#All these scenes with Fanfic implications... too much...

[yemme]

Rowoon looking into the camera with this intensity is too much.... I wanna fight you, then fuck you... Who and what are you thinking about looking into the fucking camera lens soul like this Rowoon... Ninja WHO!? I want to know... your check ain't ask for all this extraness. Keep that hypnotizing shit to yo-self I'm just here to watch a show damn it. SF9 come collect your boy. RUDE.

#Destined with you #Rowoon #Netflix #This ain't even a wedding scene lookin' like this... #Got me sweating over dick I'll never have... your tall ass #All these scenes with Fanfic implications... too much...

[hornyjorny]

following the river

summary: almost a frame-by-frame fanfic of river's scene in-game, but better :3 ish!! an- guys i am so fucking sorry i haven't posted in fucking AGES i've been absolutely dogged with work n shit and i'm depressed as fuck. anyway. here's to my loyal river fans (all twelve of us) hashtag justice for river ward ive literally spent months on this for no reason warnings- smut (18+ mdni), cowgirl, first time, you're both nervous as fuck, multiple positions, switch!v, switch!river, fucking the police, johnny ment, oral (f receiving and very brief lol), missionary, mild angst with cavity-inducing sweetness at the end, river and v are very much in love, cuddles

wc: 9.2k

If you had told yourself you’d be spending the night with an NCPD badge a month ago, you woulda’ laughed in your very own fuckin’ face. But between those heated kisses and those soft, hushed whispers, River Ward leads you by the hand into the silence of his bedroom— and it all feels far too unreal. 

But the truth is, reality is a bitch. And now here you are, tangled in a contradiction of your own making. Guess you misunderstood the whole “FUCK THE POLICE” thing. 

He oughtta be chasing you down, not holding you close. But fuck, this whole situation with River is just so thrilling, and it’s absolutely undeniable that he’s more than just some badge. 

There’s kindness, there’s goodness in him that transcends that old, dumbass uniform he used to wear. Night City may be bleeding, and Johnny Silverhand may be a relentless presence in your head, but River offers something more—a promise of a future beyond the consistent chaos as he leads you into the quietness of the trailer. 

To be honest, you’re not sure if you’re entirely in love with River— sure, you’re attracted, and sure, your heart beats a million times faster when he’s around, and sure, you think about him all the fucking time, but shit, you don’t know love. But fuck, whether you deserve it or not, there’s just something about him, you don’t know what feels… safe. 

River represents something you’ve never really had: hope. The hope for a promise of an actual future— a real-ass life. Not just surviving but living— happily, at that. 

And for tonight, that’s enough.

Never before have you encountered someone as gentle, as fucking sweet as River. His kindness, his sincerity, it's like a lifeline amid chaos. But with each tender moment, each stolen kiss, you can't shake the gnawing feeling of guilt eating away at you. Oh, how you don’t want to feel this way, but here you are regardless, falling and falling for River, and allowing yourself to embrace the sensation of being vulnerable in more ways than one. And oh— is it such a bad time to catch feelings; your time on this earth is limited. 

You’re a merc, one with a ticking timebomb of a narcissistic rockerboy lodged into your head, just waiting to take over your body, waiting for you to finally kick the bucket so he can take control. You’re not exactly girlfriend material. You’re neither beautiful nor are you admirable. You are tired. You are bruised.

You're a mercenary, a killer by trade, and here you are, falling for a cop—a man dedicated to upholding the law you so often break.  

You know you should push River away, distance yourself before it's too late. But goddamn it, you can't bring yourself to do it. 

It’s almost funny, you think. Funny to have found a love oh-so-precious—oh-so beautiful, only to have it ripped away from you by a little piece of plastic nestled in your skull. River’s warmth, his unwavering support, it's all both a blessing and a curse. You desperately want to hold onto this love, to cherish every moment you have left, but the knowledge that your time is running out gnaws at your very soul. 

You sigh. Fuck, you know you can’t think about this now— you know it’s best to enjoy the moment rather than to trouble yourself with the moral implications of it all right now. You’ll destroy yourself otherwise. 

And little do you know, but River’s thoughts are mirroring your own. He's fucking scared, terrified of the way you've woven yourself into the fabric of his life. As a detective, he's seen the darkest corners of Night City, the horrors that lurk in the shadows. But when it comes to you, he's lost, unsure of how to navigate the maze of emotions that swirl within him.

You're the very embodiment of everything he's sworn to protect the city against. And yet, he can't help but fall for you. Behind the walls you've erected to shield yourself from the world, he sees the vulnerability, the genuine warmth that draws him to you like a moth to a flame. But there's a part of him that fears the truth, that fears what he might discover if he delves too deep into your world. And as you stand together in the silence of the night, wrapped in each other's arms, you can't help but wonder if this fragile bubble of happiness is destined to burst, leaving nothing but broken pieces in its wake.

The linoleum floor creaks beneath your steps as River leads you further, navigating the narrow hallway. Anxiety continues to brew within him—shit, he just hopes you like him back.

He hopes his choice is right. He hopes he made the right choice by bringing you around.

But all of the chaos, all the fear building within, completely evaporates away when his eyes finally meet yours, his anxiety dissipating into nothingness. Tonight, all he wants is for the two of you to be one, where nothing in the world matters. It makes everything else seem so distant and minuscule, and that, oh, it’s the closest thing to heaven that he’s ever known.

Nothin’ else matters—except for the moment.

River pauses at one of the entryways, silently gesturing to his niece and nephew, sleeping peacefully. You understand what he’s communicating to you immediately.

You two need to be quiet tonight.

Tonight is the perfect time to forget that you’re a mercenary and he’s a cop. No badges, no guns, no uniforms—and no parasitic rockstar in your head, either. Just you and him.

So you nod your head in acknowledgment as you ease past the kids and follow him into the silence of his bedroom. Your stomach flutters in your chest; oh, fuck, you feel like a couple of giddy-ass teenagers. 

You’re relentless, in all the right ways. Your desperation to feel River, to kiss him— it’s intoxicating. Once the door clicks shut, you immediately rise up on your tippy-toes with zero hesitation to press your lips against his; you could do nothing else. 

Fucking finally. 

One kiss, and you know you’re addicted to the taste of his lips on your own. You know then, that nothing else could give you such a natural high. You must confess, that your thoughts are impure, and the fire is burning within your bones. Shit, it excites you so much, just the idea of riding him absolutely senseless— you’re gonna fuck away his entire moral compass by the end of the night. 

It’s as your lips press together, with all the desire arousal, and heat you have to offer, a wave of cruel exhaustion washes over you as River embraces you, finally making its way to the forefront of your mind. His warmth almost feels like a blanket, of sorts, soft and comforting.

A soft pleased hum escapes River’s lips as he presses himself against you, moving his hands to grip the back of your head tightly, returning your kiss with the same raw passion. His arms are wrapped around your waist, his body pressing against yours— fuck, it feels so nice to be held by a body that feels like home. 

And for once, it's not Johnny who takes over your thoughts, but River. You need him—now. The heat of his lips on yours is fucking intense. It's like everything else in the city fades away, and for once, even Johnny’s presence is just a distant buzz in your mind.

And all there is, that's all that matters—River, you, and the rest warmth of his lips pressed against yours.

Your fingers claw at the fabric of his tank top, holding onto him tightly as you kiss him with every ounce of passion that’s been building up within you for entirely too long. You’ve wanted this—you’ve fucking needed this, needed to feel the warmth of another in a world so dauntingly cold. 

Every breath feels new, every sensation is amplified, and all you can focus on is River. River, River, River. He’s real, and you feel him like never before. He’s yours, and you’re his. 

Your breath is getting shorter, and your thoughts are being consumed with just one word: more. More, more, more. You need to feel his love. 

How good it feels to have something real. And fuck, is it nice to have something else on your mind except for your impending and unavoidable death. No Johnny, no Arasaka, no Relic. Just you. Just him. Just two desperate people wanting desperately to cling to the idea of feeling alive for just one night.

You practically moan into his mouth as you lean back, letting his strong, secure arms wrap around your body. You press your body up into his, craving his warmth, craving his presence, craving him. It’s like you’re slipping into a deep trance-like state, one where all that matters in this very instant is River, this one fucking detective, this one stupid badge. 

“River,” you whine quietly. “I need you.”

The words slip out before you even have time to stop them, the sound of them leaving your ears ringing. 

Fuck, does he feel like the luckiest person alive when you utter those little words, the sound of them barely audible against the city’s distant hum? For such a tough merc, you sound so cute—so needy, that it makes his heart jump in his chest. It’s such an unexpected, quick change for you, and you swear you catch his mechanical eye shining a little brighter as his rough hands graze against your hips. His body presses tightly against yours, lowering his voice to a whisper that makes your tummy flutter.  

“Shhh… I know ya do, V…” 

The words feel so foreign slipping from his lips, but god, he can’t help it.  River leans even closer to you until you can feel the warm breath of his body tingling inside your ear—his lips press up against your neck softly, trailing little wet kisses up and down the sensitive skin there. 

“Just let go…” 

River whispers again, moving his hand down your back and caressing the skin that he can feel through the thin fabric of your shirt. His lips flutter up and down along your neck, nibbling gently on your skin. Rough, calloused hands trace down your body, before pulling your hips to his so there’s no space between you. 

River’s voice turns deep; husky. 

“Just let go of everything but me…” 

After all, he’s done for the city, for the world, no one has ever wanted him in such a way that they wanted him, not just his title, his body, but the person behind the piercing glow of his mechanical eye. 

River’s ganic hand trails gingerly up and down your torso, his fingers playing gently with the fabric of your shirt as his lips press against your neck. The delicate sensation sends ripples of pleasure through your core— fuck— you’re getting wet. 

His words trigger an immediate response from you. Excitedly, you push back against him as you moan quietly in his ear, fingers digging into the fabric of his red tank top— breath halting in your chest, growing shorter and more agitated. You raise on your tippy toes, attempting to return the favor by kissing his neck. 

As you push yourself forward, pressing yourself against him, pushing a hand behind his neck, your fingers grip tight along the back of his neck. Slowly, you brace one hand on his chest, your thumb rubbing along the hard muscle that hides below his shirt, your other hand falling to fidget with the neckline of his tank.  

You can feel it— he’s muscular; he’s strong and hard. He’s aboutta be all yours, and the thought alone makes you feel weak, weak in the knees with how hot he is.

When you’re slipping your hands below his shirt to feel the skin beneath, River’s steadiness finally falters. Unknowingly, he backs up into his desk, causing an empty beer bottle to topple over— crashing to the floor in the silence of the trailer.

Fuck. 

For a brief moment, panic seizes over your entire being. Shit. Your heart pounds in your chest, shit, shit, shit— what if you woke everyone up with the crash? What if he’s upset with you for pulling such a gonk move, fuckin’ shoving him into his desk? What about the mess? 

You swear you’re doomed. 

But to your surprise, River's expression softens, a hint of amusement dancing in his mechanical stare. Was his amn fault for being so clumsy, anyway. 

When the warmth of his lips caress yours, you feel a deep wave of relief. Thank fuck— you think to yourself as you realize that your actions didn’t cause all hell to break loose. 

Instead, he’s too amused by your excitement, and that only serves to turn you on all the more. Hell— River finds it adorable how badly you want him. He can deal with the mess later. He’s too lost in you, too lost in the tide of passion to give a shit. Instead, his focus is entirely on you, and all rational thought is overshadowed. 

His hands find their way to either side of your face, his touch gentle yet possessive, as if he's determined to memorize every curve and contour of your face. River stops, an urgent whisper, his voice barely above a breathy murmur. 

“You've got me. Don't let go. Don't let this moment, this feeling—this feeling of you and me, don't let it end.”  

But before you can even process the full weight of River’s words, his lips crash into yours with a fervor that leaves you breathless. It’s like a tidal wave, consuming you with its intensity, and you find yourself melting into his embrace without hesitation. You’re safe. 

In turn, you respond eagerly, matching his passion with your own, hands roaming freely across his back, pulling him closer with every passing moment. River hums to himself when your smooth lips part upon the brush of his tongue against you— feeling just right. You feel a surge of electricity coursing through your veins, fueling that consuming lust that just keeps on burning brighter and hotter in your lower tummy. 

You guide his strong hands, urging him to explore every inch of your being, to revel in the depths of your desire as you surrender yourself completely to the intoxicating bliss of the moment. You need him. The feeling of his sends shivers down your spine, you realize that this—this connection, this unspoken bond—is what you've been searching for all along. In River's arms, you find solace. In his kiss, you find passion. And in that little bit of love between you, you find home.

Like you, River’s mind has started to go hazy, his body filled with heat as he pulls you in tighter, desperate to feel everything at once. 

The embrace of your lips turns heated, desperate, his teeth brushing against your bottom lip. Shit, he can’t believe you’re allowing him to touch you like this— he feels like the luckiest fucker in the world. The heat rising in his body is nothing short of intense, it feels so right. 

But he needs more. 

River pulls away to break the kiss, his gaze slides across your body, admiring you silently, taking note of every little curve, burning through you, silently admitting how lucky he is. Oh, how he never realized desire could be so engulfing until this moment, with you staring right up into his eyes with a vulnerability he cannot ignore. It makes him feel fuckin’ stupid— like he could live in this moment forever. 

His movements are slow and deliberate. It's enough to send your heart pumping, your chest heaving, your breath coming in short gasps. When you meet his steely gaze, it feels like his mechanical eye is bearing into your soul. 

River moves a palm up to cup your cheek lovingly, before nodding his head in the direction of his bed— a silent command. You immediately know what he’s attempting to communicate. You know what comes next. 

And you’re just dying to see it through. 

A little rush of pure excitement overtakes you as you rush to the bed, while River turns around for a brief moment. Without a second thought, without any semblance of hesitation, you’re immediately beginning to fumble with the straps of your gear, allowing it to fall all to the ground. Every movement of yours feels like a wave of electric pulsing through your body, a rush of adrenaline that leaves you panting— leaving your mind blurry with need. 

While he’s got his back turned, you rip off your sweats, letting them fall to the ground. Immediately after, you’re ripping off the thin tank you’re wearing, slipping your bra right off with it, fully exposing your bare chest to the coolness of the night air. A little excited shiver runs down your spine, your nipples perking up and stiffening as a result of the temperature drop. 

And before you know it, you’re almost naked— wearing nothing but a soaked, think pair of panties, wanting him, needing to have him—not Johnny, but River, just River…

You catch the soft mechanical glow of his eye in the mirror on the closet door. For a brief moment, your breath catches in your throat. 

The glow in the reflection dims as he stares. Your heart beats so fast you feel dizzy from the rush. You know he’s watching you just as you’re watching him. And without saying a word, you both know what you want— he finally turns around. 

Fuck—you, the most dangerous mercenary in the whole fuckin’ city, is laying before this dumbass detective, wearing nothing but your panties. And oh, you’re so helplessly wet over some cop to the point where you can already feel the moisture soaking through them. You can’t control yourself, you can’t control the way your fingers keep on trailing lower, beginning to push away the dampened strip of fabric in between your legs. 

A breath breaks from your mouth as you toss your panties aside. It’s sudden, a bit of a surprise even. But you’re done wasting time. The air feels cold on your exposed cunt, but fuck, you don’t care—besides, the heat he’s making you feel is enough to keep ya’ warm. 

Gently, your lips tremble with each passing moment... your body is fuckin’ craving him more and more with every moment that passes with him staring directly at your messy pussy. You can’t take it. You allow yourself to be completely vulnerable, your arms trailing behind you as he draws near. Your eyes flutter as you anticipate him being near, letting him take you completely... letting him take you in.

River’s eyes are locked onto your body— he’s in shock. Fuck. Jesus Christ, every second you’re up looking at him with pathetic, needy eyes makes his cock tremble in his pants. Both of River’s eyes, amber and mechanical pierce through you, just craving you in ways he's never craved fuckin’ anyone. And oh, you love the euphoric burning feeling that rises in your tummy when you feel him stare. A little blush settles across your face, you feel some wetness slide down from your aching cunt. You arch your back a little as River approaches you. 

Fuck. You can’t wait. You reach out, pulling your fingers tight around his hips as you pull him down to the bed with you. You can't wait another second to be with him and you pull him down with you on the bed. Before he can even process what’s happening, you’re beginning to lift his tanktop, and by Christ, you’re not disappointed when you finally reveal what’s underneath. 

You’re not religious, but in the darkness of his bedroom, you’ve found something holy. Immediately, your eyes trail down, taking note of every little freckle and scar that litters his tan skin. Fuck— he’s perfect. You press your lips against his chest, trailing little wet kisses down his body... each kiss burning into both of you, each kiss driving you both that much closer to desperation. You’re unaware of the self-restraint he's exercising to keep himself from pushing you onto the bed and just fucking you right then and there. River’s working every ounce of self-control he has as you trail your lips down his chest, letting each kiss linger just enough to tease him. 

In the dark room, you worship him with your touch, with a love that’s so undoubtedly wrong. 

Your eyes drift up to his, and it’s over for you both. Gently, you slide your hands slooowly down River’s torso, making him squirm as your hand trails lower and lower, fingers beginning to move to slowly undo his pants. And fuck, It takes him every little bit of lasting resistance and strength he has to let you touch without intervening. 

