#I did this instead of writing fic which was itself a distraction from work

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Hi, can I request comfort fic with Frank? I just don't really like how my life looks right now... I don't like my job, but don't know what else I can do so I'm stuck here... and I feel really lonely recently and like I don't know what to do with my life... and reading fics are one of the few things that brings me joy...

So I thought about a fic where reader is sad and to cheer her up Frank planned a whole day for them to distract her from not kind thoughts?

And I'm sorry that I kinda dumpt it on you... I have trouble with expressing/describing my emotions and I think that was the first time I expressed those feelings to someone... Of course if you don't feel like writing this you can freely ignore this message, thank you 🫶🏻

Anon, I absolutely feel your pain. I’ve been dealing with my own work drama for months now and some days it feels like I’m going to have to completely start over to be happy. I hope I did your request justice, and if you ever need to rant to someone, my DMs are open :)

pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader 

summary:  Frank helps you when work is breaking your spirit.

warnings: swearing, hints of smut but nothing graphic

w/c: 3k

Digging your jagged nails into the flesh of your palms, you forced yourself to tune out the overwhelming plethora of stimuli that was currently bombarding you on the subway. Screaming children, the heat of bodies crowding around you, the shrieking of wheels on metal tracks, some old guy coughing up a lung at the back of the car, the bright fluorescent lights beating down on the dozens of people crammed in here like sardines. Fuck, you hated the subway. 

It was especially unbearable on days where you were already overtired from work—which, recently, seemed to be every day. This job was supposed to be your ticket to a good life and a stable future, but instead it was a joyless, energy-sapping, waste of your fucking time. Your coworkers were catty, your boss far too demanding for the bottom of the barrel wages you received, and the work itself was dreary. Each day you sat in that cubicle, you could feel the light inside you flickering, just waiting for one more lackluster employee review to be completely snuffed out. 

Clearly, you weren’t the only one who felt this way about your place of employment, given that over a third of the staff at your level had quit in the last two months. Unfortunately for you, this meant longer hours and crankier conversations with your superiors, who were consistently disappointed in your performance despite you efficiently accomplishing everything that was asked of you. 

Not only did longer hours lead to you getting overstimulated on the subway, but it meant you’d been spending less time at home with your boyfriend. You’d barely seen Frank this month, between his trips out of town and your rigorous schedule, and it was driving you up a wall. All you wanted was to let him wrap himself around you, petting your hair as you cried and holding you tight when you eventually fell asleep. Though, with the way your days were going lately, most of the time you didn’t want to be touched. You just wanted to shove crap food in your mouth and pass out before you had to go back to that hellscape in the morning. 

Frank was the kindest, most thoughtful partner you’d ever had, so he gave you plenty of space on the days you came home in an emotion-filled silence. He could read your moods pretty well at this point, and always respected your wishes, even if it meant he’d be nursing a beer in the living room alone until he went to sleep. You’d hoped that today would grant you enough energy to enjoy some time with him, but the world wasn’t that charitable. 

Shuffling off the subway amongst the masses, you let your body droop slightly as you trudged back to your apartment. Practically crawling up the stairs, you eventually reached the door—shoving it open in frustration as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. 

Instantly, you were greeted with the sound of soft music and the smell of onions and garlic cooking. Frank was in the kitchen, swaying almost imperceptibly to the song he was listening to, stirring a pot of what looked like tomatoes.  

“Hey, doll,” He greeted you softly, throwing you a smile over his shoulder but remaining planted at the stove, probably in an attempt to give you space.

“Hi.” Your voice was breathy and small, your stony face accented with glassy eyes. 

Frank knew better than to expect that everything would change in a day, but the sight of your crumpling face broke his heart. Stepping towards you with a furrowed brow, he tried for a small smile. “Another bad day?” 

You nodded, the force of the movement drawing two parallel tears down your cheeks. Sniffling, you didn’t respond, confident that your voice would crack if you did. 

“Do you want a hug?” Frank asked, hesitating a few feet from you as he waited for your answer. 

“I’m n-not sure, Frankie.” You admitted, more tears pooling as you did. “Not r-right now, I think.” 

Nodding in understanding, Frank crossed his arms, as if to keep himself from hugging you anyway. “Alright, sweet girl. Not a problem. Why don’t you go lay down while I finish dinner, hm?” 

