breathless. Corrosive. Freeing.

The Pit felt like freedom.

And she’d long forgotten what that felt like.

It tasted like shit water though, and suddenly she felt bad for everyone whoever swallowed some of the water here. She’s going to need her stomach pumped out after this-

Her thoughts were washed away in a haze of green tinted fury.

——

“Habibi.”

Nightwing slid in front of Robin with a well practiced flip. Batman emerged from the shadows, followed Spoiler and Red Robin.

“Talia. What do you want?” Batman growled. Talia ignored him, an uncharacteristic action that had the vigilantes putting their guards up.

“I… you know I would not ask this of you- I would not ask you to return,” Talia said softly.

“Then don’t.” Red Robin cut in sharply, bo staff at the ready. Talia ignored him too.

“But she needs you, habibi. I can not… I can not help her.”

“Who?” Spoiler asked, curious but ready to rumble.

“What happened?” Robin stepped around Nightwing, who made an aborted movement to try to pull Robin back behind him.

“Something terrible.” Talia al Ghul closed her eyes, a sliver of vulnerability and regret showing on her face. Robin straightened, fear thudding through his heart. What happened to ukhti, he wanted to ask. But he could not, not without betraying the promise of silence he’d made to her. “I… I have failed her greatly. And she was paying the price for it, this entire time.”

“Wait, is this about the masked woman?” Nightwing asked.

“Alright,” Robin- no, Damian- stepped forward once more. His decision was made. Had been made, the moment his mother allowed the rare instance of vulnerability to come across her face. “I’ll be going back, once…”

“Of course. She would not let me keep you, habibi. She knows you are happier here.”

“Then, let’s go.”

“Robin!” His family tried to stop him but Damian slipped between and out of their reach. “Do not!”

“I’ll be back,” he declared, like he was daring his mother to say otherwise. “Try not to raze Gotham into the ground with your incompetence.”

“I’ll kill Ra’s if something happens to him.” Red Robin pointed the bo staff at Talia as she and Damian turned to leave. He stopped an alarmed Batman when he tried to lunge for Robin.

“No need,” she threw back. Damian whipped his head up at that. “He’s already dead.”

And they disappeared into a whirling purple cloud of magic.

——

Snippets of reality return to her bit, by bit. Her mother had cautiously entered the pit with her guards- worried, no doubt, by their absence- and stilled upon seeing her father’s dead body.

She laughed, and dug her hands into the bodies of the assassins she’d trained until her nails dripped with blood and pieces of organs. She felled them, one by one, until only mother was left.

She’d attacked, like a rabid dog, until the green slipped and her mother came into focus.

“I killed him,” she’d croaked out. And that was what broke her; the smooth way air wrapped her around her throat where only ripping pain had existed. Her voice came out unhindered and recklessly so, without the tinge of agony carefully picking her sentences.

“I killed him,” she repeated, and set Ra’s al Ghul’s body on fire. “I killed him.”

Her mother stared at her, hands dropping carefully to her side. “Why?”

She smiled, teeth bared and bloody- oh, she must have ripped into an assassin with her teeth, how messy- and endlessly joyful. “Because he dared to chain me- because he threatened Damian.”

She broke, and she told her mother everything. No, not everything. Just, enough. At the end, when her back is bowed with pain and heart empty, her mother knelt before her and quietly, tremblingly, apologized.

“I am sorry, habibi. I…”

The reincarnation’s made a small, wounded noise and lost herself to the green.

——

Damian trembled with rage. With grief.

With regret.

He followed mother into the caverns, mind turning and whirling with everything he’d learned in the hour that had passed since he’d left Gotham. His sister’s inclination towards magic was incredibly helpful, but Damian wished that she had never had the cause to go delving into magic like she did.

He thought it was passion.

His mother had informed him of what Grandfather had done to his ukht all these years. She told him of what his sister had sacrificed so that he remained free.

“Every time she spoke to us, to tell us that she loves us… father had made sure she paid for every word with unceasing agony.” His mother had muttered, eyes more lost than he’d ever seen it. “The magic at her neck ensured that she obeyed unquestioningly or she paid the price.”

“She is paying the price right now,” he’d snapped at her.

“Yes.”

Damian had thought ukhti’s collection of magical tomes were a sign of her interests. He thought it was passion for a subject. He had even envied how she did not have to hide her hobby like he had to with his art.

Now, he knew it wasn’t passion. No, it was desperation; a scrambling for freedom, a wish for dignity, and the fear of the same restrictions being placed on his ukht’s loved ones- him and mother.

When he entered the cave, lit up by swirling, sickly green, he saw his ukht, drenched in blood and sclera, tearing apart another group of assassins. There were ashes and the smell of burnt flesh around them.

Her eyes- green, glazed, furious- turned towards them.

His mother tensed. His ukht lunged, pitted sword aimed at his eyeball.

But if there was anything Damian knew, it was that ukhti would never hurt him.

So he stayed still.

And she stopped. Blade a centimeter from his eyes, his sister stopped.

“Damian?”

How his heart broke when she spoke, confusion in her voice that sounded as if she had been screaming for decades and nobody had heard.

As Damian’s hand wrapped around her wrist and she dropped the sword, he morbidly thought that she might have been doing that. It’s not like they heard her, after all, not until she’d freed herself with broken fingers and steel spine.

——

Bruce paced around in the cave. With the disappearance of their youngest, the entire family gathered in the cave, the night after. Except for Barbara, who had been scouring the cameras and had prior engagements, and Cass, who was on a plane back from Hong Kong, the family watched as Bruce slowly lost his mind.

“Relax, B. Look, even Dickface and Timbers aren’t worried, and you know how they get.” Jason said, kicking his feet up on the table.

“Ahem.”

Jason quickly put his feet down.

“We know nothing about this woman! She could be a danger- she could-!”

“B, if it really is about the masked woman, I think we should give Damian some trust.” Dick spoke up.

“And what if they keep Damian captive?”

“Then we go get him, Bruce. Simple.” Duke said, yawning.

Whatever Bruce would have said next was cut off by the opening of the cave’s underground entrance, with an approving beep of a recognized and authorized entrance.

Damian stalked in, hands wrapping around the hilt of his sword like he was going to cut through the next fool who tested him. His face was in a frown.

“Damian. Are you alright?” Bruce rushed towards his youngest, only to be dodged.

“I need to break something. Then, we shall talk.”

Damian headed towards the training dummies at let out his fury. He let out his heart break. Splinters of wood and cloth and ripped padding laid testament to his grief.

Then, the younger brother of the true heir to the Demon’s Head turned around to speak to his chosen family.

——

Clarity.

Her brother, her fool, dumb brother who had just stood there as she tried to gouge his eyes out, had been exactly what she needed.

She avoided his concerned eyes as she muttered calculations under her breath.

“Ukhti, what are you doing?”

“Freedom, habibi. I am… creating my freedom.”

At his confused look, she made the signs for Pit Rage. He nodded and guarded her back.

Damian was so adorable. And now, now that there’s not collar around her neck, she could say that without awaiting internal agony!

Her mouth spoke the words she’d found all those years ago, magic flaring bright white and blue as the circle she laid down on crumbling rocks shuddered.

The magic soothed her frayed mind and seeped the poison from her mind.

