#(​currently fighting writers block and losing)

[juminies]

reliance

day 7, jumin’s perspective

jumin x reader, 1170 words

♥︎

If you asked almost anyone, those who know him personally or otherwise, they’d most likely tell you that Jumin doesn’t feel.

It’s not that straightforward, of course. There’s layers to it.

It would be more realistic to say he’s mastered the techniques of repression. He always only had himself to lean on. How could a lonely child cope with the consequences of gritty rejection at the hands of his own mother other than compartmentalise? How else could he handle the relentless harassment from the shameless women that his father willingly, repeatedly let into his life? It was easy as far as he was concerned—he let the threads tangle until they could barely be deciphered from one another and pushed them aside.

In the recent past, Jumin might have even considered telling you it’s a skill. Developed at a young age, perfected into adulthood. A skill that allows him to avoid inconveniences to his duties; fend off any sort of long term resentment or frustration. Dwelling on something like What extent of lacking consideration might make a good father a bad one? should not matter. Time will pass with or without him. So he simplifies it: objectively bad things happen, are tangled away soon thereafter, and life goes on. This way memories he needs are easily accessed and ones he doesn’t are easier avoided.

Before, on the occasion things did start to get overwhelming, distracting himself had been relatively easy. He had conjured up this idea of his cat being the catch-all to combat his discomfort. If ever emotions started to creep into uncomfortable territory it was simple to sidestep them. Elizabeth the 3rd had been… sympathetic enough to make him feel sufficiently comfortable again. Then if necessary he could pick up extended office hours here, a cat project there, an extra glass of wine to ease the transition from overthinking to composure.

The last week, though, has flipped everything he thought he knew on its head.

You’re at the forefront of it, really. You’re special to him in a way no one else is; he’s told you that much already. Even so, he will preface his thoughts with a point that he’d surely be jumping the gun to say he’s in love. He met you barely a week ago. In the moments where he tries his hardest to stop the unemotional part of him from slipping through his fingers, he almost believes (or maybe tries to convince himself) that it must just be that there’s so much happening right now. Sarah, her name bitter on his tongue, seems to have forcefully slithered her way into his life, though he’d rather have never paid her a second glance. There is no reasoning with his father surrounding the absurdity of the arranged marriage and the trust at the foundation of their relationship feels suddenly fragile; unpredictable. Not to mention the impact yet another divorce and planned subsequent remarriage quickly took on business (with Jumin, of course, being left to pick up the slack).

Then, as if things weren’t dire enough, his dear Elizabeth the 3rd is seemingly under threat. He is riddled with both the need to protect and a simultaneous abundance of confusion from the dawning realisation that she could never understand him like he needed. It plays heavy on his heart.

Amongst it all though, here you are—a pillar of light in the chaos. Someone who cares about him with a deep sincerity and understanding he thought he could have never pulled from the depths of another human. Someone who might just care about him in a way that not even Rika had. He’s considered informing you that it makes him feel terribly vulnerable. As though you’re cradling his heart in uncertain hands.

Still, Jumin keeps assuring himself that things will fall back into place. They always do. Things will fall into their rightful place, and life will return to what he is accustomed to.

…Then again.

What if he doesn't want it to go back to how it was before? What if this is a rare occasion where he welcomes a sudden change with open arms? An open heart? (It’s okay if hands shake as you hold it, he thinks. Be it his hands or yours.)

Because it just doesn’t feel right to tuck you away with everything else in his brain the way he’s used to. You’re too different. It comes too easy to ignore everything else for you. Thoughts of you are spread all around in an uneven jumble; disorganised, distracting. From his stares alone it’s impossible for you to begin to visualise the scramble. He feels like he’s been ripped from safety and comfort and thrown as far from familiarity as possible. He has never been so out of his depth. He has never, even as a child, felt so out of control.

Part of him, strangely, welcomes it.

It makes him think unusually, however. Perhaps even unfairly. And so along with the scattered joy of you, you, you, develops an internal battle to gain control again. He wants your eyes on only him as much as he wants no one else to look at you. Something pleads with him to keep you here, keep you here, while something else begs him on its knees to never hold you back.

He’s watching you, sitting with your legs tucked up beneath you on his sofa. You’ve been quietly focused on some drama he’s never heard of and sipping a vintage wine he’d been saving for a special occasion. It makes him dizzy. Perhaps against his better judgement, he has wanted to kiss you since you walked through the door. A special occasion indeed.

The pleading continues, desperate screams of No matter what it takes! No matter what it takes!

But you have been so kind. He wouldn’t dare take advantage of it. On the contrary, he’d probably do anything you asked of him in a heartbeat as long as he could guarantee you’d be safe in the end.

Then he says your name. He’s not sure he intended to say it aloud. When you turn to him he scans your face for something, anything, that suggests maybe you’re losing your mind as much as he is. Instead he’s distracted by lips gently parted and vaguely stained red from the wine, and comes to no conclusion.

“Yeah?” you say.

You’re sitting in the spot where he’d usually sit, he realises. He’d been so shaken by your arrival that he somehow hadn’t even noticed. Not that he’d have made you sit elsewhere anyway.

He takes a sip of his own wine and wonders if his lips are the same colour as yours.

“Jumin? Everything okay?”

You seem too far away somehow.

“Yes.”

You tilt your head to the side slightly as you ask, “You sure?”

“Yes. Apologies, what I was going to say somehow slipped my mind,” he says.

“Alright.” Your eyes sparkle as you smile (always sweet, never pushy) and he has to turn away to stop himself from acting on foolish impulse.

He downs the rest of his wine in lieu of it.

#how could I write a 3am mid-route introspection for one deep story character and not the other #mystic messenger #jumin han #jumin x reader #if there's one thing I will do it's post at a weird time on a week day #but the longer I don't post the scarier it becomes so I'm slamming this thing down and leaving #(​currently fighting writers block and losing) #annfic

[bitterkarmaa]

“They seemed to like me well enough.”

The orange and black tinted daycare attendant ducks under the larger security bot that hovers around him like a fly, doing more listening than talking, as it usually does.

Nimble fingers slide a couple of double A batteries into one of his newer projects, eyes lighting up as the device whirls to life.

“Did you like them?” The sharp-toothed guardian asks curiously, plucking the buzzing object from his son’s hands with a quizzical gleam in it’s brilliant red eyes.

“Yes, I- hey! Give that back! It’s important!” He jumps in an effort to snatch it back, but it proves futile as his father pulls it out of his reach with ease.

“Oh? And what does it do, exactly?” It’s tone is only mildly interested now, staring into Eclipse’s bright eyes as he stands, silently fuming, by it’s side.

“It distracts the kids so that I can get some cleaning in before closing. Now-“ The jester-themed animatronic leaps for the object once again, only for it to be pulled away like before.

“Can you ask nicely?”

Eclipse pauses, hands balled into fists at his sides. He opens his mouth a few times, biting back much more bitter words before he finds his nicer tones.

“May I please have my prototype back?” He barely manages to keep the annoyed drawl from his voice, lighting up once the device is lowered back into his reach. He snatches it before the older animatronic can play more games.

He steps back to begin working once again, but is stopped in his tracks by his father’s abnormally gentle hand laying onto his shoulder. He pauses, glancing over to it.

“Has your new battery come in yet?”

Eclipse’s face falls into a frustrated frown once he processes the question.

“No. It hasn’t. It’s late, as usual.” He replies bitterly, nudging KC’s hand off of his shoulder so that he can continue his tinkering.

“Then you should charge.”

Eclipse stops once again, slowly looking back to KC’s stern expression. They hold one another’s gazes for a moment before, eventually, Eclipse lets out a heavy sigh.

“You won’t let up until I do, will you?”

As KC shakes his head, Eclipse sets the project back onto his workbench with a last longing glance before he turns towards the door.

Almost as soon as he turns, his father has scooped him up into his arms with a contented hum.

“Hey! I can walk myself, you know!” Eclipse shouts, crossing his arms in a pout as KC lets out an amused chuckle.

“Yes, yes, I understand that you’re a big boy now.” He jests, earning an offended scoff from his son.

“I’ve always been a big boy, you just refuse to see it.” He huffs, settling down in KC’s warm hold despite his sharp words.

“Mhm…does Mr. Howls see it, then?”

Eclipse raises a hand, playfully swatting at his father with a sour expression on his face.

“Mr. Howls helps me connect with the children!” Eclipse snaps. KC gives him a dubious look.

“Since when was a stuffed wolf a child? Next you’re going to say it ‘helps you understand the kids perspectives.’”

Eclipse grumbles to himself, but makes no further attempts at justifying his plush companion.

However, he does tell Mr. Howls all about the woes of dealing with a father like KC before he settles down to charge for the next few hours.

#karmas bitter but so am i #karma’s bitter #sun and moon show #the sun and moon show #tsams #sams eclipse #kb eclipse #fnaf sun and moon #fnaf sun and moon au #tsams au #sams au #sams kc #sams killcode #kb killcode #kb lore #kb drabbles #I just wanted to write about them okay #KILLCODE AND ECLIPSE 😭😭 #they have my heart and brain rn man #sorry about the shitty writing I’m currently fighting and losing with writers block #killcode is actually a decent father ™️ #bad stuff comes later

[supernovaa-remnant]

I miss talking to people how is everyone doing?

#I'm currently fighting my writer's block #I'm losing btw #stella rambles

[plump-lips-imagine]

Hello (◍•ᴗ•◍) u saw that your request were open. Can you write some romantic headcanons of bowser with his s/o, it can be fluffy or spicy whichever you're comfortable with thank you in advance

Alright, Coming up!

Bowser Romantic Headcanons.

Meeting:

You know how dragons like to make hoards of anything that’s shiny, and glimmering, and just want it all to themselves?

That’s the closest thing that Bowser felt after he met you.

Granted, it was pure accident that you met because he accidentally kidnapped you instead. Well, HIS minions made the mistake of kidnapping you.

You were Peach’s Royal Attendant. You were taking care of some of Peach’s documents while she was in a meeting when it happened.

“You ain’t Peach!!” Bowser Growled at you with his claw dangerously close to your face. You gulped nervously at the predicament you were forced into. “N-No Sir, I’m not. I’m just her attendant. Please don’t hurt me”.

 He huffs in frustration. He’ll be sure to punish the idiotic minions that make this mistake. But what to do with you? “...You’re not totally useless. I can make this work.” “Huh?”

 He was going to use you as a hostage to make Peach agree to marry him. She cares way too much for her people to leave you in danger. It’s the perfect plan!

So that’s how you were trapped in a cage, waiting currently for someone to rescue you as Bowser planned a letter to threaten the Peach with for your Safety.

Welp. With nothing better else to do, you might as well try to make conversation if you’re going to be here for a while.

“So….Got any hobbies?”

Bowser raises an eyebrow at you. “What?”

Safe to say, Bowser was very annoyed at your attempts to make small talk. But he entertained the idea since he was running blank on what to write to the Princess.