Sighing, you nodded once, padding to the bedroom and collapsing into the blankets with a poorly stifled sob. Frank winced at the sound, his hands burning with an ache to hold you, to make everything better, but he couldn’t do that until you were ready. 

You’d only given him glimpses of the nightmare you were living. Whether you didn’t talk to him about it because you were worried it would scare him away, or because you didn’t trust him, he wasn’t sure—though the dark parts of his mind were convinced it was the latter. Regardless, Frank did his best to maintain a cozy home for you. It couldn’t be easy to have a mass-murderer-turned-government-hit-man as a partner, waiting around on your own for days while he worked odd jobs for Madani, but you’d never let it impact your love for him. 

You were thoughtful, sweet, and adorably shy—not to mention you balanced him out in ways he’d never expected. The pair of you brought out the best in each other, despite your peculiar relationship. You’d never made him feel distant or guilty for leaving, simply welcoming him back from his trips with open arms and eager eyes. Yet, the past few months your job had been eating at you, sapping the life from your beautiful eyes and leaving a listless husk of his girlfriend behind. 

He didn’t want to pry, far too afraid of snapping your already fragile composure and ruining the bond you shared. But every day you came home holding back tears, and it was going to kill him. He’d rip your office apart with his bare hands if it would end your misery, though he knew you’d never ask him to do that. 

So, instead, he did as much as he could—laying out his softest sweatshirt on your bed, playing quiet music, making a warm meal for the two of you to share—all in an effort to take something off of your plate, to remove an ounce of weight from your shoulders. After a week with no indication that any of this was helpful, he’d started scheming. 

Hopefully, it wouldn’t take too much begging to convince you to take an extra day off…

Stirring the tomato sauce one final time as he removed it from the heat, he tilted the pot over the cooked pasta, letting a ribbon of sauce drape over the noodles before giving it a quick stir. Scraping a dollop of sauce out of the pot with his finger, he popped the digit in his mouth, eyes closing in satisfaction at the array of flavors. 

Brushing his hands across his jeans, he plated two generous helpings of pasta, assuming you had worked through lunch once again, and set them in front of two chairs at your table. Steeling himself for the sight of your tear streaked face, he shuffled over to the bedroom and knocked softly. 

“Darlin’? You ready to eat?” Keeping his voice low, he gingerly opened the door. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light that managed to slip through your curtains, his heart squeezed at the sight of you sleeping, curled in fetal position. Your delicate hands clenched around your covers like they were your lifeline, your damp face squashed against his pillow. Biting his lip in thought, he returned to the main room to cover the pasta. 

Spending very little time tidying up, he wandered back into the bedroom, stripping out of his clothes in exchange for a pair of sweats and a worn Henley. Settling behind you with a book in hand, he slipped under the covers as unobtrusively as possible before his inner monologue made him pause. Would you even want him beside you? Was he crossing a line?

Thankfully, he didn’t have to worry about that for long as your sleeping form unconsciously wrapped around him, a small sigh falling from your lips as you nuzzled into his stomach. Smiling down at you, his free hand came up to stroke over your hair, his own grin widening when the soft touch made your lips twitch up in a sleepy smile. He thumbed through about a chapter of his book before you began to stir, shining lashes fluttering as your eyes opened. As the sleep disappeared from your eyes, Frank felt another wave of apprehension cresting in his chest, but the tide was quickly settled by your sweet gaze. Nestling into his side more deeply, you hummed in appreciation. “Hi, Frankie.” 

“Hi, sweet girl. Did you have a good nap?” A teasing mirth danced in his gaze, making you avert your eyes bashfully. 

“Mmm hmm. Sorry.” You murmured, rubbing your face against the fabric of his shirt. 

Clucking his tongue, Frank slid down to face you, tracing a thumb over your cheek. “No reason to be sorry, dollface. I’m glad you slept, you’ve been tired.” 

Sighing deeply, you traced the buttons on his shirt. “Work’s been a lot, recently.” 

“I figured as much, doll. Ya don’t gotta tell me anything, but I’m always here to listen, yah?” The tip of his thumb caressed your ear. 