——

“I have a sister.” He’d told them. He turned to his father, who had a blank look on his face. “An older sister. She is yours.”

“You fucked Talia, twice?!”

A scowl. “Keep your trap shut, Todd.”

Bruce felt his world shudder to a stop.

——

Her fingers, her left hand as her right was busy scratching absently at Damian’s head, found purchase on her back and neck. The skin wasn’t so soft anymore, time and scars making for a rougher feel.

There were worse things than death. Bitter, painful things.

Loosing her freedom. Loosing her voice.

But… there were better things than life. Sweet, gentle things.

Regaining her freedom. Getting revenge. Securing her family’s safety and freedom from the grotesque thing that wore the skin of a grandfather.

Her brother, tucked safely against her side, and a mother that finally understood.

“Come to Gotham with me,” Damian had suggested. She hummed, delighting in the way the sound came out with out the ringing pain.

But one does not erase two plus decades worth of trauma in one night.

Her hands came up.

‘Not yet. Mother will think-”

“It is a good idea.”

Her gaze darted up. Her mother’s eyes… softened. Odd. No… her gaze was heavy with guilt.

“It would… do you good to be away from here, my daughter.”

Well.

It’s not like she was opposed to that, at all, but still…

‘Two weeks. I’ll tie up loose ends… and I’ll go to Gotham in two weeks, if that’s alright with you, Damian?’

“Of course.” He leaned against her, hand clutching at her shirt in a motion that she wasn’t sure was meant to comfort himself or her. “May I tell father about you?”

Ah. She hadn’t thought of that. The pit really scattered her mind. She nodded.

——

“Why… why didn’t you tell me?”

“She asked me not to.”

“And since when did you do things people ask of you, demon brat?”

Damian scowled. It did not make his next sentence any less genuine.

“Since it was ukhti that asked.”

Tim spun around on his wheel chair. “Holy shit. So the masked person was your sister. No wonder you were so….”

Protective, they all finished the rest of the sentence silently. They all sat back to contemplate that Bruce had one more kid… and that Tim had met her before Damian was even born.

“So, why were you so upset, baby bird?” Dick asked, an odd feeling of both gratefulness and mild jealousy towards Damian’s sister- his savior, because holy shit- gathering underneath his heart.

“Apparently, grandfather put her under an enslavement spell all these years.”

“Damian… say that again. I- I must have heard you wrong.”

Damian closed his eyes, hating how unsteady and fearful his father sounded. He obliged, because he knew what it felt like.

“Grandfather put her under an enslavement spell and used her to further the League’s reach.”

Damian had wondered why he had encountered his sister so often while passing by grandfather’s chambers and why she always looked tired when she goes past those ornate doors.

Now he knew.

“Does that- does that mean what I think it means?”

“Yes. She,” Damian’s hands gripped harshly on his forearms. He breathed in and out slowly. “She was… assaulted. Most likely regularly. To broker more favorable agreements. She could not refuse. The magic demanded complete obedience or risk the punishment of unbearable pain.”

Dick looked away. They had a lot in common. She saved him… but on her end, she was not saved. His hands itched to punch Ra’s al Ghul in the face.

“Fuck.” Stephanie cursed. Her eyes met Duke’s and Jason’s.

Tim’s hands stopped moving, eyes staring blankly at Damian. He should have tried harder to kill Ra’s al Ghul.

Bruce got up, trembling, and stalked over to the training dummy. They sat in silence.

“What else?” Bruce rasped. He hung his head.

“She was ordered not to speak a word.”

“But she… spoke to me.” Tim said. Damian felt an irrational flare of jealousy.

“Then it most likely caused her unimaginable pain as punishment.” Damian snapped.

“What do we have to do to free her?” Stephanie demanded.

“Nothing, Brown. She freed herself.”

“How?” Duke leaned in, expression serious. “Did Ra’s al Ghul free her before he died or something?”

“I… am not too sure of the details, but it involved killing him… and jumping into the pit.”

Jason stood up with a clatter. “She was in the pit?!

“Yes. I think… she might have died. I’m not… sure.”

Bruce closed his eyes, working on his breathing like Dinah had showed him.

“Is that why Talia came? Because you could stop her pit madness?”

“Yes. I- there-” Damian struggled to get the words out, the ball of upset sitting on his chest made it hard to breathe. “Ukhti would never hurt me. Unless it’s training, but even then, I am sure she fought against her orders to wound me.”

Dick nodded. Yeah. He would have too, if he were in her shoes.

“I… can ukhti come here to recover?”

“Of course. When?” It was at times like this when he appreciated his family’s sentimentality and ridiculously large hearts. Unhesitatingly kind, even when they should have been furious at him for keeping ukhti’s secrets.

“Two weeks.”

“Then we shall make adequate- no, better than adequate preparations. Master Damian, what were her preferences for food?”

——

She should probably prepare a gift. Multiple.

“Ukht.”

She tilted her head to show Damian she was listening.

“I am sorry.”

‘There’s nothing to be sorry for.’

“But-”

She squeezed his shoulder and forced the words to come out. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I should have noticed.”

‘I did not want you to notice. If I hid things from you, do you think you could find them so easily?’

“No, I suppose not.”

She smiled at him and tapped her hand four times. He tapped his own four times in response.

——

The dream ended there, well, no, there was actually some more nonsense about a corgi, a room full of strings and slenderman or whatever but I didn’t include that part. There’ll probably be a part three bc I kinda wanna know what happens when she comes to Gotham to recover from trauma.

The oc, relatively well adjusted: *dies*

The oc, reincarnated and got fucked over (figuratively and non consensually literally): “yes, I should go to Gotham (aka trauma central) to recover from my trauma. Sounds legit.”

#Dick Grayson #dick grayson and his gatekeeper gaslight girl boss self #oc in dc #batman #damian wayne’s older sister #damian wayne #Tim Drake #Jason Todd #talia al ghul #ra’s al ghul #ra’s al ghul and the consequences of his actions #tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon

[lightlycareless]

uuu just imagine reading manga with naoya in bed while being cuddled up together <3<3

Hello!!!

Ok so this is sweet—kind of domestic amirite? oof. I love me some domestic Naoya when he's nothing but a loving husband. akgfhaksjghkjaghjkashgjas and a nerd too ahahah awww anyways...

warnings: very tiny mentions of smut. implications really. fluff outside of that.

happy reading!!

Imagine it being a cold snowy day where Naoya doesn’t have to go out on missions, tend to clan responsibilities, or anything else.

A day where he can simply spend his time in nothing but his favorite, deserving things, such as catching up with his favorite series, enjoying a well-deserved break from all those countless missions, and of course, spend time with you—his needy wife who didn’t hold back from letting him know how much she missed him.

“What would you like to do today?” is how the days would begin, with you peppering endless kisses across his face while the two snuggled underneath the sheets.

“Hmmm, I feel like spending the whole day in bed.” He sighs, kissing the top of your head. “The new chapter of the manga I told you about came out yesterday, and I want to read it.”

“I’ll make breakfast, then.” You smile, ready to push yourself up from the futon and rush to the kitchen—though Naoya had something else in mind too.