But shit— you aren’t gonna let River off that easy, no fucking way. You’re gonna fuckin’ savor this—every second of it all. Your lips trail down his clothed thigh with a subtle grin, wrapping your fingers around the waistband of his boxers, slowly pulling them down inch by inch. He wants you to pull them off immediately but you're going slow, savoring every little cute expression he’s pulling, savoring the way he bites into his lip, hard. 

 River’s getting more and more frustrated by the second but damn you're just enjoying the thrill of it all, watching your most favorite detective bend to your whims like an obedient, well-trained dog. You're teasing him and savoring each and every second of it, every little moment of him letting out pathetic heavy sighs, every moment of his cock straining against the fabric of his jeans. 

But you’re growing impatient. 

You begin to tug at his waistband, attempting to pull his jeans down his thighs with a not-so-secret smug-ass grin. You’ve got him wrapped around your fuckin’ finger, you feel confident—you’re gonna fuck the badge outta him— you’re gonna ride him till the goddamn sun rises. 

But when his cock springs free from the confines of his pants, your ego is absolutely fucking wiped. He’s fucking huge. 

Prominent veins run up the side of the thick shaft throbbing with pure anticipation. Your eyes trail up to the leaky, swollen tip where little beads of precum threaten to spill. Pure perfection. Everything about your actions up until now has been so confident and so sure, so controlled and so certain you could handle anything. But now that he's here— that he's out, free, and soooo clearly ready for you — you feel an intense wave of doubt. 

You're the best, most badass fuckin’ merc in all of Night City—and yet here you are, with his dick in front of your face and you're speechless. River’s enjoying how you're staring at him, your eyes fixated on his shaft. Secretly, he loves the brief sense of control this is giving him, even with you on top. Fuck, it does good for his ego. 

By Christ— he finds your reaction to his size nothing short of fucking adorable. River gives a sharp inhale through his teeth and his lips curve into a mischievous smile, his ego swelling with the realization that he's a lot more than you expected...and he loves it. He knows all the right words to say, all the right tones to take, and he knows exactly how to play with you, right down to the way you're staring at him. 

Nonetheless, you set your thoughts aside as you mount the detective’s strong bronze thighs, his eyes locking onto yours.

You briefly question your safety as you tenderly wrap your fingers around the base of his thick shaft, feeling him jolt beneath you. 

But it's okay. You've got this. You can do this. You take a deep breath and try to ignore the size, your hands still stroking him gently, your touch sending shivers of anticipation up and down his body…

His hand wraps around your thigh in silent reassurance, a giant grasp that feels like it was molded entirely for you to fit perfectly into it; and the other falls to your hip, slowly tracing a path across your bare skin. The little gesture sends you fucking wild. River needs you to be comfortable. 

You press the tip of his cock against your dripping entrance, a little shiver runs through you when River stifles a groan underneath. 

This all feels so right, this all feels so real, and River wants you to know that. He wants to take all of your fears and worries away, to show you that he's got you, and he's here for you. And when you take your first tentative slide onto him, the tip entering you, River’s jaw hangs agape, a little squeak leaving your lips as the thick head enters you. 

You both recognize the need to be silent, and so for now the only sounds in the room are the soft moans and subtle whimpers coming from River's mouth as he's pressed against you...as you're pressed against him, two bodies entwined, one in the other. Nothing else exists at this very moment but this feeling... the intense, overwhelming feeling of his heavy cock throbbing inside of your tight walls. And oh, does the thought of making this dumbass detective whimper and struggle beneath you motivate you all the more. 

When you finally sink down, filling yourself to the brim, a cute little gasp! is forced from your parted saliva-coated lips. River’s stretching you out so so nicely— it’s a sweet type of burn. You dig your teeth into your bottom lip hard, biting back a pathetic moan as your eyes scrunch shut.

 A low growl escapes River’s lips as you suddenly take him whole in one go. 

Your wet walls constrict and clench around him, your achy, needy clit pressing against his groin. Oh fuck, it’s hard for him not to start moving his hips, to just start thrusting into your pathetic mess of a pussy without mercy. But no, he’s waiting for you, waiting for you to guide the speed. This is your night, it’s River’s chance to show how much he fuckin’ adores you. 

He's big— and you know you need to take it slow at first. But fuck, you’re not gonna stop, not now, not ever, not when he’s looking up at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes upon— it’s sending little waves of euphoric bliss throughout your entire body.  

River watches you take another deep breath before you begin to raise your hips again, pumping yourself full despite the stretch. 

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. You continue this rhythm slowly, taking your own sweet time to thoroughly feel each inch of his sweet cock rubbing against your soaked walls. 

In, out. In, out. You continue this rhythm. 

You work through that burn— you work through the pain of the stretch. Take your own sweet time, inhaling, exhaling, breathing in between each movement, each wave of pleasure that ripples through your body with each bounce. Soon, you no longer feel the pain that comes with each slide down; you’ve melded to the shape of his cock. 

Shit, he underestimated you. 

River’s breathing heavily now, huffing and biting into his lip—as he takes his time, taking care of you. And the moment he finds your rhythm, he won't be letting up even for a second, he’s gonna make you suffer just the damn same. 

But when you begin to speed up your pace, suddenly slamming your hips down into him, you’ve got him locked. 

Then and there, River swears he’s in fucking heaven.

You’re so tight— so fucking soft… so fucking heavenly, that he can’t do anything except look up at you and purely just admire as you struggle to take him—as he himself struggles to keep up with the pace of your hips. 

River’s pussywhipped already, turning his head to the side to hide the adorable little faces he’s pulling. 

But fuck, you’re not gonna let that happen. 

“Look at me,” you whisper into the silence of the night. You force his jaw upwards, wrapping your hands around his throat. “Only me, Riv.”

River’s caught off guard by your sudden display of dominance; but oh, how he loves it regardless. ‘Looks like his little mercenary finally gained the courage to take control,’ he thinks to himself. 

You catch a little mischievous glimmer in his mechanical eye, shining into the darkness. He’s enjoying this, you can tell. 

You stare into his gaze for just a brief moment; almost mesmerized, before suddenly pulling his face to yours and kissing him fiercely, your tongue slipping into his mouth. 

River’s strong grip on your thigh releases as his body begins to tremble underneath you; it all just feels too fucking good. It’s all too too much, the intensity of your hips rocking back and forth, the way you’re squeezing him and bouncing on his dick like it’s nothing compared to before. 

He knows you’re a merc, knows you’re a tough girl. You’re V— you don’t take shit from anyone, you take the reigns no matter what; he shoulda’ expected this from you. But oh, how he loves being bested by his lil’ merc. 

River’s eyes roll back as he holds you tightly to him, his hands moving up to your lower back and supporting you, he’s lost all self-control, and can’t stop what's about to happen as his breath grows heavier, lips parting. You’re fucking wet, clenching so so tight around him—he can’t help the groan that juuusst barely escapes his lips…

But luckily for you, you cover his mouth just in time, your body still moving with such intensity.  You're taking total control here, not letting him make a sound. You cover his mouth before he has the chance to protest, silencing him in an almost aggressive, dominating way, your breath hot against his lips.

At this moment, the detective is yours. Every muscle in his body belongs to you and every beat of his heart is for you. River is yours, he needs you, and when you cover his mouth, you can feel the rush going through his throat as it contracts with an effort to muffle any sound he might unintentionally let slip as your hips refuse to relent. 

The feeling of control that you've been so desperately seeking is finally yours, all yours, your hands are on the wheel— and you’re the one sending this poor fucker into a tailspin of pleasure and lust. River feels so much better than you possibly could’ve imagined, and shit, you’ve finally accomplished your goal to fuck him senseless, leaving him a complete and utter mess in your control — a mess that feels so good, as you keep pumping against him, feeling him inside you.

Every movement you make is met with his equally intense counter-response, his cock beginning to throb. Fuck. He’s close. 

But River’s not going to let you get ahead of him— nuh-fucking-uh. He’s had enough of your teasing; he can’t take it anymore— he’s not about to let himself cum before you, not when there’s so much fun still left to be had. He’ll drive himself to the edge— and he’ll take you with him. 

Strong hands take hold of your hips, hammering his hips into your sweet, messy cunt at the pace he desires. Just like that, all the control in your hands, all that dominance, and power beforehand, is gone in an instant. 

He wants to let you ride him, he really does. Wants to let you take control— but fuck, it’s not enough. He needs more, not just to ride, but to have you in his arms, and in return, you let him take control and show you exactly how he feels for you. 

And so you give up your control, giving up your dominance, allowing River to manhandle you into position, guiding you to the edge of the bed. Your breath catches in your chest as River trails his lips down to your collarbone and slowly reaches down to latch onto your nipple. You dig your teeth into your lip as he suckles at it tenderly, keeping your reaction a secret as you try to keep it together. Inside of you, you feel your tummy flutter with adrenaline as your heart rate picks up.

He knows you’re enjoying this, but oh, he’s got other plans for you. 

With strong yet gentle hands, he’s hoisting you up into his arms. His amber eye meets yours, and he’s gazing at you like you’re the most precious thing in the whole world. He lifts you, and you let yourself go limp in his hold— you know you’re safe, after all. 

You bury your head into his neck, pressing tight against him as you cling like your life depends on it. Everything feels so good when you’re in River’s arms when he loosens his grip to trail a path of wet kisses down the center of your chest. The way he feels so warm and safe makes you feel like the whole world isn’t crumbling down on you— instead, it feels like you can finally rest. 

Honestly, it’s just entirely him that makes you feel this way. He’s a stark contrast to any of your past lovers; a genuine shining light in a world so filled to the brim with darkness, a genuine positive change compared to the ways apparent in all of your exes.

Shit, you know Johnny’s gonna hate you even more for this, but you know you love this— you love River. 

Before you can think about it for any longer than you already have, he’s cutting your thoughts short to pull you to your feet, pinning you against the cool glass of his bedroom window. 

Fuck, you’re adorable to him. River just can’t help but slide his palms up against your soft skin, all the way up to cup at your titties, cupping them softly in each hand.

You let out a sharp gasp as he slips in, a deep inhale following quickly after— his hips pressing into your ass. You feel the heat of his breath against your neck as you cling to the cool glass of the window. You want him close, you want to feel him all against you. Your thoughts fill with nothing but him, and his cock begins to roll into you again, forcing a pathetic little squeak out of you. 

But there’s a sudden thought that pops into your head— shit, what if someone sees this, sees you, pressed against the window, getting your insides rearranged like there’s no tomorrow? Fuck.  

Shit, you feel more vulnerable than ever with River pressing himself into you, hands locked around your waist, his breath hot and heavy in your ear as he drives himself deeper into your sopping cunt. Him, the detective, fucking the brains outta’ a dangerous lil’ merc like you. Shit, it’s so thrilling that the thoughts in your head disappear entirely, and you're completely overcome with the sensation of his thick member moving in and out of you.

God damn. Your breath becomes shallow and your chest is rising and falling with every hard press of his hips into your ass. You're literally pressed against the glass with your face to the window, your eyes beginning to close. 

Even though your brain screams for common sense, your body craves otherwise. 

Oh god, you love this. Fuck your common sense. Fuck whatever Johnny has to say about it— you’ll deal with him later. 

You feel like you're falling into a trance, drowning in pleasure. Every thrust fills you with more and more heat and waves of pleasure, overwhelming your body and leaving you feeling like you're drifting away into nothingness.

Your vision blurs and the sounds slowly fade into the background. River is everything, your entire world, and right now the only thing you can concentrate on is his body and how good he makes you feel— he’s stretching out your cunt fucking delightfully. It feels like you're drowning in pleasure and you love it, absolutely love this feeling of complete submission to him. Normally, you’d fucking never let somebody, anybody, do this to you. 

But River Ward is the exception. 

You love the feeling of his breath on your neck, the soft, warm comfort it gives you, like a blanket wrapping itself against you. Your body relaxes as he gently moves his hands along your ribs, his gentle touch sending a shiver of excitement down your body. Then you hear his voice, a whisper that makes your toes curl with the touch. 

River’s attention is set on suppressing his little groans of pleasure by lowering his head to your shoulder, biting down gently. Shit, you’re almost too much to handle, he notes your breathlessness and sense of being soo overwhelmed- he can tell you’re ready for anything and everything from this moment on. Your walls constrict tightly around him, arousal fluids spilling from your hole with each mean thrust. 

Your breath is heavy and unfocused. River’s touch is perfectly balanced between soft and rough, squeezing your waist as his other hand digs into your breast, hips still deliciously rolling into you, still deliciously fucking you. 

You can't even remember the last time you've felt this.. good. 

Despite the burn of the stretch of his cock, you steady your legs back, rocking your ass back against him to match the pace of his thrusts. 

River’s eyes shoot open when he feels your tight cunt starting to move up and down his length again, this time without his influence. Both his intimidating gaze and his large hands immediately fall to the fat of your ass as a groan rips out from his throat. 

He’s just enjoying the show as his pretty needy little merc attempts to get herself off. It’s cute— pathetic, the way you take him whole, the way you’re desperate for more.  

You feel the cool press of his metal hand against the back of your neck, using you as leverage to pump his hot cock in and out.  

Your lips curl against the force of your teeth, the heat of your breath fogging against the glass, legs beginning to violently shake under the weight of his thrusts. 

Both hands move to grab your plush thighs with a tight grip, your breathless sighs and tight cunt squeezing around him let him know just how much you really need him. 

You wanna moan. You wanna whine out his name, you wanna beg for more— but you can't. Not this time. So, you bite into your lip hard, your open palms set on the glass of the window briefly curling into fists. Instead of submitting to yourself, you focus on the brightness of neon lights and towering buildings right before your eyes, you focus on the way his hands dig into the soft flesh of your hips, driving deep inside. 

But it’s all too much for you. 

"Fuck, V, you're good…” His voice is hot as it trails down your neck and along your jawline. Gentle hands begin to trail down your thighs, fingers tracing along your skin. Oh, it’s heavenly. 

River’s eyes open when he doesn’t hear you respond past weak, breathy little sighs. A teasing remark sits on his tongue, his lips curling into a smirk, but his throat goes parched the moment his eyes trail all the way down to where his large, swollen cock disappeared in and out of you, just stretching you oh-so-well. 

You look utterly and completely debauched in the reflection of the glass, eyes closed, cheek pressed up against the window, your mouth slightly agape, lips reddened and bruised from rough kisses. River finds the way your chest heaves and the way you let out broken whines oh-so-adorable, as his eyes trail down to the plethora of lovebites and hickies left strewn across your chest. At this point, you’re far too fucked-out to think. 

Before you can even process what’s going on, River’s slipping himself out of you, making you let out a soft, yet audible little defeated whine. “Hey, hey…” Big arms lock around your waist, pulling you gently down onto the soft mattress below.  “Stay with me, V…” 

His voice is hot and hoarse right now— but fuck, you’d be damned if you didn’t find him to be so fuckin’ sweet— so fuckin’ adorable in the way he talks dirty to you— so damn possessive, yet so soft and tender at the same time. The sweet burn of lust ignites deeper within your stomach as you refuse to lose sight of his gaze. You nod your head; you follow his orders obediently. The feeling of being vulnerable like this for him feels so... right, so natural. 

When your glassy eyes flicker up to meet his stare, his heart flutters a little in his chest. You look so so desperate, it’s beautiful. 

River swears he’s truly gone feral. It’s all too much— your cute little face, your quiet whimpers, wet pathetic pussy so in need of being fucking destroyed… god. He can’t handle it anymore. 

He drops to his knees on the bed— it feels natural, it feels right. Your breath halts a little in your chest, your pulse quickening when the detective begins to lower his head in between your thighs. 

The world around you spins as your cunt squeezes around nothing. His rough fingertips grace over your clit, and you can’t hold back the little moan that escapes your lips. But he’s focused on something different— his cybernetic eyes are locked onto your cunt— your folds are soaked, your arousal coating your inner thighs in little tendrils.

“Wan’it?” 

You nod again. Like an obedient dog. 

River grins, mechanical eye gleaming in the darkness mischievously as his metal hand helps his cock press against your entrance. Something about his gravelly words made your cunt clench around nothing, making you drip onto his sheets below. His tip brushes against your sensitive sloppy folds, before he nudges your clit with his cockhead, drawing out the cutest little gasp from your lips. River chuckles at your reaction— fuck, you’re goddamn adorable. He uses his free ganic hand to caress your cheek, looking down at you like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever seen. 

The feeling of his palm pressed against you is soothing, comforting even. You nuzzle into his touch instinctively. 

It’s all a sweet, tender moment before River begins folding your legs up to your shoulders. You don’t have a second to think back on it before his thighs spread wider beneath you, the girth of his large cock sliding in deep, pressing thickly against your fluttering walls. 

Fuck. You almost lose yourself, then— lips falling agape, nails biting into the curvature of his bicep as his hips press flush with your own. You want to moan. You wanna cry out— so so fucking bad. 

But you know you can’t. 

Shit, River swears he could bust on the spot from the way you pathetically look at him, pupils blown and watery, eyes halfway shut. “Awh,” he whispers near silently before he braces himself and pulling your hips up to his waist, leaving your back arched gorgeously. You feel completely full again. 

His hips are finally still, giving you both a moment to recuperate. This time around, your cunt clenches down extra tight, your body seeming extra sensitive. He can read your reactions like a book— and he’s enjoying every little cute reaction he’s pulling out of you. 

River hums to himself, before straightening back again. He pulls out all the way— till just his aching tip is left throbbing inside of you. 