Maybe if he decided to talk to you a bit, You’ll eventually stop talking altogether.

And maybe fix this writer’s block.

Neither happens. 

You were a chatterbox, and he seemed to lose interest in the letter altogether.

You were genuinely curious about him since you’d only heard about him From Peach.

He was Scary, but you couldn’t help but look at him in interest.

And he….didn’t mind. Actually, the way you looked at him in curiosity when he talked made him a little Bashful. Not many ask a lot about him

No one appreciates his awesomeness in all its glory, so you asking about him kinda…made him want to talk to you too.

Peach is usually silent when he tries to talk to her, so it's nice to talk to someone for a change.

Both of you didn’t realize how late it was until Kamek came to remind him that Dinner was ready.

It was shocking to him he talked to you so much without getting bored and shocked him even more that he didn’t want the conversation to end.

That lasted for about 3 days before Mario and Luigi came to the rescue.

And Of Course, he got his ass handed to him.

Mario grabs your hand as he walks away from the barely conscious Bowser. “Come on-a (Y/N). The Princess was-a so worried about you.” You followed the bros out the front door of his castle, but you turn quickly to look at Bowser. “Bye, Bowser! See you Later!” Bowser lays there as the three of you left, contemplating was you just said. ‘’Later’?...later…..Later.” 

There was definitely going to be a Later.

Pre-Relationship:

  He starts ‘kidnapping’ more frequently. To the Point where Both his minions and Peach notice it.

“Sire, Why are we taking this Human instead of the Princess? What could the servant provide that we can’t just get from the Princess immediately?” Bowser Glares at the Koopa, and stomps towards them, making the Koopa jump in fear. “Are you questioning me!? I know what I’m doing! We need that servant because she’s more likely to tell us things without a fight! I’m going to use it against this Kingdom when the time is Right!” Translation: I miss this human a lot but couldn’t think of a reasonable way of seeing them again so I kidnap them so they’ll have no choice but to spend time with me, but I won’t admit that to anybody.

Princess Peach runs up to you to inspect your face as Mario and Luigi save you again. “Thank Goodness you're alright! Did that Monster hurt you? I’m so sorry you got dragged into this.” “Princess, I'm Fine, Really. Don’t worry about it. Mario and Luigi saved me so all is good with the world.” Translation: Bowser has no idea how to ask to hang out so I gotta keep up this facade until either I ask him personally to hang out. I had a fun time with him but I don’t want you to freak out at this.

He has obvious favoritism for you. 

It’s laughable to even call you a prisoner because you don’t even sit in the cage when he kidnaps you.

He orders his minions to prepare a room for you.

He even made sure they got delicious food sent to your room when supper was ready.

You don’t attempt to run since you enjoy his company and he enjoys yours.

Kamek and the rest of his minions as You and Bowser talk about certain topics walking down the Royal Hallway. Bowser notices this and glares at them. “Is there something you need to say?” He rhetorically asks in a dark tone.” They stop looking and stand guard quickly. Bowser's face softens, looking down back at you. “As you were saying?”

He is also a little touchy with you. He usually has his hand on your back when you talk. Also has you sat on his forearm when he wants you to be closer.

He’s a little touch-starved. He forgets that he has to act like he’s holding you prisoner.

 Mario and Luigi came to ‘rescue’ you for the 8th time. It was different today. They defeated his defenses but when they came to the throne room, he wasn’t ready for them to come. He was asleep. He was on his some curled up in a sleeping position and there you were, next to his face as he held you down with his arm, pulling you close to him.

The Mario Bros stare at yall in shock. You shush them when you spot them and waved them over quietly. They come and you carefully wiggle out of Bowser’s Grasp. “Let’s go.” You whisper quietly. They nod and head out the front. You take a piece of paper and leave a note. I’ll be coming over next week, You don’t have to pick me up anymore. - (Y/N).

You tuck the note under his hand, and placed a soft kiss on his cheek, leaving before he woke up. He smiles in his sleep.

                   Post-Relationship

      Congratulations! You have the Koopa King’s Heart in your Hands now.

Achievement unlocked: Bowser will now kill for you.

But yeah, if you thought he was sweet before. Get ready for that time 3.

He just wants to make you happy and bathe you in riches.

Are you hungry? He gets the minions to make a 5-star gourmet dish just to your liking.

Thirsty?  He will bring you a gold chalice embedded with shining jewels.

Is it too hot? Minions! Fan my lover and get them the coldest water we got!

Enemy needs to be wiped out? Say the word and he will bring them to your knees begging for mercy.

Calls you Starlight and Firefly because of how you brighten the room.  Along with nicknames like Honey, and Sweetheart.

Also, be prepared for him to be right under you or more like you very close to him

He will pick you up in his hands just because. No reason. He just wants to hold you and keep you close.

He is very gentle when he has you in his hand. It makes you feel safe when he wraps his fingers around you lovingly. Claws never tearing your clothes or breaking the skin. You are treated as fragile as precious glass art.

He still has this urge to just pinch your cheeks and squeeze you a bit. You’re just too cute for your own. (Even when you’re doing absolutely nothing.)

Have you sitting on his lap when he’s sitting on his throne until yours is done being built.

Please kiss is on his snoot. He will melt at the affection with hearts in his eyes.

Please kiss him more. He craves it. He will wag his tail when you do.

You know how possessive and protective Dragons get with their treasure. Be prepared for that.

He will be so stubborn when you have to go to the Peach’s castle and try to get you to stay longer.

Do you have to go so soon? It’s early. Why don’t you stay another hour…or 2. Or you can’t wait till tomorrow? Or next week? Next Month? Next Year?    

He has to fight this instinct to just grab you and keep him under him so that he can keep you all to himself.

…He only controls it 3 times out of 10.     

Literally has you cuddled up under him in your shared bedroom because he doesn’t even want to share you with the Princess.  You were a little annoyed.

He gives you his best puppy dog eyes to make you less angry. You can’t stay mad at that face.

Fine, But You’re going in the next hour.

He lets out a content purr as you settled into him.

He literally loves you so much. He hopes you stay forever.

He is so ready to ask for your hand in marriage.

He hopes you say yes.

#i think i over did it. hope you like it though. #bowser x reader #bowser #reader #bowser x y/n #super mario #smb x reader #im on a roll #my eyes are twitching #ya like jazz #my fingers are to big for my phone. #Curse my sasuage fingers!!

[kiritella]

Birds and Stones

Pairings: Geralt of Rivia x Fem!reader

Words: 3.1k~

Warnings: A monster fight (rather non-descriptive), a little blood, hypothermia, worried Geralt

Author's Notes: Sorry this one is a bit off my usual and if it is weird. I recently powered through The Witcher on Netflix and had a thought. Writer's block is still rough, but getting better!

-------------------------

“Geralt—”

It wasn’t his name that cut through him like a jagged blade when the kikimora’s talon hit his chest, it was the scream that came with it. It was the sound of her voice shifting from complete confidence in him to utter terror. The look in her eyes as she fell from the remains of the collapsing bridge, his hand wrenched from hers, the hope in them dying into realization. He couldn’t save her. This was his realization. Harrowing pain ripped through him when her body plunged into the river and her heartbeat, once a constant reminder of her presence, became indistinguishable from the rapids and ice carrying her body downstream. The kikimora took hold of him as her body vanished beneath the water, and a sound he hadn’t heard himself make in years tore from his throat: desperation.

Flung by the creature, his body collided on the other side of the fallen bridge, cushioned by the thick layer of snow. His head snapped back as the beast lunged for him, its blood staining the ground from its severed arm. Geralt’s hands tightened around the sword’s hilt as pain twisted out of his chest and sank into his limbs, turning his vision red and black. His mind didn’t register the fight, only a vague sense of movement as he swung his sword, a burn in his lungs, his muscles moving of their own habits and years of experience. His sense of time dulled as each second pulled out a year’s worth of life from him. He hadn’t heard her gasp for air. The red and black slipped out of his mind when his blade sheathed through the kikimora’s throat, retrieved only to cut off its head. Then he ran.

The rapids sent white mist up into the air when he found his way to the base of the cliffside, the sound of rushing water invading his ears to the point it was difficult to hear anything else. He scanned down the bank, but for as far as his eyes could reach, he saw nothing. No body, no footsteps, no indication she had pulled herself from the icy water. His breath came in short as he tried to focus, eyes becoming wild as he started downstream, his steps becoming quicker with each second passing that he couldn’t see a trace of her. 

Focus.

The body goes into shock when it hits the water, forcing you to gasp for breath. If she wasn’t careful, she could inhale water or fall into a spell of rapid breathing, losing control. She would need to control her breathing in under a minute.

After 10 minutes of immersion she would lose the ability to fully use her limbs. However, body heat would be lost faster the more she moved. She would need to flow with the current and glide herself to shore using as little movement as possible. How long had it taken him to kill the monster? How many minutes was that?

In under an hour, her body would become too weak and cold, forcing her unconscious and—

His jaw clenched. It wouldn’t take that long. Still, though he knew in his mind without a doubt, he would find her, he couldn’t settle the cold hands clenching around his lungs. The fear gripped at his chest like nothing else and drove his feet to move faster, his eyes to strain a little farther. It was a fear known only for those who were his.

She was his.

—

Her body struggled when her hand gripped onto the jagged rocks along the bank, her vision spotting as she heaved her chest out of the frozen water. Her lungs coughed up the remnants of the river behind her, limbs collapsing as they lost feeling. The pins and needles once sparking beneath her skin were gone, though her body shivered uncontrollably. It was a good sign, at least, the shivering, but the gust of deep winter air cut around her and she wondered how much longer her body would hold out against it. Rocks dug into the palms of her hands as she crawled further out of the water, her feet at last pulled onto the ground as the weight of her body grew. A cry broke against her teeth as pain erupted up her leg, curling even into her belly.

It had to be broken. Given the height she fell from, she wasn’t entirely surprised. It did, however, shatter her hopes of walking out of there, of finding Geralt. Gritting her teeth, she pulled herself up and looked around. Cliffs rose on either side of the river, leaving maybe a rod’s distance of graveled land between her and the nearest wall. Ice grew along the waterline, building up along the cliffs and its ledges as snow mounted upon them, and if she hadn’t been frightened of the cold allowing it to exist, it might have been beautiful. Perhaps if her mind wasn’t hazy and her vision growing dark, she would have admired them, but with growing numbness it was all a miserable shade of gray taunting her stubborn will to live. There were divots, though, small, but enough to shield her from the brunt of the wind if she could reach them. It was a bit of luck, she supposed. She smiled grimly, but it quickly dissolved when a shrill sound echoed through her memory.

Geralt. His hand gripping her wrist when the kikimora appeared, the bridge shaking under the creature’s weight, the sheathing ring of Geralt’s sword, the old ropes snapping—and weightlessness. So close to the ledge, to solid ground, and then nothing but a yank of her wrist as his hand was ripped from her by the swing of the kikimora’s arm. The sound that had ripped from his lungs—pain, desperation—she had never been cursed with the knowledge of it until now. Frustration, annoyance, gentleness, and care, those were the sounds she had a loving collection of, but this one—it sent violent tremors through her body. Fear. Fear for him. All at once, the pain in her leg, the weakness of her body and mind were insignificant. She dragged herself to her feet.

