#*cracks knuckles* okay let's tag these suckers | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

binniesthighs · 3 years

Text

he lives in my lap | reader x changbin

➛ Pairing: self insert, gender neutral reader x seo changbin

➛ Recommended listening: she lives in my lap, outkast

➛ Genre: pwp (smut), fluffy tones, 18+

➛ Word count: 3.9k

✨ Summary/Request Here ✨

Anon: sub!changbin nipple play drabble👁👁

i’m such a sucker for sub bin smh

a/n: thank you for requesting sweet anon! any day, any time i will write sub!changbin! this was such a pleasure to write n’ i hope that ya like it! <3

{see below for nsfw tags!}

NSFW: dom!reader, sub!changbin, tsundere!bin, slightlybratty!bin, established relationship, use of petnames, body worship (calm tf down ro, we know you love binnies’ bod), *plz pretend to be surprised here too* thigh kink, power dynamics, LOADS of nipple play (m receiving), praising & mild degradation, handjob, lil pet of petplay (bunny), v soft aftercare

♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥

you caught him sulking, bundled up in his chair with his legs crossed and his eyes dried. its the times like this when you don’t need him to tell you what’s going through his mind. he huffs and spins around just to get a moment to break his stare at the screen. he rubs at his temples where his headache surges, but he’ll never stop to ask for help or to express how tired he really is.

“what are you working on?” you simply ask as you cross the way behind him and squeeze his shoulders.

he sighs, and answers, “work.”

it’s barely an answer, but knowing him, prodding wouldn’t do much else.

“its getting late,” you pause, contemplating to next part of your phrase, “could you come to bed? i’d....love to have you with me...if you can.”

his fingers stop their typing, and he pulls off a single padded headphone to listen to you.

“you know that i’ve got a deadline. can’t.”

“wouldn’t you like to--”

“--can’t you just live one night without it?” he barks, swiveling in his seat to face you.

his eyes, the whites of them pink and his under-eyes bagged, tell you that you can’t take exactly what he means to heart, but still, it doesn’t hurt much less.

“bin--i just want you to take care of yourself and not overwork. you know that you need your rest to make everything work out right. right?”

your boyfriend sighs and composes himself, then puts his headphones back on.

“deadlines are deadlines.” changbin simply replies. “in a couple days it’ll be over.”

the sound of his clicking at his mouse fills the room back up, and this close you can hear the faint buzz of his music on the other side of his headphones. its as if he wants to create some kind of shell between you and him; he pulls his hood up and balls himself up in his big black hoodie.

with him, your patience overcomes anything.

“bin--” you reach for his arm to rub in calming little circles with your thumb, “you’re worrying me.”

the exhaustion in his voice causes it to crack, “i’m fine.”

it doesn’t take him much to go up in arms when you pull off his headphones to hold his puffy face in your hands. earnestly you hold his eyes with yours.

“you’ve worked so much already today. please, come to bed, i know you won’t admit it to yourself, but it’ll be okay if you sleep for just a little while....or, relax at least...”

changbin huffs out again in his same little annoyed nature. you knew the ins and outs of him well: your words might have gone in one ear and left out the other, but they still would jumble him up on their way out.

“i said that i’m fine,” your boyfriend repeats, “you’re worrying over nothing.”

it isn’t easy to admit defeat in the moment, but that’s all it is: a moment. he allows you the pause to plant a tiny kiss on his forehead before focusing back on his work. the truth is, you really did want him to join. the bed was always warmer with two anyway. these days, it was even a little hard to fall asleep with him.

“well,” you throw your hands on your hips, “i’ll just be back here...if you need anything. i can warm up your side for you, kay?”

for a moment, his fingers stop their clicking, wavering. “okay.”

he likes it when you wear his shirts and other little things like that. he even thinks that its cute when you steal his socks and they bunch up a little. after living together your clothes have started to all smell the same, but knowing that it’s his has always been enough for you.

at first, you promise yourself that you’ll stay up as long as he does, but not even you can stay up that late. he turns the lights off for you, leaving only his desk lamp and the blue screen of his desktop. silently you promise him that you’ll stay up as long as you can manage...

“--oh. sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up...”

your blurry eyesight makes out the time that’s ticked past two hours since you last remember checking.

“its okay,” your sleepy self returns. you’ve fallen asleep on his side of the bed which you promised to warm up, but he won’t ask you to give it up when you’re half awake.

“i’ve decided to sleep in late tomorrow.” he hums while reaching for his phone light to turn it off. “you’re right.”

“i know that i’m right.”

even in the dark you can feel his little joking smirk. the mattress makes springy sounds under the weight of your two bodies, and somehow your hands find their way into the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie. there’s nothing like feeling his presence beside you--its a kind of irreplaceable reassurance that you’ve only ever felt in him.

he’s close enough to feel his tiny breaths in the space between you, and how it tickles your upper lip. sleepy kisses float from your lips to his which he happy returns by pressing into you closer and melding your body with his. you make a point to kiss him slowly and with every ounce of intent that you are able to pour from yourself to him.

your love unties himself for you just as he does whenever he feels your thumb trace under his jaw slowly or as you hold his face in your hands, tilting him to deepen your exploration of his mouth. you can feel him get looser and looser after being so tightly bound. your hands work at his knots with swift fingers that interweave with his hair, then find their way to traipse up the hem of his clothes.

he mutters a little sound that could be translated into many pleasurable things, but you don’t need to think too hard to interpret it.

“binnie...” you coo, gently rolling him to his back to lean over him with your upper body, “you’re doing so well. i can tell how hard that you’re working...there’s no need to hide.”

he nods, allowing you to paint his cheeks with more little kisses that fall down to his neck, then travel back up to his ear where you nibble softly. in your own mind, its your favorite place to show him your love: he shivers feeling your breath quiver in his ear, then exhales out after feeling the small pull at his skin.

higher under his shirt your hands tip-toe, then trance the curves of his sides and finally reach the spot where he is most sensitive...your boyfriend gifts you the gorgeous sound of his uncontrollable little whimpers once he feels the pads of your fingers graze over one of his hardened nipples.

“oh?” you taunt, “already so sensitive?”

changbin attempts a scoff that comes out airy on his lips, “i mean, yeah...when you do that.”

your index circles his bud, causing and even more delightful symphony of shaking breaths to exit.

“...but its so late...” you remind him. its halfway between a genuine reminder and somewhat of a challenge. there’s nothing more that you would want, but the clock tells you otherwise.

your room is nearly devoid of light save for the way that the crescent moon peeks through the slits of the shades. the silver light illuminates his face in stripes, one of them directly over his eyes which makes them sparkle with the same iridescent shine of stars.

“do you think that i care?” changbin shies a bit into the puffy pillow that cradles his head.

from your position above him you can see the way that he pleads wordlessly, and how he just knows that he’s irresistible to you. his gaze softens to shift in that cute little pout. he too knows how to untie you, how to make you fall into him so deeply that you can’t see anything but him. he knows exactly what to say, how to wet his his cushy lip so it glistens just a little when he parts his mouth for you to crave even more than you already do.

“do you want me to say please?” he adds.

fuck, he really does know you well.

your knuckles rub along the fuzzy underside of his sweater, scribbling more circles around his nipples that hardens them painfully even though you’re barely touching him.

“that is my favorite word,”

his tone is airy, barely audible when he asks as politely as he can, “please, can you use me how you want?”

you tut, bowing low over his lips to only let them hover over his own. your lie of a kiss just barely makes contact with him. he whines from the promise of your taste, even wiggling his hips in his agony knowing that he won’t get what he wants quickly.

“hm, i didn’t really hear you that time...” slowly your hands begin to pull the fabric of is shirt over his head. “say it again for me?”

“please...?” your boyfriend desperately repeats.

“and you’ll be a good boy for me? you’ll do what i say?”

“yes...yes. everything that you say.”

his hoodie ruffles up his cute dark locks that sprawl all over his face and even cover his eyes. for a moment you think of how his hair had gotten longer than you had noticed. you sweep it aside, holding his eyes while your hand swipes up and down his chest just between his pectorals.

“and you’ll tell me when you want me to stop?”

finally you grant him the kiss he’s been waiting for which he drinks up greedily, moaning carefully over your lips.

“mmhm.”

you nearly startle him after forgetting to move slowly, finding your own eagerness taking hold of you. changbin’s eyes gleam seeing you on top of him and both of your legs straddling his sides. you slither farther down his body to align yourself correctly, then pause finding your place.

after, he then startles you by letting out a sudden cry in response to his beloved sensation. both of your hands are busied pinching and tweaking directly at his pink nipples that turn redder from your touch. you toy with the hardened buds while his eyelids flutter--he can’t figure out if he wants to close his eyes to feel it all, or watch you. he decides upon the latter and tries his best focus on your hands spread on his chest.

its a wondrous indulgence of yours as you watch the way that his muscles fill up your hands and even how his skin pops between your fingers when you squeeze. “my bun,” you sigh in admiration, “i just can’t handle you...”

your head spins when he echoes, “neither can i...”

it seems fair for you to take off your top too, so you do. your hands survey farther up his chest, then course down his arms which you tuck to rest on each side of his head.

“you know how it goes.”

he doesn’t even need the reminder.

“fuck, you’re gonna take all the time you want now, aren’t you?”

your boyfriend regains a bit of his composure to snark with that little unfair smirk of his.

“would you rather me not do this for you at all...bun?”

he rolls his eyes, impatient and annoyed for barely a second. he’s quieted the moment that he feels your lips float over his skin. you can feel the way that his breaths are thrown out from his lungs once you press even harder. his hips squirm and he turns into a puddle of half-choked winces that turn high pitched and needy the closer that you get to the sensitive areas of his chest. your tongue twists around it, only teasing at first and never allowing him to feel the full heat of your mouth. your left hand swipes up his side and settles right over his other bud which you toy with between your index and middle finger. you pull, then delight in the way that you can even feel his moans start deep from his core then come ripping out carelessly.

at last you grant him the wet of your mouth when you tense your lips to pull too. you know that he likes it when you use your teeth too, but you never start with the most exciting part.

his arms twitch like they usually do where they lay on both sides of his head. your boyfriend interlocks his fingers behind his head to pull and hold them there until his knuckles turn white. he would touch you, but you don’t like getting that distracted. you don’t need it anyway to heighten the way that unraveling him already pools heat between your legs and sends you grinding over his midsection.

you use a combination of gentle kisses contrasted with the pull of your fingers and eventually the bite of your teeth to get him properly gasping out as if he cannot breathe. your name finds its way twisted into some of his moans too; it sounds so perfect, so right said that way: airy, wavering, shaking after he bites it into his lip too.

you stop to admire him, now using your thumbs to tease at the way his reddened nipples now look painfully aroused and even glimmer with the sheen of your saliva upon them. changbin is flushed out all across his cheeks and even over his nose bridge. the rouge spreads down to his neck where the veins there quiver with each of his senseless gasps for air. he jerks from the careful feeling of the pad of your thumb compared to how viciously you had tugged at him before. you grind down your hips into his hard-on between your legs and into your own heat which craves him just as much.

“good?”

he nods, and chuckles out after reveling under your view.

you free his hands from their place behind his head, then you immediately find yourself wrapped up so tightly in his arms that you let out a tiny squeak. his thick arms that stretch with the strings of muscles always remind you that the power you have over him, he holds over you just the same. he brings your lips back to his to kiss thanks into your mouth that’s become raw from your musings.

“i’m not done yet.” you sneer directly into him.

“i had a feeling.”

your love knows how to sit and look pretty for you. how to keep his hands to himself and wait just enough for you to make a proper mess of him. even though you don’t see it, he’s infatuated watching you twist over him to the bed table and pick up the cup of water that holds partially melted ice. the sound of the cubes chime against the glass and burns your hand with the cold once you choose the largest of the lot.

changbin looks at you fearful at first still consumed by your heat which lingers all over his body. you test out the sensation by spreading out your opposite hand first which is wet from the condensation from the glass.

“ah!” he winces out.

“too cold?”

“n-no...” somethings shift in the way that he holds your gaze and the ice quickly melting in your hand. “i-i want it...”

“you sure?”

“please don’t make me wait again...”

the cold from the cube starts to make your fingertips turn numb, but its of no conscious to you when he holds every bit of your attention while you wait for his visceral response.

he yelps, nearly almost screaming from the mixture of cold and hot that swirls around his body. he grinds his teeth into a groan next to steady himself feeling the tenderness of his nipples next to the freezing cold. you can’t help but stifle a greedy laugh at how downright confused he seems at the two sensations of arousal and biting pain that made him feel even more lightheaded.

you love the sight of the whites of his eyes when he reaches a kind of euphoria that only you can give him.

“oooooh god.” he laughs along with you at how preposterously unreal it feels. the little smile that anchors on his mouth is unbelievably cute, and you can’t help but want to feel it on your own.

you trace circles around and around his buds until they harden just as they had done under your tongue. he shivers too; either from the cold, or from the overload of his senses--it travels from the tip of his head, through his hips and down to his toes.

“aw, my bun likes this...doesn’t he?”

“mmm.”

the ice only lasts a few moments on his chest and between your fingers. after, his chest is left shimmering from the new substance that looks like liquid crystal all over him and where it drips down to the comforter in droplets.

you shift your attention lower down his stomach where you stop right above his bellybutton to let both of your hands hook under his sweats. you look up for approval, which he eagerly gives with the hastily phrase repeated, “do it, do it.”

his clothes it the floor in a puddle, and your boyfriend is left bare for you to take in. you indulge in every single part of him that you’ve explored time and time again, but each time it feels renewed. your hands eat up his thighs with covetous squeezes until the crescent-moon shape of your nails decorates him nearly everywhere. they slide up higher, finding the place where his curved and rosy cock bobs waiting for your touch.