And all you can do is watch when he rocks back in and out again and again as if testing how deep he’s claimed his pretty little killer.  

But with a muddled mind and blurry eyes, you’re more focused on how he’s moving, the way his body moves back and forth inside you, claiming you. Your instincts kick in as this strong man overpowers you and takes control of you most dangerously, but you accept it all. Just the feeling of his hands on your hips, his touch all over you as you look at him...fuck, you feel complete. You’re a dangerous merc in her prime, and yet here you are, fucked absolutely dumb by River Ward. Fuck, old man’s got some goddamn stamina, it’s impressive. 

But secretly, he’s not sure if he can take it anymore— the pace of his hips falter for a second. Fuckkkkk. He grasps onto the meat of your thighs, his hips beginning to falter, slow down; his thighs beginning to tremble.

The overstimulation that comes with dragging his cock in and out of your tight pussy might just be the catalyst for him. He uses his remaining strength to hold himself deep inside of his lil’ merc, relishing the way you dig your nails into the curve of his bicep as he fucks into you steadfastly. 

Now, it's you who's not sure if you can take it anymore. You can feel his hips slowing down, his grip on you faltering as he struggles to pull himself together. Your nails dig into his arms, digging deeper each time you feel that familiar feeling building up within you. Your thighs start trembling as your entire body is quaking underneath his...it's about to be all over for you.

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to control yourself like he had when you were trying to lure him deeper into you, but the build-up of pressure inside of you is too much to contain...it's beginning to spill over as the tension between you two builds up even higher. Your eyes continue to flutter with each slide in, and you’re panting at the burning euphoric release beginning to bubble in your chest. It’s all too much for you— far too much. 

River’s dick knocks against your plushy walls over and over again, making your breaths ragged and short, making you spew out little high-pitched hoarse sighs as he claims you as his own after waiting for sooo long. 

Every thrust inside of you has you trembling, panting, trembling again—your body can't take this anymore, the build-up is beginning to turn into a burst within you. You close your eyes, squeezing them shut tightly as this burning euphoric release inside of you is simply too much....too much for you to handle. Your entire body feels like it's boiling over, the pressure inside of you reaching an all-time high. 

The pressure building up in your tummy is too much to handle. You’ve resisted your orgasm, you’ve fought it, but suddenly the need for release becomes too difficult to hold back. Your body jolts up and you press your chest against him as you release, panting and whimpering as the pressure inside you is finally releasing. Finally, you cum, coating River’s cock in a ring of opaque white liquid. 

The feeling of relief spreads through your entire body as you release, feeling your body tense and shudder with your inner pleasure flowing out of you as you moan out his name and you feel his grip tightening the harder that you bite into his arm, holding back from saying anymore even though you know you can’t keep it in anymore. Your lips quiver with anticipation as you feel the build-up of pleasure rise inside of you, and it’s so hard not to just explode but you hold back as he thrusts faster inside you.

His hands are shaky under the weight of your trembling thighs, underneath the weight of your explosive climax. His thrusts slow down to a halt, both his mechanical and ganic hands gripping your waist tight. 

Deliberately, he slides himself all the way out, making you feel every inch of his cock down to the last vein, before slamming himself back inside one last time. 

No longer can he stand the feeling of holding back— he needs to cum. 

Every pump of his hips is accompanied by a short shudder and an exhale of your name as he’s losing himself to you, to the grip and clutch of your nails digging deeper into his arms. You know he’s close. And oh, is every little sign of his oncoming orgasm so so heavenly— the way his cock noticeably throbs within your constricting, gummy, tight walls—  the way he’s allowing the occasional whimper to slip from his parted lips.

Your entire body’s trembling and quaking as he pulls away from you, both in the act of withdrawal and the satisfaction of fulfilling what he’s sought after for so long now. You’re breathless from his touch, quivering in your body, your eyes unable to focus on anything but the sight of him biting his lip…he's so so close to cumming— it’s all so damn delicious. 

His mechanical hand presses into your thigh, the heat of his grip burning deep against your skin as he strokes his length, his breath shallow as he looks down at you, his eyes focused. River’s metal hand grips meanly into your thigh as his ganic’ one strokes his length, biting down hard into his lip to suppress himself.  

Instead of gazing back into his eyes, you’re gazing down at his glistening dick as he finally cums— the liquid is thick, warm, and milky, all splattering onto your lower stomach. 

The feel of his release all over you leaves you gasping as reality sets in. Once the heat disappears and the sensation finally dies down, you’re left with a whole new wave of emotions that you haven’t ever experienced before. Your body is still shaking from the release, and his breath is heavy as he looks down at you. You two are a mess. 

River lays down there next to you, panting heavily as he stares over at you. His breathing is quick and heavy, and he's completely out of breath from the entire night, but he's smiling slightly, a look in his eyes that seems almost...relieved and content. You can’t help but to just admire how fuckin’ adorable he is before he reaches over to brush your hair aside, wiping the sweat from your forehead. 

River’s soft with you— in your line of work, there’s no room for this much tenderness. You melt underneath his touch, a satisfied little sigh escaping you as your eyes flutter shut. You’re finally feeling comfortable enough to relax with him, to let your guard down and allow yourself to be a little soft with him. You feel at ease with him— finally at peace with not having to constantly be on high alert. You can relax.

But River’s all too aware of the mess he’s left you with. Gently, he lowers himself to you, softly murmuring in your ear. 

 “Just one sec, V… gotta get you cleaned up.”

As he stands, you're left helpless and vulnerable. The warmth of his touch is gone, replaced by a chill that leaves you feeling a little empty. Rivers' footsteps echo in the silent space between you as you lie there, alone in your thoughts.

The intimacy between the two of you may have faded, but the lingering after-effects remain. Your body is still trembling from the release, and your mind is clouded with the remnants of ecstasy. You’re left feeling vulnerable and exposed. A mess. 

As River's footsteps echo through the room, you feel helpless and weak. Your body has been taken by him, and you’re left behind. To be cleaned up. You're his.

When he returns, he has a soft, warm towel in one hand, and one of his tanktops in the other. He places the tank top down on the bed right next to you. River's hand reaches out and starts to gently wipe down your body with the cloth, working to clean up the mess left behind. His touch is gentle, tender, and caring. You appreciate his efforts to clean up the mess he's left you with.

You feel like a mess, his mess. His hands are gentle and meticulous as he cleans you up, his touch different from the rough grip you felt during the night. His soft touch is comforting, reassuring, and so at odds with the intensity of the night. Yet, at the same time, it shows the other side of the intense man you know so well. The delicate one, hidden from the world.

He’s not squeezing or gripping tightly— just gently wiping you down, making sure not to squeeze too hard as he does his best to get you clean. His touch is tender he begins wiping you down, making sure to avoid the more sensitive areas like your inner thighs, and before making his way up with the soft cloth. 

You feel yourself close to slipping away into a deep sleep, only for his warm voice to pull you back into the present.

“Hey…V,” River murmurs softly. “Got a shirt for you…” He’s grinning as he holds up a crumpled-up tank top he had set aside earlier— a small grin forming around your lips as you see the words “FUCK THE POLICE” printed across the front.

”Figured you’d like it…” he chuckles faintly, holding it up for you to take.

Despite your exhaustion, a little giggle leaves your lips at the sight of the printing on the front. Fuck, he’s adorable. River’s smile is contagious, filling you with a type of fondness you haven’t experienced in a long goddamn time. You graciously accept the shirt, sliding it over your head, a soft sigh escaping you as it settles over your frame. The fabric is soft, and it keeps you covered from the coolness of the night air. It’s a little big on you, but you like it that way— it’s comfy, and you’re beyond grateful for the little gesture. 

River slides into bed next to you, remaining silent as he watches settle. His eyes wander up and down your body, appreciating the way the fabric of his shirt hangs loosely around your frame. He likes the look, and it’s cute. It’s not something he’s used to, but the sight of you like this— it’s endearing to him.

You can feel the exhaustion creeping in, settling into your bones after the long day's events. As he watches you settle in, you can sense his silent appreciation and affection, his gaze tracing the lines of your body with a softness you haven't often encountered.

"Thanks for tonight," River murmurs, his voice filled with gratitude and a hint of weariness as a yawn interrupts his words. He briefly presses a little kiss to your forehead, before rolling over. "Goodnight, V."

His words linger in the air, carrying a sense of appreciation and tenderness that touches your heart. With a soft smile, you reply, "Goodnight, River…" before snuggling closer to him, seeking his warmth as the chill of the night settles in around you.

The two of you lay there, entangled in the silence of your first night together. All you can hear is the sound of his breath against your throat, the silent rustle of his sheets, and the faint thrum of his heart. You feel so safe, so warm, so loved in his arms. River radiates a sense of peace within you, one that you hadn't felt on your own. And with him comes a feeling of protection, a feeling of belonging.

#joce writes #river ward #river ward x reader #river ward x v #cyberpunk 2077 #fem v #cyberpunk smut #cyberpunk2077 #river ward romance #river ward x fem v #cyberpunk2077 fanfic #cyberpunk2077 writing

[sterlingsilver-starlight]

You are a Gift ❤️‍🩹

Pairing: Park Seonghwa x Female Reader

Genres: Hurt/comfort, angst, drama, fluff, romance

Content Warnings: emotional trauma (reader has verbally abusive mother), very brief implication of past suicidal thoughts, briefly racist language/discussion of racist behavior (reader is mixed white/Asian) mild language, intimate moments (heated makeout scene, but nothing further)

Word Count: 5938 words

Summary: After struggling with an abusive mother’s racist and oppressive behavior, Reader finds solace (and possibly more) in the arms of her closest friend, Seonghwa…

Inspirations: I listened to this emotional music mix and this piano tutorial version of Star 1117 while writing this :]

This was very comforting to write…this is the first fanfic I’ve written (though I’ve read plenty here and there ^^); I hope everyone can find someone like this in their life 🫶🏼

Also please note that this is in no way supposed to represent or depict the actual idol; this is just created for storytelling/entertainment purposes only :)

“Hey…what’s going on? Is everything alright?”

You slumped against the wall, head pounding as dizzy visions pranced about the room overhead. Your hands trembled at the slightest of sounds. Your eyes brimmed with tears that refused to fall, yet collected on your lashes like raindrops after the storm.

What even was real? What was life, anymore? What had it been?

Every step you took…only ever felt like it was one being taken backwards.

Maybe she was right. Maybe you were just a failure at life. A disappointment because you couldn’t keep straight even the most basic things.

You’d tried to drown out the noise as much as you could. But there was only so much you could play pretend with.

The chill in your spine ached like the fever dreams you’d been struggling to cope with the past few nights. Sweat pouring down your temples, constantly waking up in the middle of the night scared with tear-stained cheeks.

You had never meant to get sick. You had never meant to come home and spend the weekend recovering from a cold. And most of all, you had never meant to spread it to your sister.

So little could have prepared you for the awful things your mother would shout back, in spite and hatred that you could do little to deflect.

Except ignore, grit your teeth against, and eventually, cave into and cry silent tears to.

“We were having a great weekend until you had to go and get sick and get your sister sick!”

“I’ll bet you’re so glad you went to see that movie this week, huh? Maybe if you’d had some white friends you’d actually have known better than to walk in the cold like an idiot!”

“Stop pretending to be someone you’re not! All you do is act like you’re 120% Asian! Newsflash: You’re NOT, so get off it!”

There was no end. You bit your lip, fingers shaking furiously. There was no end to what might be said the next day.

Maybe this had all just been a horrible idea to bring him into it, too. You were just disturbing him. After all, isn’t that what she always said? That you were too sensitive to everything in plain —

“Y/n?”

You inhaled a shaky breath, desperately trying not to cry, but to hear him call your name, to hear someone call your name so calmly, as though you weren’t just a piece of trash left on the streets, triggered a dam of emotions.

“I-I…” you started, hoping he would still stay on the line after having been given the unintentional silent treatment for so long already.

“It’s okay. Go on. I’m right here. Talk to me, okay?”

You choked back a sob. “I-I’m sorry I’m such an inconvenience to you. I’m sorry for calling so suddenly, on such short notice, I…” You took a deep breath. “I don’t have anyone else to talk to right now, I’ve been in hell these past few days and I know I look like it. I feel like it. I’ve constantly been reminded how much I’ve screwed everyone’s lives up, to the point that I got so afraid that maybe…”

You couldn’t go on.

There was a light sigh on the other end. “They’re all settled in by now, right?”

Your eyes widened at the sudden shift in topic. “Y-yeah. W-why?”

“Pack some stuff in a bag. You’re staying with me for a few nights.”

Nothing else could have compelled you to gather clothes and spare toiletries in a duffel bag so quickly and so quietly, especially on a late Saturday night.

But when Seonghwa gave you advice so directly, you didn’t hesitate to see it through. He’d been one of your closest friends for what seemed like forever, even though it had only been slightly less than two years since you first encountered him walking to class one chilly winter morning. You smiled at the brief memory.

Headphones charged up, supplies ready to go for lecture, phone at the ready for impromptu sky snapshots, check threefold. You smiled at the glistening snow on the trees, the slight crunch your boots made with every step, the way the sun brightened the eyes of even —

There was a jolt, and before you knew it, you’d completely spazzed out and knocked into a fellow passersby. Pulling down your headphones, you turned around frantically. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”

The stranger looked up at you with warm brown eyes that scrunched upward as he smiled. “Don’t worry about it, it’s all good. I should have watched more carefully, no?” He chuckled lightly tapping near his ears, indicating your headphones.

Your eyes widened, cheeks burning crimson. “O-oh! Yeah…sorry about that! Once I hear a good song, I just really get lost in its melody, I guess!” You bit your lip, trying to look anywhere else besides this man’s general direction. He was really quite beautiful, though, the more you observed him: from the outline of his nose jutting out nicely from the soft curve of his eyes and round, full lips, to the delicate swoop of his jet-black, wavy hair.

“Anyway!” you started, realizing you’d been taking in his features much too long. “I’m Y/n. Nice to meet you…?”

“It’s Seonghwa,” he replied softly. “Nice to meet you as well.”

“Seonghwa…” you tested the name on your tongue. “It’s a very nice name. I think it suits you very well.” You beamed up at him shyly.

Now it was his turn to blush. “T-thank you, yours as well…Y/n.”

You sighed as you packed the last pair of socks in your bag. Yes, it really had been that long already since you two had met, and it hadn’t taken an eclipse or anything nearly as occasional for the two of you to become as thick as thieves. For it had turned out that he was also a student at the university, so naturally, you started meeting up regularly, sometimes for study sessions, sometimes to explore the campus, sometimes just to talk about everything and nothing all at once.

And he was the trustworthy, empathetic kind of person as well. So much that, the first time things had really gone downhill back home for the weekend, you had felt dead certain he was the only person you knew who could be trusted with knowing such details. It wasn’t a logical conclusion, going straight off how long you’d known each other, or anything of the sort.

You could just feel it.

At first, you’d been deathly afraid that he might view you differently, worse even, if he knew what kind of dysfunctional shambles you were living under. But when he’d taken your hand that day and assured you that he wasn’t going anywhere, only then did you feel brave enough to tell him what was happening.

Fast forward to tonight, and something very similar was happening. The problem is, you realized, there were still secrets in the shadows that even he did not know of, and that you would rather die than attempt confessing to him.

You see, over the times you’d spent getting to know each other, getting to trust one another more and more, you’d slowly but surely found yourself developing feelings for him, but with how close and intimate your friendship was, you’d been determined never to say anything. Why chance it? Why chance losing a bond that was so precious, that had given you so much hope, so much strength through so much chaos?

“It probably wouldn’t matter, anyway,” you mumbled to yourself. This offer he’d made over the phone was probably just a one-time thing. You were sure that had the roles been reversed, you would be doing the same out of compassion.

You turned again towards your bedroom door, reveling and realizing in that moment all the hells and horrors you’d been an earwitness to for so many years. Most probably wouldn’t believe it when you said that the words your mother spoke, whether out loud to you face-to-face or within earshot from another room to your sister or father, were enough to make one consider taking their own life.

But it was true.

You hated how things had gotten to this point, but, you supposed, maybe most of it could be attributed to just growing older and becoming more aware, more dead set on educating yourself about the red flags and the signs that something, or someone, was toxic. That their atmosphere, their vibe, so to speak, was unhealthy for you to keep absorbing like secondhand cigarette smoke.

There wasn’t much you could do about it, though. You were a full-time university student whose campus happened to be close to your family’s house, so being the frugal young adult you aimed so much to be, you’d chosen off-campus housing with your parents for financial reasons. There were much bigger struggles out there, you’d convinced yourself, that you just didn’t want to tackle yet: juggling bills, paying for your living space, and so on. And while you had been able to save up a bit of money from your summer job, you needed to continue those habits as long as you could to make it all the more easier after you graduated and started working for a while, to ease your mind before graduate school.

A sharp pair of raps at your window startled the rambling trail of wondering memories. You jolted, having squatted the whole time by your bag just collecting things and your thoughts, and looked like a deer caught in headlights as you quickly turned to the glowing windowsill, curtains drawn back enough that they resembled billowing, flowing tendrils in the night.

Seonghwa’s smile might have been hidden by the backlight of the moon tonight, but you could still make out his almost toothless grin as he beamed back at you from the other side of the glass. You couldn’t help but return it as you slowly got up to open the window, realizing how grateful you were that your bedroom was on the first floor.