Blinking back tears, you looked up at him apologetically, “I didn’t mean to keep you in the dark, Frank, it’s just so stupid and I—“

“Hey, hey, it ain’t stupid.” Frank tugged you impossibly closer, brushing tears off your face carefully. “If it bothers ya, it’s not.” 

“You just…” You drew in a ragged breath, the inhale catching on a sob. “You have so much to worry about already, and I don’t want to be a burden!” Bawling now, you felt your chest constricting at the thought of dumping more work onto Frank’s already overflowing to-do list. 

“You’re not a burden.” Frank spoke fiercely, looking deep into your eyes. “You have never been a burden, doll. Never.”

His words were a promise, you drank in his commitment with immense desperation, praying to forces you didn’t believe in that he was being truthful. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Frankie,” Your voice cracked on the admission. “I’m fine at my job, but nobody can see that, and I don’t feel satisfied by the work that I’m doing but it’s all I know! I can’t just quit, I don’t have any other plan, this is everything I’ve worked for and—“ Your ramble broke off into sobs, your breath hitching as Frank shushed you quietly. 

“I know, I know, doll. It sucks right now and I’m so sorry.” Rubbing a hand over your back, Frank encouraged you to breathe, waiting until your lungs could actually take in oxygen before continuing. “Sweetheart, if ya wanna quit, I’ll support ya. If ya wanna stick it out, I’ll support ya. Regardless of what you choose, I’ll be right here at the end of the day.” 

“I can’t quit, Frank, we need the money.” You whimpered. 

“Hey, we can figure it out if we need to. It ain’t a problem.” 

Nodding against his palm, you considered your options. “For now, I’ll stick it out. But, thank you.” 

“No need to thank me, honey. It’s my job to look out for ya, remember?” His sappy remark sparked a tiny smile from you. “You’re my girl, sweetheart. I’m always gonna take care of my girl.” 

Nuzzling into his chest, you stifled a yawn before abruptly looking up at him with wide eyes. “Shit, Frankie, what time is it? Did I miss dinner?” Wriggling out of his embrace, you wiped the lingering tears off your face before sitting up. Frank bit his tongue to keep from chuckling at your genuine concern. 

“Dinner is waiting for us, sweet girl. I’m in no rush.” Cradling your neck, Frank pressed a languid kiss to your lips, taking advantage of your distraction and flipping you on top of him. 

“Frank!” You squealed, beaming down at him with more happiness than he’d seen from you in weeks. 

“What?” He questioned innocently, gently leading your face back to his for another kiss. 

“What’s gotten into you?” You wondered aloud, returning the kiss but looking at him with feigned exasperation. 

“I ain’t allowed to love on you now?” Frank asked, raising an eyebrow at you. 

You rolled your eyes, shuffling off of him and out of the bed. “C’mon, you sap. Let’s eat the dinner you made before it’s ruined.” 

As the night sky populated with stars, Frank doted on you insistently. He’d reheated your dinner, turned on your favorite movie, even brought you a pint of your favorite ice cream for dessert. You’d gratefully accepted his comforts, yet he still seemed to be holding back. As he puttered around in the kitchen, doing the dishes alone (he’d staunchly refused your help), you could see the wheels turning in his brain. 

“Frank, is something wrong?” You asked, picking at a stray thread along the seam of the blanket he’d wrapped around your shoulders, gazing over at him as your heart rate pounded anxiously.

“Huh?” Your timid question snapped him out of his thoughts, his hands nearly flinging the soapy dish across the room as he spun towards you. “Oh, uh, no. Nothing’s wrong, sweetheart.” 

Unconvinced, you nodded, nibbling on a hangnail poking out from your thumb. In an attempt to self-soothe, you shifted your attention back to the tv, but Frank’s energy still seemed out of place. 

Placing the last plate in the dishrack, Frank dried his hands, ambling over to you with a hesitant smile. “I gotta ask ya something, doll.”

Nervousness spiking, you nodded, tilting your head in anticipation of his query.

“If I asked ya to call in sick tomorrow, what would ya say?” Frank’s jaw was tight as he asked, clearly expecting anger in response.

“I’d say absolutely, love. Why do you ask?” “I was hopin’ you’d wanna take an extra day, to escape those assholes and maybe do something fun?” If you didn’t know any better, you’d say Frank Castle looked nervous. His eyes flirted between your gaze and his lap, his trigger finger twitching. 