“poor bunny....does it ache when i don’t touch your cute little cock?” you trace a finger up his shaft which causes his body to violently jerk in response. the truth of the matter is, he’s anything but little.

even when your words turn venomous back on him, he still drinks it up as if it is nectar.

a wicked chuckle passes by your lips remembering what he had said to you a couple hours before. “can’t you just live one night without it?”

“n-no--” he stammers, “i-i’m sorry that i said--”

you silence him with a finger to his lips. “sit up.”

he does so, trying to gauge what you’re planning to do next. the mystery of it all enthralls him to the point of working his cock up with pearly pre-cum that drips down his length. changbin waits as you reposition yourself behind him, just so he sits flush against your torso and between your legs.

at first, you trial you hands up and down his thighs to create a show for him. your fingertips tickle him gently where his leg hair grows thin and soft. you then move to massage into his inner thighs and the more intimate erogenous areas there that you claw at.

“hm. maybe i’ll let you get what you want if you say--”

your boyfriend’s hands bury themselves into the sheets to grab at anything to provide balance. “--please! please...i’ll say it however many times it takes...”

you tsk, then nibble into the peachy cartilage of his earlobe. “mm, that’s enough. i’m feeling generous...”

you wet a stripe of your saliva up your palm and guide it to his length where you give him one good squeeze that is more than enough to send his toes curling. he whimpers out feeling the lack of contact afterward, realizing that one squeeze was all that you were planning. instead, shift your motions toward his tip and his seeping slit. the tip of your index draws rings around it which elicits agonizingly gruff growls from his throat that you’ve only ever heard a couple times before.

“please, please, please....” he chants.

you do love the way it sounds.

his moans become even louder once he feels the tension from your grasp where it returns to his shaft and pumps. in a way, the whole image is just perfect for the both of you: as you peer over his shoulder you can’t even but help feel turned on by the sight of your own hand and how it twists around the throbbing veins that imprint his cock. with your non-dominant hand you continue traversing the squishy and fleshy bits of his thigh.

your boyfriend laughs out his growing self-indulgence while you work your hand up and down, then experiment with testing him with the ways that you can squeeze harder then softer. changbin throws his head back into your shoulder lazily once he starts to feel his senses slow and intensify the closer that he gets to his release. he shudders against you too, and tightens his body too as he edges himself even closer.

after the distraction that you’ve crafted tugging him up and down and how the twist of your wrist feels like heaven, he jumps still feeling your free hand find its way back up his chest one last time roll his nipple between your fingers. the combination of the two sends him spilling right over the edge and overflowing with a rambling of curses and half-attempted moans coupled with the release of his seed cascading down the back of your hand.

nearly all of your boyfriend’s weight falls upon you and you giggle trying to deal with your previously cold and stubborn lover reduced to nearly nothing but a limp and euphoric mess in your arms.

“you okay?” you ask him, peppering tiny kisses into his neck.

“give me...a minute.” he laughs out too. “i’m just...really...exhausted. but--in a really, really good way.”

“time to get some rest then?”

changbin nods, and gives you back as many kisses he can with his neck titled at this somewhat awkward angle.

“stay right here, hm?”

you cradle him back to slide out from behind him and work at cleaning yourself off, and them him--he loves obliging if it means that he gets to be pampered with clean clothes and your little massage to his shoulders to get his tensed body relax even more. the blankets get exchanged for new ones and you find him telling you not to put your shirt back on.

changbin flushes, explaining, “i just like being close like this with you. everyday. any day. i can’t live without it either.”

you can’t exactly tell who is “holding” who, but it all just feels so peaceful and intimate you almost forgot that you were supposed to be sleeping until the day breaks behind your boyfriend’s shoulder.

“thank you,” changbin sighs, “thank you for taking care of me.”

“now start taking care of yourself.” you tease, “don’t overwork yourself, got it?”

your boyfriend sleepily hums, and tows you right back into his chest. “don’t worry, i have a feeling that i’ll be sleeping in pretty late.”

~🌹~

Bunch of (Ro)ses!

@minaamhh @dazzlehoseok @synnocence @jjewibeans @hyunsluvv @unexceptional-h @bobawithchaitea @lechanters @sailorhyunjinz @silencefavarchive @lunarskzzz @yourdaddychan @bubblelixie @spnobsessedmemes @cherrychngkyn @iwanttobangchan @bowlofblueberries @lmhmins @eunaeiekim

187 notes · View notes

giggly-squiggily · 3 years

Note

Oh my gosh yay requests are open!! I love your fics so much so I’m excited!! I’m a sucker for lee Kirishima so maybe something with ler Sero and Kaminari and they combine their quirks to become the ultimate ler duo. Making it seem like they’re showing Kirishima a new move, they just destroy him with tickles. Hope you’re doing well by the way! Sleep good and be sure to hydrate! 💖💖💖

Oh my goodness this was late to fill! My apologies friend! Thank you for the kind words, and this adorable idea! I love Lee!Kirishima too, so this was an absolute blast to make! I hope you're doing well too friend! Take care and stay hydrated! 💕

“Hey, Eijiro! Come here!” Kaminari yelled out, waving down the redheaded student. It was after class, and the start of the weekend. That also meant the last few days to finish their tag team assignment before they had to present it. Through sheer luck of the draw- and maybe some pleading, Aizawa granted Sero and Kaminari to partner up, giving them the chance to shine.

“Hm? What's up?” Kirishima asked as he approached, falling in sync with the pair on their way back to the dorms. He and Uraraka had already finished their partner move, calling it Meteor Shower (“I raise you up and you drop like a rock onto the enemy! Just like Kirby!” She explained to him awhile back, selling him on the idea.) “Did you two come up with your team move, yet?”

“Kind of. We need help.” Sero admitted as they walked, a sheepish grin on his lips. “See, we have the general idea down, but we don’t have the execution.”

“Wanna see it?” Kaminari asked giddily, eyes lighting up with an idea. “Maybe if we show you what we got, you can help us fine tune it!”

Kirishima considered it briefly before smiling. “Alright! Let's do it! Meet me outside the dorms after dinner, okay?”

The pair cheered, making Kirishima grin. Though he was a bit worried.