She huffed on a choked breath, her eyes squeezing closed against the wind as she hauled her body toward the cliffside. Her cries echoed along the stone when she stumbled against the wall, using its rugged face as a crutch to lean her weight on. Stubbornly, she walked, limping past the pain as she forced her numb legs to move, to find purchase, but all too soon she collapsed. Overtaken by the cold and the slippery, frozen ground, she fell to her knees near the mouth of a small cave, her head colliding with the wall to leave her more dizzy than she had already been. Just as quickly as the strength to stand had come to her, it left, leaving her hollow.

“—ralt…” she mumbled, his name sounding wrong coming from unfeeling lips and a heavy tongue. She huffed in frustration as pain swept over her skin with the wind, collecting the powdery white snow on her clothes.

Her clothes....

Clothes.

Shit.

Limply, her hands clawed at her soaked tunic, attempting to pull it over her head but failing miserably. Groaning weakly, she tried again, the garment slipping from her grasp as her fingers couldn’t hold onto the material, sliding over her body instead and falling to the ground. How long had she been out there? In the river? It was in this she noticed the stillness of her hand, and her heart sank. It wasn’t moving. She wasn’t moving.

When had she stopped shivering?

—

“Fuck—” Geralt cursed, his voice raw like the ground edges of a stone, his wide eyes latched on her collapsed body, snow beginning to pile upon her. His knees dug into the gravel as he dropped to her side. “Dove?” 

She was limp, her skin descending into a pale grey-blue as he rolled her onto her back, cradling her head. Clotted blood trailed down the side of her face as his hands flew to inspect the gash along her temple, his thumb sweeping over her cheek. The vines twisting around his chest tightened when her half-lidded eyes shifted, trailing up his body to meet his eyes, empty, lacking a sliver of recognition before they closed entirely. His lips pressed tight as he glanced to the mouth of the cave some distance away, and he hastened.

“Forgive me,” he spoke, laying her head back on the ground as he began to strip her body of her soaked clothes, his hands lingering along her skin to leave a trace of warmth in his wake. He paused at her legs when a purple swelling wrapped around one of her calves. Broken. He swallowed thickly and removed his cloak, wrapping her body within it and pulling her up against him.

He tried not to focus on how cold and limp she was, her nose like ice against his throat, or how still she was, not a shiver trembling within her, her chest hardly moving with each breath. Rather, he leaned his head over hers to hide her from the wind, tucked an arm beneath her knees and hauled her into his arms entirely. Lifting her with him, he rose to his feet and carried her the last bit of distance, into the mouth of the cave. He was quick, feet rushing as the snow storm grew, the afternoon sky darkened by the swells of ice in the atmosphere, spiraling down to the earth like a curse.

The wind howled as he pushed past the dead vines trailing over the cave’s entrance, taking her to the back where the air was still, settling himself on his knees a few feet from the furthest wall. Holding her, he reached out a hand in a sign, igni, and fire erupted violently over the stone. Lacking kindling, the flames soon died out, but their heat remained to act as a furnace. Carefully, he laid her cloaked body on them, an unsettling frustration building in his throat as her body limply settled.

He stormed off, returning after only a minute, her clothes tossed to some edge of the cave as he tore down the vines and bramble, the fallen branches at the foot of the cliff. He brought them beside her, using igni to get the wet wood to ignite, forcing them into a roaring flame. Shifting the sign once more to the rocks, he reheated the floor, sparks and flames blackening the stone. Quickly, his leather jerkin was removed, his tunic to follow before he brought her closer to the flames. Letting the cloak lie beneath her, he settled against her bare skin, his arms and legs wrapped around her with the flames at her back and the warm floor beneath them. 

“Come on now, dove,” he said, and it was now, as he was unable to do anything more than hold her and pray, that he was overwhelmed. His nose buried in the crook of her neck, his arms curling around her tighter, his fingers digging into her skin as his jaw set and released. His golden eyes squeezed shut as he listened to the only sound keeping him tethered: the gentle thump-thump dwelling in her chest—too slow to give him any true comfort.

He hadn’t realized he had shifted, his leg sliding over her hip to pull her closer, his arm tucked beneath her head and crossing over her back as he rocked them back and forth. The movement was hardly perceptible, his gentle sways as he tried to soothe the ache growing within him.

“It’s alright, you’re safe now.”

Thump—thump

“You’re too stubborn to give in to some cold water.”

Thump…..Thump

“Come on…”

Thump………..thump

Too slow—too slow, too fucking slow—

Geralt strained as pain ripped through his chest, tearing through his body and escaping him past grit teeth. He curled into her, hands gripped tight enough to leave bruises in their wake, pulling her into him as if he could sink into her, give her every last bit of himself. His warmth, his strength—everything. Again, the desperation took hold.

His voice was wretched and marred. “Come back. Damn you, come back to me.”

He waited. He waited and waited and waited, casting igni over and over until the floor radiated heat like a summer’s day. Sweat rolled down his back, both from the heat and physical strain of casting so many signs. His body ached, his mind warped, but as time collected minutes like gold, he heard it. Her heartbeat steadied, slowly increasing, her body warming. Relief flooded him, and his whole body went lax. Lifting his head from the crook of her neck, his eyes trailed over her. Her skin was shifting back to its normal hue, and her chest moved with every breath now passing her parted lips. Though her brow was furrowed, she shifted, and he didn’t care that the first sound she made was pained. She’d moved. The heavy breath caught in his lungs released, fanning over her cheek as her eyes cracked open.

—

Gold. It was the first thing she saw, two eyes so familiar and close she thought she was still dissolved in a dreamy haze—granted it had been a rather painful dream. The rest of him slowly formed in the blur, Geralt’s face framed by his dirty white hair, sweat beading along his hairline. One of his arms rested beneath her head, his other was wrapped snugly around her waist—her bare waist, she realized. Steadily, so very slowly, her memories trickled in and the fog lifted. A sigh escaped her as her eyes closed, fighting back the tears welling in them. 

She opened them again when Geralt’s hand cupped the side of her face, fingers reaching to the back of her neck. His jaw clenched, his body rigid as if the notion of her eyes being closed once more pained him. She could see it in the way his eyes flicked between hers, his breaths shallow.

“Hey there, handsome…” she said through heavy lips and tongue, and Geralt softened, huffing out a short laugh before his forehead leaned in, resting against hers.

“You’re delirious…”

“‘M not.”

“Confused, then.” He smiled, a narrow, crooked sort of thing just touching the edges of his lips with a slight tug. “Are you warm?”

She hummed, shivers running down her spine uncontrollably. “I’m getting there,” she whispered, lifting her heavy arm and resting it along his side, trailing her fingers along his skin. “Are you alright?”

He laughed again, but she couldn’t find the humor in the hollow sound this time. Rather, it sent an ache curling around her heart. A crease grew between her brows as she tried to sit up, stopping sharply as pain spiked up her leg. She grit her teeth, a stifled cry pushing up against them and Geralt was quick to press her back down.

“Don’t move. Your leg is broken.”

“Fuck…” she groaned, allowing herself to fall back against him. Still, her hands trailed over his torso, his chest, leading up his back and over his shoulders and arms. She hadn’t forgotten the bridge, the kikimora, the sound that had torn from him, and yet, she found few remnants of the fight. A light bruise, a cut, but no broken bones were to be found beneath her searching fingers, no true injury.

His eyes never left her even as hers wandered over his body, their intensity caressed her skin like she was about to slip out of sight, and he was desperate to remember every dip and curve. Haunted, like a nightmare on the verge of its precipice. Her breath caught when she found them, wide and gripping, almost as if—

“Geralt,” she whispered, sitting up onto her elbow. Her hand traced over his shoulder before her fingers passed over his temple, brushing back the tendrils of hair falling against his cheek, tucking them behind his ear. His lips tightened as his frightened eyes fell closed against his will, his brow furrowing with her touch—pained. “Are you alright?”

The fire crackled behind her, the licks of flames stirring with her shadow and sending waves of gold and yellow over his features. His hand swept up along her spine and over her neck to hold the side of her face, pulling her closer. The tip of his nose brushed along her cheek, his breath unsteady.

“I’m alright,” he said with a voice laced with something heavy and raw before his lips caught hers for a chaste moment. Like a grounding breath, a gust of fresh air, she was settled. “I’m relieved.”

Her hum was soft, sweet, and it washed over him, enveloped him, but not nearly as much as when she pressed her lips to his again, kissing him and solidifying him in the present. The touch of her hands, her scent, her heart—her heart—beating within her chest. She brought him back from the sharp edges of what could have been, what almost was, and gave him something soft to embrace.

Her thumb soothed the crease in his brow as she parted from him, pressing her forehead to his. And as he held her beside the fire, she grew warm. The shivering slowly subsided, the ache within her bones melted. With time, her lover, a man of too few of words to be able to tell her of his heart, was finally at ease. She could feel it as his calloused fingers ran along her skin, hear it as she laid on his chest, his heart falling back into its natural rhythm.

“No more precarious bridges for you,” Geralt said after some time, and she couldn’t help but laugh. His own was soon to follow, though she felt it more in the tremors of his chest more than she heard it.

She lifted her head, resting it on her hand as she peered up at him with a raised brow. “I would hope it is the last of precarious bridges for the both of us.”

He opened his mouth as if to argue, probably to spout some Witcher madness, but he thought the better of it. “I thought that was self evident,” he said, voice tilted in amusement.

She giggled, and this time, she was able to see the fullness of his smile as it reached out and softened every one of his features. Her fingers trailed up into his hair as she leaned in, kissing the cleft of his chin. His golden eyes held on to her as she tried to settle back against his chest. 

“You missed.”

Scoffing, she leaned over him, letting him watch as she rolled her eyes playfully. “Demanding,” she grumbled, and his smile only grew. Unable to refuse him, she brushed her lips against his. “I love you too, Geralt…” she whispered, and at last, she kissed him, knowing well the words he held in his throat, the ones he was trying to convey. She could feel them in his hands, taste them on his tongue. 

Even though the snow piled outside, the wind howling as the sun set, in that cave, in his arms, she was warm.