“What’s the hurry, my love?” he murmurs, pulling you back to him. “Going away from me so soon? I just came back…”

“N—No, of course not… I could never!” you blush. “I just… just wanted to make the best of today, you know? Please you.”

“You know, there’s one thing that will immediately please me.” He breathes against your ear, you shudder.

“…I still have to get your bath ready.”

“Can’t see why we can’t do both.”

You press your lips together, heated by his words.

“Ok, but we can’t get too distracted—I still want you to enjoy your day! You rarely get to rest as of lately….” You pout, he laughs before leaning to give you a kiss.

“With you by my side, there’s no way I cannot.”

After that is done, followed by a relaxing bath and a delicious meal prepared by you—Naoya insists in only being fed by you, not the staff; you happily oblige—you’re quick to take your place by his side on the futon, wrapping one of his arms around your waist and rest your head against his chest while his free hand holds up one of his favorite magazines, the one that publishes his favorite anime of the moment.

“I read they had to reprint this issue solely because of one mistake. Nothing too big, but apparently big enough to have the whole publisher pull out the magazine…”

“Gee, that must’ve been quite the task—And to allow it too! Is the author that big or something?”

“Kind of, he’s the best seller at the moment.”

“No wonder, if he’s not happy, that means no business for them.” You sigh. “I wonder if the change is even noticeable.”

“I don’t know, but that’s what I’ll figure out now—they usually point it out anyways.” Naoya squeezes you against him, kissing the top of your head.

“Well, that’s sounds like a wonderful plan!” You grin. “And if you get hungry, or want something to snack on, just let me know and I’ll bring it to you.”

Naoya blushes.

“I love you.”

It’s your turn to blush.

“I love you too.”

The rest of the evening would go on that way, with Naoya reading his manga, eyes intently fixed on the panels while murmuring to himself whenever particularly interesting scene occurs, if not scoffing when a character does something stupid—just as he did in real life; both gestures that you found incredibly cute, how relaxed he is when doing things he loves.

And though he was very focused on that, he was still attentive enough to your presence and gestures, hands and lips looking for yours whenever you reached out to him or vice versa, as well as allowing you to feed him, careful enough to not distract him that much.

Because you just couldn’t snap him out of trance, you know? He looked so adorable!!

Although it would turn a bit… too much soon enough.

“I don’t—I don’t want anything else, Y/N—” he protests when you try to shove another piece of popcorn into his mouth, going as far as moving away, but you simply stuck to him.

“Come on, you have to eat!”

“Not to this point!” Naoya gasps, stomach full to the point of exploding! Of so it feels. “I don’t—I don’t want anything else!”

“Tough luck, Naoya—If you didn’t want me to spoil you, you shouldn’t have stayed home!” you giggle, and Naoya just relents, because he can’t do anything else when he’s putty to both your adorable charm and insistence, his beloved wife.

A side of Naoya that fortunately, is just for your eyes to see.

I just realized that Naoya was the kind of guy to say: "I want a wife that is submissive, that is only attentive to me and knows her place and yadda yadda yadda" until you came along and he was like "ok I like that but... I also want kisses...."

Idk I just keep thinking he's very desperate for affection hahaha call it ooc I DO NOT CARE I AM IN LOVE WITH HIM. 😶😶

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this small thing 🥺❤️ him getting all flustered because you're always so caring to him is AGH healing!!! We could literally change him...

Now, thank you so much for sending in this ask ❤️❤️❤️ take care and hope to see you soon!!!

#ask #naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x you #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #prompt series: jujutsu kaisen

[cassiaratheslytherpuff]

How about James and Sirius telling each other what they would reward the other with for every O they get in their n.e.w.t.s.? 👀 They always motivate each other to get even better at basically anything. Both with their competency kink hehe

Competency kink, my beloved! <3 Thanks for the prompt! (idk if it's still Friday everywhere, but where I'm at I made it in time)

“I’m so bored with these exams,” James said, forcing back a yawn and flopping back onto the sofa in the Gryffindor common room. “It’s not like we really need them for anything.”

Remus looked up from his book, and James could have sworn his eye twitched. “You’re bored?” he demanded, clutching his quill in a death grip.

James shrugged. “Yeah. Everyone’s busy studying and have a complete meltdown at even the hint of noise. So, I’m bored.”

Peter, who James had thought was fully asleep, but who had apparently just been trying to absorb the information in the book he’d been using as a pillow by osmosis, sat up. “You could always study like the rest of us?”

James shrugged. He didn’t really need to. He knew everything well enough, and he could never make his brain focus on revising something when he already mostly knew it.

Sirius snorted, clearly seeing James’s thoughts without him having to say anything. “The day Prongs starts revising of his own free will is the day I start wishing I was sorted Slytherin.”

Remus rolled his eyes. “I can’t help but notice you’re not revising either.”

“Can’t be arsed,” Sirius said, offering an easy shrug.

“You couldn’t be arsed to come flying either,” James said. “So really it’s all your fault I’m bored.”

Remus slammed his book shut and James jumped. “If you’re not going to study, will you please shut up? I’m trying to concentrate.”

“I can’t study, I’m too bored,” James insisted.

“Make it interesting then,” Peter offered. He still had a crease on his cheek from the book he’d been sleeping on, and he was starting to look a little frayed around the edges. “You and Sirius can have a contest. Whoever gets more O’s wins something.”

Sirius sat up straighter. “Oh, I like that. What should we win?”

James studied him, feeling his interest rise. The thing was, he wasn’t bothered about his own NEWTS, but the thought of Sirius using that brilliant mind to outshine literally everyone simply because he could was an attractive one.

“If you get all O’s I’ll do that thing,” James offered. “You know, the one we talked about last week?” He shot Sirius a satisfied smirk when his eyes widened.

“The, er,” Sirius looked around the room, “the thing thing?”

He looked at James’s chest and James nodded.

Sirius grinned. “Oh, I’m getting all O’s.”

“And if I do?” James asked.

Sirius stood and walked over to James. He leaned down, and breathed so quietly into James’s ear that he almost missed what he was saying.

“If you get all O’s I’ll tie you to our bed and eat you out until you’re coming untouched.”

“Oh,” James said, feeling a thrill of arousal at the promise. “Yeah, I’m getting all O’s too.”

Remus groaned. “I’m glad you’ve found motivation to academically crush us all, but if you’re going to be studying now will one of you please explain to me exactly why you can’t vanish animals or insects, but plants are fine? They’re all living organisms, right?”

Sirius shrugged and jumped into an explanation, and James realised he’d made a terrible mistake because he wanted his reward so now, he actually had to study. But listening to Sirius easily explaining advanced Charms made him want nothing more than to pull him upstairs so he could listen to Sirius saying that exact same thing while breathless and moaning.

#hot prongsfoot friday #prongsfoot #james x sirius #cassiwrites #ask #prongsfoot fanfic

[goodqueenaly]

Hello Good Queen Alysanne, I have a few questions about Gerold Lannister. Why do you think he and Rohanne Weber eventually got married, given that the latter didn't initially consider him as a suitable suitor?

Do you think Gerold had a hand in the death of his niece Cerelle?

Is there any textual evidence that suggests he had an influence on Tywin, given that both of them appear to be politically astute?