“So,” he started, looking up at you with a twinkle in his eyes, “are you ready?”

You nodded. “Yeah.” You grabbed one of your bag straps tightly. “Yeah. I am.” You wore a firm-lipped smile as you carefully followed him out the window, taking one more quick look-around behind you to make sure nothing was too out of place — not that anyone would be checking for the next week, anyway. Since you had been getting over a cold, almost everyone (namely your mother and sister) had decided you were about as worth talking to as an infected might be in a zombie apocalypse series: enough to confirm alive-or-not status, and after that, nil.

Realizing this, you stopped behind him and tried not to panic already. He heard your lack of footsteps and stopped with you. “What’s wrong?”

“I…” you swallowed the lump in your throat. “I’m feeling…fine now, but I should let you know,” you continued, backing away slightly to put more distance between the two of you, “I was getting over a cold recently, and —”

“Y/n, I’ll have you know that I’m not just gonna abandon you because you were feeling a little unwell. Everyone gets sick from time to time. Sure, it’s not the greatest thing to be feeling, but it’s certainly no reason to start treating you like you aren’t still, well, you. You’re still the Y/n I know and love, so that settles it.” He reached out and grabbed your hand, taking no apparent notice of the way that your heart was pounding in your throat at those words — or at the smooth warmth of his fingertips.

Don’t overthink it, he’s just saying those things from a place of friendship, remember?

“Come on, let’s go. My place isn’t too far from here, remember? Plus, it might be a good time for a walk.”

Once you made it to his apartment, you felt unease slowly dissipate from your body.

“Make yourself at home. I have no intention of kicking you out quickly, so stay here as long as you feel you need to.” He took off his jacket and hung it on the coat rack near the hallway. You smiled, taking note of the fluffy pink headband with cat ears still hanging near the end; it’d been a birthday present to him not too long ago that you’d figured he would like since cats were something he could just about talk your ear off from.

Setting your bag down, you took a seat on one of the sofas in his living room, the open layout of the place allowing you to continue watching him as he moved his things around, flicked on the lamp near the sofa, and settled in next to you.

“So…” he clasped his hands together, rubbing them gingerly.

“So…?” you repeated playfully, already feeling a bit more lighthearted than you had just earlier.

“What’s going on? Is everything alright?”

You took a deep breath. “Well, you know how earlier I was saying I’ve been getting over being sick, right?”

“Yeah?”

You nodded sadly. “Well…my mom…she didn’t take too kindly to that when she found out. Like, at all. I had a mask on just to be safe when I was headed to my room after my shower, which is unlike me because I usually take it off when I’m home, but my sister spotted it and then pointed it out and then my mom took notice and, and —” You felt tears start pooling in your eyes again, and frantically put the back of a hand to your mouth to quell any sobs that threatened to come forward.

“Shh, shh…it’s okay,” Seonghwa assured you, rubbing one hand gently up and down your back, taking care with the other to pull away the shaky fist you had balled up by your lips. “Keep going, you’re doing great. Nothing and nobody is going to hurt you right now. It’s just you and me. Right here. Right now.”

His hand didn’t leave yours, his fingers slowly unwrapping your clenched ones until they were intertwined.

You swallowed, taken aback by his boldness. “M-my mom took notice, and from then on…it was like I was a prisoner of war being looked down upon every other minute. Even from behind my closed door, I could hear her spewing angrily how surely I had just gotten sick on purpose so I wouldn’t have to do anything while I was at home, how I just loved ruining everyone’s day and everyone’s weekend and how I never failed to not take care of myself and make everyone stressed about possibly catching something from me and…” You looked up at his round boba eyes with your own teary ones.

“And?” he questioned, eyes never leaving yours.

“And…” you stumbled, recalling more that you didn’t want to recall. “How I’m a fool for surrounding myself with people who aren’t white, even though I’m myself white. How…” I bit my lip, still looking into his eyes — for courage, for strength, for something deeper than what I’d been led all these years to believe existed within the eyes of someone viewed in my house as ethnically inferior.

“How?” he continued, urging you to keep going, no matter how hard it got in the middle, or near the end, or even in the beginning, of your words.

“How…I’m bringing shame to my family and convincing myself otherwise just to feel good. How…the friendships I’ve kept are…ridiculous because they’re mostly Asian, perpetuating the lies I tell myself about being mixed or wanting to identify as mixed, even though genetically I am mixed because my mom is half Asian, so by genetics that automatically makes me a quarter.” You broke down into soft sobs. “B-b-but that’s n-not even the worst p-part.”

He said nothing, but the squeeze he gave your hand was more than enough of a response. You worried about continuing, but at this point, you were already in too deep, so you figured you might as well put things out there while you still could.

“The worst part,” you trembled, “is that my own mother would rather die than see me one day in a relationship with someone who isn’t white. Like it would be doing some disgrace to her efforts with having married a white guy, my dad.” You shivered. “It’s just not fair, Hwa! Getting taunted that I pretend to be someone I’m not is one thing, having the friends I meet up with to go see a movie get made fun of and berated because of their ethnicity is another, but now it’s about the kind of person I might one day want to be involved romantically with? I can’t —” You ripped your hand from his to catch your face in both hands. “I can’t take this anymore, Hwa! It’s just not right!”

Uncontrollable crying resonated throughout the apartment for what felt like hours on end. The broken child inside of you was aching more and more with every passing second, half in disbelief of all the verbal and mental abuse and trauma you’d gone through for so many years, especially recently, and then half in shock that you weren’t already dead by now from collapse and grief and complete hopelessness.

“Maybe she was right…maybe I do deserve to just —”

“Stop it right now.” The solemn firmness of his statement knocked you out of a weeping daze instantly. He was firm, yes, and he could be firm, yes. But never authoritatively like this.

“What?” You brushed strands of hair out of your eyes, blinking back tears, lips trembling like hell had frozen over.

“Stop saying these horrible things about yourself. Even if they aren’t things you yourself said in the first place.” He took both of your hands away from your face, cupping your cheeks so that you were both looking each other in the eyes again.

“You are an amazing person, inside and out, and if she can’t see that because of something as trivial as you falling ill temporarily, then she is the fool, not you. She mentions how you’re bringing shame to the family by believing or supporting the people and the cultures you do? Well, she should be ashamed of herself for being mixed and yet being the one to dishonor it as much as she does. And as for that last point?”

He bent down so you were both at eye level, close enough now to watch every eyelash as it flickered up and down between blinks.

“That last point…I personally think that’s for you to decide, who you’re interested in and whatnot. Ignore the noise she brings into your head. It won’t always be there to cloud your thoughts. I know you wish you could have been able to foster a better relationship with her, but…” His eyes slowly welled with tears as well, making yours only brim more.

You hated seeing him cry.

“H-hwa…y-you’re crying…” you raised a hand to caress his cheek, wiping away a lone tear.

He smiled sadly. “For good reason.” His eyes widened more as he took you in. “And…”

“What is it?”

“You’ve never called me Hwa before.”

You smiled back softly. “I guess it just slipped out. Spur of the moment. But…you’re the only constant I have in my life right now. Like the stars.”

His cheeks warmed. “Then I guess it’s only fair to say that you are very much…the same, in my eyes.”

You bit your lip yet again, instantly reminded of the day you two had met when you were a nervous wreck and eager to look anywhere else as much as you could.

“Yes, really.” He repeated, as though answering your unspoken doubt. He continued smiling at you, no ill intent or manipulation locked away in those warm brown eyes, no hatred or malice brushing aside the pure kindness and love that somehow, you could just sense in his gaze.

“Then I…” It may very well have been now or never. You had never been more sure of anything in your life than you were at this very moment, and yet you had never been more unsure of anything, either.

Somehow he seemed to catch on. “Do what you need to do.”

Your breath hitched. “I’m afraid.”

“I already told you…I’m right here. Talk to me. Okay?”

You leaned in, the flicker of the lamp only adding to the small warmth nestled within this space that you two shared.

“Hwa, I…I don’t know how else to put this.”

“Try.”

“You…you feel like home.”

A smile. “I’m glad. Because so do you.”

His hands reached to grip yours, firmly but softly, before he leaned in slowly, closing his eyes. You followed suit, the last thing you saw being the trickle of a tear or two down his lashes, down his cheek, before you met his lips in a gentle kiss. You pulled away slowly, eyes as wide as dinner plates, checking with him silently to make sure it was okay.

To make sure this was real and reciprocated as you were, hopefully, not overreading into.

He smiled back, a small crinkle in his eyes as his view flickered to your lips and then back to your eyes again.

You leaned in again, pressing your lips to his, this time letting your hands travel through his locks, pulling him in closer while his hands wrapped around your waist, moving you ever so slightly so you were in his lap. His tongue nudged your bottom lip, and you obliged, sucking softly on the warm muscle that now danced lithely in your mouth.

His fingers massaged up and down the small of your back, soothingly, as the kiss deepened and the world around you seemed to fade away. For whatever horrors and dangers might be beheld outside these walls, in this moment, it was as though the universe had conspired for circumstances to bring the two of you together here, in the now, in a moment that felt like a dream inside a dream.

With every tender touch of his lips against yours, you could feel warmth and affection pouring from his soul, and through the tears, through the ache of the past, your heart still raced in response, and you couldn’t help but smile into the kiss. It brought a sense of serenity in this way your bodies seemed to melt into each other — a connection that transcended mere words.

You lost track of time as the kiss continued, wrapped up in the sensation of living mindfully, living in the moment, of being so close to him, feeling his breath against your skin, and the way his fingers played a gentle symphony on your back. It was a moment of pure bliss, and you couldn’t help but somehow be grateful for the pain and turmoil that had enhanced your ability to fully embrace and cherish this point — for how would you have been able to genuinely feel the significance of a moment like this, had you not gone through so much dark before?

When you both needed to catch your breath, you pulled back, your foreheads resting against each other. Your eyes locked, and you shared a wordless conversation, a silent promise of what the future might hold for the two of you. It was an unspoken agreement that whatever challenges were up ahead, you would face them together.

His fingers continued to trace patterns on your back, and he spoke softly, “What would you say if I told you I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long, and that it’s even more incredible than I ever thought it would be?”

You giggled, feeling the deepest of happiness truly start to bubble up inside of you. “Me too,” you replied. “I guess I should have just said something earlier on, no?”

His laughter filled the room, a rich, melodious sound that still sent shivers down your spine. “Maybe,” he considered, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “But I think the anticipation, the longing, made it all the sweeter…even if it took the pain that you’ve been so strong to overcome to get there.” He leaned in to kiss you again, his lips moving with a newfound urgency, a hunger that you sensed had been building for far too long.

As your mouths met once more, the kiss deepened, and the passion between you ignited like a wildfire. His hands moved from your back, now exploring the curves of your body, tracing every inch of your form as if committing it to memory. You gasped into the kiss when his fingers delicately found their way to the small of your back again, pressing you closer to him.

The room seemed to grow warmer, your breaths coming faster and heavier. The chemistry between you was undeniable, an electric charge that pulsed through every touch and every kiss. His tongue danced with yours — a sensual, intoxicating rhythm that left you breathless.

You moved your hands from his hair to his chest, feeling the firmness of his muscles beneath your touch. You could sense the desire in his every movement, and it mirrored your own. The intensity between you kept growing like a storm on the horizon, threatening to consume you both.

His lips trailed from your mouth to your neck, leaving a trail of fiery kisses in their wake. Your back arched as his mouth nibbled on an area just below your ear, and a soft moan escaped your lips. He smiled and started sucking slowly, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body like lightning.

With a desire that couldn’t be contained any longer, you straddled his lap. It was a bold move, but you were both now beyond the point of hesitation. His hands explored your body more eagerly now, caressing your curves, tracing every inch of your skin as he murmured sweet, passionate words of longing.

The heat between you two continued to intensify, your bodies pressing closer together. Every touch, every caress, every stolen kiss sent electric currents of desire through your veins. It was truly a symphony of passion, and you both were eager to explore every note and melody.

Your fingers found their way to the buttons of his shirt, deftly undoing each one as you revealed the sculpted contours of his chest. His skin was warm and smooth beneath your touch, and you couldn’t resist tracing your fingers along the lines of his muscles. His sharp intake of breath was all the encouragement you needed to continue.

His own hands weren’t idle, either, as they slid beneath your clothes, slowly teasing the sensitive skin of your lower back. You shivered at the touch, a mixture of delightful anticipation and longing snaking through your body. It was a dance of sensation, a thrilling exploration of each other’s bodies that left you both aching for more.

His lips continued their journey down your neck, leaving a trail of soft, moist kisses that made your skin tingle. You couldn’t help but arch your back more, a quiet moan escaping your lips as you kept yearning for his touch, a fire of pleasure igniting within you. The sensation of it all was exquisite, and you held onto him tightly, your nails grazing his back as you bit your lip to stifle your moans, all the while feeling the comfort of being in the arms of someone who genuinely, deeply cared for you.

As the two of you finally broke apart and just lay there, sweat still building and hearts still beating like there was no tomorrow, he sighed in content. Wrapped in the afterglow of your intense connection, he whispered, “You’re safe now, love. I honestly hope you packed enough things coming here, because…”

You eyed him curiously. “Because…?”

He smirked, giving you one more small peck on the lips. “Because you don’t have to go back to that place, to the pain your mother brought. I’ll protect you, and we’ll build a better future together.”

Your eyes widened in shock. “Then…in that case…does this mean that we’re past…?”

He smiled. “That we’re past the point of friendship? Well,” he laughed softly, “considering how the past several moments were just spent, I would believe so. Unless you would prefer otherwise?” He pulled his signature eyebrow raise that instantly made you feel weak in the knees.

“N-no, definitely not!” you stuttered, half-excited and half-nervous. “I mean…I’ve just never gotten to the point where anyone wanted to consider me like that…l-like a girlfriend, I mean.”

“Well,” he whispered near your ear, hot breath cascading down your neck with every syllable, “consider me honored to be the first.” He left a gentle trail of kisses near your collarbone before meeting you at eye level again, waiting for your response.

On the one hand you were filled with gratitude and love, brimming with hope for the future, but on the other hand memories of your past kept your heart heavy. Your throat felt tight as words became hard to say, though they formed so quickly in your mind.

Hwa noticed the shadow that crossed your face, the turmoil still swirling within you, and he gently lifted your chin to meet your gaze. “I can see the worry in your eyes,” he said, his voice tender. “You’re afraid that you’re inconveniencing me with everything now, aren’t you?”

You bit your lip and nodded, the insecurities ingrained by years of manipulation from your mother resurfacing. “I can’t help but feel like a burden sometimes. It’s just that…my mom always made me think I was, and it’s hard to shake those feelings.”

Stroking your hair, Hwa leaned his forehead against yours. “I know you’ve been carrying the weight of your past for a long time. I know you’re still coping with moments of doubt, especially from the difficult relationship you’ve had with your mother. But please, please understand that you are not defined by her words or her actions.”

You closed your eyes finally, feeling the warmth of his presence soothing your troubled soul. “I’ve tried to be strong, again and again,” you whispered. “I’ve tried to let go of the past…but it’s like a shadow that never quite disappears.”

Hwa’s voice was filled with empathy as he continued. “You don’t have to be strong all the time. It’s okay to feel vulnerable, to acknowledge your pain. You’re not a failure. You’re a survivor, and you’re so much more than the hurtful words that were thrown at you.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you finally, finally allowed them to spill over, lips trembling as you realized in that split-second how much you’d pushed to the back of your mind, how much you’d really forced yourself to hide away all these years — how much you’d feared being shunned by another as your own blood mother had for so long. “I just…I don’t w-want to b-burden you with my problems. I’m a-afraid…to be too sensitive, like she always said. Or to string you along under the guise that I’m something I’m not, like an imposter of my heritage or — ”

“Your mother’s words have no basis in reality,” Hwa began, his voice firm but gentle. “You aren’t defined by her prejudices or expectations. You aren’t a prisoner of her narrow-minded views. Y/n, you are your own person, with your own identity, and you have every right to embrace all aspects of your heritage, including the Asian part.”

Your eyes met his, wanting to believe the truth behind what he was telling you. “But, Hwa, I’m only a quarter Asian, and my mom’s made me feel like I have no right to claim that part of my identity. Plus, she makes me feel like I’m doing something wrong by having friends who aren’t white.”

He smiled softly and cupped your face, shaking his head as his eyes filled with warmth. “You are as much Asian as you are anything else. It’s not about the percentage, it’s about how you feel and what you choose to embrace. Embracing your Asian heritage doesn’t make you any less of who you are. It’s a part of your identity, and you have every right to explore and celebrate it. And your friends, no matter their ethnicity, are bringing diversity and richness to your life. I can always see the effect glowing in your eyes. Don’t ever lose that spark. It’s what adds to your amazing character, whether you know it or not. Those connections you’re always so apt to keep making just reflect the beauty of your open heart and your willingness to meet people from different backgrounds. You should be proud of the friendships you’ve built, so don’t let anyone ever make you feel otherwise.”

You felt a spark of hope kindling within you, the idea that you could embrace all facets of your identity, all features of your ethnic communities, and not be constrained by your mother’s views. You wrapped your arms around Hwa’s neck, nestling your cheek against the warmth of his chest, the steady pace of his beating heart syncing in time to your slowing breaths.