#birds and stones #geralt x reader #geralt of rivia #geralt x you #geralt x female!reader #geralt of rivia x reader #witcher geralt #the witcher #the witcher 3 #the witcher game #the witcher Netflix #the witcher x reader #witcher x reader #geralt x y/n #the wither fanfiction #henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry x reader #henry cavill x you #henry x you #henry cavill fanfiction #worried!geralt x reader #geralt x hurt!reader #geralt x injured!reader #geralt x reader angst #geralt x reader hurt #geralt x reader fluff #soft!geralt #soft!geralt x reader

[reads4hotch]

little crush

aaron hotchner × fem!BAU!reader

summary: you're tired of your boss, and best friend, not making a move on you no matter how much he wants to, so one night you decide to take matters into your own hands.

warnings: dirty talk, kinda smutty, alcohol consumption, heavy make out, reader is going commando, pls tell me if i'm missing something

note: i was telling @ihavemanyhusbands about having ✨dirty thoughts✨ about hotch during my class and i promised to share my ideas w her. and while editing my doc i ended up with this piece. the first piece i managed to fully write and finish since my writer's block started 2 years ago and i couldn't be happier (or more nervous) about it. also hi @beelmons this is it🙈 i love you guys too fucking much pls, ty for everything🥺💖

note 2: also, this started as one of the chapters for the series i'm writing of bau!bestfriend!reader w Hotch where they would have sex for the first time, buuuuut since i ended up discarding this idea, i thought i could share this piece with you. hope u enjoy!💖

two days into a case with almost no leads, aaron felt the stress consuming him. and apparently it was too obvious for everyone. the first thing coming out of your lips when you entered his hotel room in the middle of the night, fully aware that he was still awake, had been an:

“damn Hotchner, the stress is really ‘bout to eat you alive, huh?” you said teasingly.

this wasn’t rare. you were comfortable around him and he was comfortable around you. you two were friends, good friends actually, and had been for a while now. there was no one in the world he trusted more than you, and moments so casual yet so intimate like this were very common between you.

which made him hate even more the tension he felt. you were just keeping him company, having a conversation to try and relax a little from the hard day you two had.

and there he was, fighting every cell on his body to not look at you for too long, to not let his mind wander with images of you towards dangerous territory…

you were giving him such a hard time ever since you walked through his door only wearing a tiny and very delicate silk nightgown and nothing else... not even something underneath it. a detail he had discover while you were walking around the nightstand, the lamp on it illuminating your silhouette so intensely that the thin fabric of your dress became slightly see through. truly, your lack of panties was not that visible, in fact, he probably wouldn’t have noticed if it wasn’t because he was paying too much attention. his eyes had been fixed on you, completely entranced, as you talked on the phone with Morgan over some details of the current case. it felt impossible for him to look away from your figure and he indulged himself for a moment as you were too distracted on the conversation to pay attention to him. or so he thought.

you were now sitting on the border of the small desk in the hotel room, aaron sitting on a chair in front of you, a glass of whiskey in hand and his mind fully fixating on the image of your exposed thighs, since your already short dress had rolled up from the position you were in, barely covering you in the right parts. he cursed himself, feeling awful for objectifying you like this. it was only a stupid, little, simple dress -that made you look hot as hell- and he was losing his head over it.

“now,” your voice pulled him out of his thoughts, “i have a very special question for you…”, you said placing your glass of water next to you in the desk.

“shoot”, he answered playfully before taking another sip of his drink. he knew you were down for no good as the mischievous smile appeared on your face.

“how many times have you cum all over your hands while thinking of me?”

he choked on his drink and started coughing. he could hear you chuckling at his reaction.

“YN, no, i-…”

“don’t even try.”

he stared at you for a moment, how could you possibly knew? he was sure he was being cautious, he forced himself to look away from you all the time, he fought so hard against all his urges and desires so no one could learn about them, specially you. but with the confidence that radiated from you he could tell you knew everything, and you have for a while. this wasn’t news to you.

he did his best to fake some confidence, he had to in order to play your game.

“you’re being quite bold” his voice was full of arrogance, taking another sip of his drink before speaking again, “considering the fact that you don’t even know if i like you,” he tried to act -and look- calm, the exact opposite of how he was truly feeling.

“darling, you're not as subtle as you think you are”, the petname fell from your lips like a sweet curse. you had him at the palm of your hands and you knew that… how he had lost his mind the second he saw you for the first time, how crazy for you he was since that day… “i mean, you’re so hard to read, not even an entire team of experts profilers, hell, i bet not even Rossi knows about this little crush of yours”

it wasn’t a little crush and you knew that too. that’s why you were in full control here.

“and yet you saw through me…”, he wanted to believe his disinterest was credible… but he was truly a fool when it came to you.

“i always see through you, darling”, you were outright mocking him, full on using the power you had on him. “c’mon, i learned how to read people’s emotions since i was a little kid. you can surely trick the best agents of the FBI sir, but not me”.

he knew that, from the very beginning. that was probably one of the main reasons why you two became friends so easily. he could pretend perfectly well with the rest of the world, but not with you. if anyone knew how to play pretend it was you, too many times he had witness your acting skills while working a case, the whole team had agreed from the beginning that you could easily go for an acting career if you wanted to and become very successful at it. and if you were capable of faking perfectly, you were capable of knowing when someone else was faking as well. which is why he now felt stupid for even daring to think he could hide his feelings from you.

“mmm, i’m sorry sweetie, but i couldn’t keep waiting for you to find the courage to do something about this anymore…”, you touch the tip of his nose gently with a small bop! he took in a sharp breath, trying to clear his mind to do something.

“YN, YN, this isn’t right. that’s why i did nothing about it. do you know how much this could jeopardize your career? what everyone will say if they find out that you and me… your boss… that we…” but once again, your laugh interrupted him.

“that can only happen if they find out”, the smirk never left your face, leaning towards him to talk in a more intimate way, “so tell me, aaron hotchner, are you good at keeping secrets?” the teasing in your voice, the way your face was so close to him he could admire perfectly every little detail of your features…, how was he supposed to act rationally and not give in to his desires when you looked so fucking beautiful?

“cat ate your tongue?” you chuckled, leaning back to your old position, pulling him out of his trance, “c’mon Hotchner, you didn’t answer my first question”

what was he to do now? he was doomed. there was not scaping this anymore. and to be honest he was beginning to question why did he do it in the first place. the memories of those long nights he pleasured himself at the thought of you came rushing in on his mind… fuck it.

he swallowed the knot that was forming on his throat, “too many to count”, he whispered, completely unable to look at you.

“mm, sorry, i couldn’t hear you, what?” you mocked him.

“too many to count” he finally let out looking up just to catch your very much amused expression, “i’ve had thought about you in… not very appropriate ways… too many times to count”.

your malicious smile only grew wider at his confession.

“would you like to show me what you’ve thought about?”, you said in a sweet and innocent tone, leaning towards him and placing your hands on his chest, looking at him through your lashes.

“are you sure you want this?” he put his hands on top of yours, pressing them gently against him.

instead of replying you leaned forwards again, your face was so close to his he could feel your breath on his skin, you tilted your head slightly so your nose could caressed up his jawline delicately until your lips reached the level of his ear, almost touching it, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. Oh, he was doomed.

you felt him tense as you whispered: “are you sure you don’t want to bury your cock inside me?”.

suddenly it became hard to breath, words and oxygen stuck inside him as a raging desire traveled through his body, making it impossible for him to hold back the loud groan that came out of his mouth.

he straightened himself on his sit, then left his drink next to yours on the desk, “talk to your boss with more respect”, the usual commanding tone he used at work made its appearance, he was clearly trying to take back some of the control.

“is that what you want from me sir? to respect you?”, you inclined your head slightly, the purest most innocent look in your eyes, although the look on his face told you he didn’t buy your little act at all.

“yes”, his intense gaze burning into your skin.

“then i’d be more than happy to do anything you want me to, sir, out of respect, obviously”.

you gave in. closing the little distance left between you and capturing aaron’s lips in a passionate kiss. you felt his hands on your waist first, traveling south to grab your thighs, pulling them gently. you understood the message, moving to straddle him, feeling how his firm strong legs gave support to your body as you adjust yourself on top of him.

breathlessly the two of you pulled away breaking the kiss, but not even seconds later his hands grabbed your face to pull you into another kiss. he was desperate and it showed. but honestly? so were you.

with the new position you couldn’t help moving your hips against his, rubbing your bare cunt against the growing bulge inside his pants, pleasure growing inside you with every move.

“such a fucking tease”, he said as your mouth moved to his cheek and then to his neck, placing gentle kisses all over him, “what shall i do with you?” his grip on your hips tightened, keeping you still. you moaned at the pressure on your bare clit against the soaked fabric of his pants.

“anything you want, sir”, you stop your attention on his neck to look at him, and he couldn’t help but groan at the sight of you biting your lower lip expectantly, your hands wandering all over his chest.

“how?”, he guided your hips, pressing you harder against his crotch, a moan scaping your lips from the pleasure it created, “like a good girl or like a slut?” it was his time to tease you now, guiding you again to keep grinding on him. you threw your head back at the pleasure, exposing your neck to him. he couldn’t wait to leave marks all over it.

“trust me sir, for you, i could be anything”, you answered almost breathlessly, your movements becoming more eager by the second, “because i love being a good girl”, you looked at him again with that pure, innocent face of yours before rotating your hips on him, making him moan.

“good girls don’t dress like whores for their boss to see”, the small smack of his massive hand on your ass made you moan louder than before.

“can you blame me? i can’t help to be a slut for you”, your hands traveled to his hands, guiding them to your hips, where the edge of your nightgown stood, “but if you don’t like it, we can take it off…”, you looked to him through your lashes once again, knowing perfectly well the effect it had on him, guiding his hands to pull up your dress at a painfully slow pace.

“no”, he stop your movements, “not until i’ve fucked the shit out of you in it”.

“mm yes sir, please, please do it”, rubbing yourself against him with a new-founded intensity.

“you want me to fuck you?” his hands started to wander dangerously around your waist and up your body.

“oh...-oh! yes sir, please, pleaseee” he was making you desperate, desperate for his touch, desperate for more.

“where?” he chuckled at your pitiful sounds as he finally grabbed your breasts with harshness, pinching and twisting both of your nipples.

“anywhere! i’m entirely yours... fuck, wow!” you were almost screaming and he knew he could come just from seeing you fall apart from his touch.

“first, you’re going to be a good slut and suck me off,” he stopped your moves and laugh at the groan you let out in protest at the interrupted pleasure, “are we clear?” the firmness in his voice sent shivers down your spine.

“yes sir,” you couldn’t help but pout at him, his hands keeping you in your place, unable to move. one of his hands left your waist to softle caress your cheek.

“can i come in your mouth?” this time his voice was softer.

“yes sir,” aaron was impressed at the effect you took on him, one look at you and he was a goner. and now the idea of what he was about to do was painfully pleasant, “but, only on one condition” you interrupted his train of thoughts, your hands fiddling with the first button of his shirt,.

“what is it?” anything. for you, he would do anything.

but he certainly wasn’t ready to hear your request.

“that you pretty please come inside me later” you said in the sweetest tone he had ever heard. he could hardly swallow and you had to fight the urge not to smile triumphantly at the shock on his face.

“are you sure?” he asked nervously. god, you were the end of him.

“yes sir, very”

“you shouldn’t have told me that”

“why, sir?”

“because now i’m going to make sure all of your holes are always full, how does that sound?” now it was his time to mock you as you loudly moaned at his proposal.