Long, more under the cut:

With respect to why Rohanne married Gerold after Eustace’s death, I think it’s important to keep in mind that Rohanne was already attracted to Gerold during the time of “The Sworn Sword”:

[“]Were I given to wagering, I should place my gold on Gerold Lannister. He has yet to put in an appearance, but they say he is golden-haired and quick of wit, and more than six feet tall … [sic]” "… [sic] and Lady Webber is much taken with his letters." The lady in question stood in the doorway, beside a homely young maester with a great hooked nose. "You would lose your wager, good-brother. Gerold will never willingly forsake the pleasures of Lannisport and the splendor of Casterly Rock for some little lordship. He has more influence as Lord Tybolt's brother and adviser than he could ever hope for as my husband.["]

Now, during the events of “The Sworn Sword”, I could see where Rohanne might have thought Gerold was not ideally suited to be her husband, especially given what she needed on a politico-dynastic level at that moment. Rohanne’s primary concern was not simply to marry, but to marry a husband who would help her maintain the delicate political position she occupied. As both a ruler in her own right and the heiress of her father’s very specific will, Rohanne needed a husband who would be both willing to serve as consort to her as lady regnant of Coldmoat and available as a spouse when the second anniversary of Lord Wyman’s death passed. Gerold might have inherited all the Lannister wit and good looks, and might have written Lady Webber some charming letters, but as Rohanne wryly noted to the septon, Gerold seemed to have little incentive to leave Casterly Rock to become her lord husband, especially in the short time she had left at that moment to remarry. If Rohanne believed that she could not lure Gerold Lannister away from the Rock, much less in a very timely fashion, then I think she concluded that Gerold was not a good choice to be the next Mr. Webber, so to speak, no matter how much Rohanne might have personally liked him.

However, after Ser Eustace’s death, Rohanne may have felt quite differently about her position and her nuptial future. The terms of her father’s will dictated that Rohanne be wed by the second anniversary of Lord Wyman's death, and by strict definition, Rohanne had done just that: with the second anniversary of her father's passing occurring within “the next new moon” of the septon’s conversation with Dunk, Rohanne had definitively become a married woman by the deadline of the will. If Ser Eustace had then died sometime thereafter, there may not have been much cousin Wendell or Lord Rowan could have done to assert the will’s provisions in their favor; after all, nothing in the will, so far as we know, said Rohanne’s husband on the day of that anniversary had to stay alive for a set amount of time after that date. Rohanne was now (seemingly) unquestionably, (seemingly) irrevocably, Lady of Coldmoat for the rest of her mortal span - still subject, of course, to all the sexist and patriarchal prejudices of Westerosi society, but free to marry without the shadow of the will hanging over her.

In that sense, a romance with Gerold - and I do tend to think it was a romance, Septon Sefton seemed to catch onto a real and mutual sense of personal attraction there - might have appealed to Rohanne at that place in her life. She who had been married five times, never apparently (or certainly primarily) for love, now could think first of herself, as a person, when it came to the question of a future marriage, secure as she was (or ever would be) in the question of her ancestral holding. If one of the richest and most powerful lords of the realm still wanted to marry her after Eustace’s death (and Gerold was probably Lord of Casterly Rock himself by that time, given that his niece Cerelle died in 213 AC, within two years of Rohanne's marriage to the aged Eustace), perhaps Rohanne believed he must have been truly in love with her, rather than just her title and castle. No longer as anxious, perhaps, about keeping a firm grip on Coldmoat lest it be wrenched away from her, Rohanne may have felt more free to consider a marriage that would inevitably take her away for significant periods of time from the Reach (and may have felt consoled by the fact that Gerold as a lord husband would be a pretty intimidating figure for her ostensible Rowan overlords). Already having been attracted to Gerold for some time, finally free to marry as she chose, secure in her holding (or, again, as much as she could be as a woman ruling in her own right) and perhaps believing that Gerold loved her for herself, Rohanne I think was ready after the death of Eustace Osgrey to marry Gerold in a way she hadn’t been when the events of “The Sworn Sword” occurred. 

As far as Cerelle goes, I tend to think no, Gerold did not murder her. Unlike, say, Viserys II, who I definitely believe murdered nephew Baelor (in what GRRM may portray as an internal character conflict for Viserys), I don’t see the motivation for Gerold to do the same to his niece. As regent for a toddler lady regnant, Gerold already held all the power in the Westerlands, and would do so for at least the next decade, if not considerably longer. Where Prince Viserys was, perhaps, constrained, and frustrated, by the will of an adult, male, very much self-assured kingly nephew, Gerold had a free hand as Lady Cerelle’s regent for every legal, military, and diplomatic decision made in the Westerlands, and would for the long foreseeable future (and indeed, there would be aspects to Cerelle’s rule as Lady of the Rock, that Gerold, as her nearest male relation, would likely always have (until and unless she had a husband or son), like the position of Warden of the West). Rather, I think we are supposed to see Gerold and Rohanne as parallels here: just as Rohanne was wrongly suspected for the deaths of some of her husbands and her children (although two of those deaths were very naturally explained by Rohanne herself), so Gerold was, I think, wrongly suspected of the deaths of his brother and niece for what may have been (especially in the case of his niece) the simple bad luck of a physically perilous pseudo-medieval world like Westeros. I certainly could see that shared unhappy experience drawing Gerold and Rohanne together; conversely, I cannot see Rohanne, who fought so hard to assert herself as Lady of Coldmoat in her own right, falling in love with a man she might have reasonably suspected murdered his liege lady-niece to become a lord himself. 

As far as Tywin goes, it’s important to note that Tywin never knew his grandfather in the latter’s own lifetime: while baby Tywin supposedly bit grandfather Gerold’s finger upon their first meeting, Gerold died when Tywin was only two. Consequently, Gerold was probably more known to Tywin by his reputation, and perhaps increasingly by his legend. As the rule, or misrule, of Tytos Lannister continued, and Lannister authority in the Westerlands imploded, perhaps Tywin looked back nostalgically to the days of “Gerold the Golden”, the intelligent, shrewd, able lord who “greatly increas[ed] the wealth of House Lannister, the power of Casterly Rock, and the trade at Lannisport” (much as, say, I think various generations of Targaryens have looked back to Jaehaerys I as a sort of ideal king presiding over a golden age for the dynasty). This, so Tywin may have thought, was the sort of lord the Westerlands needed - not his, Tywin’s, weak, genial, overly generous father, but his strong, confident, capable grandfather. Too, with young Tywin serving as a page and cupbearer at the court of King Aegon V - a king who had ascended the throne in no small part thanks to the arguments, and the gold, of Gerold Lannister - I could see where Tywin might have seen his grandfather embodying a much better relationship between House Lannister and the crown than his father did: while in the west Lord Tytos was bungling the rule of his domain so badly that King Aegon V had to send in his own knights multiple times to keep order, at court Tywin might have been hearing courtiers’ nostalgic stories of the great Lord Gerold who had not only kept peace in the west but whose generosity with word and coin had given the king his crown. While we don’t know much about the specifics of Gerold’s rule, and so don’t know what he did in particular that Tywin may have sought to echo or recreate, I can certainly believe that Tywin wanted to model himself, to some extent, on his grandfather for his, Tywin’s, rule as the future Lord of Casterly Rock.