Just what were these two knuckleheads up to?

~~~

“Alright, ready Kirishima?” Kaminari called out, grinning from ear to ear as he stretched out. Sero was also grinning, pulling his arms over his head and getting his tape quirk ready. The redhead smiled at his friends, cracking his knuckles as he walked up. “Ready as I’ll ever be! Let’s see what this special move of yours is!”

“Here it comes!” Sero yelled out, tape flying at Kirishima faster than he could predict. He had just enough time to harden before his torso was wrapped, narrowly avoiding his arms. “Now, Kaminari!”

“Right! Get ready for Sero-Denki’s grand move- TazorTape!” Kaminari grabbed the base of Sero’s tape, shooting electrical waves up the material and effectively shocking Kirishima. “With this, we can knock out our enemies!”

Kirishima yelled out, body racked with electrical pulse after pulse. “GAHHH! N-NOOO! I-I WOHON’T GIVE IN!” He pushed with his hardening quirk, feeling himself start to slip. “GAH! AHA! Nooohohoohh! Doohohohohohohn’t!” The shocks didn’t hurt, but holy crap did they tickle! Kirishima soon found himself laughing as he fell to the ground, his hardening quirk flickering in and out with each pulse. “Nohoohohohohohohoho tihihihihihiihiihihckling!”

In the distance, Kaminari and Sero watched in awe as their friend collapsed in a ticklish heap, giggles and grunts mixing and escaping from his lips. “Did he just say it tickles?” Kaminari asked, pleasantly surprised by the unintentional effect.

“I think he did. Ejiro’s ticklish!” Sero concluded, grinning as he watched Kirishima flail. Feeling evil, he pulled the tape tighter before releasing, simulating a squeezing motion. Kirishima yelped and laughed harder. “Hehe, that’s cute.”

“Oo, do that again!” Kaminari told him, running up to the redhead and kneeling beside him. With two fingers, he created a small charge and gently zapped along the redhead’s neck and shoulders, adding to the tickles. “Zap! Zap! Tickle Zap!” He sang, giggling when Kirishima howled.

“Noohohohohoohohhoohohho! Nohohohohohot yoohohohohoohohu toohoohohohoohohohohoho!” He cried, cheeks as red as his hair and eyes squeezed shut with mirth. His hands worked tirelessly at removing the tape, failing again and again as his torso was ruthlessly tickled. “Ohohhoohoohohohokay! Ihiihihihihihi giihihiihihive!”

Sero whooped with joy at Kirishima’s submission, pulling the tape off and winding it back up. “We got him, Denki!” The mentioned blonde also cheered, getting up and joining his friend in celebration. Kirishima curled loosely into the grass, laughing between each breath. “Heh...hehehe...hehe…”

After some time, he soon got up, walking over to his friends with a laugh. “N-Not a bad move, guys. I think Mr. Aizawa would be pleased.”

Sero and Kaminari lit up with pride, happy with the praise. “Thanks, Eijro! Say, what’s the likelihood Kats would help us practice next?” Kanimari mused out loud.

Sero snickered, and Kirishima considered. He really should try to stop these two.

Still...the idea of Bakugou falling for it and laughing freely?

“Maybe. Let’s go find out!”

I hope this was good!

#mha/bnha #tickle #Kirishima eijiro #kaminari denki #sero hanta #quirk shenanigans #tickle fic #These three are such fun to write for!

71 notes · View notes

nocompromise-noregrets · 2 years

Note

Okay, if you're needing a distraction, tell me all about Gawain/Galahad! I've seen you mention them quite a few times, and I'm curious. I've seen King Arthur a few times but that was never a ship that occurred to me. (Admittedly, I may have been blinded by all the Arthur/Lancelot vibes ;P) So tell me what makes these two awesome! <3

Oooooh! *cracks knuckles* (insert that gif of Tom Hanks gleefully preparing to type here, the wifi on the train isn't nearly good enough to load the gif search XD )

SO. Gawain/Galahad, my darling brothers-in-arms. They're a bit subtle and understated, if I'm honest, I was definitely looking at them with slash goggles on, but once I saw it, I couldn't unsee it (although it is a bit of a case of having to go looking for it XD ). They're together a lot of the time, there's a certain amount of banter (and to be fair most of my shippy headcanons take place offscreen, such as Galahad getting a bit snippy and insecure about the bit where Gawain talks about going home to Sarmatia and having a wife, and hitting Lancelot with his axe if Lance even thinks about going near her), but the thing that really does it for me is that scene in the 'town square' of the fortress, when Arthur has to come and tell his knights that they're going to have to do One Last Mission before they can go free. Gawain, who I headcanon as the sensible, steadfast, utterly loyal type (his loyalty is to Arthur, not to Rome), says something to the effect of "I'm with you. Galahad too." Galahad is a) drunk and b) rather more impulsive than Gawain and c) incandescently angry, and I can't remember if he actually says anything at this blatant assumption that where Gawain goes, he goes (IT'S TRUE), but he smashes his wine-jug on the floor and strops off. Gawain heaves a long-suffering sigh and follows him, and of course we don't see what happens, but I am convinced it's a long and rather fraught conversation about the effrontery of the bishop, the absolute injustice of it all, and by the way, where does Gawain get off thinking he can speak for Galahad. At which Gawain patiently points out that he's been doing it for years, because let's face it they're basically of one mind about pretty much everything, and Gawain is just as angry as Galahad is, but someone has to keep their head around here.

It probably helped that I wasn't the only one in the fandom, there were a few of us and we definitely enabled each other XD But I went off in my own direction a bit and wrote several fics in which they're not particularly demonstrative or out-there, but they are absolutely all and everything to each other (they're the sort of couple who don't need to put it into words, they don't need to say what they mean to each other, they've been so close for so long that they just know). I've had Gawain being a quiet, patient, steady presence in the back of my head for almost as long as Legolas has been there (being somewhat similar in presence, actually, he's pretty quiet and steady too, most of the time), and I absolutely adore him. I was beside myself when I realised Joel Edgerton was playing Bertilak in The Green Knight, and when I realised they KISS, oh my GOD, both my Gawains at once! (I've been utterly in love with Gawain-the-mythological-character, as opposed to Gawain-from-the-2004-film, since I was about nine years old, and I am always a sucker for seeing him well portrayed. And KA2004 was...well, it's a very silly film and it has a very great many issues, but Gawain and Galahad are one of my absolute all-time OTPs/comfort ships - it's a bit of an old-fashioned you-have-to-go-looking-for-it kind of ship, but I love them to pieces.

I don't tend to go looking for KA fic any more, since the tags are absolutely flooded with Hannibal crossovers etc (thank you very much NBC for casting my Tristan and Galahad together in that...) but there is some great stuff out there (I can highly recommend my friend sashab's Arthur/Lancelot stuff!)...

omg, thank you for asking! <333333 anyone else want to ask me random stuff to distract me from studying and travelling? :D :D :D

#king arthur (2004)#gawain #galahad #gawain/galahad #my darling boys i adore them #<333333333

9 notes · View notes

hozier-mp3 · 3 years

Note

destiel au fic recs?

Oh yes.

Once upon a time I made a post of every single one of my Fic Recs, and I’m especially fond of AUs, so I give you a list of just, solely, AU fics.

Let me start with my shameless self promotions. (They’re actually full of shame I’m sorry but those are my three AU fics I’ve written.

Alright, time for the real ones. *cracks knuckles* A Million Ways To Go by ChasingRabbits on AO3 - Castiel Novak is a preacher's son living in a world of black and white. Pragmatic and dutiful, he doesn't understand why anybody would want to make waves.Then the Winchesters move in down the street. Soon many of the skeletons in the Novak family's closet are exposed, and as the family faces them, Castiel begins to understand that there are many ways to see the world and so many more ways to live than what he's been told. - This is one of the few fics I’ve reread. The summary pretty much covers it, though, so I’ll let that one speak for itself.

Word Count: 91,079

https://archiveofourown.org/works/1086183/chapters/2185029

Smiling Out Of Fear by thepinupchemist on AO3- Castiel Novak is a product of the system, having gone through too many foster homes since the age of seven. At fourteen, he lands himself in Sugar Lane Mobile Home Community under the care of Missouri Moseley. There, he meets one Dean Winchester. A story about teenage hooligans, growing up, and finding a home. - Okay, I’m not going to say anything other than the fact that thinking about this fic literally makes me almost start crying happy tears. I adore it. (I pretty much recommend everything thepinupchemist has written, but I haven’t gotten through it all yet.)

Word Count: 117,494

https://archiveofourown.org/works/1007755/chapters/1998660 25¢ Pocket Guardian Angels by hopelessheathen on AO3- Dean walks into his local bank one day and notices that someone has filled the old gumball machine with these tiny, wiggling, sentient angels in individual plastic packaging. Deeply concerned about their air supply and the fact that they're trapped there in the sun, he starts pumping in quarters to rescue them. This is worse than leaving a dog in an overheating car. Now he's got forty of the little guys running all over his house, and god knows how many others might be trapped and dying all over the city. - I love this. I could read it three times a day and still get a smile on my face. It’s just a little one shot, but it’s worth the time it takes. Word Count: 13,325

https://archiveofourown.org/works/6359713

Burden by riseofthefallenone on AO3 - Mutants are considered second class citizens, or worse. Discriminated against at every turn, mutants are marked and monitored by The Registry and any deemed too dangerous are taken away to The Facility. It’s no surprise that many try to hide or choose a more permanent way out if a mutation develops. Castiel’s parents hid his mutation and hid him away from the world. He’s grown up with the knowledge that the world will hate him, no matter what he does. If he leaves the house, he can only do it with a long, heavy coat that covers the most beautiful part of him. It takes a pair of brothers to help him really spread his wings and live. - Yet another I adore. If you’ll keep a secret for me, I’m actually not caught up, but I oh so desperately want to be. I’m kind of a sucker for wings in general, though, so that helps.

Word Count: 317,582

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20613731/chapters/48945302

Out Of The Deep by riseofthefallenone on AO3 - Stay away from the light-beds. Stay in the deep. It is the first thing hatchlings are taught the moment their fans unfurl and they can swim without their parents to buoy them along. It is the first rule, the first law. It is the beginning of every boogey-monster bedtime story told when they settle against the cliffs to sleep. Castiel should have listened better. - Okay, but holy shit. This was one of the first Destiel fics I read, and it heightened my standards to unbelievable places. I adore it. I could write essays.

Word Count: 488,608

https://archiveofourown.org/works/548878/chapters/977676 True As It Can Be by whelvenwings - Growing up in a small town in Kansas, Dean learned from a young age that there was only one rule that couldn’t be broken, one place he couldn’t go - through the forest, to the long-abandoned Angel’s Hollow. But when Sam disappears, Dean’s left with no choice but to follow his brother's tracks through the dangers of the wood; little does he know that the most dangerous creature of all lurks not among the trees, but in the Hollow itself. Dean sets Sam free, at the cost of his own liberty - and, bound by magic, resigns himself to living out the rest of his days in the Hollow, at the mercy of the being within. The angel of Angel’s Hollow, however, has a story - is a prisoner, too, as much as Dean is. Only one thing can free them both - but it is impossible. For, after all: who could ever learn to love a beast? - This was the first, and last, Beauty and the Beast AU I ever read, but for good reason. I’m scared if I read another, that this one will absolutely shit on it and I won’t be able to enjoy it. I loved this fic very much.

Word Count: 71,952

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11048568/chapters/24631101

Okay, before I even mention the next one, please read the tags. There are quite a few possible triggers and the tags, luckily, have accurate trigger warnings. And, of course, archive warnings. (And, of course, be sure to read tags on the others.) If you have issues with that, just scroll past this one, because the others are fine. (I think/hope so. At least. If you have any issues, please, let me know. I’ll put warnings above those too)

Defiant by thestorygirl on AO3 - Dean Winchester has devoted his career as a police officer to helping angel slaves in any way that he can. He even formed and heads the "Angel Welfare Task Force," which involved him being called to consult on any case involving slaves. This passion stemmed from an incident that happened twenty years previously, when a thirteen year old Dean failed to help his friend Castiel escape being sold to a sadistic owner. Dean had never really harbored any hope of finding his friend. He saw his work as something he did in memory of Castiel, to prevent others from suffering the same fate. But, when called out on a routine case one day, Dean was startled to find that he recognized the victim. - So, usually I avoid the Non-Con archive warning at all. But with this one, honestly, I’m lucky I didn’t. I could seriously write essays on this fic. I’m gonna shut up about it, just because I don’t want to talk too much about it. It’s seriously perfect.

Word Count: 133,352

https://archiveofourown.org/works/2180202/chapters/4771569

Alright back to the ones that don’t quite need trigger warnings.

Have Love, Will Travel by squeemonster - Castiel Novak is a reclusive writer with a childhood so tragic it's left him terrified to leave his home—until his overbearing brother, Gabriel, drags him out for a night on the town full of booze and strip clubs, and he encounters Dean Winchester, a mesmerizing and mysterious stripper with secrets of his own. Both men find themselves inexplicably drawn to each other, and soon Dean's private dances for Castiel become much more, as both men confess their troubles and find solace in each other's company. But neither can seem to find the courage to take their relationship further than the intimacy of the club's VIP Room—and just when Dean's own brother gives him the excuse he needs to finally admit his feelings, Dean discovers something that brings it all crumbling down. Will they find a way past their demons and their trust issues, and back to each other?- I love Cas in this fic, his agoraphobia fits his usual outsider-ness and it’s just all beautifully characterized. I very much enjoy “the only exception” tropes as well, so....

Word Count: 94,054

https://archiveofourown.org/works/565455/chapters/1011747?view_adult=true Four Letter Word For Intercourse by Bendingsignpost on AO3 - As a grease monkey turned college freshman, Dean's constantly three seconds away from being stressed out of his mind. It hardly helps that he's finally figuring out his sexuality in his thirties. What might help with that stress is a little phone number (and a big credit card bill). If he can't figure out how to be bisexual in person, he can at least give it a go over the phone, right? (It's probably a bad idea, but he really can't help himself.) - Holy shit. That’s... that’s really all I can say. Holy shit. Easily made my top five.

Word Count: 194,739

https://archiveofourown.org/works/16086839/chapters/37568591 Now, onto the one I haven’t finished, but like... so far.

Beck and Call by Soupernabturel on AO3 - 1922: Dean Winchester, eldest heir to the Winchester Estate, has a less than orthodox relationship with his servant, Castiel Novak. - Like I said, I haven’t finished it yet, but I’m vastly enjoying it at the moment.

Wow, it was really hard not to include canon ones lol. Anyways, I hope this helps Anon, and I hope you enjoy! I love all these authors, and you should give them all the love!

11 notes · View notes