Hwa’s expression softened even more, and as he held you tighter, he looked down at you lovingly, wiping yet another stray tear. “And you are not a burden, my love. You are a gift. You bring so much light and happiness into my life, and I’m grateful for every moment we share. Your feelings are valid. I’m here because I want to be, because I care about you, and because I want to support you through this journey of healing, however long it might take. Your sensitivity is a strength, not a weakness. And it hurts me to see you carry this weight, but please know, you are cherished, and you belong here.”

His words were like a warm embrace for your soul, and you felt the tight knot of self-doubt beginning to unravel. “Thank you for being so understanding and patient with me, Hwa,” you whispered, tears of gratitude glistening in your eyes.

He leaned down to kiss your forehead and held you close. “You’re not alone in this, my love. We’ll face your past together and build a brighter future, one filled with the love and happiness you deserve. I’ll always be here to support you, to remind you of your worth, and to love you unconditionally. You’re not alone in this, and you never will be.”

You smiled slowly but surely at him again, bringing him close to you for another kiss, softer but sweeter this time around. As you nestled into his arms, the storm of your past seemed to fade away, and you basked in the love and acceptance that he offered. With each passing moment, you felt yourself healing, letting go of the guilt and insecurity that had held you back for so long.

With Hwa’s support, you felt more and more of a renewed sense of hope and determination, ready to leave behind the painful memories and look forward to the beginning of a life you could feel ready to step towards, together. A breeze began to pick up outside, as far as you both could hear, but you could care less now, your embrace and love stretching the seconds and enriching the heart in such a way as to convey just how thankful you were to have him in your life, in your arms, in your warmth, and in your future.

#ateez #에이티즈 #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez x you #park seonghwa #박성화 #성화 #seonghwa #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x you #seonghwa x y/n #ateez fluff #hurt/comfort #angst with a happy ending #angst with a hopeful ending #ateez imagines #seonghwa fluff #kpop fanfic #kpop fluff #romance #deep feelings #hopeful romantic #reader insert #ateez comfort #ateez fic #ateez scenarios #atiny

[scummy-writes]

Scum talks about OCs

In this I'm just going to go over my Ocs in sections of their own. I'm not really using a special Oc template, I'm just talking about them and what fics they appear in, because to be blunt, I do write 'reader inserts', but some fics are written with these ocs in mind even if they're not detailed out specifically.

I'm just chatting about for fun, this will not change how I write currently. I would not expect fanfics about these characters specifically.

Amélie - Drawn by @beni-draw-ikemen-please. (Full picture is her in a chair with Isaac sittin on the arm of it, and Arthur resting his head on her lap <3 I love it)

Anju, made with a Picrew here. I think her expression is a bit too gentle here, and she would mainly wear warmer yellows or cool toned blues, not the shirt in the image.

SS from Prince of my WIP OC for it, since she's fuckin impossible to make on picrews. Her current name is Constance.

I am honestly surprised people showed some interest in this, so bear with me through my bumbling please. A lot of these say 'mc' but they are 'reader insert' fics still. Previous fandoms had 'mc' interchangable with 'reader' so...

If you have any questions, feel free to ask, just know I might not have all the answered.

╰❧ Amélie

Amélie has been around for a few years, and Beni has been a saint for letting me comm her to draw her. Because of this, I was able to make a character profile for her Here. Additionally, a much older one Here that details some vague things about her past, and including her past with Sebastian (Childhood friends).

-> Fanfics she has been 'in': Breathless Discoveries (Isaac/Mc), Mental Gravity (Isaac/Mc), Blessed Accidents (Isaac/Mc), Exercise in Restraint (Isaac/Mc), Temptations (Arthur/Mc), A Helping Hand (Arthur/Mc), His (Theo/Mc), Playful Punishments [vaguely] (Isaac/Mc/Arthur), Midnight Impulses [Vaguely] (Isaac/Mc/Arthur), Musings (Isaac/Mc), Oral Prompt with Isaac, First Steps (Isaac/Mc), The Talk (Isaac/Mc), The Shirt Thief (Isaac/Mc), Isaac Overworking (Isaac/Mc/Arthur), Awkward Dates (Isaac/Mc), and likely some other small drabbles I have missed...!

─❧ Summary: (Brief mentions of abuse/SA/Trauma but not explicit details)

A lot of her general background is covered in the second character profile I linked above. It sounds vague, and well! That is because it is a bit traumatic. I don't want to gloss over the fact that she has been through a lot, primarily SA, but I don't like focusing entirely on it to where that is the Only thing about her. Her previous job was ... an 'idol'? I never fleshed it out fully, due to self embarassment, but I wanted her to be a singer with a 'small' following, who got connected with shitty producers and signed a contract way too young without understanding the full implications of it, which caused most of her money to not actually be Hers. Due to her parents strongly against her career choice, going as far as rushing a contract ended up having her cut off from her family. With Sebastian gone, her support network disappeared completely.

She Vaguely goes over this in Patchworked Pieces (be mindful of tags), which was supposed to be a full fanfic detailing her story, but I am not meant for long fanfics at all so I posted what scenes I had typed enough with. on the chapter On Failed Attempts, she details a bit more of her experiences.

How she met Comte was through the normal opening of visiting the muesuem. She did it under distress and wanting a distraction, she was weighing options and considing some pretty awful things! I like to think Comte could tell she was beside herself and trying to calm down a little. I like to think he could sense the distress and the thing she was contemplating, and led her back to the mansion.

Which! Is rocky. She's terrified of everyone, until she sees Sebastian, and he helps ease her into her mansion life. She never tells Sebastian what she went through, due to worries and fears that he would manage to blame himself. So in her story, he never finds out.

Isaac is the primary person who knows some details, but not everything. She'd tell both him and Arthur some bare minimums, just so that when things got intimate, her panic attacks for 'random' reasons wouldn't make them believe it was because of them.

As for how they all entangle with each other? Well... Amélie is not what brings them together, necessarily.

Before she arrives, Arthur attempts to get close to Isaac. It is platonic at first, perhaps he had a crush on him but waves it off. But alcohol is introduced, they start 'drinking' together (Isaac is still a lightweight so he barely builds up his tolerance, mostly keeps Arthur some company), and...They get too tipsy and adventurous with each other. Arthur gets ashamed immediately. Not out of doing things with another man, because it was clear he was using Isaac to get over some trauma. So he avoids, hides, and their friendship crumbles.

And after that is when Amélie stumbles into the mansion.

Her friendship with Isaac is the most prevelant. And after getting on a better start with Arthur, they end up slowly getting entangled with each other. Isaac, unfortunately, deals with the brunt of her panic attacks. Finds scars, attempts to heal them.

It's through healing that they all twine together. Helping each other face their traumas, face what happened between them all.

Ironically, her love for singing was bounced in and out of the story. I wanted a few scenes where she tries to play in one of the many secluded rooms in the mansion- finds an old piano while cleaning, places a few notes. But I don't think she'd be able to any time soon. I think she would need a break for a year or two, before she started exploring music again. Or anything super creative.

I like to imagine that she is friends with a majority of the residents. When she is faring better, she paints with Leonardo and Vincent. She listens to Mozart play, reads what Dazai and Arthur write, so on so forth. I want her to live in a house with Arthur and Isaac, later on, visiting the mansion weekly or every two weeks, happy with her new life.

Sometimes I pair her with Theo, because I think they could help each other, but I think she is fated to be with Isaac and Arthur.

In AUs, I like to imagine Anju as her older friend. Anju does not tolerate a lot of bullshit with Amélie, and would be a bit like a guard dog. But. an unassuming one. She would treat Arthur very harshly until he proves himself. (I am unsure if I ever posted it, but I wrote a few chapters to go with This Au Fic for Isaac week. The second chapter, Anju was supposed to be a witch to help Amélie out after some events [was gonna have Isaac die and then it turn into a reincarnation au thing where they meet again in modern day, and in modern day Anju was gonna be around], and Anju has to help her move forward.)

I've been typing this on and off for a few hours and I am struggling with some details HAHA for now, I will stop here. She's the one OC that has a lot out there for her.

Oh. Amélie is not her 'real' name, but it is now. I am unsure if it is in poor taste or not, but in an attempt to heal she abandoned a lot of her old life. Not Herself, but trying to let go of the past until she could confront it more. She goes by Amélie until the end of her days, and only Sebas and likely Comte know her old name.

╰❧ Anju

-> Fanfics she's been 'in': Training Theo (Theo/Reader)

─❧ Summary: (Vague mentions of parental issues)

OoooOOoooOh Anju....anju....wails.

She is such a complicated Oc for me. She was originally for Shingen in ikes*n (i dont want this on the tags on accident). I still debate if the character she is now still stems from that relationship or not. Because if so, that means she left the past and came back to the present because her and Shingen didn't work out. Not in a TERRIBLE way but probably a sad mutual understanding.

It's either that, or she's just pretty sour from general past relationships not working out.

I like to imagine that she is in her thirties, and that she lives in a neighborhood where everyone knows each other in friendly ways. She is a 'seamstress' just due to how Sengoku has that set up for the Mc. I decied that her grandmother taught her how to sew, and her grandmother owned a small shop to repair peoples clothes and sew clothes for commission as well (i know nothing about how this works so). She would help her grandmother at her shop, and later on when her grandmother passed, she would take over the shop.

As for her parents, I never fully fleshed them out. I just know her mother was constantly comparing herself to other children/people around her, and that their relationship dissolved to the point of Anju refusing to aknowledge her as a mother any longer. The crux of this would cause Anju to move the shop to a different location completely to sever ties. (not move physically, but open another shop elsewhere after funds were saved with the same name).

For Vamp, she relocates her ass to France for Reasons. And here is where it is... well. I don't think a shop like this could exist, but i wish it would. pls spare me from laughs HAHA

The shop I always imagined is the type where the ground floor is the shop, and upstairs is where Anju lives. So upstairs would house her kitchen, living room, and Bedroom and bathroom, a balcony connected to the kitchen would be. great. Lower floor would have the shop, her sewing area, a room to hang up comms and etc, and the 'front' of the shop. Front of the shop is the porch and the actual like...foyer area....of the shop.

She spends a lot of her time sitting in the foyer area at a desk, if she is not actively working on sewing. .....I like to imagine she has a small sitting area set up there for people (children, family, friends, partners, etc) waiting while whoever she is working on measurements and etc with is getting their stuff. With....a lil coffee/tea area....very very small like a coffee maker and some stuff....but cozy vibes... (and she wanted a coffee machine near her while working).

She'll sit on the porch often in the mornings while waiting for customers or going through shop bills and whatever, and that is how she meets Arthur in a modern day setting. By him taking 'Vic' (or whatever pet he is on now) on a walk, Vic escaping, and running up to Anju because he wants pets HAHA.

For first meeting, Anju thinks Arthur is cute, but recognizes the fuckboy tendances. However, i feel like at this point of living as a vampire for so long, Arthur wouldn't be how he is in the game currently. As in, not entirely as self destructive and a smidgen more at peace with himself, but still has the tendencies. She doesn't think too much on the meeting, loves Vic though, and goes from there...

But Arthur doesn't. He gets hung up on her a little, and finds excuses to run into her a bit more. Nothing crazy, but primarily just walking Vic by there and seeing if he can catch her on the porch again, waving, exchanging greetings and pets for Vic. It would turn into him eventually finding an excuse to get some clothing mended, which she can very easily tell is bullshit, but she entertains it because... he's respectful the whole time. She enjoys the company and the innocent flirting.

It comes to a clusterfuck when they spot each other at a bar though. Where he sees how differently she's dressed, where it's clear she's looking for one night stands and nothing else. (He is also alarmed at her smoking HAHA). Arthur doesn't do much with this information, but she immediately tries shutting him out because. Well, she isn't ashamed to have casual sex with others, but she doesn't want the fuckboy tendancies to come back for him. She doesn't want this fake relationship to delve into sex and nothing more. So she puts up walls, and Arthur has to slowly take them down. And it is a rocky thing, because Anju is so independant and refuses to rely on anyone else, so it's a LOT of trouble HAHA a lot of dramatics.

They do fuck, because well they both enjoy sex so why not!!!!! but ah. it's complicated. I think I have a scene of that somewhere. I cannot remember if I have that happen before or after him visiting her home/shop at night when he's drunk. I think it was before.

But Arthur was supposed to go to her place, drunk, because she has such a schedule with her shop/hobbies that it's easy to piece together that she's home, and she essentially lets him stay over in pity because he's wailing about messing up his friendship with Theo.

From there it turns into awkward, more up in the air things. I played with her getting with Arthur only, Theo only, Arthur and Theo, or even Vincent! But the Arthur/Theo subplot would have been too similar to the Isaac/Arthur one in Amélie's story. (Sorry for causing you so much distress, Arthur).

I like to imagine her in her shop. Arthur flirting with her while the neighborhood granny laughs at her attempts to ignore the flirting.

╰❧ Constance

-> Fanfics she's been 'in': Sinking (Gilbert/Reader) [Descriptions of Self Harm], First Time (Gilbert/Reader), Chev comforts Mc

─❧ Summary: (Mentions of self harm, abuse)

Constance....! Is still a running name. I may change it, I may not. I'm unsure about her appearance, I know I want her to have the split hair and to dress in similar colors though, but her eyecolor I am so conflicted on...

But...! Her story is still being fleshed out, and she has changed a lot. She is now strictly for Gilbert, whereas she was supposed to be a flexible oc for either Clavis or Gilbert. (Maybe she still could be?)

So far, her story is still like Emma's so far. her and Rio friends for years, Akatsuki taking her in, etc. In my mind, she doesn't know who her parents are and is somewhat in peace of that.

I've bounced around a lot with her though, to where the Rio and Akatsuki being in her BG makes little sense. i've wanted her to be someone who writes and sings, but does not preform and instead has a friend that preforms for her. Where they have private sessions of Constance singing and exampling some of the dancing to her friend, and later on watching her friend preform the songs and bringing her visions to life. (i like this a lot but it feels...odd.)

I want her carrying a notebook around the palace, filled with her drawings and songwriting. Far in the journal, there is drawings of Gilbert- not because she knows him, but because long before she saw him slinking around Rhodolite and drew him out of facination of how he looked (did not piece together he was a Scary Dude). (would add a lot of fuel to fire if anyone saw those drawings COUGHS)

In another bouncing, I have her as a secret wrtier/artist that writes songs that are never preformed. I thought it would be funny if she wrote the erotica that Jin apparently reads??? I can never fgure out if thats canon or not because i never see it Mentioend in the game.

In both possible backgrounds for her, she is still a quiet and reserved person who suffers from a lot of depression, and struggles with herself a lot. The two toned hair was for fun at first, but now I'm realizing it would probably be a good symbol for her inner issues. How she has a lot of 'darkness' inside of her, that she feels disgusted by and upset with, while there is a purity she wishes she had (but fails to come to terms with how that is unreasonable).

To be paired with Clavis, she was supposed to be much more shy, and his antics were supposed to draw her out of her shell more.

But now it's more solidifies that she will be primarily paired with Gilbert due to the purity/darkness thing. She is a little dramatic in her thoughts with that, and is now a bit more serious toned rather than her shyness being played for antics.

She believes Gilbert over his refusal to 'lie', and that draws her in a lot.

Discussion of self harming/SA, when text is blue I am finished.

Something I am struggling with is that with many Ocs, i often have them go through some sexual trauma just due to it being an outlet for myself (i have also had sexual trauma). This may be why you see some themes of this in some fanfics I write, where there is something the reader is struggling with sexually and the suitor is extremely patient with them- it's usually tied to stuff like this (unsure of how obvious that is since no one ever says anything! which feels like an act of kindness, if it is obvious).

For her, I am struggling with adding that into her background as something that is fairly recent with her. Rio doesn't know, she refuses to tell him, and his fondness of her and constantly...hm...i don't mean this poorly, but building her up to be so 'perfect' sometimes causes a lot of issues when she reflects on herself, and she uses those words against herself often.

I don't know if the self harm would be. Due to that SA event or not. I don't know if this is soemthing that has plagued her for years, or if it spiked as her emotions got out of control.

Gilbert would not know. I don't really care if JP spoilers suggest otherwise, as there are already hints that make it clear he doesn't know Everything (he just knows a Lot). A lot of their relationship would be them struggling with self harm and the SA. A lot of her trust gets put into him (even if she dislikes it), because he doesn't lie to her like others do, and it is a comfort. (blah blah gilbert does lie blah blah)

It's hard to explain their relationship. I assume i'll have more figured out as his route comes out. Right now, she's who I imagine when I write some stuff with him, but not all of it.

With Clavis, the relationship would have been more healthy, and so would she. I think she would still struggle with both things, as it could be used as a mutual understanding when they discuss needing to be loved fully and not half-heartedly.

That is a rough gist of what I have for her? I have been typing this for hours and I am running out of steam.

Annnd....That is that! At least for now. Another detail I will share for all of them is that they are all bi :) All my ocs are always bi.

Again, you guys are free to ask questions. I may update this over time as well. I don't really want criticisms for my ocs though since you guys don't actually deal with them past them popping up as the voice for some reader insert fics. they just sorta rot in my brain and I get comms of them at times.