#asoiaf meta #gerold lannister #rohanne webber

[codtrashsammy]

oh no i'm having more soft Ghoap thoughts

okokko this is more of a little ficlet thing but it makes my lil heart happy so enjoy <3

also y'all i do not be editing these. at all. I just be throwin shit down on paper and making my brain produce dopamine.

if you all have any requests though pls feel free to drop into my ask box <3 I will gladly write whatever. I'm sure i'll come up with rules eventually, but rn I'm pretty open-minded and can't think of much I would refuse <3

You're waltzing around your apartment, half asleep but with a tired smile on your face. Johnny comes back today, after all, and of course that means Simon will be coming too! You've been dating Johnny exclusively for a few months now. Sure, sometimes Simon will hold your hand, or pull you in for a hug. And sure, sometimes Simon sits with you in the early mornings on the balcony while you drink a warm drink, and he smokes a cigarette- looking at you with rapt attention and soft eyes, hanging onto every word you say. Okay, and maybe he calls you 'love' and 'darling' but he's British, so it's probably normal. But it's entirely platonic- you're at least 78% sure, and plus only Johnny had asked you out- so you have to stay loyal to him even if you do feel something for the bigger brute.

But! You need to get your ass into gear and make your boys- boy something to eat- knowing damn well they- he will be hungry when they- ah fuck it. You're going to cook them a good ass meal to enjoy- knowing they will enjoy it after a month of MRE's and shitty mess hall food (Johnny's words). So you do. You work away in the kitchen- though the clock reads barely past 2AM, knowing they should arrive around 3AM at this point. You've timed it perfectly, so by the time you set everything out on the kitchen island, still steaming and hot, you hear the familiar playful rapt at your door.

ba ba baba ba

With a grin you glance over the selection of food first- mashed potatoes, green beans, fried pork chops, and freshly made black tea- you make your way over to the door and open it with a grin. "'m glad you're back!" You bout out happily, sending both men a bright grin despite your slightly tired eyes along with theirs. "Missed ye, bonnie," Johnny is quick to just waltz right on in, arms wrapping around you and lifting you up slightly with one hand, his other hand occupied carrying his duffel bag.

A snort of amusement leaves your lips as you hug him back, pressing a kiss to his lips before batting at him to put you down- though he doesn't hesitate once he notices the smell in the house. "Oooh, what's this, bonnie?" Johnny hums out, dropping his bag somewhere in the living room as he makes his way to the kitchen.

A soft laugh leaves your lips at his reaction, but you don't bother to answer him as you turn your attention to Simon, whose closing the door behind him. He's wearing his usual little black medical mask- the one he wears in place of the balaclava when he's off duty.

So imagine your utter shock and dumb fuck surprise when he pulls the thing down, steps forward, places a gentle hand on your cheek and kisses you. "Missed ya, too, love," Simon quips easily, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear before simply dropping his bag and just walking right into the kitchen.

Sir, I'm sorry, what the fuck was that?! It's a thought, no words leave your lips as your cheeks heat up.

Oh no, you just cheated on your boyfriend- in the same house with him- with his best friend.

WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU DO NOW?!

Apparently, nothing but walk into the kitchen with your boys, watching as the two of them are already seated with stacked plates in front of them. You blink blankly at the scene.

You hesitate before taking a seat, sitting across from Johnny and resting your hands on the table, looking between the two of them as they converse casually.

"Take such good care o' us, bonnie, dunnae ken what I did to deserve ya," Johnny quips, looking at you with bright blue eyes and a genuinely content smile on his face between shoveling bites of food.

"Stopped bein' a bloody prick fer more than two seconds," Simon says, voice low and monotone yet somehow tinged with amusement.

You blink again. Huh "You kissed me?" You say it as a statement, but it comes out as a question as you look at Simon, ignoring their banter even though it makes you want to snort in amusement. You're too dumbfounded and bewildered right now to handle this situation. "Uh huh." Simon responds, flatly, like it's the most obvious thing in the world as he takes a bite of mashed potatoes. Johnny looks between the two of you, a slow smirk pulling at his lips, "LT, you sly dog," Johnny murmurs with clear amusement, elbowing the bigger man in the side playfully. You sputter for a moment, looking back over at Johnny, "A-and you're just- okay with that?!" You ask in utter confusion, bewildered but not exactly disappointed at the scene.

So you didn't cheat on your boyfriend with his best friend? Johnny looks at you and this time he blinks in confusion before turning his head and grabbing Simon's jaw, pulling him close and planting a kiss on Simon's lips, causing Simon to grunt in annoyance- only because he was still eating.

Johnny turns back to you with a shrug, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. "Even?" You stare at the scene with heated cheeks before throwing your hands up in defeat, "...Even." You relent with a huff. ....can't cheat on your boyfriend with your other boyfriend who is also your boyfriends boyfriend you suppose.

#simon riley x you #cod x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #141 x reader #sammys soft times #simon ghost riley x reader #ghoap x reader #simon ghost riley x reader x john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #soap x ghost x reader #ghost x reader x soap #johnny mactavish x reader

[derangedanomaly]

I have big brain idea.

Imagine, you can do reader x chaos fanfic thing-

IMAGINE- I WOULD LOVE THAT-

O.M.G. THAT WOULD BE SO COOL!! Alright... I've decided...since I'm also a writer, I'm gonna write this. (I'd be totally hyped if someone else besides me wrote something like this about Chaos)

Let's go folks!

MASTERLIST

CHAOS SANS X READER

Sitting outside, looking at the shining bright stars, and watching the constellations, with one peculiar skeleton.. Chaos. Or as Nightmare liked to address him, 'the faker'.

Chaos wasn't at all what you expected, when Killer informed you about Nightmares 'twin'. It's hard to imagine Nightmare, acting like Chaos does. Apparently, as Chaos explained to you, he wants to ruin his reputation. For some weird reason...

"Hey..Chaos?" He hummed, and looked at you with an encouraging smile. "Yeah? What's up doll?" You flushed upon hearing the nickname, still not used to it, especially being used by someone that looks identical to Nightmare. Nightmare was never one for affection, that much is obvious, so it's not all that shocking that he never gave you nicknames...but, hell! He could've at least addressed you by your name! It's always 'mortal' here 'mortal' that..

You snapped out of your thoughts, to fully respond to Chaos. "Can I ask you something?" He blinked at you, curious about your question. "Shoot!" He motioned for you to go on. You couldn't help but chuckle, seeing his silly demeanor.

"How far are you actually willing to go, just to lower Nightmares reputation?" His stare suddenly went empty, which was... unusual for him. You felt goosebumps when his eye-lights completely disappeared, now an emotionless look adoring his face. "....As long as my objective will be completed."

This only peaked your interest more.. an objective? He never mentioned something like that... Then a sad thought came up to you, the more you thought about it.. Does he actually see this as his whole reason for existing? Does he think that the sole reason he's alive....is because he has to ruin Nightmare?

You frowned at this. He shouldn't think like that..no one should ever think this way! You suddenly got determined, as you grabbed the sides of his face, and faced him. He widened his eye, and his cheeks gained a cyan color. "Now you listen here, you can't sacrifice your whole time just to humiliate Nightmare, the whole world doesn't revolve around him... You have to learn to make time for yourself! Do what you enjoy, relax!" He was even more quieter, if it was possible, after you uttered those words.