“oh! sounds perfect sir, please” you desperately tried to free yourself from his control to grind yourself against him again.

“you truly are the biggest cumslut i’ve ever met, i haven’t even fuck you yet and you already want to dry me entirely”, he chuckled at your poor attempts to get some pleasure.

“for you only, sir”, you started blinking fast, a look on seduction of your face. he smiled knowingly. you were trying to coerce him into letting you move again.

“i can’t wait to have my seed flooding out of you”, he said caressing your face with one of his hands, his thumb ghosting over your lips.

“mmm, sir, please, stop teasing”, you pouted after you tried to capture his thumb with your lips and he quickly put it away.

“fuck, you really want that, do you?” he truly was surprise at how you seemed to go feral with the idea of him filling you with his cum. and god was he happy to fulfill that wish of yours.

“yes sir, please, i want nothing more”, you pleaded.

“prove it then, on your knees”.

#baur #smut #cass writes #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

Apparently this is “undeniable” proof that Kataang wasn’t always gonna be endgame. I don’t get it TBH. But what do you think?

https://araeph.tumblr.com/post/151770892635/irrefutable-proof-that-kataang-was-not-always/embed

"Aang's attachment to Katara was selfish because it was based on feeling entitled to a relationship with somoene that didn't love him back"

Bullshit. Pure bullshit. The vision that makes him give up on trying to let go of his attachment to her was her being captured and imprisoned. He literally screams "Katara is in danger!"

He loved her and wanted to be with her, yes, but his main concern was "What if I prioritize something else over and end up losing her like I lost my people?" because remember, we are explicitly shown in that very episode that his love for the other air-nomads, his previous family, is living on through his love for Katara, who is part of his current family - and yes, the girl he'd eventually marry and have kids with once they were older.

But Aang cannot afford to focus on making sure only one person is doing okay. That's why, in Ba Sing Se, when he sees everyone, including Katara, fighting against all the Dai Li, he does the right thing and trusts that, if he does his duty to end the war, everyone will be safe and sound - including Katara.

His romantic feelings for her make it HARDER to let go of her, but his attachment is not based SOLELY on it.

And for fucks sake people, Katara canonically started looking at him differently all the way back in season 1, during the fortuneteller episode and flirted with him the following episode. She clearly liked kissing him in Cave Of Two Lovers, and she was visibly upset when Aang was acting cold and distant towards her after Appa's kidnapping. She likes him back. Deal with it.

"Aang being able to get into the Avatar State after hitting that rock makes no sense because it was as spiritual issue, not a physical one. He should have fixed it by letting go of Katara"

Aang let go of Katara in Ba Sing Se. We literally see it happening. Aang's chakra was blocked because he was struck by Azula's lightning on that very moment. A physical trauma, that visibly left a PERMANENT mark on his body. That boy literally died and had to be brought back to life.

Through the show, we see things like Ty Lee using pressure points to block people's bending (and movement in general), Toph offering to help Aang relax in Nightmares and Daydreams through accupuncture, and Toph also becoming a incredibly poweful bender because the suppression of one of her five senses hightened the others.

In the Avatar world, a physical thing can canonically block or trigger someone's ability to do something. Aang's chakra being unblocked after something hit the spot that left a physical trauma on his body makes total sense.

On Zuko's fever dreams supposedly revealing his true self and making him more empathetic

Uncle Iroh tells us that Zuko will be his true self once he recovers. The following episode Zuko SEEMS happy and is acting much kinder towards his uncle.

But he ditched it all the very second a chance to be a prince again was given to him by Azula. He double-down on his selfishness, entitlement, arrogance and cruelty. He betrayed a man that was more like a father to him than Ozai ever was, even though he did genuinely love Iroh.

And once Zuko actually changes sides for good and is GENUINELY being kinder and more honorable he acts NOTHING like that overly-happy, super optimistic boy we saw in Ba Sing Se - because that was NOT Zuko's true self, it was him trying to please the one person he still had in his life. Trying to be like him because no other path seemed possible. And even though he convinced himself he was happy, he had already said he wanted more than just a well-paying job that allowed him to live a quiet life in a nice place. He wanted to go home, he wanted to be Fire Lord, and that's exactly what his ending was.

Either the writers wrote themselves into a corner for the sake making Zuko's betrayal towards his uncle all the more shocking, or it was one of the rare moments of the show subtly reminding us that Uncle Iroh is NOT perfect and can make mistakes despite being a wise man.

#anti zutara #pro kataang #pro aang

[vilentia]

Could you do the walking dead men if their girlfriend got bit but hid it from them?

Love these hcs💗

How The Walking Dead men would react...

... if their girlfriend got bitten but kept it from them

Thank you for your request. I'm glad you like them. They help me with my current writer's block.

Daryl Dixon

Daryl would initially sense something off about you but might not be able to put his finger on it. He would observe your behavior, noticing subtle changes in your actions and mood. When he eventually discovers the hidden bite, his reaction would be a mixture of shock, anger, and heartbreak. Daryl deeply cares for you and values your trust, so your decision to keep such a crucial secret would devastate him. He would feel betrayed but also empathetic, understanding that you likely hid the bite out of fear of losing him. Daryl's tough exterior would crack, and he would confront you with a mix of sadness and intensity, wanting to know why you didn't confide in him. Despite his anger, Daryl's love for you would ultimately prevail, and he would do everything in his power to make your remaining time together as meaningful and comfortable as possible. If you ultimately succumb to the bite, Daryl's grief and guilt would consume him. He would blame himself for not being able to save you. In your final moments together, Daryl would hold your hand tightly, whispering through tears, "I love you, and I'm so sorry I couldn't protect you. You mean everything to me."

Rick Grimes

Rick would have a strong bond with you, built on trust and open communication. When he discovers that you've been hiding a bite, his initial reaction would be disbelief and confusion. He would question why you didn't trust him enough to share such critical information. However, Rick's love for you would quickly overpower his initial reaction, and he would shift into a state of determination. Rick would understand that you hid the bite out of love for him, not wanting to burden him with the knowledge of your impending fate. He would hold you close, assuring you that you're in this together and that he will do whatever it takes to support you until the end. Rick would cherish every moment with you, ensuring you feel loved and protected until your last breath. If you were to pass away, Rick would be devastated. He would struggle to come to terms with your passing and feel a profound sense of loss. Holding your lifeless body, he would whisper with a voice filled with anguish, "I love you, and I'll carry you with me forever. You were my reason to keep fighting, and I will make sure your memory lives on."

Negan Smith

Negan, known for his tough and confrontational nature, would initially be taken aback by your hidden bite. His reaction would be a mix of anger and disappointment. Negan values honesty and loyalty, and the fact that you kept such a crucial secret from him would strike a chord. He would feel betrayed and hurt, wondering why you didn't trust him enough to confide in him. However, as Negan's feelings settle, he would recognize the love behind your decision. Despite his tough exterior, Negan does care deeply for those close to him. He would soften and approach you with a mix of concern and sorrow, offering support and making it clear that you are not alone in this. Negan would want to make the most of your remaining time together, ensuring that you feel loved and protected until the end. If you were to die, the loss would deeply affect Negan. He would feel a profound sense of emptiness and grief. Negan's bravado would fade away, replaced by genuine sorrow and vulnerability. Kneeling beside your lifeless body, he would speak with a voice filled with a mixture of sorrow and regret, saying, "I love you, and I never thought I would find someone like you in this messed up world. I'm sorry I couldn't save you. You were my light, and now everything feels dark."

Glenn Rhee

Glenn, being compassionate and understanding, would quickly notice something amiss with you. He would pick up on subtle cues and changes in your behavior, prompting him to investigate further. When Glenn eventually discovers the hidden bite, his immediate reaction would be shock and sadness. He would be hurt that you didn't confide in him, but he would also empathize with your reasons for hiding it. Glenn would approach you with a mix of tenderness and concern, assuring you that you are in this together. He would express his love and the importance of trust in your relationship, emphasizing that you face your challenges as a team. Glenn would prioritize making you feel cherished and safe, doing everything he can to make your remaining time together as comfortable and meaningful as possible. If you were to pass away, Glenn would be devastated. You were his source of hope and happiness in the post-apocalyptic world. He would feel an overwhelming sense of loss and would struggle to accept your absence. Clutching onto your lifeless form, Glenn would pour out his love, whispering brokenly, "I love you, and I can't imagine my life without you. You made me believe in a better future. I promise to honor your memory and keep fighting for the world we dreamed of."

#the walking dead men #twd men #the walking dead reaction #twd reaction #twd men x reader #twd men x you #the walking dead men x reader #the walking dead men x you #daryl dixon reacts #rick grimes reacts #negan smith reacts #glenn rhee reacts #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes x you #rick grimes x y/n #negan smith x reader #negan smith x you #negan smith x y/n #glenn rhee x reader #glenn rhee x you #glenn rhee x y/n #rick grimes #daryl dixon #negan smith #glenn rhee

[jo-harrington]

Thoughts about Writing and Creating

Earlier today I read an article that really resonated with me and specifically made me think about some things within the corner I exist in within the tumblr fanfiction community.

First an intro: Hi! My name is Jo! I’m a 28 year old professional designer and visual artist, and I write about a silly metal head from the 80’s. I’ve been reading and writing fanfic in some way shape or form since I was 12. (Way before I should have.) There are people who’ve been in fandom longer than I have. And some people who are new to this world.

The thoughts I’m conveying below are mine alone and you may agree or you may not. Me writing this is to get these thoughts out and, hopefully, inspire some peace in my community and impart some lessons on some newer members of fandom. If you disagree with my opinions, please feel free to make your own. Post about them or shoot me a PM and we can have a peaceful discussion.

This post is NOT meant as an open door to hatred. If you come to me looking to fight, or dehumanize me, you will be blocked. I have seen enough in my time on tumblr to know how to protect my peace.

That being said, let’s proceed:

The article (I’ll link it below) was about the new Little Mermaid movie and how this “live action Disney revolution” is just a signifier of how media is recycled and that no idea is a new one. In any creative outlet. And while the article itself delves into the history of the Little Mermaid or mermaids themselves and all of that, the nuance of reference versus inspiration, the final idea was: never stop creating, never stop being inspired, never stop exploring.

How does that pertain to fanfiction though? How does that apply to me?

There’s been a lot of talk recently of “this person copied this idea” or “this is just a ripoff of that.” Enough that it drives people off of tumblr or stops them creating altogether. Makes people think that they’ve done something wrong. Some of this talk is is done by creators themselves, some is done by devoted friends or fans. And it is truly a shame, and I think it’s time that we stop.

This is not saying “plagiarism” or “copy and pasting word for word with a bit of name changing” is ok. No, those things are not ok. And people are allowed to be protective of their creations! Writers and artists put their heart and soul into their work.

But in terms of people’s genuine creativity…we need to be more tolerant of overlap. Whether we create or consume.