#scums babs

[saturn-sends-hugs]

ok, this has been burning a hole in my notes app and i’m just gonna send it out there:

Why (i think) the Finale was Like That:

to preface, if you liked the finale, good for you!! that’s totally valid and i’m not trying to bash that. but i know a lot of people were left wanting more, and i’m one of them. anyway, to my point:

as silly as it sounds, this show is not written for us.

we’re fans. the producers already know we’re gonna watch the show. they don’t need to convince us to give them our attention, they already have it. why waste time digging into random side characters in the larger Star Wars saga when the average person doesn’t even know who that is?

their real job is to convince outsiders to watch. to get hooked. to see an element they like, probably from the main movies, and tune in, even for one episode. if they can get them hooked with fennec or ventress or hell even rex, that’s a win for them.

the plot lines wrap up in such an unsatisfying way because honestly? they cant waste time focusing more on these characters than they have to. the people writing and designing the show might love them and want to include more meaningful resolutions, but that takes too long and costs too much money. you know what’s cheaper and will satisfy the average viewer? kill the mystery clones, cut off the “trauma hand”, and wrap it all up in a nice little “look, she’s joining the rebellion, guys!” moment because the more bland and broad the ending, the more people will understand it.

i mean, remember the Fives mention? Echo didn’t react, he didn’t even stutter, he literally moved the conversation along like they were talking about where to go for dinner like HELLO. we already know they cannot be bothered to show real important emotional scenes because that would take too much spotlight away from the whole star wars politics plot or whatever were supposed to care about. (honestly, who is watching bad batch for the og trilogy implications? woah tarkin and a couple other empire dudes are talking about project stardust definitely gimme more of that and not any meaningful connection between these characters i love)

it’s scummy, it sucks, it especially kills me that the story is basically lost to corporate greed but let’s be honest, this is Disney’s Star Wars. i could literally just leave it there. meaningful moments will always be sacrificed for shock value and character cameos because the random guy seeing an ad is only gonna watch the show if he thinks “oh cool, tarkin, i didn’t know he was in that show, maybe i should see what that’s about.”

and yes, i know, there absolutely is a ton of love and care poured into this show. i appreciate the effort that went into it. i’m just sad they didn’t have full creative freedom under Disney to give us the story we wanted.

but you know who won’t sacrifice story for money? you know who’s guaranteed to have the fans’ interests in mind? you know who does have full creative freedom and is equally pissed about bad show moments and want to do them better? FANFIC AUTHORS. Fan artists, theorists, even roleplay accounts and every other type of dedicated fandom blog is here for that shit and will reshape things however they want a million different ways because that’s the point. the show simply cannot give us what we want, but we can make it ourselves.

your support, your creativity, and your determination to give these characters what they deserve is how we can solve the problem.

i didn’t really mean to turn all “we’re all in this together” here lol but yknow what i really do mean that. i think supporting the community around you is the best option we have for truly enjoying all of this show’s potential.

tagging a few people cause i value your input!! and let’s be honest i’m probably leaving a few things out that you might be able to expand on: @the-bi-space-ace @inkstainedhandswithrings @phantom-of-the-501st

#once again no shade if you liked the finale #it was basically a happy ending!! that never happens in star wars!! #i was pretty happy with it right up until they killed off CX-2 and i started seeing all the loose ends they just cut off #sometimes literally lol #i’m sorry that was a really bad joke don’t kill me— #saturn sends thoughts #tbb spoilers #tbb s3 #the bad batch spoilers

[kamigui]

A fanfic idea I'd like to dedicate to you

I wanted to share this idea I have with you because I saw that beautiful animation you made of your OC Rubee and Wally with that scene of the Hunt vs Hunted AU that nonomives made and the other AUs incorporated in it. I'm actually currently writing a fanfic inspired by that AU with plans to dedicate it to nonomives (with their permission), and I just absolutely live for the angst and redemption arcs. Your incredible art really gave me the inspiration I needed to start working on it.

I'm actually in my lovers-turned-enemies trope right now, and my mind began racing with just this concept of (what if) Rubee actually surviving the Hunt vs Hunted scenario and was accidentally turned, but somehow the effect was so diluted it didn't necessarily destroy her mind and make her feral, but instead caused her to slowly start losing her mind, where any memories of Wally were tampered with or discarded and whatever horrors she might have witnessed were misplaced onto Wally?

(Because in reality, he'd never actually hurt her, she just convinced herself he did because there's so many pieces missing in her brain she had to just fill them in herself. And then there's the assumption Wally accidentally committed genocide as a response to his grief of losing Rubee, therefore, she's more convinced that he just has to be evil. She obviously doesn't know the true reason, only knowing that he had harmed a lot of people) (I'm thinking this affliction could potentially turn her immortal, or at least, very difficult to kill and inhumanely strong; but she could probably still get hurt).

Because of this, any positive feelings for him were replaced with disgust and hatred, where she felt her only response is to pretty much destroy him so he didn't hurt anyone else. But, it's conflicting because deep inside her soul she's hesitant, scared, and longing for the security/safety he provided her in the past, before she lost her memories /and before he thought she was dead/. 

Anyway, there was a scene playing in my mind where she managed to get to him, like, actions set in motion just ready to pierce his heart. And Wally's just looking up at her, not really fighting back, but holding her off, eyes just pitiful and sad and desperate; because "How is she alive-?".

He's in disbelief, emotions torn between sadness, anger, and overwhelming love. And she's trying to kill him, not realizing that she's crying and struggling to actually finish him off. Because, yes, she has to kill him so no one suffers like she did--but also, no, because that part of her that 'died' that night still clings to hope and love. 

I think Wally would immediately know that she's affected by his blood, since according to nonomives, people who are closer to Wally's blood go insane and feral, depending on the level of potency the person was dosed with. I really like this concept, because that could potentially lead to the rarest opportunity where someone hasn't been completely overcome by his affliction. Maybe Rubee was just extremely strong willed in mind and spirit, so her body (could have) managed to refrain from completely turning into a vampire zombie? That tiny, sliver of hope motivates Wally to figure out some sort of 'cure' for Rubee, but we have no idea what the implications of that would do.

(Could she die due to having lived so long and just turn into dust? Would she end up suffering from the pain and physical damage she's received all these years, finally catching up to her? Is there the chance she'll just return back to him? We don't really know. Too many endings, no solid answers.)

//Anyway, feel free to just yeet this in the trash if you want. Ha ha ha, I'm just dumb and rambling... I don't want to interject or impede on your work, or self-insert your OC into anything. I'd hate to misinterpret the characters. But I just really wanted to share this idea and hope you'd at least enjoy it. If you do approve and gave me permission to pursue this, I would be more than happy to dedicate a fanfiction on the topic because I just think it's *chefs kiss*

//I supposed, this is also my way of asking if it's alright with you for me to pursue this idea with your OC?

#submission

[franklyshipping]

No-One Is Above A Smile ~ A Markiplier and Ethan Nestor Ego Fanfic

Hello again! This time we're writing from a fab prompt from @coolm456 featuring not just Unus & Annus, but Darkiplier too! This is a fun one, so without further ado LET'S DO THIS!

TAGGING: @darkipli-ler

The primary living room of the ego manor was usually very sophisticated, full of leather furnishings, fine mahogany, with a colour scheme of dark browns, reds, and glimmers of gold. Today it was still sophisticated, but there was more of a monochrome vibe filling the room courtesy of the trio using it as their “hangout” space. Dark was in his favourite armchair, scotch resting on his knee as he let himself relax. Annus was reclined on one of the sofas with his eyes closed, a peel-off charcoal face mask in place. Meanwhile, Unus was sat cross-legged on the carpet with about six blankets covering him, and Dark Chica was laying in his lap and boofing softly for tummy rubs. It was an unusual scene for sure, but this time of decompression was much needed for the trio, just to have a little break from the chaos for once. It was mostly silent other than steady breathing, but every few minutes Unus would snort or giggle as Dark Chica spontaneously licked his cheek or ear. At the sound of his giggle Annus smiled subtly, and Dark raised an amused eyebrow.

‘Having fun Unus?’

Dark asked, and Unus grinned. Today he’d swayed away from his stoic side to his more giddy self, mainly due to having Dark Chica’s attention.

‘Yohour dog is the behest!’

He replied, and Dark Chica immediately boofed and licked at his neck, which happened to be a particularly ticklish spot. Unus scrunched up with a giggle as Dark chuckled and Annus rolled his eyes. The elder of the existential pair sat up on his sofa, peeling his face mask off effortlessly as he smirked.

‘I swear you somehow get more ticklish every day.’

‘I do not.’

‘Yes you do.’

‘No I do no–AH!’

Annus’ fingers darted out to flutter at the back of Unus’ neck, coaxing out yet another torrent of giggles which in turn excited Dark Chica more so she licked one of Unus’ ears. The younger man’s cheeks reddened as he batted Annus’ hand, attempting to clear his throat as he glared up at him. Dark bit back a chuckle as he observed, shaking his head lightly as Annus mocked.

‘I hope I didn’t embarrass you.’

‘Annus I swear I will go for your armpits if you don’t shut up.’

‘Oh my, is that meant to be a threat?’

Annus taunted. Unus appraised him, all stretched out without a care in the world. In a flash Unus suddenly darted his hand out towards one of his armpits in a feint, and Annus suddenly lowered his arms to protect himself, letting out a nervous noise from his throat. Annus frowned as Unus grinned at him, giggling and returning his hands to Dark Chica’s belly.

‘That’s what I thought.’

‘Oh… shut up.’

Unus snickered as a slight smile appeared on Annus’ face. Dark rolled his eyes at the pair of them, amazed that two existential beings such as them could be so endearingly ridiculous and wholesome. He sipped at his drink and remarked amusedly.

‘I had no idea you two were getting so soft.’

Annus raised an eyebrow at Dark as Unus gaped, the two replying in tandem.

‘Excuse me?’

‘We are not soft!’

Unus’ particular indignance made Dark snort as he set down his drink, and Annus narrowed his eyes as the shadowy man replied.

‘And yet those tickle spots of yours suggest otherwise.’

Until that point Dark Chica had been flopped fully horizontally and on the verge of a nap, but hearing the word “tickle” from her dad’s mouth made her perk up. Suddenly she was paying attention, but no-one else quite noticed.

‘Those don’t indicate anything of the kind, everyone has them.’

Annus retorted, and Dark sneered.

‘Do they?’

‘Don’t you?’

‘Oh please.’

Dark chuckled, and Unus and Annus shared a blatantly surprised look at the implication. Was Dark… not ticklish? Both of them racked their shared memories, certain that they’d heard somewhere that Dark was ticklish like every other ego in the manor. And yet… the conviction with which he spoke, the casualness, was undoubtedly very convincing. Unus couldn’t help but gape at him, the idea of someone not being ticklish just baffling him.

‘You can’t be serious?!’

‘I’m always serious, Unus. I’m sorry to disappoint you.’

Dark replied with a little grin, internally crowing at himself at the prospect of actually getting away with this. This had to be the most bold-faced lie he’d told in a while, and the idea that it was actually working rather tickled him, if you’ll pardon the pun. Meanwhile, Unus and Annus felt bamboozled, which was a rare thing for the pair. Dark had been the one to educate them on tickling in the first place, but now they thought about it they’d never seen him getting tickled himself. Could it really be true?

Amidst all of this… Dark Chica’s attention darted from the shocked pair, to her smug dad. Despite her being a supposedly “dark” puppo, she was in fact a very good girl and very smart girl indeed. She was taking in the interaction with far more intelligence than you might think – in fact, she was always able to sense when her dad was telling a sneaky lie. She also remembered hearing the world “tickle”… and everything made sense in her belly-rub-loving brain. So, she figured she’d get in on the fun.

In an instant she’d popped up on her feet, and bounded to Dark whilst wagging her floofy tail. Dark naturally reached out to give her some chin scratches, which she let herself enjoy for a few moments… but then to everyone’s utter shock she chomped down (harmlessly) on one of his shins and pulled him out of his chair onto the carpet! Dark yelped out as he landed on his back with a thump, making Unus and Annus bite back laughs.

‘Wha– Chica?!’

Dark looked at her in disbelief – he knew she was playful, but this was a lot! Dark Chica boofed at him and put a paw of his chest so he couldn’t sit up, before looking at Unus and Annus. The silence made it clear that everyone was confused, until the duo watched her start nudging at Dark’s and neck with her wet nose as Dark spluttered. That was when they realised. She was trying to tell them something very interesting indeed, and Dark had realised it too. He let out a casual chuckle, clearing his throat a little as he tried and failed to sit up.

‘Hah, alright Chica alright, we can play just–’

‘Hold on there Dark, I think Chica’s trying to show us something.’

Annus interrupted, a thin grin on his face as he and Unus shared a devious look… before pouncing together and pinning Dark down properly. Dark Chica barked with excitement, her tail wagging as Dark grunted and struggled and let out a number of vague threats… until Unus started fluttering his fingers down the sides of his neck.

‘What have we here?’

‘Nothing!’

‘Are you sure? Chica seems to think it’s something.’

‘Unus, Annus, let me go!’

He grunted, but the wobbly smile on his face made Unus and Annus share another grin. Dark Chica boofed again, and Annus chuckled as he scratched fondly behind her ear.

‘Is your master lying to us, hmm? Is he ticklish?’

Dark’s face reddened as Dark Chica boofed, wagged her tail harder, and licked Annus’ cheek for good measure. That was all the confirmation they needed. Dark let out another series of grunts, gritting his teeth and trying not to giggle as Unus’ fingers kept fluttering.

‘Unus!’

‘Yeah?’

‘D-Desihist this!’

‘Desist what?’

Dark went to speak again, but ended up snorting and chuckling as the flutters snuck behind his vulnerable ears. He tossed his head weakly, his fresh giggles taking all the heat out of his growl.

‘I’ll gehet yohohou fohor thihihis!’

Unus grinned and snickered, whilst Annus leaned over Dark with a twinkle in his eyes.

‘Did you just threaten my other half?’

Dark couldn’t ignore the chill he got down his spine, Annus’ voice echoing a little in his ears. Then before he knew it, a laugh had exploded out of him as Annus’ hands delved beneath his shirt, scratching swiftly at his sides. Dark jerked and twitched, but his hands were pinned beneath Annus’ knees, and he had no chance of freeing them now.

‘Yehehes! Yohohou wohon’t gehet away wihith thihihis, eheither of yohou!’

He exclaimed, trying to maintain some semblance of a tough façade. Unus giggled as Annus smirked.

‘Somehow that doesn’t fill me with dread.’

Annus continued his scratches as Unus’ fingertips zeroed in behind Dark’s ears, tracing the shells as Dark tried to toss his head even more – he was refusing to admit to himself that he was screwed, even though it was so adorably obvious.

‘Dahamnit gehehet ohohoff mehe!’

‘Aww, this doesn’t tickle does it–?’

‘SHUHUT IHIT!’

Unus snickered at Dark’s outburst as he and Annus continued their tickling, Unus’ fingertips now teasing right behind Dark’s earlobes – an utterly maddening tickle spot, by the way – whilst Annus’ thumbs were massaging circles into the dips of Dark’s fleshy sides. All Dark could do was belly laugh and thrash about, meanwhile Dark Chica was sat and watching with a happy look on her face – though occasionally she did playfully nudge Dark’s shirt or lick his face.

‘Sounds like Chica loves that laughter of yours Dark, I wonder if we can make it louder?’

Annus mused, and started squeezing Dark’s sides rapidly to make him cackle – it got so intense that Unus had to abandon his ears to hold his arms as he tugged at them. Unus had Dark in a half hug, giggling as Dark howled with a red face, his eyes flickering with crimson and blue flashes.

‘AHAHANNUS DOHOHON’T!’

‘Listen to that laugh! I think he’s enjoying that Annus.’

‘I quite agree Unus.’

Dark’s laughter was deep and warm as it reverberated around the room, like his mirth was a mighty opera. His hair was quickly becoming dishevelled as he struggled vainly against the tickling (which he was secretly enjoying, but Unus and Annus didn’t need to know that). It had been quite a while since Dark had been tickled so thoroughly, and honestly? It was even more fulfilling than he’d remembered. Though, Dark couldn’t help but kick as the tickles at his sides grew deeper and more intense, his instinct to wriggle free irresistible.

‘UNHAHAHAND MEHE!’

‘Why should we do that?’

‘BEHEHECAUSE IHI SAHAID SOHO!’

‘Hmm, I suppose that is an option…’

Annus remarked. Then Unus grinned and piped up.

‘Maybe if you admit how ticklish you are we’ll let you go.’

Dark’s lips parted in shock. The audacity of the demand was one thing, but the embarrassing nature of it was what really took the damn biscuit!

‘I would be amenable to that. What do you say Dark, will you confess?’

Thankfully Annus eased up on the tickling for a moment, allowing him to catch his breath, before he spluttered his indignant response. As if Dark would give in so easily!

‘Absolutely not!’

Dark started kicking again in an attempt to escape, though the existential duo didn’t miss the smile he was wearing – the fun of the whole thing was obvious, and they were happy to keep playing. Unus laughed as he hugged Dark’s torso again to try and keep him down as Annus resorted to grabbing at Dark’s legs, his hands gripping his knees and squeezing them… which drew out the most colossal shriek from Dark. There was a moment of silence as everyone looked at each other. Unus grinned, Annus raised an eyebrow, Dark Chica boofed, and a wobbly smile appeared on Dark’s face as he cleared his throat.

‘Annus.’

‘Oh dear, what’s this?’

‘Annus, my friend–’

‘I think I know just how to persuade you.’