".....Time for......myself?" You nodded, and let go of his face. "Yeah, what do you like to do in your free time?" Even more stillness followed, his head suddenly lowered, almost in shame.. he looked quite sad...which made you frown.

"I don't..... have hobbies."

......

"Then we need to fix that!" You gave him an encouraging smile, which he returned. Seems like you'll have to go over quite a lot of activities, to find out Chaos' hobby.

#undertale #undertale fandom #sans undertale #sans x reader #undertale fanfiction #undertale au #nightmare sans x reader #nightmare sans #chaos sans x reader #chaos sans #writing #utmv #utmv au

[sunnywalnut]

One thing I really hate about the "autism is my super power" archetype is that it REALLY makes me feel inadequate when people compare me to these guys.

Like Sheldon Cooper or the guy from The Good Doctor. They're all successful, cishet white men. They've been through college at a young age, and sure. I was gifted in certain classes. But in others? I couldn't concentrate. It was too loud. Or too many people. Or too bright. Or too whatever.

My "superpower" wasn't math or history. It was memorizing dog breeds and calling them out on the street. Or finishing two novels in one day.

But it wasn't recognized as a superpower.

It was "recognized" as me correcting people on the average lifespan of whatever dog I had at the time. Or the things that the breed usually liked versus what somebody else thought they did. Or me sneaking glimpses of my book during class, and reading underneath my desk. It was me ignoring my elementary teacher when she called us for rug time because I was finishing the chapter of my story and couldn't put it down as easily.

And sure. They encouraged my reading. And I've gotten into a couple advanced classes that I otherwise wouldn't have been in.

But in the others I was still struggling.

I had one thing going for me and that one thing wasn't enough to propel me five grades ahead like it "should have."

I was the smart kid. Because I could memorize formulas and definitions in science and math class. Everyone was in awe of my low A's and high B's. But I wasn't a prodigy.

Just because I could memorize things didn't mean it was easy to learn.

Learning was the hard part.

And that's what nobody got.

How could I be struggling, if all this time I was getting near perfect scores?

Even after my diagnosis. I never was allowed out of class to take tests. Even when allergy season hit and I bombed a test because the boy behind me was sniffling up a ruckus. I was told I could retake it. To study next time and do better.

I never really learned how to study.

Studying was overwhelming. So I didn't do it. Nobody cared.

After all. I was getting near perfect scores.

Homework took hours. Four of them, to be exact. I never knew why. It was always so much easier in class.

But now I know it was because I have ADHD. And I was burnt out.

So I barely had free time after school.

Except for art.

Art was always there for me. I could always take the time to do something. And it was easier to put down, even if it was incomplete. Because I knew I could go back to it. I didn't have to pull out and reconstruct everything again, like a puzzle. I could go right back to where I started. And that was wonderful.

So I became good at it.

I became great.

Everyone loved it. The praise, the encouragement, the delight was almost too much to bear. I learned to crave it.

And yet.

Everyone was still surprised.

When I told them I wanted to be an artist.

Because apparently.

Your "superpower" is only good if it makes you money.

And who would invest in art?

Instead of being a doctor?

The answer is me.

It's always me.

I'm the mediocre autistic person with a difficult niche.

I don't have a superpower. Or a college degree. Or baby pictures of me playing the violin.

But I'm autistic.

Isn't that enough?

Where are the people like me in the media?

I can go outside and find at least three different Neurodiverse people like me in my town. But nearly NONE in the media.

Why is that?

Do we not exist to you?

Or are we only tolerable when we've done something "productive"?

I don't have a superpower.

But that shouldn't make me less than.

I don't know why it does.

#actually autistic #autism representation #autism awareness #autism #autism acceptance #i'm autistic. #autistic adult #autistic artist #autistic experiences #autistic things #autistic

[kiwiana-writes]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thanks @cha-melodius and @stereopticons for the tags! I know I’ve done this in the past, but it’s been a hot minute…

How many works do you have on ao3?

239!

What's your total ao3 word count?

822,937—but that’s a collaboration-boosted lie. Per my writing tracker, words that I have personally written and published on AO3 is 693,613

What fandoms do you write for?

Mostly RWRB these days, but the majority of my back catalogue is Schitt’s Creek, with a few others sprinkled in for fun. The Pairing definitely made my brain whirr… we’ll see.

Top five fics by kudos:

With so much of my heart (that none is left to protest), RWRB, 65.5k, the Much Ado About Nothing stage actor AU

Kinda think that I might be his type, RWRB, 12.8k, Alex and Bea fake date and Alex gets a little distracted by Bea’s brother

We were supposed to find this, RWRB, 3.3k, soulmate AU

We always walked a very thin line, Happiest Season, 2.7k, Riley character study/alternate ending

All the Lonely Starbucks Lovers, RWRB, 5.8k, barista Henry repeatedly putting his foot in his mouth in front of his coworker crush

(This is how I learned Puck It has been knocked out of my top five 😭)

Do you respond to comments?

Yes! And absent a Schitt’s Creek resurgence of some kind that sees me absolutely inundated I don’t see that changing.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Five ways it could have ended (and one way it still could), Schitt’s Creek, 1.2k, for the love of god read the tags

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Like… most of them? I love to end on a good HEA haha. For sheer joy, though, it’s probably With so much of my heart (that none is left to protest)

Do you get hate on fics?

From time to time. I’m very free with the delete button. Weirdly, it occasionally pops up in the AO3 comments but mostly seems to come to me via anons on tumblr??? I have no idea why.

Do you write smut?

It’s been known to happen, I guess 👀

Craziest crossover:

I haven’t written any AO3-era crossovers! A few fusions/media AUs, but no crossovers.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope. I’ve only been asked once, and they wanted to post off AO3 which is a big heck nope for me (and my permissions statement has now been updated to reflect that)

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Heck yeah I have. I’ve done several anthology-type collaborations where we each wrote a chapter in a fic, and I’ve fully cowritten fics with @ships-to-sail several times. We have another collab coming up for @aroyallybigbangrwrb and I’m also cowriting The Big Secret AU with @indestructibleheart which is essentially us one-upping each other on emotionally devastating ideas until someone writes them down. Good system 😂

All time favorite ship?

Stop making pansexuals choose things.

What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Look, the chances of kinktober 2021 being finished at this point are slim 😂

Schitt’s Creek kinkverse… I don’t know. I have little snippets written of future fics and they’re great but… idk. Maybe I’ll write one vignette-y wrap up fic one day.

What are your writing strengths?

Narrative POV, dialogue that feels like the characters, epistolary bullshit, smut apparently.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Coming up with actual plot lmao. Visual descriptors — I’m not even remotely a visual person so I really really struggle with writing the sorts of things people can visualise. Also like… the passage of time? A scam.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

Love it. I’ll shoulder tap a fluent speaker if I need an actual sentence/anything Google isn’t super reliable for. Forever heartbroken that there are no fics in my second language in AO3 and no reason for me to be able to sprinkle it into my own writing (though one of the subscriber shindig prompts might be about to change that 👀)

First fandom you wrote in?