I’m currently writing a Freaky Friday Alternate Universe featuring 2 characters from a Netflix show. My story would not exist if these other media sources and inspirations didn’t exist. Does that mean my story should not exist or be told? Does that mean my writing isn’t good? No and no.

I don’t profit from my work. I write for me. For my friends. For you. I have nothing to gain and nothing to lose. And if someone came to me tomorrow and said “hey, I wanted to write another Freaky Friday story,” so long as they didn’t copy my work word for word…well…you know what? I would be happy about it! Welcome it. Encourage them.

How can I tell someone no? Forbid them to try and use my idea—whether they were inspired by it or just…stumbled on it by chance as they got the idea organically themselves? What if they had genuine inspiration and could write this story better? Who, if they’ve never written before, might have just found their first chance to do so?

How could I dare to stop someone from being inspired? When I dared to follow the same inspiration for myself?

Now I know there are a lot more personal or original ideas and fanfictions out there. But at the end of the day, everything had been done in some way shape or form. We are all inspired by something. We have overlapping experiences. (I myself have found a good friend in this community who has life experiences so close to my own it’s frightening.)

There are 8 billion of us on this planet, thinking and imagining. Living. There is no one in a million idea anymore when we are consuming so much diverse media at any given time during the day.

Again, if you’re a creator, you’re allowed to be protective of your creation. But you are not allowed to stunt someone’s inspiration or growth. We are not fighting one another in fandom. We are all in this little corner together. Someone getting a like or a comment doesn’t mean that a like or a comment was taken away from you.

And if you’re a consumer of fanfiction, if you’re here to support a friend or just someone who created something you love…yes, it may be something you look forward to, but you should never hurt someone just because you think they might have “stolen” or “hurt” your writer friends. This is a place for all of us to feel safe.

Consider the Golden Rule: Treat others the way you would want to be treated.

There are no big blogs or small blogs. Notes aren’t important. What is important is kindness and community.

And we should all be welcome here.

Article: There’s No Such Thing as a New Idea

#Jo’s thoughts #About writing #fanfic writer #creative community

[acotarharlot]

Clumsy (part 2)

Sorry if it’s bad lmfao I had bad writers block and made some shit up, hope you like it 🫶

~

It had been a couple days since your last encounter with…Cassian. You knew his name now. But that was about it. You couldn’t understand why this male occupied all of your thoughts. You even found yourself losing focus doing every day tasks, getting scolded by your father. This was foreign to you. You’d never wasted your time with boys or men. You were actually quite young compared to a lot of other women, only being 21. Considered a babe. This unfortunately meant you were a target in the camp.

Currently you were going through the store, where you spent majority of your time. While you were infatuated with the less than pleasant Illyrian, you were most definitely trying your best to avoid him. Of course that didn’t work and you would end up in awkward situations. Not even with proximity, but his stare, which you denied.

You wouldn’t forget or get confused, the end goal was to get out of this place. And getting involved or whatever it was with him would get you stuck. It was a price you weren’t willing to pay. That’s why you hadn’t gotten involved with anyone, friendship wise either. It was easier on your own. But that was why you had good observation skills.

It was near closing time by that point. And you were going to close up. Your father having left awhile ago. You packed up the shop and began the decent back home. In a few days you would make your escape. You just had to hold out until then.

Finally pulling the door closed you pulled out a key to lock it. A shadow in your peripheral vision caused you to jump and drop the key. Turning to the shadow you found nothing. Placing your hand over your heart you took a second to calm down. I really am so clumsy you thought to yourself. The sun was setting but you could still see the path to walk home. Trying your hardest to be careful. You never realised how uncoordinated you were until the recent weeks.

Walking along you took in the details of the camp around you. Some men were still fighting in the ring. While they looked big and muscular they didn’t radiate the forceful energy that Cassian did. You didn’t realise you were staring until one looked back. You immediately redirected your line of vision to ahead of you. You didn’t want any trouble. Which you thought you evaded until you heard the footsteps catching up to you. You kept your spine straight not to allude to any of the discomfort you felt. The stranger kept in pace with you. You turned and asked “Can I help you?”

“I just saw you looking over at me. I thought maybe you might want to chat.”

“Well, I’m sorry to give you the wrong impression but I don’t.”

It was rude but you wanted this man to leave you alone. You thought him attractive but not enough to ruin the plan you made.

He just smirked at you. You frowned and walked faster.

“You’re not even giving me a chance.”

You stopped and looked at him. Firmly telling him,

“I don’t want to know you.”

He reached out to grab one of your shoulders but before he could even touch you his hand had been pushed back. You felt another presence behind you.

“Don’t you know not to touch a lady without her consent?” You knew the voice, and whom it belonged to. Cassian.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise she was with you.” The man explained.

“She’s not.” Cassian replied.

You didn’t know why his words stung.

But nevertheless Cassian turned you around and began walking with you.

Once you were a safe distance away he scolded you.

“Why can’t you be more careful?”

There we go, the brute was back.

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t understand how you keep getting into these situations.”

“I’m sorry? I don’t mean to be such a problem for you. You wondered if he would catch the sarcasm in your words.

In the rush of things you had began to take a path into the forest. Although he was mostly insulting you it was the most you’d ever spoken to him and you wanted to know more.

“ I want to understand why you just can’t keep your head down.”

“That man came up to me! You exclaimed. The anger boiling up inside you.

He had been leaning against a tree casually. Almost as if he couldn’t see how offensive his comments were.

“If I’m such an inconvenience for you then you should just let those things happen to me. I don’t understand why you go out of your way to help.”

He pushed off the tree and stalked over.

The proximity making your breath hitch.

“Maybe I like to be the one to save you.”

You let out the raged breath.

Then he kissed you hard. You had never kissed anyone so you tried your best to follow his lead. It was passionate and heartfelt. But he stopped. Breathing heavy he apologised.

You wanted more though. This was a whole new playing field for you. Never having experienced this kind of intimacy or feeling. So you kissed him, and he returned it immediately. This time silently asking permission to slip in his tongue, which you allowed. He was respectful and just held your waist in one hand and your head with the other. You also felt most comfortable with your hands on his chest. Time felt so fast yet, like you could hear the seconds droop slowly every second on a clock.

You pulled away first needing air. You felt a small bit of shame, knowing this was indeed you’re first Rodeo. This time you apologised.

But he just smiled down at you. While before you just thought he was a sexy kind of attractive, the sun setting on his face showed that he was actually kind of beautiful. Without meaning to you lifted a hand to trace his face. And he allowed you to do so. The word slipped from your mouth, very quietly but he still heard what you called him. He smiled, not smirked, and it was genuine.

“Why are you so upset with me all the time?”

You wanted to ask but once you said the words you wished you could take them back.

So you followed up with “I mean one second you’re quite nice and the next you act like I’m your worst enemy. I’m just finding it hard to read you.”

His face looked strained and you felt bad for ruining the moment shared between the two of you.

“I’m a general and this is an Illyrian camp, that is all I’m allowed to be.”

Whatever that means you thought. You continued on in casual conversation before you realised how late it was getting. Your father would wonder where you where.

“Oh shit, I really need to go.” You exclaimed.

“What, why?” He asked hurriedly.

“I just do” you said running off.

You would have to think of a very convincing lie to tell your father. Praying that he wouldn’t smell the general on you.

#azriel x reader #acotar #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #elain acotar #feyre archeron #nesta archeron #a court of frost and starlight #a court of thorns and roses #acomaf #cassian x reader #cassian acotar #cassian fanfic #cassian x you #cassian fluff

[sabrinahawthorne]

JUMP! Devlog February 5, 2024,

Structure of the Playbook

This week, I want to go over the current format for Playbooks in JUMP!. This outline is a sort of stencil; a "standard" that gives me a starting point, but that I can deviate from as needed, or as I please.

Stats

These work nearly identically to their prototype counterparts, with a couple small changes, including Willpower being renamed to Force. I maintain the option to rename all three stats, should cooler-sounding names make themselves known.

There are also some larger changes being made from the prototype. For one, I'm no longer keeping each Playbook to a limit of 4 total points split between the stats.

With the removal of Power Tags (and their replacement with something more interesting, to be discussed in another post) also comes a lack of built-in customization for a Fighter's stats. This is fine; each Playbook now gives the player between 1-3 points to allocate how they wish, on top of whatever they get standard. There's no need to innovate here - it's easy, simple, and gets out of the way.

2. Central Toy

I may not keep the idea of a central "Toy" around. I want to, but my gut tells me that it may lead me down paths I've already tried and not liked. For now, the idea is pretty simple - a central twist for each playbook - some way that they are allowed to break the rules and do things that no-one else can. Again, this isn't a revolutionary concept, but it opens up the possibility of a lot of fun playstyles.

3. Beats

In the JUMP! prototype, Fighters could spend a round of combat "resting," which would recharge their stat Pools by their respective values. This is no longer the case, as I don't want combat to be measured in rounds at all anymore. Instead, I want fights to be largely narrative affairs, driven by the table's desire to make their characters do cool things. Then, when something big and climactic happens, the Bidding begins, and we get to bring out the dice for a moment of heightened excitement.

This means that between Contests, Fighters need a way to Charge their Pools. Thus, Beats. When a Fighter meets the conditions of a Beat, they either gain or lose some Points from a single Pool, and something interesting happens in the story. It's as simple as that, for the most part. They're just a way to encourage players to lean into the tropes & conventions of their Fighter, as well as making sure they don't all end up with empty Pools by the end of the fight.

4. Bursts

When you win in anime, you win big. Bursts are hefty, tasty chunks of the power fantasy that get triggered when a Fighter wins a Contest. Like Beats, they carry some simple tie-in to the game state, but bigger and more exciting. And like Beats, their goal is to further play in to the central archetype of each Playbook.

The GM will also be getting their own list of generic Bursts - whether they can be activated by Fighters as well is still up in the air.

5. Final Form

Final Forms are so fun to write. There's something so satisfying about getting to put down a solid block of colorful, delicious text and treat it as very important.

They also give me a wonderful cornerstone to design the rest of the Playbook around; what is the thesis of this archetype? What is the entire thing building towards? What moments of drama are these characters built around?

Really, final forms are a chance for me to cut loose as a writer, and a chance for players to cut loose too. I'm having a lot of fun with them.

At the end of the month, I'm planning another playtest where I can hopefully stress-test a lot of this new design. Then, through March, it'll be time to prepare for the crowdfunding campaign and the open beta. It's exciting and nerve wracking, and I can't wait to show off the results of that work.

#indie ttrpg #ttrpg #jump! shonen battle roleplay #devlog

[skymaiden32]

Mariana Trench

AO3 link here

Fandom: Stingray

Tagging: @dragonoffantasyandreality @thundergeek59 @janetm74 @katblu42 @liseylou @amistrio @uniwolfcorn (Please ask if you would like to be updated when I update or write new stories)

The battle for Pacifica has begun...

Hi *waves in no update for eight months*

I have no words for how late this is honestly. Big life stuff happened, I went to ComicCon (which was a blast; I went as Marina and met some awesome new people >:3), exams came and went, and then I got hit by the combined forces of a whopper of writer's block and burnout from aforementioned exams.