‘Annus wait I–AHH! NOHOHONONONO NOHOT THEHEHERE!’

Dark was a hysterical mess in seconds. Gone was any semblance of the smart elegance which hung from his figure every day, for here now he was merely a man whose kneecaps were ticklish as hell. Annus was delightedly squeezing them, pinching them, rubbing them with his thumbs and forefingers as Dark cackled and jerked. Meanwhile Dark Chica had started barking along excitedly and doing tippy-tappies, happy to see her dad laughing this hard. Unus giggled along, giving Dark’s arms a squeeze.

‘I think you’ve got his sweet spot.’

‘Mm so do I, I wonder if he’s considering a little confession yet?’

‘It’s hard to tell, I think we keep this up for a few minutes.’

‘Fine by me.’

And so they did. Five minutes objectively is not such a long time, unless you’re being tickled of course. Then it might as well be five centuries! Dark was helpless as his knees were tickled within an inch of their life, his suit trousers offering no protection as misty grey tears built in his eyes. Eventually he knew he had to do it. He had to admit defeat, though it pained him to even think of it.

‘THIHIHIS IHIS TOHOHORMENT!!’

‘It doesn’t have to be a torment, you know what we wish to hear.’

‘YOHOHOU AHARE EHEVIHIL!!’

‘I shall take that as a compliment.’

Annus smirked as Dark let out yet another howl of laughter… before he finally conceded.

‘ALRIHIGHT ALRIGHT IHIHI’M TIHICKLISH DAMNIT IHI’M TICKLIHIHISH!!’

Unus and Annus shared a satisfied grin, before they released him carefully from their tickly grip. He remained on the carpet, and slowly rolled into his side and tucked his knees up to his  chest as he panted. He closed his eyes for a few moments, his smile lingering as he felt himself start to calm down. When he opened his eyes, and before he could say a word, he was greeted by Dark Chica lying by him on her belly. She licked his cheek, and he huffed fondly.

‘You were absolutely no help.’

She boofed happily and licked his nose, making him laugh as he sat up – naturally she flopped in his lap, earning her some affectionate belly scratches as her tail thumped rhythmically on the floor. Dark looked between Unus and Annus, his eyes narrowed yet warm.

‘You’re both lucky I value our friendship.’

‘And we value yours.’

Annus replied as Unus grinned, before sitting close so he could scratch behind Dark Chica’s ears softly. Dark smiled lightly as he and Annus shared another look… and Dark was surprised to see Annus’ expression turn soft.

‘It’s endearing.’

‘What is?’

Dark asked. Unus and Annus shared another look, and Unus replied.

‘To know you’re as ticklish as the rest of us.’

Dark huffed and rolled his eyes, but nevertheless felt the warmth of the sentiment the existential pair exuded as they all sat there together. It didn’t take long for them to get comfortable in the soothing room with countless blankets, with the sweetest (and most attention-seeking) puppo in existence. They were a dark group indeed, right to each of their cores… but even so, there was no-one there who was above a smile.

WOOOO HOPE YOU LIKED THIS FIC (SORRY IT TOOK A WHILE!) LEMME KNOW IF YA DID WOOO LUV YOUS!!

#markiplier #markiplier egos #unus annus #unus #annus #darkiplier #dark #platonic #sfw #prompt #ego fic #ego fanfic #tword fic #tword fanfic #tword #twords #twording #twordish #luv these spooky lads

[phantomram-b00]

So I saw this post and I just wanna talk about it, specifically the last two,

The fact people think Crowley hates Aziraphale over the finale is kinda baffling and unserious to me. Like I’m not saying Crowley isn’t going to be mad at him, but hate is very much a strong word considering everything they’ve been through together. Because if that was the cast, shit Crowley could’ve hated him a long as time ago, even from a beginning since they’re suppose to be enemies, they drill it in Aziraphale and I don’t doubt hell drill it in Crowley’s head too about this but he doesn’t (and I highly doubt Aziraphale hated Crowley) or even during the holy water situation or any moment when they had a spat or disagreement. Did this finale gave him a wound, yes, (like I may be a Aziraphale kin but that shit hurt my feelings) am I saying Crowley is incapable of hate? No I’m sure he hates a lot of things (*cough cough*, metatron rn) but I don’t see him bringing himself to hate Aziraphale over this nor do I think he’ll try to, it be out of character for him to even try to. This is the same character that brought down London are mobile phone network and called that his sinful deed, so are we really expecting more out of that?

And no, Crowley not gonna become Duke of Hell to spite him, that’s also an out of character thing, just because he said no and Aziraphale said yes with his promotion, doesn’t mean he going to just waltz back to hell and tell Shax “hey I wanna be Duke of Hell role since my non-official spouse left me for his job”, he not petty like Aziraphale; he going to stay in earth since that’s his home. That’s his space, why else do you think we hardly see scene of him in hell, because he never considered hell home/his side (and let not kid ourself, who would if you have people like Furfur who most likely lick the walls and how claustrophobic that place is, so I feel Crowley). I’m not trying to bring back the job episode since everyone talk about it, (I love the episode as much as the next person) I do think that is a prime example of him saying he doesn’t even on hell’s side. So imma just bring up the other minisode where after the magic show, they celebrate it and also comment on how they both are in shades of grey in some way, Crowley being the darker grey whilst Aziraphale being the lighter shade (which I’m surprised no one talked about, someone probably did an I missed it but I’m just surprised no one is talking about that conversation but I digress.) so the whole “Duke of hell Crowley” is nonsense, could be a fun au for fanfic but on paper it doesn’t fit really.

Okay now to the whole “they’re going to be turn into mortals”, I was gonna make a post about this but I didn’t want to come off as someone who disagree with all the theories, but this one, I really can’t stand, (if you believe it, cool that’s valid.) and imma just talk about it. While sure, it can be they have no side anymore, but why would you want them to be separated again, especially since we don’t know where they’ll even go if they do die. But also, just because they love humanity doesn’t mean they want to be mortal, like I get the romantic implication of this theory/prediction, but I honestly don’t think turning them human is romantic nor is it a good thing, it feels more like a punishment all over again because they love each other. Look even if they do the whole reincarnation thing which fine, book of life did this. Well done, good writing all around, but it still another form of punishment because they going to be separated all the damn time. Like especially since they didn’t turn ineffable bureaucracy into humans (not to being the ship into it since I do love this ship.) so why would they make ineffable spouse/husband/wives into humans? Why should they be punish for simply loving each other? Why can’t they enjoy eternity loving each other as demon and angel, or just immortal beings since at the end of the day, they wouldn’t want a side, they are their own side.

Now look, I’m all for angst, I feel season 3 might have some with how season 2 ended, but sometimes, some angst idea like the one I just talk about or what the op posted just doesn’t make sense/out of character. And I just had to talk about it even thought I really am not suppose to be up. (I only am because I toke what felt like a century nap Crowley gets.) I know season 2 left us with mixed emotions, like I haven’t felt that way since Arcane. And you know, if you do believe in the Theory mention in the post or what I said, cool, that’s valid, don’t let me tell you otherwise. Just I don’t find myself agreeing with these, if you do tell me why, anyway, I just needed to say this, here another Crowley gif since I love this character and I do find myself in him. (Maybe not as much as I find myself in Aziraphale but close enough, I kin them both)

#good omens #crowley #ineffable husbands #ineffable spouses #good omens 2 #good omens season 2 #i shouldn’t be awake but here I am #aziracrow #good omens discussion #good omens fandom #im just rambling again #hyperfixation am I right?

[nofomogirl]

Thinking of the implications of Bigshot Crowley

Especially looking forward to S3

In the original book, it was pretty much the whole point that Aziraphale and Crowley were nobody particularly important for their respective sides. Just regular low/middle-ranking field operatives, most of the time invisible drones to their superiors.

In season 1 it is certainly not as pronounced - possibly simply because some things are easier to stress in a written medium - but it isn't contradicted in any way either.

Unsurprisingly, there had always been many headcanons and fanfics that made Aziraphale and Crowley more special in the great scheme of things. I say "Aziraphale and Crowley" but of course, 95% of them focus on Crowley. Since there's more room for speculation and all. The particularly popular fanon is that Crowley was originally an Archangel. Possibly Raphael, but there are other candidates as well.

And now we're after season 2, where pretty big hints were dropped that Crowley was indeed pretty high in the angelic hierarchy before his fall.

How do I feel about it?

I'm not too sure.

I'm still getting used to it being canon. I've always enjoyed the speculations, the theories, and the fanfics. But I also felt that while for some people it was just a "what if", some simply couldn't be satisfied with their protagonists being ordinary. I have some feelings about that.

And what do I think about it?

A lot!

Firstly, if Crowley used to be someone with considerable authority was it his choice to give it up? And if it was, then when exactly did it happen?

Fanons usually point to the Fall as the turning point and it makes sense. It was always implied that Crowley wasn't really invested in Lucipher's rebellion, he just had questions of his own and that's it. So it made sense that after becoming a demon he decided to lie low and not get involved.

But doesn't pre-Fall Crowley seem awfully... alone to you? In the one scene we got he is about to bring his creation to life and the only witness is the randomly (?) passing Aziraphale? If he's someone important, isn't it weird?

I can't help but feel that in Heaven Crowley was already removed from main power structures. Perhaps he simply never saw the appeal and never participated. Perhaps he lost interest along the way. And perhaps he was somehow excluded, possibly without him fully noticing.

But most importantly, what does it mean for his character development? And how it ties to Aziraphale's character development?

Because let me stress it: we had ended season 2 (1) knowing that Crowley used to be in a high position in Heaven and (2) seeing Aziraphale accept a high position in Heaven.

And frankly, it was this realization that made me really want S3 to happen. I mean, I wanted it before simply because I want to see the two finally get properly together and have their happily ever after. But now I'm really curious about where exactly we go from here. Now I'm interested not just in a destination but in an actual journey they're going to take.

It seems pretty obvious that Aziraphale needs to finally free himself from Heaven. Experience the ultimate disillusion.

But what if Crowley's entire job isn't just to wait and graciously accept his angel back when he finally sees reason? It would certainly make for a much better story if he had his own crap to sort out.

My headcanon right now is that Crowley indeed was an Archangel but because he was not into politics - for lack of a better term - he let others call the shots. I think he never fully acknowledged and processed that he had the power to make things better.

And that finale...

Crowley might have wished Aziraphale could just drop everything and go with him like Gabriel and Beelzebub left together. But the point is Gabriel and Beelzebub never cared about Earth, they're selfish and don't give a damn what calamity and bloodshed they leave behind, and too self-righteous to question their choices.

It is a fact that Heaven and Hell can't be left to their own devices.

Aziraphale and Crowley aren't humans who can just quit toxic jobs that are also corporations ruining the planet, move to another country, and make it not their problem. Humans have a chance of living happily and dying before the consequences of their former employers' actions ruin their little paradise.

It's perfectly understandable that Aziraphale doesn't want the responsibility of doing nothing while he could. It's also perfectly obvious that he's being manipulated and way over his head. Especially with Crowley not by his side.

I just want season 3.

It would be also nice if it wasn't just Crowley being right about everything and Aziraphale needing to apologize for his entire existence. But I'll take what I get, I guess.

#good omens 2 #good omens spoilers

[rottentiger-art]

I’m a grown woman obsessed with Logan and Quinn suddenly again like a 12 year old after that trailer. And I have some thoughts. We have possible outcomes that I can see based on the limited scenes we got. The bad case: they get engaged off screen and announce it to Zoey over FaceTime like we saw in the trailer. Then Quinn does a runner on the wedding day (we do get a shot of her running in a wedding dress), and the wedding ends up being about chase and Zoey getting back together. We see Logan has a headset on in pretty much every shot, including when he’s standing at the alter (wtf Logan?). Maybe Quinn sees this, and panics, and thinks money and work will come before her so she runs. Eventually they end up back together, and we then get that shot of him proposing again and promising it won’t happen (with Zoey there, why 🙄) and we are left with the implication they’ll get married eventually. It’s also the 1 scene between the two of them where he isn’t wearing his headset which adds value to the whole he’s a workaholic thing and Quinn’s had enough. The thing that makes me confused is that Quinn is 100% already wearing her engagement ring in that shot, and Logan 100% has jewellery in that box. The better option: Logan is jokingly giving her some jewellery in a ring box, and her nodding is just a weird cut to something else he said (I.e., not accepting a proposal). That scene is weird as well because Zoey’s 2 best friends of almost 20 years are getting engaged, Quinn is nodding yes and Zoey looks confused and worried. The confusing thing about it is Quinn’s hair is short, but it is long for every other shot. Cause Quinn and Logan look different in that shot to the rest of the movie, I was hoping that perhaps it’s a flashback to when they got engaged many years ago and it has just been a really long engagement. So when they tell Zoey over FaceTime, it’s not about getting married it’s about them finally setting a date? But that doesn’t tie into why Quinn has an engagement ring on already. Regardless of how it happens I know they’ll 100% end up together but I don’t want them to be plot devices to Zoey and chase. I may be losing my mind over this. I need a break but had to share my obsessive thoughts with someone.

oh man, where do I start. I'm also a grown person obsessed with a ship from my childhood. I said it a lot of times heheh but Quogan was my first ship and the first fanfic I ever read was about them. I didn't know what a fanfic was and really thought that was some deleted scene or something XD.

I would hate to if they don't get married at the end, that would be so disappointing, but it would not ruin the ship for me, I'd simply not consider the movie canon and make/read a fic fixing that lol.

I am bothered by Zoey being there for the proposal/or whatever that was, because ugh can we, please, have something? without her? please? I never cared about her character (or anyone aside from Logan and Quinn, really) So I hope they don't make that moment about them.

I do hope it's a flashback, but like you said, the ring makes it not make sense.

I was also wondering about Logan's headset, I thought it was more of him being a bridezilla and controlling the whole wedding and making it all about himself, excluding Quinn unintentionaly lol.

I need to rewatch the show to refresh my memory about the characters, it's been years after all. I never saw Logan as the workaholic kind, but I could be wrong or he could have changed, idk.

Either way, all I hope right now is that they end up together. If they decide marriage is not for them, I'll accept it as long as they don't separate. God please don't let that happen. Tho I won't deny I would be pissed, since they are advertising this using their wedding as a bait and for them to not give us that at the end? very shady. We would be quoganbaited lol.

Speaking of that, I too don't want them to be a plot device for Zoey and Chase. I can't stress enough how much I don't care about them. And I understand the movie is about finally getting them together, but please, let us have Quogan in peace. The two ships can co-exist without overshadowing the other (despite one being clearly superior ehem)

feel free to keep sending asks or dm me if you wish, I love talking about quogan.

#ask box #anon #quogan #zoey 102 #zoey 101 #quinn pensky #logan reese #quinn x logan #logan x quinn #im so used to get hateful anon reading the first part I assumed you were insulting me lmao

[monocytogenes]

An Embellishment of Lore (tag game)

I think as Fanfic writers, we often add lore to our stories. It is natural for us to build upon the pillars set for us. But what about the foundations, gravel and grit? What was a piece of Lore you added to Dragon Age that wasn’t pre-existing?

Tagged by @theluckywizard!

I tend to have a lot of lore sitting in documents (like, seriously, I have a whole thing just on Orlesian theater culture), but honestly, most of it is side stuff that enters fics in bits and pieces. Apart from events that I tweak due to character choices that aren't available in canon or the need to maintain practical plausibility, I usually don't invent that much for DA because the foundational worldbuilding is so damn good.

That said, here's a few fun details:

There are newspapers in Orlais. (Makes sense, since we know they can mass-produce books.)

Pravin glanced up from his cup of tea, regarding the older man, who was reading the week’s copy of Le Royan through a pair of pince-nez. “What?” “Inquisition,” Gaubert repeated expectantly, sliding the paper across the table to him. “You heard about this?”

Opiates exist. (There's implication of this in canon, but not fully substantiated.)

“And…” Fidencio’s gaze slid thoughtfully upward, debating his last choice, before leveling on Varric again. “One case laudanum.” “Ooh,” Varric said with a sharp inhale. “That’s a toughie. Been having some sourcing issues, for all the obvious reasons.” “Well, I can’t make this too easy for you,” Fidencio said with a smirk.

Josephine's a theater nerd who had season tickets to the Grande Royeaux. (I mean, she can take the PC to the opera; of course she is.)

“Which plays have you seen?” he asked in friendly Antivan. Josephine switched to her native tongue with a delighted laugh. “So many. I had season tickets for a quite a while. You were very memorable as Godoy in Fontenot—you brought such sharp intellect to a role that’s normally just a caricature of the scheming foreigner. And Sévigny—I’ve seen that probably three times with different casts, and your take on the man was fascinatingly raw and real. Like the prayer scene, how that’s normally this somber, elegant expression of grief, and you were just stalking about, furious, weeping—”

Cullen was taught to "speak properly" in a Chantry school and has an accent that implies he didn't receive a high-end education.

A commoner, Pravin figured. Interesting pick for a military appointment. Cullen sounded vaguely Ferelden, with one of those Chantry-taught accents that came across as deliberately stripped of regional color. Maybe he’d been connected to the institution, someone one of the Hands had grown accustomed to working with—a templar, perhaps.