haro-whumps · 4 years

Text

Sleep Deprivation

CW: slave whump, lady whump, sleep deprivation, hallucinations, bucket of cold water, electrocution but ~*magic*~, evil lesbians

Tag list: @killtheprotagonist @appy-polly-loggies

@whumptober2020 day 23, a continuation of this piece

Characters: Allura, Zethrid, Ezor, Acxa

Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender

Ezor and Zethrid decide to play a game. It’s called “how long can we keep Allura awake”

Allura was not fond of solitary confinement, not by any stretch of the imagination, but she did prefer it to the presence of Ezor and Zethrid. She’d been forced to stew, alone, in the state of her new existence for quintents, water and the blandest paste she’d ever eaten delivered by a single, off-model sentry. Well, not exactly off-model. Perhaps just outdated. Allura had had plenty of time to contemplate the mark on the back of her unblemished neck, what it meant for her, what exactly she’d be going up against now, with a layer of free will stripped utterly from her.

An uphill battle, she knew it would be. To keep a hold of herself, to not lose her will or her spite. She would need to be careful to keep herself sharp, resilient, tougher than Galran claws. She was not too proud to admit that that would be easier done with the presence of her friends nearby, but she would only admit such to herself. As far as the pair of hooligans who’d just walked through the door were concerned, Allura was untouched and unmoved by any loneliness.

“I suppose you’re here for more fun?” she asked the grinning jackals, displaying no dismay at the fact that they were very obviously not there to reunite her with her companions.

“Aww,” Ezor crooned, eyes going half lidded in her toothy grin, “You know us so well already.”

“More that I know your type.”

“So fiery,” Zethrid chuckled. “Kneel, slave.”

Allura refused. The brand lit up in blinding pain, jolting through her whole body worse than the time she’d been electrocuted as an overzealous teen. It stopped the moment she moved to fall to her knees, rewarding her intent and punishing her disobedience.

She snarled, but did not rise.

“Ohhhh we’re having fun alright,” Zethrid said, voice pitched low and a fist raised in front of her to crack the knuckles.

Allura rocked back, rising to sit on her heels and stare trepidatiously at the towering woman.

“Return me to my companions,” she demanded, trying to sound commanding despite how scared she felt. “If we’re all marked, there is no reason to keep us apart any longer.”

“Sure there is,” Zethrid said easily, sinisterly.

Pain, of the regular sort, took Allura by surprise as she was yanked sideways by her hair. She lashed out at the source, only for her slave brand to light up in agony. She cried out, body jerking and spasming uncontrollably, and caught herself on her hands when it stopped, breathing hard.

They were laughing.

Ezor slipped back into the visible spectrum, Allura chagrined to realize she hadn’t even noticed Ezor leave her field of vision in the first place, too focused on Zethrid’s intimidating frame. Ezor bounced down to sit on her haunches, tail flicking for balance, and propped her chin in her palm.

“I wouldn’t do that~” she sing-songed, “Trying to hit one of your new owners is a big no-no little princess.”

Allura spat on the floor at her feet, instinctively twitching as Zethrid closed in.

“And you’re not seeing your friends for a while yet, little girlie,” Zethrid informed in her gravelly voice, a note of displeasure raising animal fear in Allura. “Turns out they’re almost as much of a power suck as you are.”

“Lots of magic all stored up in their cute human bodies, no way for them to voluntarily access it.” As though to brag, Ezor punctuated her statement by turning invisible again.

Zethrid’s massive hand closed around Allura’s upper arm and she moved to slap it off, only to writhe in pain as the curse seared through her again.

“You know, I don’t think she’s actually all that clever,” Zethrid remarked, Allura dangling from her grip like she weighed nothing. She swallowed hard and got her feet under her, Zethrid’s right hand coming to grip her right arm, the hands a heavy presence even through her armor.

“Yeah,” Ezor agreed in her mockingly “contemplative” tone, “You’d think someone smart would know better than to do the same stupid thing over and over.” Allura jerked back as Ezor became visible again, her face right there close to Allura’s. Only barely did she manage to tamp down on the urge to take a swing.

She growled instead, baring her blunt teeth, her hair straggling across her face. It burned that they were right. She either let them get a rise out of her and suffered the mark’s pain, or she played along and gave them what they wanted. Ezor pouted at Allura’s lack of outburst, but her smile came back quickly.

“Aww, tired already princess?” Ezor cooed, caressing Allura’s face with just the pointed tip of a claw, then tucking a lock of hair behind Allura’s ear. She shook her head, but since no harm was intended against Ezor, her brand stayed idle.

Behind her Zethrid rumbled. It was not a good sound. “Betcha the two of us could give you something to be tired about.”

Ezor’s ears twitched, bright eyes flicking up to her (friend? Lover? Mate? Allura didn’t know) companion with devious glee.

“Allura,” Ezor said, “we order you not to fall asleep.”

Allura’s eyes widened, then narrowed. “That’s an impossible demand!”

“But you’ll do it~”

“You don’t have any choice,” Zethrid purred in her ear. “You have to do what we tell you.”

“Perks of owning you.” Ezor gave Allura’s cheek a little pinch and shook it slightly. “You obey or it’ll hurt.” Allura resisted the urge to bite.

Allura saw a lightbulb go off in Ezor’s head. She did not want to see a lightbulb go off in Ezor’s head. They’d had plenty enough ideas wi--

“I order you to punch me in the shoulder.”

Oh fuck her!

If Allura was going to get tormented by her slave brand either way, she’d do it swinging. But when Zethrid released her arm and she took the punch, no pain lit up anywhere except her knuckles when they made contact.

Rather than getting upset about this, the sadistic monsters shared a delighted look.

“Oh, we’re gonna use her to fuck around with Acxa so bad,” Zethrid said, sounding like a kid who’d just been given a hammer they absolutely should not have.

“Wait wait wait, okay, now you order her to punch me.”

“No, you got punched last time.”

“Okay, Allura, punch Zethrid in the abs.”

Allura was not a doll dancing for their enjoyment! But her hesitation earned her nothing more than a surge of agony, so she curled a fist and punched as hard as she could. That definitely hurt her knuckles.

“One, I barely felt that, two:�� Zethrid and Ezor clapped hands and chorused, “HELL yeah!”

Allura tried to take another swing, this time at Zethrid’s eye, but the pain lit up and she collapsed from it, gasping as laughter erupted over her.

“Ohhhhh, have fun pretty princess!”

“We’ll see you next time we’re bored.”

“No, please! I need to sleep eventually!” Allura gasped, ashamed of her desperation but they couldn’t do this to her!

“Sure you do~” Ezor agreed, the two of them moving towards the door and Ezor casting a look over her shoulder.

“Eventually,” Zethrid agreed, and left.

At first, it wasn’t all that bad. She was tired, but she’d had worse.

Then she got really tired.

It was impossible to judge time here. The sentries that brought her food seemed to follow a schedule, but she was fairly certain that sometimes, one of them would go missing, leaving an elongated gap.

She blamed those sadists.

She was just resting her eyes. She was laying down because her body felt like lead, and her eyes were closed because she was exhausted, but she wasn’t going to fall asleep, she wasn’t, she--

“AAA!” she cried, jolted back awake by the brand. She gasped, breathing, and tried to lift herself up, upright would help her stay awake, but she was too tired, she couldn’t. She laid back down, determined and resolute.

She lost count of how many times she’d been reawoken in agony around seven. It had to be at least double that though. Maybe triple. When did hallucinations set in again? Three days?

Her mother was in the room with her. She was petting Allura’s hair, singing the old lullaby she always sang when it was storming outside and Allura was frightened by the noise. She left every time the brand activated, but she always came back, always petting, always singing.

Allura didn’t hear the door open, but she did feel the ice water splash over her, jolting her back awake so sharp and sudden for a second, she mistook it for the now-familiar brand. She gasped, water trickling over her mouth and nose, and tried to lift herself up on her elbows.

“Rise and shine pretty princess!” And oh, how she loathed Ezor’s voice.

“You’re not looking too great,” Zethrid remarked, smug, bastard. “You don’t smell too good either.”

“Yeah, she really should bathe more often,” Ezor agreed, lifting a bucket of her own and upending the contents over Allura, little pebbles of ice still floating about in her water. Allura flinched, a gasp catching in her throat.

“Please,” she rasped, her pride having left her many, many torrents of pain ago.

“Awwww, aren’t you cuuuute,” Ezor giggled, settling down on her haunches and dragging her claws through Allura’s hair. “You should keep--”

“What are you two doing in here?”

In a moment, Ezor had springed back up to her feet, and Zethrid’s ears were flared towards the door.

“Having some good old-fashioned fun,” Zethrid answered confidently, grinning at the figure in the doorway. “What are you doing in here?”

“A sentry reported seeing the two of you heading towards the holding cells carrying buckets. I think that should be obvious.”

“No fun!” Ezor complained, “Fun sucker!”

“Leave her alone! You know we’re not allowed to hurt any of them!” Allura flinched as the woman rapidly approached her, stalking directly between the two sadists. She almost expected one of them to lash out and take the woman’s head off as she passed, but they seemed to hold some small level of respect for the half-galra who now knelt in front of Allura, tilting her head towards the light gently. Acxa. Allura didn’t see her in the field much, only the once, but she recognized Lotor’s fourth general.

“And we haven’t! No bruises or cuts or poisoned guts anywhere on her.”

“So why does she look like this?” Acxa accused, Allura’s mind going a little wonky as her face was cradled by someone who was actively vouching for her safety and well-being. Acxa was nice. Safe. So much better than those two. She would let Allura sleep.

“Sleep,” Allura gasped, trying to lift a hand to Acxa’s wrist.

“Oh for fuck’s sake you two!”

Ezor and Zethrid did not seem even remotely cowed, grinning their jackal grins and shrugging carelessly.

“You have to admit, she looks good like this,” Zethrid commented, hungry eyes roaming over Allura’s feeble body. “Vulnerable. Lamb for the slaughter.”

“She does not and don’t say that. Both of you, get out.”

“Make us,” Ezor said, pouting out her lips and looking at Acxa with a lid-eyed challenge.

“No, no, Acxa’s a good girl remember?” Zethrid said, placing a massive hand on Ezor’s shoulder, covering it fully. “She’s a little fucking nark. We should do what she says.”

Ezor laughed, Zethrid joining in, but blessedly, blissfully, they did leave the room. Acxa waited for the door to close, then turned back to Allura.

“I’m so sorry for them, they weren’t supposed to do this. They weren’t supposed to talk to you until Narti finished branding all of you. This wasn’t meant to happen--you can sleep.”

“Thank you,” Allura gasped, and when her eyes slipped closed that time, her mark stayed dormant.

#whumptober2020 #no.23 #sleep deprivation #vld #voltron #allura #zethrid #ezor #acxa #writing #slave whump #lady whump #electrocution #but magic #hallucinations #bucket of cold water #mine

18 notes · View notes

finding-fallen-stars · 3 years

Text

YGO Questionnaire Part 2 Electric Boogaloo

So, my gf/bf @howaboutalittlehelpneos tagged me to do this again a... good long while ago, and I had wanted to wait until I'd finished my GX rewatch before trying this again. But ouch oof I accidentally also got through all of 5Ds again before getting to this lol

But the 5Ds rewatch definitely reshaped a lot of my thoughts, so... cracks knuckles. This won't be spoiler free, fair warning~

Favorite Series: ugh the formatting killed my original essay on this but okay GX and 5Ds are pretty tied in my book, now-- I love them equally, but in different ways! GX fulfills my love for subversive coming-of-age stories with a heartwarming, humorous, and also soulcrushing touch, and I love how each season brings a new story and new characters-- it's like reading installments of a novel series, and I think the formatting works wonders for it as a whole. It has some absolutely phenomenal character writing, too-- even the characters I dislike are ones I can appreciate for what they introduce to the story! And honestly, not enough people give the first two seasons of GX the credit it deserves: they're half the charm, really. How are you going to feel the full impact of the heartbreaking content in seasons 3 and 4 if you aren't properly attached to the characters?

But on 5Ds's side of things... it fulfills my love for stories with time loops, found family, human nature, and of course, love and death and how they intertwine. I love how the leading characters are just a bunch of broken kids from broken circumstances who all find a home with each other, and of course, how it highlights class disparity and how fucked up the prison/"justice" systems are. Yea, sure, maybe it underwent executive meddling and all, but I genuinely love it for what it is and I wish more people appreciated it... my only problem with 5Ds is the untwist with Z-ONE and then the ending s m h I adore it overall and I could go off for a long while on it. Overall, these are my two instinctive recommendations for anyone getting into Yugioh!

(look at these boys they're so important) Favorite Protagonist: Oh, believe me, absolutely nothing has changed here-- Yusei Fudo is and always will be my favorite protagonist, and my rewatch only solidified that.

I just... love him so much? He's seen so much hell in his life and carries so much guilt on his shoulders, but he still has room in his heart to believe in others and to believe that anyone can defy fate and find hope even at rock bottom. I love that he's initially introduced as this quiet, brooding figure when he really just turns out to be a huge softie who wears his heart on his sleeve half the time and wants to bring about change for Satellite and its people. Plus I just really love that his greatest flaw is something that would ordinarily be a positive trait-- he's Overly self-sacrificial, to the point where he's basically setting himself on fire to keep others warm, and that's not really framed as something Heroic

Just... he makes me so happy. I have two Yusei charms that I ordinarily keep on my keys (one was a gift from Zenzen) and they're a constant source of serotonin for me. He's Peak comfort character for me. Best protag in my book Favorite Rival: Same deal here-- still Manjoume!

look at him he's so important

While he spends a lot of the anime getting the good old damsel in distress treatment (getting suckered into a cult, getting knocked into a coma, becoming a zombie, getting fucking Killed, etc), I still think his character arc is really well-written overall and I only appreciated it even more when I watched GX again. I love the fact that he's got a soft heart he buries beneath the edgy facade, and that he's simultaneously really sharp and also kind of dense lol. He's just a fun character and watching how he evolves from episode one to episode one hundred eighty is such a satisfying journey.

Plus, props to him for being such a versatile duelist-- 50 wins in a row is HARD as is, let alone with a deck full of cards he just found laying around in the Arctic. Three ace monsters, three different archetypes... he's a really good duelist and I'm proud of him for it

Oh, but honestly, I don't really dislike any of the rivals-- I'm neutral towards Revolver and Reiji, but the remaining four (Kaiba, Manjoume, Jack, and Shark) compel me. yes I accidentally wound up liking Jack Atlas shhh Favorite BFF: Honestly, I really like most of the characters who fit this archetype-- Joey, Crow, Gongenzaka, Soulburner... I still lean a little bit more towards Joey, but I really appreciate all four of them. I'm gonna say Joey again, just because I find his evolution as a character the most compelling, but I appreciate the other three a lot. Soulburner has the best design though Favorite GFF: Oh absolutely still Aki, but I honestly... really love most female Yugioh characters? I'm assuming this is lead girls only, but like. I'm dumb and gay and I love Girls so this is naturally the most difficult one for me to answer lol