I would say the update times will get better from here, but I'm heading into the last year of university and will get very busy from September. Fingers crossed though ^^

Anyway, on with the chapter! >:D

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9: Battle of Pacifica

------

Phones examined the bars across the large windows carefully, humming worriedly as he did so. They were too narrow to squeeze between, so escaping that way was out of the question. The doors were locked and bolted from the outside. If they ever did get out, it wouldn’t be for a long time, and the Titanican attack on Pacifica may well be over. Phones groaned, jiggling the door handle in frustration in a last ditch hope it would come loose somehow. No luck…

He stole a glance over at Fisher, who was also looking for a way out. They caught each other’s eyes, and the younger aquanaut slumped his shoulders in defeat. It looked like they’d be here for quite some time. 

------

“And you are certain they cannot escape?” X20’s screen showed his King and his immediate superior, standing side by side as the battle raged on behind them. From the looks of it, the Titanicans had their enemies on the run.

“Positive, Captain.” X20 confirmed. “I made sure of it. And even if they do get away, I removed anything from my personal files relevant to the plan…”

“I applaud you for your foresight… For once.” Titan hummed, muttering the last part under his breath. “Losing Lemoy as a base of operations is not ideal, but it is necessary.”

Trench nodded in agreement. “Well done, X20. Return to Titanica and await further instructions.” He looked back at the chaos behind him. “The battle is almost over from the looks of it, so your assistance will likely not be required.”

X20 saluted, and the video winked off. Titan turned to his second-in-command. “Return to the battlefield. I realise you might have…” the tyrant frowned, “hesitations about it, but the Princess is a force to be reckoned with. If we are to win, she must be taken care of.”

Trench couldn’t help the proud smile that spread across his face. Of course Marina was carving her path through the enemy. He’d seen her in action before. Pacificans were pacifists by nature, but the rivalry with Titanica had changed that, and their Princess had WASP training under her belt, in addition to the combat lessons Aphony had insisted she take after returning from her capture. She was a worthy opponent.

Of course he had doubts about fighting the mermaid. She had once been like a sister to him. But if his King were to get any further in his goal, it was necessary. “I will not fail, O’ Mighty One…”

“See that you don’t…” Titan turned his attention back to the window, overlooking the battle. The sea-green blur that was Princess Marina, cutting down Aquaphibian after Aquaphibian, taunted him. “You know better than anyone, I am not merciful to those who fail me.”

Trench saluted, turning on his heel, and headed into battle against his former allies.

------

“You got any paper and a pen?” Fisher asked, beyond bored. The aquanauts were sat at the small table, watching the sun set on the horizon. All they could really do was wait. The beauty of the sunset currently meant nothing. “I wanna write something…”

Phones gave him a look. “Really?”

Fisher shrugged. “Hey, it’s not like we have anything better to do.”

“Good point.” Phones stood up. “Well, to answer your question, yes, I have a pen,” he took the item out his pocket, placing it on the table in front of Fisher, “I don’t have any paper, but I might be able to grab a blank page from a book over there…” He pointed towards the small bookshelf, getting up and walking over to grab a book, when a thought crossed his mind. “Wait a minute…” Fisher looked at him quizzically as he bent down to look through the keyhole of the door. Phones smirked when he realised he couldn’t see through the small hole. The key was still in there! X20 must’ve forgotten to take it out. “Of course!”

The younger Lieutenant raised an eyebrow. “What’s going on?”

Phones hushed him, getting more and more excited by the minute. “Never mind that, just gimme that pen back.” Fisher gave Phones a look, but did so anyway. The older man knelt down, judging the space under the door. Good. It was just big enough for this to work…

Grabbing a larger book, Phones tore a page out, slipping it under the door so it would be under the outside keyhole. He left a small slither of paper so he could pull it back towards him. Fisher’s eyes widened when he realised what his friend was up to. 

Phones took apart the pen, grabbing ahold of the ink cartridge inside, and gently threaded it through the keyhole. Soon enough, a thud was heard on the other side of the door as the key fell. Fisher gave him a hopeful look. “Think it fell where we want it to?”

“Guess we’ll find out soon enough.” Phones knelt down, and gently pulled the piece of paper towards the aquanauts. The silver gleam of the key was their reward. Phones picked it up with a flourish, exchanging a smirk with Fisher. Next stop, Pacifica.

------

Marina twirled through the water with grace as she exchanged blows with her friend turned enemy. When Trench had first appeared on the battlefield, he had muttered out an apology to Marina, heard only by her. The Princess had shuddered at the robotic voice. It was hard to forget the way she’d heard Troy’s dulcet tones behind it, now she knew it was him wearing the mask. Silently, she had given orders to the soldiers under her command, both Pacifican and WASP alike, to keep away from them as they fought. They’d obeyed, making a move to guard the throne room, where her father was anxiously awaiting the conclusion of the battle, and the return of his only child.

Blades clashed, Marina giving Trench a pleading look. If any part of him was still Tempest, it would at least stir something in him. She wished she knew what was going on his head. She wished she could see the emotions on his face.

On the other side of the watertight mask, Troy was struggling to keep the tears at bay. He hadn’t expected it to be so hard to face Marina in combat. Physically, they were almost evenly matched, with him just outclassing her, but there was something in the Princess’s pleading gaze that gave him pause everytime he went in for what should be the final strike. She was part of the reason why he’d left WASP, wasn’t she? So, why was it so hard to fight her?

“Stingray!” The panicked exclamation from one of the Aquaphibians caught everyone’s attention. Every faction involved looked up as the silver super-sub sped towards the greater WASP fleet. Marina and her people on the field grinned as it lead an attack on the Aquaphibian ships. Their enemy looked on in fear, knowing instantly that they would lose the battle. The Princess was certain she could Titan growl from wherever he was watching.

“Captain Trench.” The King’s cold voice caught his attention. “Issue a full retreat. We’ll never win with Stingray on their side. I’ll discuss both your and X20’s failures once we are safe behind Titanican walls…”

The human nodded, even though he knew his superior wouldn’t see it, and shivered. “Yes, sire.” Making a subtle gesture toward the closest Aquaphibian, the order quickly spread, and soon, the invaders were on the run. As they watched them leave, the Pacificans silently cheered, embracing each other in celebration. Marina smiled gently as her gaze swept along her people, never prouder to call herself a Pacifican. She was taken aback when she was pulled into a tight hug, although her grin widened when she realised who it was, holding her father just as tight.

On board Stingray, Phones and Fisher sadly watched as their once friend retreated with the enemy, even as the sounds of their colleagues on the comms and the sight of the Pacificans celebrating flooded their senses. Fisher cleared his throat. “I forgot to ask…” Phones turned to look his friend in the eye, grateful for the distraction. “How’d you know how to get the key?”

Phones smiled sadly at Fisher. “Troy taught me.” Phones sighed as he remembered that day. They’d been so excited to work on the same crew. Where had it all gone wrong? “It was on our first mission together.”

Fisher took note of the older man’s downcast face. “We’ll get him back, Phones.”

Phones sighed, turning Stingray’s nose back in the direction of Marineville. “I hope you’re right…”

#stingray #stingray 1964 #stingray fanfiction #george lee 'phones' sheridan #lieutenant fisher #surface agent x20 #troy tempest #captain trench #marina of pacifica #sky writes stuff

[icaruswithwingsofwater]

Hello, everyone! Just popping in with a bare-faced, messy-haired, tired-eyed, been writing awhile face to say ‘Hey, we’re almost to Friday.’. ✌🏻😩✨💙😳

So chapter three of The Locked Door was posted almost a week ago! How have you all been enjoying it so far? The story is starting to get intense 👀😳😵‍💫✨😩 I hope you will join me for chapter four on April 6th at 11 AM EST time on archiveofourown.com. 💕

My username is: icaruswithwingsofwater

I’ve been doing a lot of writing recently. Working on the second book in the One She Let In series. I finished the outline for a chapter yesterday and have been working on actually typing it up today. It’s been fun. 😌

I had been experiencing a bit of writer’s block with this particular outline. I get this at times, like any writer or creative, and battle it. My mental health unfortunately worsens it and circumstances I’m currently fighting in my life have been making things hard as well too. At times when my block is difficult and I’m at a loss I am reminded of my favorite Studio Ghibli movie, Kiki’s Delivery Service, and I think of Ursula the painter who lives in the woods. I think of how she says to do nothing at all, doze off at noon, and soon your inspiration will return. That you fly with your spirit. And I did just that. I took a break. You just have to sometimes which is hard to admit to yourself that you have to do. So I guess my advice is the same as Ursula’s: When you lose your magic, take a break. Because you’ll find your inspiration again. ✨💜

From my heart to my wings,

Kate 💙

#bare face #kiki’s delivery service #author #authors #my writing #me with writing #writeblr #queer writers #queer author #lgbt writers #lgbt author #queer writing #new adult #slow burn #ao3 #archive of our own #new writing #new writers on tumblr #new writer boost #the locked door #the one she let in series #the one she let in series: the locked door #tld #booklr #books and reading #bookworm #studio ghibli #writing tips #writerscommunity #enjoy my silly Snapchat selfie 🫡

[aphelea]

in the archives

Writer's block is finally gone, so now y'all get even more, extra late Tiertice content. Written for day 4: ink of @tiertice-week-2023.

Summary: Two letters filed under Contigency of Death or Exile in the Black Swan archives. Hand-written.

Ao3

BLACK SWAN ARCHIVES - CONTINGENCY OF DEATH OR EXILE

In the event of the death or exile of TIERGAN ANDRIN ALENEFAR/GRANITE, the following letter will be delivered to PRENTICE ENDAL, currently residing in [REDACTED for archival purposes]. If he is not alive to receive it, this letter will be burned. 

Letter begins. 

My dear Prentice,

I hope you never have to read this. 

Let that be said—I may be foolish, and reckless, and utterly unconcerned for my safety as you so often enjoy telling me, but I swear to every unmapped star that I have never, never wanted to hurt you. And to lose myself would be hurting you, so in some roundabout way…well, I’m alive as I write this, Prentice, and I intend to stay that way for a very long time. (I promised you forever, and you know I’m not one to go back on my promises.)

But, if you’re reading this, then somewhere along the way I must have failed. Maybe I slipped, maybe I was careless—whatever it was, it doesn’t matter. What matters is, I know you, and I know you’re fighting the urge to scream at me and the world and at everyone around you. And if I begged you to let me go, please, you’d only be more upset. 

So I won’t say that. Instead, I’ll tell you that I miss you, even as the only part left of me is a memory. And when you forget me—as is inevitable, with our lives long as they are—I’ll still love you, from every part of me that has ever known love. 

There isn’t really a point to this letter; you know Leto insists on us writing them. After all, there’s nothing I can tell you that you don’t already know—except that I’m sorry, if you can find it in yourself to believe me. 