I think probably one of my biggest additions to canon is the amount of multilingual interactions/linguistic code-switching I write--it's not something that's easy to portray in a game with voice acting, but so normative among real people who speak several languages that I can't not see it happening. Josephine and Pravin swap between Orlesian, Antivan and Common through the course of their first meeting in The Girl He Remembered, depending on their comfort level with each other, what they're talking about and who else is in the room, and I just love what it adds to the scene.

#ask meme #writing #dragon age inquisition #dragon age

[koorinokujira]

Introduction and Blog Info

Well hello hello, and welcome to my humble blog! Come sit by the shore and watch the coming tide with me for a while, and let me introduce myself to you.

✧ About Me ✧

You can call me Oliver, Cecil, or Kujira, any of those are fine! My pronouns are he/him. I'm in many fandoms, some well known, and others fairly obcure, though my blog will mostly revolve around Sengoku Basara, if that wasn't already obvious. I also love whales (which is where my URL comes from), and daydream way too much. And to answer some very generic questions, my favorite color is pastel blue, and my favorite ice cream flavor is chocolate.

✧ Things I'll Post! ✧

✎ Character Imagines (Sengoku Basara) - I will take requests on these!

✎ Oneshots (Sengoku Basara and possibly other fandoms) - Will occassionally take requests on these as well.

✎ Longer, chapter based fanfiction (Sengoku Basara and other fandoms) - Won't accept requests on these for now (strictly because I'm afraid I'll lose motivation and let someone down).

✎ Original Stories - I have some of my own projects that I hope to show off here.

🖌 Digital Art - Mostly headshots of my OCs or favorite characters. Silly comics sometimes.

❅ Memes - Obviously.

+ other miscellaneous things.

✧ DNI and Similar Matters ✧

I want this blog to be a safe place for fun, so I think most of the things I will say are obvious. I don't tolerate homophobia, transphobia, or other similar things. Same of course goes for sexual things of the illegal nature, and also pro-shipping.

NSFW will not really be present on my blog. I'm ace, so I don't really need that sort of thing. The most that will probably appear is a few shirtless guys (or anatomy practice), or, when it comes to my fanfiction and other stories, simply leave a more passionate scene on an implication. So, if you came here to read something raunchy, I have to disappoint you, only fluff and angst over here!

✧ OC Database ✧

Sunrise (TF IDW1)

✧ Fanfic Masterlist + Request Rules ✧

❅ REQUEST RULES HERE ❅

✦ Sengoku Basara Imagines ✦

Comfort after a nightmare - Kojūrō, Masamune, Yukimura, Sasuke, Motochika, Keiji, Magoichi

Taking a bullet for your beloved (literally) - Masamune, Nagamasa, Kotarō

Taking care of each other's wounds - Masamune, Sasuke, Kojūrō, Kotarō

You fell first, they fell too late - Magoichi, Mitsunari, Shingen

Dying and not wanting him to see - Kenshin, Yukimura, Motochika

Thank you for reading all this, and have a beautiful day!

#introductory post #blog intro #blog info

[blackjackkent]

4, 24, 36, 48 :)

(Fanfiction Writing Asks)

4. How do you choose which fics to write?

Vibes? Haha. Most of my fics are definitely focused around missing scenes within the existing story framework, expanding on character relationships and adding detail to events. So I look for places where it feels like something could be expanded upon or where there's missing detail or emotional implications. (My liveblogging adventures have been very good for helping me notice where these points are I think.)

Plus requests when I am lucky enough to have some in the backlog. :D Which I do at the moment yay!

24. How do you choose whose POV to write in?

I was actually just thinking about this the other day as I was working on "Broken Little Puppets"; I'm much more practiced/familiar with Karlach's POV so I was a bit surprised that I ended up writing from Astarion's. "Open Your Eyes" was also originally going to be a Rasaad POV except I just randomly started writing it from Jaheira's instead (and this was before I really went down my current Jaheira fan rabbit hole XD ). A number of little liveblogging ficlets in Hector's run (this one and this one come to mind) were about his emotional turmoil but all ended up being from Karlach's perspective watching how that turmoil manifested outwardly.

Ultimately I'm not entirely sure I ever actively CHOOSE if that makes sense? I just sort of start writing and see which perspective starts centering itself, and I often surprise myself. XD

36. What fic are you proudest of?

Ahh, the dreaded self-compliment, my greatest struggle. XD

I think probably "The Two Sides of the Coin" is at the top of the heap right now. It's the deepest I've gone so far into exploring Karlach and Jaheira's friendship, it's one of the more emotionally intense things I've written, and I made a lot of strides forward in my writing and editing while working on it.

"Prayers and Hellfire" (nsfw) also pushed me way outside my comfort zone and I think turned out really well so I'm pretty proud of that too.

And if we wanna do a big throwback to my Mass Effect fic days many years ago, "Huerta Memorial" was the only longfic I've ever actually completed (hopefully "Open Your Eyes" and the as-yet-unnamed Nine-Fingers fic will join it eventually) and I'm still pretty proud of it.

48. Who is your favorite character to write for? Has this changed since you’ve started writing for that fandom?

It should surprise no one to learn that my answer for this is Karlach and Jaheira. XD

One thing that I've noticed about the fanfic community that I find kind of fun is that even within the niche of writing about a particular fandom, different authors seem to carve out their own little niches within that fandom, and I think Karlach content and Jaheira content have definitely become my particular niche corner.

This is fun partly because it's nice having a little area that I am comfortable exploring in great depth, and also because it makes trying other things (like my recent Astarion experiments - Astariments?) feel like a fun challenge/change of pace. :)

#astreamofstars #ask meme #ahhh ty for the questions friend :D #i got rambly as usual XD

[asherlockstudy]

Random Rhink realisations that came to haunt me as I was trying to sleep;

(Under read more so you don’t hatebomb the half-asleep messenger)

Link has a very different way of talking about his 13 minute sessions with his wife than about his frequently mentioned, very consistent yearn for very long sex with what seems like tantric qualities, even if it takes a toll on the frequency of sex he’s having. The face of the man describing the typical sex he is having and the face of the man describing his dream of very passionate, intense sex are like seeing two different faces. How to put it into words; if these were the same man, then the passionate man would ensure even a bit that this bad craving for intensity, duration and bonding (as I perceive) would bleed in more in his regular sex sessions… right? It would be crucial to him. At least there is not much indication that he takes initiatives to achieve as much as possible for this in his sexual life (the part of it that he has actually described publicly). He also wishes he could cum multiple times and in short wishes for a heightened type of sexual experience that doesn’t resemble much the average straight male preferences, to which Rhett seems to be closer (often, quick and a little rough).

It is interesting to pay attention to the movies Link says he would like to watch; he has mentioned Brokeback Mountain more than once I believe. It is a movie he is interested in watching but actively postpones it out of… what, fear? The plot is literally a blonde and a brunette cowboy bonding and eventually becoming lovers, and really falling hard in love, but it stays a secret and they return to their wives especially because the blonde is terrified of coming out. And then the ending is BAD and all this shit might be hitting a little too close to home. Let alone that the one point of reference Link once made was that he had “heard” that the sex scene, their first time, was very unrealistic or simply very traumatic for the bottom guy (brunette). And if you know, you know (I may or may not have said something relevant in another post). Also, interesting that this was what resonated with him enough to point out, from all of a movie he had not even watched.

The second episode with fanfic enactment, I think, when they find out Link is pregnant and they return home, Link jumps on Rhett on the spot and Rhett suddenly bursts and calls out fanfic writers that “relationships don’t work like that”. There is an unstated semi-bafflement lingering over the crew and Link after he says this and I was so confused, why can’t couples who just learnt they are going to have children go home and be excited enough to want to celebrate their love and happiness immediately? What if Rhett referred to the mechanics of anal instead and the lack of realism in suggesting it could be done immediately and suddenly with zero preparation. He seemed like he was itching to point out the lack of realism in it. (Did not point out whether Link being pregnant was realistic or not 😂)

Topic shift: in the last EB they complained a little about the low viewership of the R&L videos but they acknowledged that the comments they get are very positive. Yet, there was still something they wanted to express but eventually didn’t. Both Rhett and Link attempted to say something two-three times but then backpedaled and made it a more generic statement every time. It really seemed that what they meant was that despite the satisfaction at getting positive comments and compliments on their scripted videos, they still weren’t getting the type of response and comments they expected or hoped for. There was the lingering implication that the videos are not getting well communicated, that their intent gets a little lost in translation. They said the meaning is perhaps not well understood, and I once again invite you to consider what such a meaning could be in a video like, say, We Dug a Medium-sized Hole. Hmm? In their EB talking about starting these videos they had also talked about the importance of checking what the videos would communicate to the audience. If it is what I speculated it was, then maybe the reason we are getting so conflicting behaviours from them, even from Link at this point, is because they had agreed to work the jumping out of the plane in tandem exclusively through this format, while nothing at all would change in the other formats, at least until they ensured the response of the viewers would give them the green light through their scripted videos. But they are not getting this response yet, so the process has been slowed down for now.

They said the videos still don’t make the money they cost but they are determined to keep doing them. Very uncharacteristic of them but very good news for me. Ideally they should be weekly for me lol. These videos come out every 4-5 weeks and I am always in withdrawal syndrome the first and the second week after the video. The third and fourth week I am good again and then the week of the new video it is a new experience that makes me a little anxious all over!

They have used the hashtag #blessed too often lately. Whenever I hear someone say this for themselves, weeeellll I get a little suspicious. Nothing from them ever shook me more than that time in an old EB, several years ago, the one about what makes a good joke, when Rhett said "we're fundamentally sad people". Link also goes on and on about how he is living his best life, yet it is not enough to keep him from some prescriptions. He did try to stop them around spring for a while, but his emotional / mental state made him resume the medication. Perhaps not everything is as ideal as all the hashtags and insta posts imply. In Rhett's solo episode, he was asked how he managed to figure out life and happiness in general. Rhett replied "when I know, I will tell you". So. You know.

I was watching season 8, 2015 and Rhett was right in saying Link at the time would never be so reckless in the things he did or said. He was always acting silly and all, but he was way more uptight about what could be said and what was risky. At the time Rhett said more questionable things than he did. But let me tell you: stuff was happening already at that time.

#rhink #thoughts #mythical

[tearose26]

Lockwood and co fic recs

Since I’ve spent way too much time trawling tumblr and ao3 drowning myself in lockwood and co related content, I might as well do my bit for the fandom and put out a fic rec list.

I’m definitely a locklyle-focused reader, but there’s a loooot of fic out there that sacrifice characterisation for romantic scenes or are have a narrative voice with the melodrama pitched way too high. The following are fic that I find myself rereading. (Note that I have not looked at fanfiction.net or wattpad, the latter of which frankly scares me a little).

bending at the heart of me by lady_mab

Lucy/Lockwood, Oneshot, 4,039 words

Lucy and Lockwood’s outing at the Fittes Halloween ball is interrupted by Lockwood getting his drink spiked

Really great characterisation and dialogue; if the romance was dialed down, it could very well be a scene from the TV show or books

I love the lived-in domesticity of their interactions, and how there is very clearly a romantic tension running underneath that threatens to surface, but they stay in that delicious space of not-quite pursuing it

take pride in what is sure to die by the_one_that_fell

Lucy/Kipps (platonic), 4 chapters (so far), 12,305 words

Book 3 spoilers for Chapters 3 and 4

Not a locklyle fic yet probably my favourite Lockwood and co fic??

Kipps spots Lucy having a drink at the pub and the two unwittingly find themselves bonding over losing people at their work

The implications of the worldbuilding in the show are absolutely ripe for fanfic to come in and explore, and this one does that, specifically for the question “How do young people cope with the trauma of ghost hunting?”

I love watching these two learning to worry about and look out for each other, and the added details about Kat, Bobby and the Portland Rowe crew are a delight

Will have you laughing one moment then swiftly stab you in the chest the next

Haute Couture by bubblesodatea

Lucy/Lockwood, 9 chapters (complete), 52,217 words

Book 3 spoiler characters present

Fashion AU! Lockwood is a up-and-rising model, Lucy is a fashion reporter, George is a photographer, and Holly and Kipps run a fashion house

Fashion shows, parties and social media shenanigans ensue!

In full seriousness, this is a really excellent, lovingly-detailed execution of the AU

Everyone is an adult living in a modern, ghostless world, and hence are less sharp-edged and traumatised, but the characters are still recognisably themselves

Lovely slowburn romance between Lockwood and Lucy as they go from tentative friendship to something more

Easily done by The_Biscuit_Agreement

Gen, Oneshot, 1391 words

I’m just gonna copy the summary, which really tells you all you need to know:

"We are containing the source," Lockwood told her. Lucy shook her head, going to lift the net off her face. "We don't even know where the source is," she returned. "We do. Trust me," Lockwood replied. "I ate it," George said, sheepishly.

it’s the house telling you to close its eyes by halfahint

Lucy/Lockwood, Oneshot, 4,144 words

Lockwood keeps sleepwalking into Lucy’s attic bedroom

Despite the tropey premise, the execution is realistic, careful and full of the gentle warmth and tenderness from the TV show

I love watching the two slowly size each other up, exchange vulnerabilities and delicately dance around the question of what they mean to each other

#lockwood and co

[thecousinsdangereux]

Hi I love your bigger in the morning fic (or nuns can fuck au ) i was wondering if you could expand just a little on how other religions deal with the letter delivery origins? Either way the fic is amazing and I can’t wait for more

Thanks so much! I probably won't get too too much into this in the fic, just because... the story is already going to be long enough and I do actually want to focus on Avatrice lol (Though I'm never quite sure what a chapter is actually going to look like before I start writing, so who knows!) In general, religion is this AU is really geographically based, because religions sort of formed around Letter delivery machine locations. You can sort of assume that the major world religions follow a theology at least loosely based on their real-life counterparts, but there are some differences, as a result of the specifics of the AU (for example, since even the early versions of Letters """""legitimized"""""" queer folks in a variety of ways, the one man one woman stuff is not a thing).

To answer your question specifically, I can give a few examples of how I imagine a few different theologies incorporating/explaining Letters. If I was going to write about this specific part of the universe in great detail, I'd have to reach out to a lot of people to better understand the historical and theological implications (because I am definitely not an expert), but since this is just background info for a fanfic, these are more general, vague thoughts, so... grain of salt and whatnot!

AU Ancient Greek polytheism explains soulmates or Letters (such as they were, back then) in a similar way that Plato did in The Symposium, with humans originally being created with "four legs and a head with two faces" but then Zeus (bitch that he is) fears their power and splits them into two separate parts, which made up a match pair of soulmates. It was Aphrodite (with the help of Eros and others) who was working behind the scenes to deliver messages to help people find their other half.

AU Buddhism still does not believe in God/gods in the traditional sense, so they do not believe the Letters are God-ordained, specifically, but more a result of the universe recognizing individual connections that occur time and time again throughout multiple-lives. Basically, a soulmate is a relationship carrying over from one lifetime to the next. A lot of religions that believe in the concept of reincarnation state that it's connected to the creation of soulmates, in one way or another. There are people who never do receive a Letter, and these are considered new souls who haven't had a chance to form a connection with another soul.

For AU Islam, their equivalent of the Quran still includes the concept of 'of everything We have created pairs', including individuals. There is a heavy spiritual component to soulmates, as in, a soulmate is someone who a person connects with on a spiritual level. They still believe in the oneness of God, and Letter delivery still comes back to Him and the concept of His creating (soul)mates. In general, most monotheistic religions do claim that it's God Himself who is creating the Letters.

There's an off-shoot "religion"(/cult) in the US that states that the Letters that most people receive are government fakes and only 'true believers' (who have coincidentally donated hundreds of thousands of dollars) have cleared themselves and can access their True Letter, which is delivered by an alien lifeform. Rest assured, these people do not have access to a Letter delivery machine.

One major difference between the world in this AU and ours is that different regions/religions have to work together a lot more, simply for practical reasons. A person of one religion (or no religion) receives their Letter based on where they are geographically located, which thus may be from a different religion than what they practice, but that doesn't make their Letter illegitimate in the eyes of whatever their religion is, which means all religions sort of have to come to terms with the notion that their God(s)/Universe/etc. 'thinks' it's okay for these people to be thinking about Him/Her/Them in the way that they do, because they were able to create the machine in the first place, which can only operate under 'divine' instruction.

In general, Letter delivery looks similar in pretty much all religions because their machines are exactly the same in specs, and honestly, whenever one religion makes an advancement in standard Letter delivery (a delivery that doesn't require the OCS), the others tend to follow suit. There's a LOT more bureaucracy in modern day religions and a LOT more connection with government, just because of the collaboration/regulation needed to actually deliver like... hundreds of thousands of letters/day, worldwide. When it comes to the special cases, like we see Beatrice handling, things are obviously done a bit differently. In this universe, the OCS isn't actually attached to Catholicism (or the equivalent of it), because their purpose is to deliver Letters that don't have an easy recipient, which tends to take them all over the place geographically. You might have a Letter originate in England, but then need to be delivered in the US, for example. Or maybe a Letter will make it's way to Spain, but it ends up being delivered in Portugal. ;) There are a lot of reasons for why this happens, but I think they might be considered spoilers, so I'll leave it at that, for now. The OCS is still made up of holy women, but not just 'nuns' in the Catholic sense; holy women of various religions make up its ranks. Thus, the Spain branch of the OCS looks a lot different from the Thailand branch, but their purpose is the same.

#wn ask #beggar lore #(gonna use this tag from now on #just in case more people are curious about this behind the scenes stuff)