Aki just resonates with me the most because she's the prime example of how trauma doesn't always manifest in palatable ways-- when we first meet her, she's angry and lashes out at anyone and anything just because she wants the world to suffer in the same ways she's suffered, and then... we get to watch her grow from that, once she's free from Divine and able to heal the way she needs to heal. I know the second half of 5Ds didn't give her character the attention it deserved, but I'm still proud of her for winding up on the path she did-- seeing her channel her power and energy into wanting to heal and help others was just so good and was one of the few things I really Loved about the 5Ds ending.

oh, but like. Asuka Tenjoin and Aoi Zaizen are very close seconds for me!!! Aki just has a vice grip on my heart Favorite Villain: Okay, it's still technically Vector-- I think he's the most entertaining, well-written, and effective villain out of all of the ones we've seen so far, but... I also want to add Takuma Saiou and then all of Yliaster as honorable mentions?

As someone fond of tarot myself, I was naturally pretty intrigued by Saiou the first time I watched GX, but my attachment to him only grew the second time around where I actually got the chance to understand his character better. Plus, like... the visuals with him are fucking astounding and he's always so interesting to watch.

As for Yliaster, I just... really love how the big bad of 5Ds turned out to just essentially be a broken man desperate to save anyone and anything and three robotic reconstructions of the friends he'd lost. I still think the untwist with Z-ONE was stupid and I much prefer the idea of him and Yusei being the same person, but I'm still compelled by the other three-- well. Paradox less so, because we don't get a lot of Paradox lore, but. Aporia and Antinomy for sure.

ugh Yugioh has some damn good villains

Favorite Card: now that I actually play the TCG game...

Stardust is always going to be my favorite of all cards because it checks every box for me (my favorite YGO character's ace monster, space theme, what more could I want), but Aromaseraphy Rosemary has really become one of my aces in my best TCG deck! I'm still mastering irl plays, but I'm happy with my progress and I love my plant gang...

Favorite Episode: alright, here's where there's actually been a Lot of change, so...

Season 0: Episode 16: "Turnabout by a Hair's Breadth - The White-Robed Crisis" -- The more I think about this one, the more I love it; there's a... lot of corruption in the medical industry, and I've seen a lot of it firsthand, so just. Seeing a corrupt doctor get what he deserved at the end was cathartic, in a way? Plus, a Jounouchi-centric episode is always a good time.

Duel Monsters: Episodes 96-97: "Darkness vs. Darkness/One Turn Kill" -- this hasn't changed, I still love seeing Marik and Bakura bitch at each other for two whole episodes LMAO

GX: Episode 152: "Activate Super-Fusion! Rainbow Neos" -- This one hasn't changed and it likely never will-- I take so much pride in seeing Judai push forward, past the fear and guilt he's carrying, all to save Johan... it's cathartic and I never get sick of watching it.

5Ds: sweats. still all of Crash Town, but also episodes 137-147-- the Ark Cradle is one of my favorite parts of 5Ds and one of my favorite YGO arcs period, and even though each duel is a fucking gut punch, I love the emotional intensity and weight in each episode... It hurts but in a mostly good way

Zexal: Episode 143: "The Aloof Duelist 'Nasch': The Destined Final Duel" -- this one hasn't changed! Still hurts, still love it, I still weep over Ryouga Shark Kamishiro on a daily basis

Arc-V: Episodes 81-82: "Our Respective Battlefields/The Ultimate Falcon VS The Black-Feathered Thunder" -- Okay, honestly, this was hard because I... genuinely. really don't like Arc-V very much at all lol (it's just not my cup of tea, but more power to those who do like it!), but I thought this duel was a lot of fun! Shun is my absolute favorite from Arc-V and I really like the friendship he struck up with Crow a lot, so here we are

VRAINS (so far): Episode 25-26: "Virus Deck Operation/Three Draws Leading to Hope" -- honestly I am so biased because I just really love Blue Angel and I loved seeing her get a well-deserved victory like this lol. I'm not done with VRAINS, so this is probably gonna change, but anytime Blue Angel or Soulburner are on screen, I'm happy

Favorite Decks to Use: Aromages will always have my heart, but I adore Cyber Angels too! I'm building my Trickstar deck, my Synchron/Stardust deck (just waiting on Dawn of Majesty...), and my Magician Girls deck, too! Fusion, Ritual, Synchro, XYZ, Pendulum, or Link?: Synchros my beloved... but also Ritual Years in fandom: I've been here for just a little over one year now! and I wuv it... I'm never looking back Who am I tagging: no one I'm too shy

#yugioh #ygo tag meme

3 notes · View notes

cleighwrites · 4 years

Text

Which Fics

I was tagged by @deanwinchesterswitch. This was hard. Mostly because I quit keeping track of my fics. Once I finish writing them, I sort of just… forget they exist, unless people start sharing and commenting on them again. (I’m the worst!)

Which of your fics…

…did you think would get a bigger reaction/audience than it got?

Kym will kill me for this, but I never expect that anyone will read what I write… I get honestly surprised when people start liking, commenting, and reblogging my shit!

THAT said, I was a little bummed that My Alpha, My Soulmate didn’t get a bigger response. I can blame Tumblr for that one, The Porn Purge happened in the midst of posting, then I had to change everything over to this blog halfway through because I wasn’t able to edit posts on my @sammys-smutty-writer blog anymore… Although, this fic does have the most hits on Ao3, I believe that’s because it’s a multi-chapter fic…

…got a better reaction than you expected?

In a Rut, was just a little Wincest drabble-ish one-shot that I did, most of my Wincest stuff did alright on that blog, but when I put everything over to Ao3, it blew up! It’s got over 7k hits right now! I can’t even imagine that many people reading or rereading that fic… it’s got mpreg in it and that usually throws people off…

…is your funniest?

I have no clue. I can’t go through ALL of my fics to gauge which got the most 😂 comments… I think that @JarPadsTitties was hilarious, without the hurt comfort aspect, and Anticlimactic was too funny, in my head… but also Hott Yoga… just picturing Dean trying to do yoga cracks me up!

…is your darkest or angstiest?

I have a few of these, but in the most literal sense, Sucker Love is both of those things, so I guess that one wins! It was my first time writing the boys as actual bad guys, for lack of a better word.

…is your absolute favorite?

I don’t have one. There are so many that I like for different reasons, and depending on my mood, that changes! I guess I really like My Alpha, My Soulmate because she gets to have both boys and be herself but still taken care of. It’s kinda the dream!

…is your least favorite?

The one that I didn’t feel like I had written very well, and therefore kinda hated and didn’t wanna post, was Before it’s Too Late. It wasn’t really what I was hoping it would be, and I didn’t feel like I wrote it as well as I should have, to do it justice.

…was the easiest to write?

I have an entire series of drabbles for Sam, Dean, and Wincest/J2… most of them were written in like 10-30 minutes, but more recently I wrote Werewolves & Winchesters in one day, it’s also unbeta’d, so who knows if it’s actually any good, but I have gotten some comments on it…

…was hardest to write?

Everything that I’ve written/am writing for my Master on Patreon is difficult because she loves Lucifer/Nick… I actually can’t stand him and it’s a real stretch for me to write someone that I can’t stand, but it’s been a great exercise for me! So, archangeli gratia, Sense vs Scents, and one of my current WIPs, Vegas or Bust, are the hardest to write, outside of my Big Bangs, which were only hard because of how LONG I worked on them...

…has your favorite lines/exchange/paragraph? (share it!)

Each piece has good one-liners, but one of my favourite exchanges is in Branching Out, which is the prequel to my 2019 Wincest Big Bang, Love, Lies & Lap Dances:

Dean’s knuckles were white, clutched tight on the steering wheel and Sam reached over with his own busted knuckles to pry them free, shushing him and telling him that everything would be okay. He hadn’t realized he was crying until he sniffled and went to speak.

Sam slid closer to him and pulled Dean’s head into his chest, rubbing his hand through his hair to soothe him as he wept. “It’s okay… We’re okay… Thank you, Dean,” Sam comforted him.

They sat there, Sam holding him in the front seat of their only consistent home, on the side of the road until Dean could breathe steady again. He dragged himself out of his brother’s arms and muttered, “Thanks, Sammy. I’m sorry, I don’t know what that was.”

“You just did something terrifying and amazing. You were just getting through your nerves.”

“I just yelled some stuff and got punched in the face,” Dean countered. He reached down and grabbed Sam’s busted hand. “You’re the one that actually went up against him.” Dean was in awe of how brave his little brother had been. Even after everything that had happened, Dean doubted if he would ever have been able to throw a punch at the man.

“He punched you. I wasn’t just gonna stand there and let that happen,” Sam stated plainly, then added, “not again. I’m going to have to stitch you up.” The anger in Sam’s voice was almost startling, almost. Dean had hardly thought about what he must look like, it must be bad if Sammy thought he needed stitches.

“Hey, I’m the big brother, I’m supposed to take care of you.” Dean winced as he smirked at his little brother, then started the car.

“So, where to, now, big brother?” Sam laughed as he slid back over to his side of the car.

…have you reread the most?

I don’t tend to reread my stuff, but sometimes I’ll get a new comment on something old and not remember AT ALL what they’re talking about, so I’ll reread it. But the one that I have actually reread, on purpose was Hey Little Sister, my first ever Wincest fic.

…would you recommend to someone reading your work for the first time?

That depends on what they’re interested in… if they like Sam, then it would be Stupid Secrets Game; Dean would have to be Désordre Sanglant; if they like both boys and A/B/O then My Alpha, My Soulmate would be perfect, and if they like Wincest, then it would either be Illicit Daydreams, or one of my big bangs… Love, Lies, & Lap Dances (if they like a happy ending) or The Ones We Leave Behind (if they like angst and don’t mind major character death). Usually, I just link them to my works page and tell them there’s a bit of everything, but if they give me specifics of something they’re looking for, I’ll link them to whatever I have that fits the bill!

…are you most proud of?

I am most proud of Love, Lies, & Lap Dances, with Branching Out thrown in because it’s the same universe. I put so much more effort into that bang than I did the year before. I created the whole universe and everything and it took me almost the entire year to write it. That story took on so much that I HAD to write the prequel just to really flush everything out that needed it. I still have a timestamp in mind for that one too, I just need to write it!

I’m horrible at tagging people, and have no idea who is already tagged, so just... if you wanna, do it! lol

#which fics #writer game #my fics #this was hard

5 notes · View notes

heauxplesslydevoted · 5 years

Text

Healing (Part 1)

Summary: Ethan is forced to confront his past after an unexpected meeting

Tags: @canknot @lapisreviewsstuff @x-kyne-x @paulfwesley @ramseyandrys @choicesobsessedd @a-i-n-a-a-s-h @sparklinglilac @cream-ray @perriewinklenerdie @barricades-of-freedom @dr-brianna-casey-valentine @doroshi-desu @aworldoffandoms

~~V~~

Ethan wakes up to kisses. First on his shoulder, then down his arm, and up his chest to his neck. “Mhmmm, Rookie.”

“Yes?”

“I’m sleeping.”

“Well, I’m up. Keep me company.”

Ethan cracks open one eye and sees his girlfriend Naomi peering down at him like a kid on Christmas morning. She’s so close, tendrils of her curly hair are tickling his face. “I was having a really good dream.”

“What dream is better than having me in bed with you, Dr. Ramsey?”

She knows he’s a sucker for her using his official title when they’re home alone. “You and I were on vacation.”

“Where were we? Somewhere warm or in the snow?”

“Warm. Private island right off the coast of Fiji.”

“Ooh, maybe I should let you go back to sleep. Or maybe this is a sign that you should actually take me on vacation.”

Ethan rolls over and gives Naomi a kiss. “Good morning, beautiful.”

“Good morning, handsome.”

“So what are the plans for the day?” It’s one of those rare Sunday mornings where they didn’t have to work. And Naomi always tries to make the most of their off days together.

“I didn’t make any plans,” Naomi confesses.

“Really?”

“No. It’s a rainy day, I figured we could spend it in bed.” It had been a very long week at Edenbrook. Naomi wants nothing more than to stay in bed with Ethan, watch some reality tv, and eat greasy food.

“Well if that was the case, you could’ve let me sleep,” Ethan teases.

“What if I wanted to do something in this bed that is much more fun than sleep?”

“Oh yeah?” Ethan raises an eyebrow. “What did you have in mind?”

Naomi grins and climbs on top of Ethan, straddling him. “It involves you and me.”

“And do we get naked?”

“Oh, we most certainly do.”

“Why didn’t you just say so?” Ethan grabs Naomi by the back of her neck and pulls her down, kissing her eagerly. Without breaking their kiss, he loops an arm around her and flips them over, so he’s now hovering above her.

His hand travels up her bare thigh and settles at her hip, making her squirm. Naomi is notoriously ticklish, something Ethan enjoys taking advantage of. He inches his hand up higher, his fingers skimming her sides.

Naomi gaps and tries to disguise it as a cough. “Ethan!”

He feigns innocence. “What?”

“Stop, you know I’m–” she yelps and giggles as he digs his fingers deeper into her side. She snorts and that only spurs Ethan on further. “Ticklish!”

“I happen to think it’s adorable.” Ethan drops his head slightly and kisses Naomi again. He leaves a trail of open mouth kisses on her jaw and neck, careful to not leave any visible marks or bruises. He grips the hem of her shirt again, prepared to pull it off of her this time.

Before he can go any further, the doorbell rings.

“Was that the door?” Naomi asks, her eyes snapping open. She tries to roll out of Ethan’s grasp, but he holds her in place.

“Yes, but who cares. Ignore it.”

Ethan resumes kissing her, instantly forgetting about whoever was just at his front door mere moments ago. But the doorbell rings again, this time twice.

“We should answer,” Naomi says. “It might be important.”

Naomi manages to untangle herself from Ethan and she laughs at the pout adorning his face. She pecks him on the lips and pulls away before he can deepen the kiss.

“Naomi Valentine, you are a tease.”

She smirks wickedly at him and grabs her bathrobe that’s laying at the foot of the bed, tying it. “I’ll be back in a sec, you horny old man.”

Rushing out of their bedroom, Naomi makes her way to the front door, opening it. There’s a woman standing there. She’s older — in her 60s — and pretty tall. She has light brown hair pulled into a neat bun on top of her head, huge blue eyes, and a worried look on her face.

Jenner moves from his pet bed in front of the fireplace in the living room and trots over to Naomi, curious as to who’s at the door. He barks loudly, ready to defend his household.

“Jenner, be nice,” Naomi scolds. She glances at the woman apologetically. “Ignore him, he’s a sweetheart.”

“Hi,” the woman greets slowly. “I think I have the wrong apartment.”

“Who are you looking for?” Naomi asks. “I know most of the tenants on this floor, maybe I can point you in the right direction.”

“Ethan Ramsey. Do you know which apartment is his?”

“Actually, you have the right one. Ethan lives here.” Naomi turns around and yells into the apartment, “Ethan! Someone is at the door for you!”