HP

Favorite fic you've written?

Stop! Asking! Pansexuals! To! Choose! Things!

I don’t know there are 239 of the bloody things 😂 I’m far more interested in what other people’s favourites are than what my own is!

I have no sense of who’s done this already so apologies if this is a double up but tagging @agame-writes @affectionatelyrs @anincompletelist @cricketnationrise @getmehighonmagic

@happiness-of-the-pursuit @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @indestructibleheart @inexplicablymine @nontoxic-writes

@read-and-write- @rmd-writes @sparklepocalypse @welcometololaland @whimsymanaged and, as always, anyone who wants to play!

#20 questions for fic writers #kiwiana-writes

[halloworhorecrux]

A concept, feel free to run with it anyone.

It's time travel with Draco Malfoy. 

He passes the arch of the Court Chambers where he has been sentenced to 3 years of Azkaban. No happy thoughts, only the regret and sadness of having to relieve his mistakes in technicolor within the drab walls of Azkaban. 

Anyways, he passes the arch, which has been destabilized because of the dark magic from Voldemort. He passes out and wakes up to his mother and father looking at him with worry.

It's July 31, 1991.

They fret and hover over him and argue over if they should continue to Diagon Alley for his school supplies. Draco is discombobulated and just smiles winningly because he can't remember how he was at that age but he is sure there was happiness surrounding this day ( there was he meet the love of his life, Harry) so he smiles and encourages them to continue with their day with the dopiest grin. Alright so maybe he has a slight concussion and cannot see straight (pun intended). So on they go apparating into the alley while Draco clings to his parents because he is slightly concussed and slightly because his parents are healthy and petting his hair. Sure this might all be a fever dream and he will wake in a cold, dreary island filled with dementors. He is a firm believer in delulu is the sululu so he will take this small amount of happiness that he can.

This time his parents refuse to allow him to go alone into any of the shops. They are worried about the slightly dazed look in their son's eyes. At the entrance to the robe shop, he berates them to let him stand on his own and not embarrass him. The two decide to wander the shop with a keen eye on their son. As before a ragged looking boy enters the shop without the notice of the two adults. Draco however has never been more excited. He didn't know it at the time but he knows he is Harry Potter. The biggest grin on his face he practically shouts " hullo, Hogwarts too?" 

Taken aback by this small pale boy, Harry thinks “oh great another weird person who knows his name”. Warily the thin boy steps up as he is instructed to by the matron. 

"Uh yea, Hogwarts too"

Nodding along, Draco speaks "I thought as much. I've been waiting for....that door to open.  You know because the nargles told me." He isn't sure why he lies but he decides he can't be blurting out things that might make him wake up. After all dreams start to shatter once you  start to think too hard. 

"uh what are nar..nargles you said?" young Potter asks.

"Oh well you know, those little pesky things that go bzzz in your brain, like uh huh yea they go bzzzz. Like bee's except they’re magical. “ He does a little motion to indicate a bee flying. 

“Yea magical bees. Wonder if that would make me allergic to them as well. I’m allergic to bees you see? Had to be flooed to St.Mungos once after I tried to eat one of mothers flowers. Of course, it was Uncle Sev’s fault entirely. He said they were edible. I just didn't get the right color. But how did I know that flowers of different colors can do different things? It was horrible, Mother made me read about flowers for weeks after that as punishment for messing up her garden." Rubbing along his lips remembering that incident he finishes his little rant " so I guess I could be allergic, she (Luna) did say they cause a type of reaction like a bee sting.." His words putter out as he realizes he just ranted at poor potter about bees. A flush rises to his cheeks. 

Harry is laughing softly at the now embarrassed boy. Not wanting to alienate his first potential friend he asked " Did you learn anything about flowers I mean. I haven’t read much about them but I do tend to our weeds and such for my aunt." Though the task sounds much better, he can feel the calluses his hands acquired from having to dig and pull without proper gloves.

"Oh, actually, yea, I learned about this weed called Venus tentactular that has vines that can kill you, but just show it a bit of sun, and it calms right down. I spent hours trying to make a lumos just so I could see it. Mother has never been more horrified, than when I tried to coax it out of the greenhouse. I think she wanted me to appreciate the pretty flowers, but what's a garden without a couple of weeds? Want to see?" 

Then promptly face palms  because he has just asked the savior if he wants to see a weed that can kill him. 

" Oh Merlin, not because I want to hurt you or anything. I’m very good at light charms or well mainly I can make fire with my mind. It's really just accidental magic but I mean I think it and boom it’s there in my hands. But not like a boom like a bomb just like a small night light but with fire. Not that I need a nightlight or anything, I’m not a baby anymore. And I couldn’t object to it as a baby anyway so that's really why I had it then. Of course. "

A boisterous laugh makes his ramble come to stop. Harry Potter is clutching his ribs as he cackles and giggles with mirth at the babbling boy next to him.

Face as red as a candy apple, Draco somehow is able to tell Potter to write to him. Though the conversation on Owling leaves Harry in more tears as Draco does an impersonation of an owl. Who sounds and all. Draco doesn't even try to understand Harry's explanation of a landline.

It's as what feels like a week goes by that Draco fears he may be in some type of coma because he has not returned to the chill of the North Sea.

Letters are passed, and it's Sep 1, 1990, when Draco begins to have worries of how exactly he is still in the past or whatever fever dream he is in. Sure, making friends with Harry Potter had been a dream for the first four years at Hogwarts, but now he is getting increasingly tense with the situation.

It's the sorting hat that tips the scales for his confirmation of where he is.

"Ah we meet again Mr. Malfoy."

"What"

In his first life, the hat had barely touched his head before sorting him.

"Playing games with level ten I see. It's good to see ambition such as yours learn new ways to thrive. Alas duty calls. Hufflepuff maybe, such daring could go to Gryffindor,but never well thought so Ravenclaw is not for you."

The horror of possibly being Hufflepuff is enough to have him cry out in disgust. Him a hufflepuff! He will find a way to burn the disgusting hat before it could say Puff"

" Ah well I suppose it’s good to have some creature comforts."

“Slytherin!” It bellowed out into the hall. 

Draco broods at the slytherin table after all he knows where everyone will go.Until the hall goes silent. He picks up his head only to find Harry Potter striding towards him with a smirk. 

Oh no! He has ruined everything. He thought this was a dream or a coma. The afterlife may have thought why he got to be happy was baffling. He’s a slytherin. Any random good fortune should be analyzed before moving forward. On the contrary maybe that is why most of his schemes against the golden trio did not work out so well. Now he  was with the speccy boy as a slytherin. "Merlin, I'm an idiot'

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Draco I was sure you were headed for Hufflepuff and I wasn't sure how I could get into that house with you. " 

"What of course you could get into Hufflepuff, I mean hardworking is a trait isn't it? And you do that, at your aunts with all the chores you talk about. Though academically you were a bit lazy. Loyalty is a pretty trait uh except does it count if you still disobey the people your loyal to cause i dont you like to do that very much, maybe your problem is authority figures ya know?"

Harry was busy looking at the professors to catch that Draco words were just a smidge suspicious. Regardless once he tunes back in the mumbles of the blonde he taps against the top of his temples. 