(Please tell Wylie and Cyrah that I’m sorry, too. Maybe you can also tell them the truth, finally. I think they deserve it now.)

In truth, though, the only thing I want to tell you is this: forget about me. You have an eternity to live and to love; and so long as this letter exists in my hand, my memory is sufficiently alive, and you can walk away. 

Damn it all, Prentice, please just walk away. 

I promise, I’m not worth losing you, too. 

All my love, 

Tiergan Endal

-

In the event of the death or exile of PRENTICE ENDAL, the following letter will be delivered to TIERGAN ANDRIN ALENEFAR/GRANITE, currently residing in Solreef. If he is not alive to receive it, this letter will be burned. 

This letter was removed from the archives as of [DATE REDACTED]. 

Letter begins. 

Tiergan, 

I’ve never been much of a poet, really, but I’ll tell you this: Loving you has made me one. 

It sounds ridiculous, I know. But when I watch you, I think the only way to fully describe who you are is with poetry—you’re Tiergan and you’re everything; the king of every sunset and the queen of every sunrise, the stars themselves personified into one, ever-gleaming halo of a person. 

I don’t know when you’ll read this letter, but I’m sure it will be soon. I’ve heard rumours of the Cognates’ research into me, and while they’ll never find the information they’re looking for, I have no doubts that they’ll find enough information to send me to Exile if they so choose. And you and I both know what they will choose. 

And when that happens, well. Here’s this letter, for you. A final apology in my own hand. 

I know a part of you never fully forgave me for becoming the Keeper. I know you think that I’m incapable of walking away—and hell, you might be right—but I need you to understand something, love: I did this for us. Every lie I told, every secret I kept, it was for you. You are the world that I swore to protect, all those years ago, and I don’t regret any minute of it. 

So, yes, be angry at me, I know I deserve it. But don’t say that I did this for nothing, because I didn’t. I did it for you, and the children I’ve sworn to protect. And if the Moonlark gets to live another day without the Council’s wrath looming over her…well, then. My job is done here. 

So, yes, if you’re reading this, it’s too late to save me. But maybe it always was. Maybe I’ve been doomed to this fate ever since I laid eyes on the faults of our world, maybe I should’ve known I was done from the moment I laid eyes on you. 

All that aside, however, I’m grateful that I got to spend the little time that was my life loving you, and Cyrah, and Wylie. 

The world is better with you three in it. 

…Don’t forget that, darling. Please. 

Yours,

Prentice

#this counts for ink if i want it to count for ink okay. shhhh #i will finish 8 fics i will finish 8 fics i will finish 8 fics i wi #tiertice #tiertice week 2023

[traveling-at-the-speed-of-light]

Master Post: Wrapped Fics #1, #2, #3

Thankyou to @ucannotkillmeinawaythatmatters for every single one of these. My playlist (and writer's block) thanks you!

#1 - Steddie, 15 (Outsiders by Against The Current)

#2 - First Prince, 24 (Freezing by Mimi Webb)

#3 - Narlie, 89 (Bois Lie (feat. Machine Gun Kelly) by Avril Lavigne)

~1~

Steve never thought being disowned would be a good thing. The Harringtons, his ancestors, had been privileged, a working family made of old money that had built most of Hawkins's buildings and even owned them one time or another.

Steve had expectations put upon him, a legacy and worse, the family name to live up to and while he’d never done a decent job of it, losing it was a new experience. He’d do it all over again if it meant Eddie would still take him like he already has.

God, Eddie. Eddie was a true outsider to Steve when they first met, now they’re sharing a bed and a life Steve only glimpsed in teenage angst fueled dreams, Steve now being nameless and Eddie fearing people still, both damaged beyond repair.

They had always felt alone and unloved in the world, everyone around them golden while they trudged through black and blue and hurting till now. Now, when every broken bone Eddie once had below the surface has healed and Steve no longer has to tell lies to save his reputation or live in broken walls that never held him as tightly as Eddie does when they’re sleeping in Wayne’s trailer late at night as the moon shines through the trees.

They might be outsiders now, Steve a rebel and Eddie still a freak, but they’re free. They aren’t hiding anymore, their true selves out in the open for all to see.

The others/ They don’t know what they’re missing.

~2~

Alex has never felt so cold in his life in this moment and he’s been in England, his face a mask of indifference as he views the recent call list on his phone to see Henry’s WhatsApp number in a list of the same digits going on for endless scrolling before it disappears.

The Latino never thought he would have to be the cold one in the relationship. He’d tried, he’d /tried/ to put up with Henry, but the constant rules, the hiding, it was too much.

He couldn’t keep sneaking behind everyone’s back just to get his cock sucked every one in a while before he was ruthlessly tossed like trash away from the prince and told to pretend like nothing happened. They weren’t together, yet Henry acts so plainly like they were and it makes him hurt under the ice he’s put over his emotions.

At one point, Alex had fallen for that delusion, yes, he’ll admit that, but he’d seen though it now - how Henry only called when no one was around and made sure everyone was none the wiser and not getting a hint, any hint, that him and Alex were more than the “close personal friends” that they were made to be.

Henry said the last time they saw each other in Paris, when Alex instead of making love to him pushed him away, that everybody makes mistakes, but Alex knew that this “mistake” could hit hard and hurt other people than just them. It makes his decision to tell him point blank that he’s leaving, come home, shut that door and swallow the keys even more brutal, but he had to. Not just for Henry to get the hint that he wanted more, deserved more, but so Henry would see with a push that living his life in the shadows and on other people’s opinions and time weren’t worth it.

It more than likely looked like Alex ran for the hills or in more proper terms, abandoned ship to the other, given he’s not answering his calls and declining his invitations, but he had to be ruthless. It was cold, so very goddamn cold and very not like him in retrospect, but he had to do like Henry had - cage his heart for the foreseeable future and work on his mother’s campaign without interruption and without Henry’s continued commentary on his life.

It wasn’t just cold anymore once he closed his phone - it was downright freezing.

~3~

Normally, Charlie Spring doesn’t like to get into fights. Much less fights that he didn’t expect to even get into in the first place, but now he’s here, broken objects around him and the current villain - his  supposed to be boyfriend Nick Nelson -  looming over the other side of the room as they both breathe heavily, cheeks stained red and tears on both their faces, a blowout fight having commenced due to several factors.

First of all, Charlie cheated on him. Yes, he knows that’s horrible and shameful it’s all on him, but it’s really not given Nick was no fucking saint either. The man had a tongue like a razor blade and lately, had been lying straight to his face about several things, the comments and passive responses feeling like Nick was twisting a knife into his back and carving his name all over Charlie like he was owned and not loved like he had been. Like he used to be.

On top of that, Charlie had become anxious of late and had to make up little stories in order to cover up everything he’d been doing off to the side, due to Nick just obviously not caring for him anymore despite pretending to be faithful and forthright with him, just telling him what he wants and weaving words to create magic in Charlie’s ears before it disappears and leaves him hollow. Charlie wanted revenge and he’d gotten it, the only problem with it was that with telling the truth, the illusion shatters.

Last night had been a particularly bad spell, as that’s what had led to now - Charlie’s guilt making him talk way too much and no longer able to continue doing “fake shit” as Nick had coined it during the hours-long row that had now put them in a standoff where they had no idea where to go from because both of them never told each other the truth, neither of them saying sorry and throwing everything in their way to avoid it.

Soon enough, Nick, heavy with regret and hunched over with the pains of sadness and guilt of losing his patience and knowing he’s caused all of this (though Charlie’s sure his friends would say Charlie was the  bad guy while his own would say Nick was) stares him down and Charlie watches forlorn as he leaves the room, the sound of the door slamming upstairs making his heart stop with it’s echo and suffer before he falls to the floor, the remnants of what was happiness and acceptance in pieces around him.

It doesn’t take a genius for someone like him to know that life as he knows is over for good.

#fanfiction #fanfic #writing #heartstopper #mpreg #firstprince #narlie #red white and royal blue #stranger things #steddie #songfic #songfics #mini fic #mini fics #meme #memes #meme fic #meme fics #spotify #music #ask #ucannotkillmeinawaythatmatters #traveling at the speed of light #first prince #red white & royal blue

[the-library-of-wonderland]

“Come Here,”

Raimi!Peter Parker x GN!Reader

☾ When your boyfriend’s side job of fighting crime caught up to him physically, you were there to pull him away from it. ★Fluff, Gender Neutral (describes you as elegant, but i think that’s still pretty neutral), Mentions of wounds, blood, fighting. I read over it, but there could be mistakes.

Having been busy balancing work, college, love, and crime-fighting, your boyfriend Peter found himself overwhelmed again. He always had trouble stopping himself, fighting and working until he reached his limit and had to be stopped by someone else.

That was where you currently found yourself, busy wrapping up his arm and stomach in bandages as he tiredly went on about his busy day fighting crime.

“And then the guy grabbed my arm and started to punch me with his other-“ You frowned as he went on, ”Pete, this is gonna hurt a bit” you warned, before wiping some alcohol on his wound to sterilize it. He squeezed your other hand slightly as you did so, giving you a pained smile when you looked at him in concern.

“I’m good, just stings a little,” he reassured you.

You started to bandage the gash on his torso, making sure to be gentle as to not hurt him. He smiled as he watched you work, taking in your features from where he laid on your couch. Your calm, focused, yet somehow still so elegant look in the face of his worrying wounds. He never understood how you were always so calm under pressure, especially when it involved his “double life”.

But that thought had been put aside when you finally broke down in tears in front of the hero for the first time, seeing him so beat up and bloody after a fight with Doc Ock had really set in that you may lose him one day. He thought is was only fair though, you had seen him break down in many ways, he finally saw you break down as well.

He was pulled out of his thoughts when you squeezed his hand, pulling him towards you.

“Come here, Pete. I was worried about you.”

The boy smiled as he sat up and laid his head on your lap, closing his eyes when you started to brush you hands through his messy brown locks.

“Sorry for keeping you waiting earlier, Honey. When duty calls I have to answer.” Peter sighed.

You giggled as you looked down at him, ”It’s alright, at least we can still see each other, even though you’re usually covered in bruises when we do.”

Peter laughed at your joke as he looked at you, reaching his hand up to cup one if your cheeks before pulling you down into a kiss. The kiss was sweet and short but left you just as breathless as the first kiss you had shared.

When you both finally pulled away there was still a strong blush running across both of your faces, causing you two to giggle at each other.

“Alright now Spidey, do you want to lay here and cuddle or go to bed and also cuddle?” you asked teasingly.

“I think you already know the answer to that.” Peter smiled. He sat up and grabbed your hand, leading you to your shared bedroom where you two could cuddle to your heart’s content.

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Hey everyone! Sorry for not posting in AGES, I’ve been having really bad writer’s block. I got motivation for this from randomly watching Spiderman 2 like a day or 2 ago so this was nice to do again!

#peter x reader #spider man no way home #spiderman x reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker #raimi trilogy #spiderman raimi #tobey maguire #tobey!peter parker x reader #tobey peter parker