She can hear him muttering, annoyed at he has to get out of bed, but he comes into the living room anyway.

“Whoever it is better have a damn good reason for–”

He stops dead in his tracks as he saw who was at his front door. “Mom?”

Ethan’s mom smiles brightly upon seeing him. “Ethan! Oh oh my goodness, it’s so good to see you.” She practically throws herself at him, her arms clutching around his neck tightly. He goes rigid for a few moments before reciprocating the hug.

His mom breaks away from the hug after a few seconds. “Sorry for ambushing you like that. I just got excited.”

“It’s alright.”

She turns back to Naomi, a warm smile on her face. “Forgive me, where are my manners?” She extends a hand. “Margaret Ramsey, Ethan’s mom.”

“Naomi Valentine, Ethan’s girlfriend,” Naomi replies, shaking the older woman’s hand.

“You are the prettiest thing!” Margaret coos. She squeezes Naomi’s hand affectionately.

“Thank you.”

“Are you a doctor as well?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You’re so sweet. There’s no need to call me ma’am. Margaret is fine, or Maggie.”

“Nice to meet you, Margaret.”

Ethan clears his throat, bringing the attention back to him. “Mom, what are you doing here? It’s 8 o'clock in the morning, on a Saturday.”

“I hope you don’t mind, I forced your sister to give me your address.”

“Why are you here, in Boston?” Confused is an understatement. Ethan’s parents lived in New York. Why was his mom in Boston?

Margaret wrings her hands. She’s anxious. Naomi picks up on it instantly and steps in. “How about I make us some tea? Or coffee?”

“Tea sounds lovely.”

“Great.”

Ethan gestures for his mother to have a seat. She sits in the comfortable chair across from the couch, where Ethan sits. A few minutes later, Naomi joins them, three cups of tea in her hands.

“This is a lovely apartment, Ethan,” Margaret starts. “It’s so...open and airy. You have a great view.”

“Thank you. That view cost me a lot of money.”

“The best ones usually do.”

And then they’re back to awkward silence.

“So...how’s work?” Margaret asks in an attempt to break the ice.

That’s when Ethan knows something is up. His mother has never expressed much interest in his work before, even when he was still on decent terms with them.

“Mom, let’s not beat around the bush. What are you doing out here? Does dad know you’re here?”

“He doesn’t know I’m here, in your home, but yes, he knows I’m in Boston. He’s here with me,” Margaret answers. “He’s still at the hotel, probably asleep.”

“Okay. Well, what brings you to Boston?”

Margaret chews her lip thoughtfully, as if she’s trying to find and choose her words carefully. “Your father...the doctor’s found a tumor on his spine, and it’s cancerous.”

Ethan doesn’t say anything immediately, not having the words to express how he feels about the situation.

“Dad has cancer?”

Margaret nods sadly. “It started out with him having some minor aches and pains. We brushed it off as him just getting older. Then we bought a new mattress, but that didn’t help. Then Bill started having difficulty walking. His doctors originally thought it might’ve been arthritis, but we kept pushing. Finally a neurologist confirmed that it’s cancer of the spinal cord.”

Naomi runs her fingers over Ethan’s knuckles. He’s tense. She grabs hold of his hand and he squeezes tightly, using her as his lifeline.

“So what are you going to do? What’s the treatment plan? Who’s his doctor?”

“Since it’s a pretty rare form of cancer, we had to outsource, which is why we’re here. We are going to meet with his doctor tomorrow at Mass Kenmore–”

“Mass Kenmore?” Ethan can’t hide his disdain. “No, absolutely not. No way is dad going to a podunk, second rate hospital for treatment. When Mass Ken doesn’t have the tools or doctors to help a patient, they send them to Edenbrook.”

“Your father really likes the surgeon he found.”

“Harper Emery is one of the best neurosurgeons in the country, and I work with her.”

“Your father is a stubborn old man, Ethan,” Margaret says. “You know that better than anyone. He’s found a doctor, he likes him. I didn’t come here for your expertise as a doctor, I’m just a mother who hasn’t seen her son in years. And since we were in town, I thought it’d be nice to reach out. It’s been...far too long since we’ve seen each other.”

There was a large elephant in the room, a dark cloud hanging over them. He hadn’t spoken to his parents in 4 years, and he hadn’t seen them in well over 10.

“Your father and I were thinking of going out to dinner tonight. How about you two join us?”

Naomi opens her mouth to accept the invitation, but she stops herself. She glances at Ethan, a pensive look clouding his handsome features and she falls back. Accepting the invitation on his behalf is a complete overstep of boundaries.

“We’ll think about it,” Naomi offers you diplomatically.

“Of course. We have reservations at Meritage for 7 PM,” Margaret says. “Hopefully we’ll see you there.” She checks the time on her watch. “I should get back to the hotel.”

Naomi walks Margaret to the door, seeing the older woman off. When she turns back to the living room, Ethan is still on the couch, almost as if he’s frozen.

“Ethan? Ethan, baby are you okay?”

Ethan looks up and sees Naomi staring at him, concern etched across her face. “Hmm?”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He stands up. “I’m going back to bed.”

“Ethan–”

“Naomi, you asked a question, I responded. Why do you keep trying to prod?”

Naomi sucks in a deep breath. She knows all of Ethan’s defense mechanisms like the back of her hand. He’s trying to push her away.

“Why are you holding me at arm’s length?”

“I’m not,” Ethan argues as he makes his way back to their bedroom, Naomi following right behind.

“You are. And you should by now that I’m incredibly stubborn, so I won’t let you do it.” She watches as Ethan gets back into bed. She slides in as well, placing her head on his chest. “You just found out that your dad has cancer. That’s a lot to take on. So can you please talk to me?”

“My dad has cancer,” Ethan repeats. “And he didn’t tell me.”

“If he’s anything like you, he’ll beat it. I’m sure he’s stubborn and a fighter like you.”

“Stubborn is one word for it,” Ethan says with a snort.

Naomi laces their fingers together. “You never talk about them, your parents.”

“My dad runs his father’s brokerage firm in Manhattan. Very wealthy, very strict, very stuffy.”

“Sounds familiar,” Naomi teases.

“I have no interest in finance, in New York society, none of it. My younger sister though, she’s my dad’s pride and joy. She’s basically a miniature version of him, though nicer and much prettier. She’s the only one I still keep in contact with.”

Naomi nods. Ethan’s talked about his sister, Vanessa multiple times, and she’s even came to Boston with her husband to visit them.

“When I graduated high school, and told my parents I was going to study biology and chemistry at Dartmouth, he was upset. I was supposed to be the prodigal son, follow in his footsteps, take over the business, marry a descendant of the Rockefellers or Vanderbilts. My mom tried to mediate for a while, but it all fell flat, and I eventually stopped contact with them. I had to put myself through college and medical school because my dad wouldn’t pay, and I didn’t want his money either. The last time I’ve physically seen my dad was my medical school graduation. We argued at my celebration dinner. He told me that I wasn’t going to hack it as a doctor and I’d eventually come crawling back to New York, and I told him he doesn’t understand real success because he's had everything handed to him. He called me a spoiled brat, and I said he was manipulative and spiteful.”

Naomi doesn’t say anything as Ethan vents. It’s obvious he just needs to get all of this out without interruption.

“My father’s love is conditional. It comes with strings and clauses. I hated him and I was so resentful for such a long time, maybe I still am, I don’t know.”

Ethan gets out of the bed and Naomi watches as he paces the floor, back and forth, back and forth.

“I want nothing more than to never think about William Ramsey ever again, but the other half of me wants to gloat. I put myself through 8 years of school. I graduated at the top of my class. I’ve received awards from the American Medical Association, I’ve given keynote speeches at some of the most prestigious medical conferences in the world. I’ve published more researched, been featured in more journals than I can count. I’ve written best selling books and textbooks. I am the best at my job, no one does it better than me. I live in a multi-million dollar penthouse in the heart of Boston, paid for by no one other than myself, I have an amazing and brilliant girlfriend, I am great. I am at the top of my game.”

“It’s okay to still crave your parents’ approval,” Naomi tells him softly.

“But why do I? What makes them so special that I still feel the need to seek validation from them when they haven’t done a damn thing for me.”

“And he has cancer,” Ethan adds. “And he’s probably anxious and scared, and I feel horrible and selfish for feeling all of these things while he’s fighting for his life.”

Naomi gets out of the bed and walks over to where Ethan is pacing. She wraps her arms tightly around his waist. He breaths out a heavy sigh of relief at her touch and melts into the hug, burying his face in the crook of her neck.

They’re locked in the embrace for a long time, and Naomi feels a few of his tears hit her exposed skin. She doesn’t mind.

“You’re allowed to feel how you feel, Ethan. You’re allowed to be selfish, though I don’t think you are. You’re allowed to have a wide array of emotions because you’re human. You can love your dad and still be mad at him.”

“And you don’t owe anything a damn thing. I’ll follow your lead on this. We don’t have to go to dinner with them tonight. We can stay in bed all day if you want. But if you do want to go, we can, and I’ll be right there with you.”

Ethan’s entire body sags with the weight of the decision. He truly doesn’t know what he wants.

“I want to go back to bed,” he says, his voice muffled, his head still in the crux of her neck. “We can talk more after a nap.”

“That sounds good.”

Naomi leads them back to bed and Ethan all but falls into it. Once Naomi is in, he clings to her, his head on her chest, an arm wrapped tightly around her. She lightly runs her fingers through his hair, offering comfort.

“I love you,” Ethan whispers. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I love you, too.”

“What did I do to deserve you?”

“Maybe you were really good in your past life. Rescued kittens from trees, walked old ladies across the street.”

Ethan laughs softly. “Whatever I did, I’m grateful.”

Naomi kisses the top of Ethan’s head. “Get some rest, baby.”

Ethan closes his eyes and allows himself to be lulled back to sleep by his girlfriend’s ministrations.

He’s going to see his father, maybe even confront him on some things. He’s never felt more sure of a decision, and he has Naomi and her support to thank.

He’ll tell her later though. First, he has a nap to take.

#choices: stories you play #playchoices #open heart #ethan ramsey #dr. ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #ethan ramsey x mc #pixelberry #fanfic

158 notes · View notes

daedriclorde · 4 years

Text

Sorry for the delay, no other reason than laziness:)

Nickname: Well, I go by my initials, so does it count as a nickname if everyone calls me that? MJ, or some people try to pronounce it like a word and call me “Mmdge”

Zodiac: Taurus, but I know nothing about astrology

Height: A whopping 5′ 3″

House: We rent a duplex

Last thing I googled: The word astrology because I couldn’t remember it lol

Song in my head: Perfect Places, by Lorde <3

Followers and Following: 33, and 38. I only made my tumblr like a year ago, so I’m still figuring this place out!

Amount of sleep: usually around that golden 8 hours

Lucky number: 4

Dream Job: Having my own music composition studio at a university, being involved in their marching program and low brass studio, teaching theory or history classes, while maintaining an active career as a composer. Too bad its a pipe dream at this point.

Wearing: Old leggings and a plaid cotton button down that used to belong to my great-uncle. I’m a sucker for nostalgia, folks. It’s also delightfully lightweight.

Fav song: Oh god how dare you ask me this?? Okay, currently, at the moment, I’m going to pick Perfect Places again. I love Lorde (IF ya couldn’t tell by my url lol), but there are so so so many songs I could pick for this.

Instrument: *cracks knuckles* my primary instrument is the euphonium (think baby tuba, if you’ve never heard of it), but I can also play the trombone, trumpet, flute, mellophone, and piano, and I have the know-how for tuba, saxophone, and oboe. Oh, and I’ve messed around on an E flat Alto horn, for shits and giggles.

Random fact: I love cold climates and the snow. I got to travel to Canada a couple years ago and I totally fell in love.

Fav author: Again, that’s a stupid hard decision. Let’s go with Susan Collins, because I could reread the Hunger Games series till I die and not get bored. But I’m gonna throw in some honorable mentions of CS Lewis, Christopher Paolini, and Mark Zusack

Fav Animal sounds: When like, goats, or sea lions scream like humans. Cracks me the fuck up.

Aesthetic: Yikes, depends on the day, but generally speaking: Geometric patterns, grays and dark neutrals with a pop of bright color, natural materials, overcast days, big sweaters with leggings and boots, steaming hot beverage, leather jackets, mountains, snow. Red + Black.

Thanks @eeveevie! I’ll tag @maraleesquill @littlelarajean and @cinderthemechanics. Open tag if you want to share!

#ask memes #why the hell not?#here's a little more about me #not nerd shit #no wait this is about me it is most definitely #nerd shit #edited because I forgot one!

5 notes · View notes

longhornanderson · 4 years

Text

he left the bloodstains on the carpet ₪ seblaine

TAGGING: Sebastian Smythe & Blaine Anderson

WHEN: 5 MAR 2020, 1900

WHERE: One of the many UT Gyms

WHAT: One smooth criminal stops to lay down some lines on a sexy fellow student. Both of them fill with tension in a hot moment, however that tension shifts when they realize who exactly they’re flirting with.

BLAINE ANDERSON

Before every workout, Blaine always washed out the tightly held down curls and put away his bow ties. Then it was a tank top, zip up jacket, and shorts. Just like California, Texas always had that crisp air that made joggers unneeded. There was a bit of cold weather every now and then, but he liked to let his skin breathe for once.

Even though the university had several gyms, Blaine always choose the same one. He used his student id to check in and abandon his things in a locker. Walking into the gym, he was typing up his hands. He took his usual position next to the punching bags. He noted that somebody was there and did a small head nod. He knew them from days before. He started to move his arms in a bit of a warm up before peddling his feet. Hoping up and down, he started to get his body warmed up while his friend was just finishing up his own work out.

SEBASTIAN SMYTHE

the thing about sebastian is that he's a man of routines. or rather, the sort of man who plans a routine, follows it for a few days, and then changes it completely to better suit whatever he's got going on that day. but he makes the effort, which some days feels like half the battle. some of it is petulance, a way of thumbing his nose at the strict PT regimens he used to have to follow after the accident; it is, if he's honest, the only reason he still bothers with the gym. ( though picking up hot guys is surely an added bonus. )

he's fresh off the treadmill, 40 minutes of light cardio down and about an hour of weights training to go, when he let's his ennui get the best of him. his eyes dart around the room as he wipes down his equipment, eyes locking onto fists connecting with a punching bag a few stations over. he doesn't recognize the guy — not unusual, given he usually frequents the gym closer to his dorm room, but decides there's no better time than to change that. so he tosses the cloth over his shoulder, approaches like a predator stalking his prey as he comes up from behind. ( in reality, he simply dips his head down to drink from the water fountain ... affording him the opportunity to get a good look at that ass. ) but he's not a creep, so he straightens up and makes his presence known. " nice form. "

BLAINE ANDERSON