"Oy stop trying to sort me into another house. also you should watch your words, I think i'm rubbing off on you. What would your elocution tutor think of you using words like yaknow? "

Draco sighs deciding this is a future problem. or maybe he can run it by the savior himself. Obviously an 11 year old potter was able to take care of problems since he entered Hogwarts. 

It's seconds before their first potions class that he remembers Uncle likes to ask difficult questions that he pulls Harry aside and whispers.

Draught of death, Aconite and Stomach of a goat.

Harry, who has decided that Draco is really just a dumb blond with some kind of divine foresight, does not question him at all. 

********************************

Fast forward throughout the year, Draco keeps trying to help but just ends up helpless until Harry saves him.

Then because there were no clues, Draco just straight up asked, if someone was going to steal something and if you touch their hand they probably disintegrate into what would you do?

Uh well you could try to steal the thing first so that they can't get to it but if you just stopped them by holding hands then why not just hold hands? Is this a hypothetical, because you can just ask to hold my hand if you're scared.

Draco dares Harry to hold Proffesor Quirrels hand and double dog dares him to hug the professor. 

Harry was a Gryffindor for a reason in his first life. The DADA teacher turning into dust in the middle of the corridor was not what anyone expected. Harry however is unphased, sure the black cloud was a good effect but it will take more than that to scare him Draco Malfoy. Draco has decided that Harry is insane. 

The duo is seen bickering because Draco refused to tell his best friend how he was able to make the black smoke appear and why he had his father fire the DADA teacher. Harry didn't hate Quirrel that much, though the smell didn't help.

#drarry #harry x draco #au #harco #If you write this please tell me #I have a lot of feelings about these two #time travel for the win #time travel fix it #sometimes its best to just run with it #Draco is the type of person to ask hypotheticals #Hypothetically would you love if i was worm #please ignore the typos and grammer stuff

[good-vs-evo]

oooh i was just tryna find some huayin content because i was bored and a little tired and wanted to cheer myself up AND GUESS WHAT

i thought tumblr was a safe place for me to be insane and queer and have a good time w my silly little rarepairs and polycules and hcs

but apparently. i can't ask for one place to be silly lmao there are ppl on tumblr still being like haters... for ships they could easily avoid? and putting it... under the huayin tag? which is, you know. the uh. the intention is kind of confusing. esp since ppl search up that tag w the intent to consume content related to their personal interests and probably don't want to see ppl hating on what they enjoy in the process <3

once again i don't really see the point in so avidly hating a ship that ur tagging it... in hopes that ppl who ship it will see it? because... they're ppl who ship it... and will likely not agree w u... and will likely just see u as another hater... and either ignore or fight and like where will that get anyone? sincerely? and hating an artist so much like w so much passion i think there are better things in life to do such as: find an artist u do like and move on!!

but i digress i just. i wanted to make a lil post w my hcs for them bc i <3 huayin hehe

reusing some from my long post abt all the rarepairs and polycules i ship!

hua cheng rarely got sick, but when he did, he wasn't worried (he knew yin yu would take good care of him)

both yin yu and hua cheng know how to cook, so they make each other meals when they know the other is too busy to remember to cook for themselves

yin yu can read hua cheng's handwriting! possibly the only person on heaven, hell, and earth who can, he's really used to seeing his messy scribbles and has learned how to decipher them

hua cheng was kind of a xie lian gatekeeper for a while, but he regaled yin yu with stories and let yin yu into his temple dedicated to xie lian

e'ming trusts yin yu and likes him to equal levels to xie lian

they have some little odd creatures of mysterious background that they keep and raise together in paradise mansion

yin yu asked hua cheng to teach him how to draw and paint and hua cheng has little lessons for him when they're both free

yin yu's interested in different kinds of masks, so hua cheng gifted him a room and funds to invest in new ones

they have chill time once a month when they're required to leave their work to just spend an entire day together

hua cheng's love language to yin yu is acts of service and gift giving

yin yu's love language to hua cheng is acts of service (no wayyy) and touch

hope u enjoy :) and also wishing u a nice day :D

#tgcf #tian guan ci fu #heaven official's blessing #tgcf headcanon #hua cheng #yin yu #huayin #hualianyu #huayinlian #<- kind of on the side #like implied but ahem anyways #reminder to all haters that u can filter tags out!! #also that u can simply choose not to hate ppl :3 that is 100% a viable option still #u can still choose peace in this economy yes i know #this may be a shock but #u can just not be mean to ppl #truly there is little to no reason to ruin a person's day :) #i come here to have fun #not see ppl go on and on abt how much they hate things i enjoy

[nostalgia-tblr]

"are people not into that?" i ask, after posting my weird niche shit to the internet, despite knowing it to be weird niche shit.

#jsyk sylkius or anything adjacent to it does not “Do Numbers” in any way and i observed this some time ago #i assume that's the “rival ships” element at work but who knows really #that sort of thing is like femslash in that everyone approves of it but nobody actually reads or writes it #but who would have thought sylvie beating loki with a stick would not bring in droves of readers???! shocking twist there! #& i don't consider sifki a rarepair but my rarepair standards are VERY strict like if there's >5 fics a pairing is basically mainstream #chasing popularity would annoy me though & i just don't have the mental spoons to try writing stuff i wouldn't personally read #yeah i *could* put my blorbos to work in a coffee shop but what cost to my own enjoyment levels? AT WHAT COST FANGELA??? #you can't please everyone so you may as well just please yourself and if anyone else likes it you've found some fellow freaks so yay #i don't mean please yourself in a wanking sense. though feel free to do that too it probably counts as a cardio workout idk. #BUT ANYWAY #fic related #ps i am v glad there's the “warning: loki” tag because i think/hope it acts as a filter for 'he did nothing wrong in his life ever' types #who are Valid & etc obviously but i write my morally grey characters to be morally grey and the tag might help avoid conflict #though tbh i write almost every character to be morally grey in some way so i can't claim to have left my comfort zone here #(i'm not joking when i say the 1987-89 run of Dr Who shaped my entire future fannish life from a young and apparently v impressionable age)

[blueskittlesart]

teen wolf liveblog collection. the group chat is so tired of me

#this is from like. midway through season 2 to end of season 5a. yes that only took me a month. there is something wrong with me #personal #sorry for no new art apparently this is what i do with my free time now instead

[rongzhi]

The Art of War

English added by me :)

#douyin #video #tiktok #酱油白米饭 #i am trying to edit a livestream in my free time today even tho i was gonna do other douyins first #you know. for variety #for the blog. or whatev they say #but they livestreamed for the first time last night and i just so happened to catch it!!! and then i went to bed at 6am LOL. #it was cute tho. ive never really watched livestreams that much before #i think i'll clip a few highlights and then put the whole (incomplete) unsubtitled video on youtube idk #i'll sub the clips is what i mean #good thing i basically have insomnia in the summer anyway i guess #(i say - as if my sleep schedule is more normal any other time of the year) #the hyperfixation is closing in on me tho AHH AHAH #[scream] #big takeaway is that none of them are trained in anything but self taught parkour. and i think jiang is the oldest? #and was in the military at one point and is the one who taught xiao bai parkour? i'll have to review #fan luda doesn't show his face apparently bc he has low self esteem