Eventually, Blaine high fived his friend and waved him off. Afterward, he put up his hood and continued his warm up. Striking lightly, getting use to the sensation. There was nothing he was particularly angry about today, but he had enough energy for short loud burst. With his body warm, he started one of his usual routine.

Blaine fell in love with Gym culture. Every once and a while, you'd run into that one jackass. Overall, everybody was cool. Blaine found himself talking to some of the regulars after his workouts. Especially if they come talk to him during. So when he felt eyes on him, Blaine didn't stop. He kept hitting, letting the sweet sound of the sand bag vibrate in his ears.

"Thanks." Blaine growled through clinched teeth. He didn't mean it, he was in the moment. He breathed out his next sentence. "Better be, being doing this for years." He got in three more jabs. Left, right, left. Front curls flopped out the front of his hoodie. The last hit was louder than the rest. He breathed out the tightness in his muscles. He leaned onto the punching bag as he reached down to get his water bottle, keeping his face unintentionally hidden from Sebastian. His dark eyes glanced around to the other punching bags. "I'll be off in about five minutes if you want a round." Blaine offered as he took a drink.

SEBASTIAN SMYTHE

the guy's intense, focused on what he's doing, and sebastian respects that. he watches as fists hit the bag, interest in his eyes as he comments. " it shows. impressive. how ... rocky balboa, of you. " he turns away for a moment, goes through the motions of filling his water bottle even though he's already decided to cut his work out off short.

the smirk settles easily when the guy responds, his voice smooth like silk as he responds. " depends. if you're asking if i want a round with the bag ... i think i'll pass. " it's as subtle as a giggle at a funeral but that's sort of his M.O. he sees what he wants and he goes for it. " -- but i was just about to hit the showers, maybe go for a drink. " brows lift, eyes still dancing over the muscles of the mystery man's back. selfishly, he'd be just as happy skipping the drinks and heading straight to dessert ... but he's patient. or can be. ( you have to work for the things you want in life. ) " what do you say, killer ? "

BLAINE ANDERSON

Blaine almost blushed at the compliment. He had to admit, it was nice to get this sort attention. This wasn't the first time that Blaine picked up numbers at the gym. A smile formed on his lips around the water bottle. He finished his sip.

Drinks though? This was new. It took all his might not to whip around to get a look at the man who was flirting with him. Oh that voice, it was so smooth, silky, so sexy. But there was something so familiar about that voice. Especially the use of that word, Killer. "Well, if you need a partner--" He finally turned around and his hoodie fell off his head. Loose curls bounced out and adjusted to the frame of Blaine face. The words got caught in his throat as he finally saw Sebastian's face. "Sebastien." Blaine articulated every syllable of his name carefully. "Sebastian." He repeated with wide eyes.

SEBASTIAN SMYTHE

he'll kick himself later for not waiting to see a face before laying on the charm. he's a sucker for tight muscles and loose curls and apparently they've finally gotten him into trouble. he'd always figured it would happen one day, but he'd never expected to accidentally flirt with his archenemy ( okay, that's a stretch. blaine barely cracks the top five ' worst people he's ever met ' list on a good day ) like something out of a romantic comedy. a meet cute. ugh, he hates everything about this.

" you. " it's almost an accusation, like somehow this is blaine's fault. " you're ... not who i expected. " no way, no how, in a million years would he have imagined that this was what lingered beneath the bowties and excessive amounts of hairgel. the fact that blaine anderson is hot is borderline offensive; it should be a crime. he refrains from saying as much though, he needs to maintain a modicum of self-respect. ( he can bounce back from this. he's a smythe, it's what he does best; spin. ) " so this is what happens when you strip away the hairgel and the sweater vests. " he observes, clicking his tongue against his teeth. " huh. " despite his annoyance, his eyes are still reluctantly glued to the sweat gathering at the hollow of his throat. ( he wonders, with his traitorous mind, how satisfying it would be to push him up against the wall and taste the salt against his skin. so much for self respect. )

BLAINE ANDERSON

Two seconds ago, Sebastian's voice made him trip. The way those golden words had captured him and made him eager. Blaine could feel the high he got whenever he was talking to Sam or another cutie. As he took in those beautiful green eyes, Blaine cursed himself for falling for that irresistible charm. Damn it. How did it get to this point. If Sebastian knew, Blaine knew he wouldn't live this down.

His lips wavered slightly at Sebastian's harsh tone. Now that Blaine was looking at Sebastian clearly, Blaine suddenly became flushed with rage. That way he spoke reminded him of the daunting arguments in class Sebastian's infuriating way of speaking. Surprisingly, that's not what caught him off guard. Sebastian was... hot. Hidden beneath preppy clothes and a smart mouth, there were well defined muscles and lean long legs. Blaine's jaw clinched. His brown eyes danced over Sebastian's body. If it was anybody else, he wouldn't even be wasting his time on drinks.

"Right back at cha." He stretched out neck, gave slight glare and matched Sebastian's tone. "And it looks like you're a big fan, considering five seconds ago you were just asking me out to drinks." The words poured from his mouth as if somebody else were taking over him. The water bottle in Blaine's hand crumpled under the pressure. "Or did you come over here just to tell me that? Because that's a little bit weird to stalking a gym Bas." Blaine hissed Sebastian's name, as if Sebastian were the dark lord.

SEBASTIAN SMYTHE

the fact that blaine's right might be what makes this all the more infuriating. he has him backed into a corner, unable to refute the claims that — yes, he'd clearly liked what he saw. denying that now would simply be an insult to both of their intelligence. ( blaine might get under his skin, but he's no idiot. he can acknowledge that. ) he huffs, jaw clenching as he sucks in a breath. the anger clenches white hot, knuckles in a similar state where they're gripping his water bottle in a deadly fashion. were it not stainless steel, he's sure it would warp under his fingertips. " congratulations. you're attractive. " a pause, deliberate. " when you're not talking. quick, someone get him a medal. " or a muzzle, he thinks dryly.

he sees red at the nickname, something he feels is too personal for blaine to spitting at him; like its a weapon in his arsenal, twisted to inflict pain. ( well two can play at that game. ) " trust me, stalking you is not on my to do list. " he takes a step closer, crowding in on blaine's personal space as his eyes narrow. there's a fire burning in his chest, whether it be the rage or something more, and rather than try to extinguish it — he pours the gasoline and watches it ignite. " it's sebastian. " words are light, but there's an edge to it. " unless we're in bed and you're moaning it. " right inflection, wrong words; because now that's where his head's at, and he knows almost instantly that he's toeing a line he should be wary about crossing.

BLAINE ANDERSON

Blaine felt his body go ridged when he realized he called Sebastian a nickname. What came over him in that moment? The air that came out of his mouth wavered. How did Sebastien have this power over him? To make him stumble. Neck cranked up and a scold on his face, he took in Sebastian’s words. Sebastien though he was attractive? Oh how this made Blaine want to cave to Sebastian. Steal him away into a broom closet to enjoy seven minutes in heaven. A more adult version of that though. Then Sebastian had to ruin it. Send Blaine back to the original reason why Sebastian made him angry. When Sebastien stepped over him, Blaine cranked his neck. He felt every cell in his body. From the tips of his toes, to the fibers in his chest hairs, and to the roots of his hair. Suddenly, Blaine felt his nakedness in front of Sebastian. Instead of cowering away, Blaine leaned his head back more to match those intense eyes. He put on a scold of his own. He let out a brave scoff, knowing the heat of his breathe would reach Sebastian. “Even though you’re hot as hell, never in your wildest dream.” Those words lingered on his lips. At the end, Blaine could feel his heart thumping wildly in his neck. If it weren’t for the height difference, Sebastian could probably felt Blaine heat rising from his skin. “I’ll try to remember that next time.” Blaines brown eyes lingered just a second longer before he ripped his gaze away. He stepped aside and aimed for the door with his chest held high.

SEBASTIAN SMYTHE

he's almost grateful that blaine retreats, leaves him feeling like he's won even if it wasn't a competition, or a fight. has he won though when he's still thinking about him even as he retreats? ( he hates that, a little. hates how he fixates on things, how he can never just let it go. ) the fact that blaine clearly finds him attractive, has said as much and made it abundantly clear, only fuels the fire. " until next time. " he calls out after him, the beginnings of a smirk warming his features. with blaine's back to him, it's likely he won't see the flush to his cheeks. it's good; for the best. on the list of mistakes he'd made this week, he has no intentions of adding hate fucking blaine anderson onto it. no, no thank you. " i'll see you around. in your dreams, i'd bet. " he turns and makes a beeline for the treadmills; weight training will have to wait, he needs to run — burn off whatever's pounding in his veins. ( if he won, why does it still feel like he's fighting? )

BLAINE ANDERSON

Stiff back, head held high, quick legs. It took all of Blaine's control to keep his body from collapsing at the exhaustion of that interaction. He kept this up all the way to his locker room and even beyond the doors of the gym. It wasn't until he got to his car did Blaine finally let a breathe out. *What the hell*? He thought to himself. With the thought he breathed out. Suddenly light headed, as if for the last ten minutes he was all on one breathe. One thing was evident, Sebastian had gotten to him. However, not in the way he wanted.

#seblaine #seblaine rp #para; sebastian #he left bloodstains on the carpet

2 notes · View notes

kriss-the-writing-nerd · 5 years

Text

11/11/11 tag game

Answer 11 questions, make 11 new questions, tag 11 persons!

I was tagged by @waterfallwritings for this! Thank you, your questions were really interesting and fun to answer! o(^▽^)o

(Sorry if I got a bit lengthy, it was just so nice to do something not university related after exams!)

1. How do you come up with ideas for your WIPs?

The heavy artillery from the get go, eh? *cracks knuckles* Okay, to be honest, I'm not sure. I've never really thought of it, they're just there, clamoring for attention (plot bunnies are my best ally and worst enemy). I definitely have bouts of very intense inspiration and days when I just,, can't. Even if I know where the scene is going, how it's going, and why, the words aren't there. Or they're all wrong. (This is when I default to writing ugly-crying emotional breakdowns or sex. Likely both.)

Working out a story is a game of association laced with concepts and core elements for me. Like this: dragons (core element) + mountains (association) + tribe/clan (concept) + shapeshifting (association/concept) + relocation/settlers (core element). And that's basically my dragon wip.

Eld's story is based on a Doctor Who quote "demons run when a good man goes to war". Ren and Kuro grew up with me; at some point they just started acting on their own - I just throw shit at them and sees what shakes loose at this point. (They have five kids! How???? did that?? happen???)

(I'm a sucker for prompts. My brain can see a single word and just, run of with it hollering in glee.)

2. How do you get past gaps in the plot?

Urrrrgh, I have to get past them??

I struggle, is what I do. Typically I let it sit, soundly on the back-burner in my mind, until I've mulled through my story to the point where the hole is gone. (This takes months, and with my sci-fi wip I ended up rewriting the dang thing completely at the third draft after eight years of working on it. Scrapping it was painful.)

Or I try a different angle. Sometimes it works.

3. What motivates you to keep writing?

I love writing. There's really no more significant reason than that. Writing allows me to express myself, create and explore worlds and characters who wouldn't exist otherwise. And it lets me just exist without any layers. When I've been hurting, writing has helped me get the pain out with no more than tears.

And I love words and languages; the way we have about 10 different words to say "snow" (partly because Swedish mesh several words into one but still) and maybe 2 (3?) for heat. That there are groups of languages with the same ancestors that are so close; how absolutely amazingly different they can be (I just learned "y" is not considered a vowel in English and I'm???? Completely blown. What. What do you mean it's not a vowel. Are you sure???). And languages with different alphabets and ones that use pictures to represent ideas instead of sounds! And sign languages!!

And idioms! It's so cool how idioms can carry words of wisdom, caution and reassurance, and rarely can be translated (classical examples from Swedish "There's no danger on the roof" and "The rain is standing like sticks in the ground") because they lose their connections to the cultures they are used in.

The universes in my head are as full of life as the real world and not nearly as anxiety-inducing. I have stories to tell. And you know that feeling when you’re in the zone and everything is flowing and you’re writing 10′000 words in a go? That.

4. Do you do any other kind of creative writing?

I dabble in poetry? Like, very sporadically and with mixed results. I have a friend into slam poetry who opened my eyes to it, too.

(Would fanfiction go here too?)

5. Do you have any other creative hobbies besides writing?

Urngh, yeah, too many. If I’m not reading, my hands need to be moving or I’m an unhappy bean. Though, writing is the only thing I never put down. Ever.

Okay, so, I draw (badly), both on paper and digitally. Mostly landscapes. I also try to make house sketches/plans. And I paint (a bit better than I draw), prefer oils or acrylics over water colors. My partner and I also paint miniature models when there is time.

I also crochet and knit, and I love origami. I roleplay (Dungeons & Dragons, whenever the DMs have time), and I play the violin (and piano) and write simple music for myself.

I garden if there's time in the spring and during summer, and I absolutely love these little fairy-gardens that have been popping up everywhere. On that note, I have more houseplants than I have space for.

I'm also thinking to start up a little thing making bracelets and bead strings for fidgeting. I needed some kind of stim toy to be able to focus and I wanted something silent with many different sensations to keep me entertained. I hunted around a bit but eventually made my own and they turned out pretty nice!

(I also like to bake, especially pies and breads.)

6. What do you do when you’re stuck on a scene and don’t know how to get it out / write it?

I slam the key words in. And then I ignore it until it stops fighting back so much.

Or I backtrack. Sometimes I've written myself into a corner unknowingly.

Sometimes I drop a wip that's giving me grief and work on another, or I use word/idea prompts to get me started.

7. How do you decide how to end your WIP?

God, please tell me because I don't hecking know. Should I do an epilogue? Should I leave it open/ambiguous? Should I just cut it off and leave the next step to the reader? Should there be a "true" ending, with goodbyes (actual or metaphorical)?

Urrrrrrrrgh. Good Lord, endings.

8. When in the process of writing do you decide how its going to end? Or do you kind of just wait til you get there?

Either I know from the start, before I write the first words, or I wait. Which tends to mean frustrating the hell out of myself. I have started to go through my wips (whether original or fanfiction) and give them all bare-bones outlines, because not having endings is a big problem for me.

9. Why did you decide to join writeblr?

Basically when I decided I had had enough of the "join to see more" button or the "sensitive material" warning. And when I realized there was a really nice writing community here I could maybe become a part of. (A major reason was actually @concerningwolves advice posts.)

10. What’s your favourite food?

(CW: Maybe skip if you’re vegetarian/vegan/you’d rather not read about meat.)

Chinese deep-fried chicken with sweet-and-sour sauce (not the spicy chili kind, the actual pineapple and tomato juice based kind) with rice. No question about it.

Mom's "blodbröd med fläsk" is a close runner up though, but we only eat it once a year, at the midwinter solstice. It's homemade Swedish tunnbröd (hard thin-bread) with blood instead of water in it that you dip in boiling water to make it soft, with white sauce, and fried, thoroughly salted pork.

(Believe me, some country-side Swedes in the northern parts are still pretty pagan about the sun coming back, me included. It's a big deal when you go between no night/darkness and then very little/no sun.)

11. If you had to kill off a character in your WIP, who would it be and why?

People are dying right and left in most of them already, since three include large-scale wars, so there's no shortage there.

But if I had to choose a main-character or a directly supporting character? (MY BABIES! NO.)

I think Ren, from the sci-fi wip, because he would be free from both responsibility and physical and mental pain. (My boi is a wreck.) It wouldn't be unlikely either. But at this point it would destroy my story! 😂 Less story-destroying would be their foster-guardian Sandra. It would still force me to write a completely new arc, but it would be do-able.

Although, regarding the fantasy wip Firestorm, Kebarock dying in their war would crush Sunling. That could be done without losing the plot entirely. Hmmm.

Puh, that was a lot of thinking! Okay, I'll be tagging.. @concerningwolves @weaver-of-fantasies-and-fables @adorhauer @focusdumbass @sleepy-and-anxious @els-writes @meteorwrites @sebastian-writer @telvivere @thescribesloft and @aceymichaelis No obligation to do this of course! <3 (And if I tagged you and you’d rather not be tagged in games, I apologize, please let me know)

And here are your questions if you want to:

1. What about your wip makes you smile?

2. What's the hardest decision you've had to make in regards to a wip?

3. What text font do you prefer writing in? Or do you write by hand?

4. Are there pets in your wip? If not, what pet might your character(s) keep?

5. What AU would you love to see/write for your wip?

6. Is there any type of music/a song in particular that you associate with your wip?

7. Are you a night owl or an early bird/When do you write?

8. Favorite beverage?

9. Where do you prefer to write? At home? In a library? On the bus/train?

10. What are your first 3 to 5 associations with the word 'writing'? Why those?

11. What do you do when you're bored?

Hope you enjoy! o(^◇^)o

#11/11/11 tag #11 asks tag game #tag game #ask game #writing related #writing community #writeblr community

1 note · View note

shiikadai-archive · 7 years

Text

here it comes (the unavoidable sun) | voltron

i realized i would never write this bc i’m a Lazy Fool so i thought i’d just post my somewhat in-depth outline of shiro and allura throwing themselves back into the tournament so that they can rescue matt bc he’s obviously still there DUH (also i’ve conveniently chosen to assume shiro comes back bc, to reiterate, obviously he does DUH)

after ages and ages of searching for Matt, the squad (read: Pidge) discovers that he’s still stuck cycling through the tournament

since only the winner of the tournament is allowed to dictate the terms of their imprisonment, Matt has essentially been stuck in limbo

Shiro reasons that, as the previous Champion, he has a shot at winning the tournament and renegotiating the terms of Matt’s imprisonment if he wins again

Allura, however, refuses to let one of her Paladins go on such a dangerous mission unsupervised and insists that she tag along

Shiro and Allura land on one of Galra’s satellite moons in a small pod

Allura disguises herself using her shapeshifting abilities

Shiro grows a beard ?

Allura masquerades as a dealer wanting to get in on some cash and negotiates with another dealer to sneak Shiro and another contender (read: herself) into the games

a subtle and sentimental moment follows where Shiro assures the princess that they’ll make it through this before the two are separated and taken to their holding cells

there are two objectives at play here:

Shiro’s primary objective is to make it through the tournament so that they can negotiate Matt’s terms

Allura’s primary objective is to find Matt and garner as much information about the Galra’s plans for the future while they’re here, as well as somehow survive the tournament

finding Matt is relatively so much easier now that they’re in the tournament, but his head is a little lost and he’s having trouble remembering how he got here and where he was before

Shiro not only has to focus on the tournament but on jogging Matt’s memory because it is absolutely not an option that he brings back an amnesiac brother home to Pidge

the fights are definitely harder this time; there’s a new overseer in control and he’s much better at calculating which prisoners to pit against each other so as to keep a constant flow of competitors but to not let anything get too out of hand

Allura comes back beaten near bloody from one of her fights and Shiro is almost tempted to yell at her but he sees this fierce look in her eye and she wipes the blood from her lip real easy

and the thoughts in his mind fracture for a moment, because he thinks of how he nearly lost her to Haggar when they broke the source of the quintessence

she’s in reach of his arms this time but he’s still unable to do more than look on and hope for the best and watch her fight like hell to grow stronger than she already is

sometimes they pass each other while their respective groups of cell mates are on water or bathroom breaks and there’s this look that they have for each other

even while they’re murmuring quietly to each other about how things are progressing, Shiro’s fingers brush over her knuckles and there’s a catch in her breath and he asks if she’s okay and she just whispers “yes” while refusing to look him in the eye

it’s a few weeks before the semifinals of the tournament roll around and Allura has been eliminated by this time but she is still made to watch the matches and every time she sees Shiro she can’t help but cringe

because here’s the thing - he’s so used to the pain, to every blow to his shoulder or abdomen or jaw, that he hardly reacts and just pummels back at his opponent with equal force

and Allura thinks of how someone so gentle with her can condition himself to be so hard given a particular situation

her eyes lock with his as he comes out of his match, the winner and the first contender for the championship title, and the smile he sends her way makes shivers run down her spine

of course, you’re probably wondering where Matt fits into all of this

it’s surprisingly a combined effort that helps jog his memory a little at a time; Shiro and Allura will stand on either side of him on water breaks and just talk about Pidge as if it’s any other day and Matt will remember some tidbit from his childhood and his heart will lift and for the first time, he’ll feel like he can actually make it through the day

in fact, the day before Shiro’s final match, Matt says that if Pidge has made herself into someone new for the sake of getting back to him, that he’d like to show her he’s tried to change to get back to her, too

his hair has grown long by this time, but Shiro uses the heat from his Galra tech arm to shave off Matt’s hair from the sides and cut it a little short and shorn a Jewish prayer into one side of his head

and then, it’s the final day of the tournament; Shiro wins, as expected (and desperately hoped) by Matt and Allura, and all seems good as he files into the overseer’s office until a paper is held in front of his face and all it is is his reflection staring back at him

Shiro doesn’t even realize until too late that he’s being injected with the serum and it’s a splitsecond before everything goes Galra purple but he sees Allura’s face, and the scar on her left eyebrow or under her jaw and the short, jagged cut to her hair, and the cracked skin of her lips, and then he has to close his eyes

he comes out to the crowd with the overseer holding his hand aloft and announcing that the Champion has returned, and Allura is down in the prisoners’ box wondering what the hell is going on

but then the overseer is calling for a challenger to battle the recrowned Champion and Allura has to find out where the hell they are in all this so she tugs her hand from Matt’s - he holds on for so, so long, and it pains her to let go but she has to, if they’re going to get out of this - and marches up to one of the guards at the gate and says that she’s the one going into that arena

the guards, of course, are amused that some girl who got beat up in the first few round is daring to challenge the Champion, but they call the overseer anyway

and of course, in the overseer’s eyes, this makes for the perfect bloodbath, so he gives the okay and Allura steps into the ring and starts running through how best she can communicate with Shiro while still making their fight look good

but then she’s fighting him and she barely has a chance to talk before he twists her arm so hard and Allura sees stars, feels the pain rocket up her spine as she tries to catch air

her head twists in an effort to meet Shiro’s eyes but all she sees is black, and then the overseer hanging above them in the box with a disgusting smile on his face and it all sort of sucker punches her at once

Allura blacks out from another hit and before she knows it she’s waking up in the cell, Matt’s hand on her arm and his questions running past her mind as she fits all of the pieces together

there’s so much anger and anguish filling her up and Allura just clutches at her hair and screams for a second before tucking her head into her knees and breathing heavily for several long minutes

it takes her a few days, but she regains her composure and formulates a plan and the first part of that plan is to disguise herself and get Matt out because not only is it what Shiro would want, but after being here for so long, it is what Matt deserves

so she gives him the instructions that Pidge had given her for sending the signal and waiting for Keith to pick them up while Lance provided cover, and it takes a while for her to convince him to go, but she tells him that Pidge needs him more than she does, and that’s something he can agree on, so he goes

and then, finally, it somehow comes to the point that Allura hadn’t been expected to anticipate but did anyway, because she is a princess and a leader and this is what she does, is foresee and plan accordingly so she can get things done

every waking minute in the holding cell is spent utilizing any opportunity to strengthen herself or train so she can throw herself into the tournament again

she makes small talk with the other cell mates and works herself into a position where she can practice on others and collect information all the while without giving herself away

and when the tournament begins again, Allura doesn’t spare herself any time to watch Shiro the way she used to when he battles, with concern or agitation; the look in her eye is always calculating and observant of angles and trajectories and weights

she’s building herself into a mirror of Shiro, or at least she’s trying to, and every battle that she goes into she comes back out from bloody but not beaten, because she’s stronger each time she shows her face in the arena - she has to be

and somehow the weeks go by and she doesn’t know how she’s lasted this long without smile-cringeing at Lance’s jokes or fussing over how best to get along with Keith now that he’s part Galra or trying to talk to Hunk about Altean food or recounting memories of her father with Coran or trying to learn more about Pidge’s likes and dislikes or seeing Shiro genuinely smile, but it hurts, it hurts, it hurts

the semifinals of the tournament come along and it’s a miracle but she makes it, kicking and screaming because she has to get to Shiro before he loses himself to them, and as she’s walking out she notices there’s a small patch of hair missing from her forehead, but for some reason she doesn’t even care

the day of the final round her hands hardly shake and she runs her fingers through what hair she has left, brushes her thumb over the scars that mar her skin on every possible surface

his eyes are black when she looks into them before the battle but as soon as the siren sounds Allura is screaming and she’s yelling at him about how Keith is probably dying to see him and Pidge is worried sick and Lance can’t handle being without someone to look up to or to have guide him and Hunk just needs everyone to be okay or his anxiety will skyrocket

there’s no sign that he’s listening but she claws at him, doesn’t think twice about resting her eyes on the scarred bridge of his nose or the nice shear to his undercut or what used to be a hard but gentle jaw

everything at this point is about clawing past the black and into the soul, and there’s a moment near the end where she thinks it’s all over, because it’s Shiro, and really, how can she face off against him?

but when she throws her arms his way for one last punch, her wrist slips into his hand and their eyes meet and it’s so quiet for a second, she swears the world stops

and it’s ages and ages, but a fleck of gray comes back into his pupils, and then another, and another, and pretty soon Allura of Altea is staring at Takashi Shirogane, and her eyes are welling with tears upon tears

he whispers to her to kick his ass and drag him through the dirt because he deserves it for being so optimistic and letting himself get caught, and she throws him down to the ground, and Shiro’s face is as composed as ever but she can tell that on the inside, he’s just laughing and laughing

they’re a lot better about dealing with the overseer now, and because Allura is feeling a little bolder with each day that passes, she doesn’t hesitate to reveal herself to the overseer and promptly threaten him if he speaks a word about their deal or who they are

she and Shiro sneak out the way they came in, make it to the dropsite, and send the signal, and while she has come to appreciate Keith, Allura is so happy that it’s Hunk who comes to get her and Coran who covers

she dissolves in Hunk’s arms and starts to cry, and when Shiro asks from within Coran’s arms if she’s okay, she can’t bear to respond it’s all overwhelming her so much

they get back to the castle and the others are ecstatic, Pidge rushes for the infirmary and with Matt’s help - she’s so happy to see him, she’s been lively enough as it is but with her brother around it’s like she’s a walking lighbulb - washes the blood off of Shiro and Allura and properly sutures and bandages any of their open wounds

it’s a long time before they’re alone together, but Shiro is lying in his infirmary bed and he can’t sleep and he asks her, “How did you do it?”

Allura smiles, gets up from her infirmary bed and walks over and talks it through - the strenuous training, the detailed observation, and the continuous struggle

he’s so proud of her he can’t help but hold up a hand to cup her face, and it nearly takes the breath out of him when she leans into the touch

in fact, his voice is so hoarse that when he finally says “Princess” it sounds like a plea, and Allura just opens her eyes and says, “Allura”

“What?”

“You called me ‘Allura’ when you were worried about me”

“I’m not worried about you right now”

“Of course not, but you were worried about me, at least once”

Shiro nearly cries from the thought, but he pinches his nose and keeps it in, tucks his forehead against hers and wraps his arms around her waist before pulling them back down to the bed together

and neither of them has to say anything but Allura closes her eyes and smiles soft, tucks her head into the crook of his neck and doesn’t startle when his lips meet the patch of skin where no hair lies anymore

it’s well past midnight in a galaxy a dozen light years away and it’s been who knows how long since they were home, but they are, and home is her body tucked under his arm while she closes her eyes and drifts off to sleep

Shiro thinks to himself, “I love her”

and for the first time in a long time, his eyes close, too

#takashi shirogane #allura of altea #shallura #vld #voltron #voltron: legendary defender #*hc

39 notes · View notes