“Oh, Frank, I’d love that!” You gushed, throwing your arms around him. He grunted in surprise, his own hands coming up to hold you in place so you didn’t topple off the couch. “I’ve been hesitant to take sick days because everyone’s been so on edge lately, will you sit with me when I call in?” 

“Course I will. If anyone gives ya trouble, they’ll have me to answer to.” Frank assured you with a menacing glint in his eye. Kissing his nose, you stroked a knuckle over his stubbled cheek. 

“Thank you, handsome.” 

“Anything for my girl.” 

True to his word, Frank made sure you were seated comfortably in his lap when you called in sick, both so that he could rub reassuring circles along your waist, and so that he could hook his chin over your shoulder to listen for any flack you might be given. Fortunately for your boss, they grumbled an “ok” and hung up quickly. Anything ruder than that, and they might have been on The Punisher’s shit list. 

Sinking backwards into your boyfriend’s sturdy chest, you shuddered. “Glad that’s over with.” Breathing deeply, you took a moment to collect your anxious self before standing to get ready for the day. Or, trying to stand, at least. 

A set of strong hands caught your hips, yanking them backwards to hold you in Frank’s lap. 

“Frank!” A small fit of giggles burst out of you as his fingers pressed into your ticklish skin. 

“What’s the hurry, doll? We’ve got all day.” Planting heated kisses along your neck, you felt Frank smile when you mewled in response. “Attagirl, let me make ya feel good, hmm?” 

Whisking you back to the bedroom, Frank helped you forget all about your shitty job. 

Slightly breathless following your morning exercise, you hummed happily as Frank continued to press his lips to the exposed flesh of your body, taking care to show every piece of you as much love as possible. Boxing you in with his massive arms, he molded his beautifully crooked nose against yours, finishing his trail of kisses with a lengthy kiss to your lips. 

“So, what did you have planned for today?” You asked against his lips, threading a hand in his hair. 

“Nothin’ much. I was thinkin’ maybe nice coffee and a trip to that museum you’ve been talkin’ about?” A blush crept over his cheeks. “Sorry, doll, I, uh, I ain’t too good with this…” He gestured between the two of you. 

“Aw, Frankie,” You scolded gently, kissing him tenderly. “You’re plenty good at ‘this’.” You mirrored his gesture and he rolled his eyes. “I’m serious, honey. You’re the most romantic partner I’ve ever had. And that plan sounds lovely. Let me clean up and we can go for coffee.” 

As you curled into a seated position, Frank caught your wrist. “Hey! Where do you think you’re goin’?” 

“To wash up!” You giggled, striding back over to the bed where he slotted you between his legs. 

“Nah, you’re gonna sit right here while I draw you a bath. And I’m gonna run to the coffee place across the street and get ya one of those sugary drinks ya like so much. Then we can go out, if ya feel up to it.” His demanding tone made you smirk, his military tendencies tended to come out when he was concerned about you. 

“That sounds perfect, love.” You kissed his cheek, sitting on the bed as he headed to the bathroom. 

The rest of the day passed quickly, leaving you longing for more cozy time with Frank. Though he considered himself lacking in the romance department, he’d provided you nothing but pure love on your day off, indulging your every whim just to see you smile. 

And as you fell asleep at the end of the day, you clung tightly to him, trusting him to get you through whatever life threw your way.

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #the punisher #marvel #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle x you #frank castle x female reader #frank castle imagine #frank castle angst #the punisher imagine #the punisher x reader #punisher #jon bernthal #jon bernthal fanfiction #my writing #fc #leah answers

[songfell-ut]

Songfell anniversary post, pt 1

Eyyy so four years ago today, I posted the first three chapters of my story on AO3, having seen an unfinished comic and gotten permission from the artist to write a fic using her premise. This here is the first piece of Songfell art ever, commission from the OG comic creator, @lostmypotatoes 👌

So! I am not posting any new content for the moment. My mom has been having health problems, including me having to help take her to the ER (she's fine, just needs to stay in bed for a while), which delays actual writings a bit. What I am doing is reposting art from four years of Tumblr! C'mon down memory lane, wheeeeee

(Part 2, Part 3)

This is going to be in VERY VERY approximate chronological order as it depicts stuff in the story. Stuff with no set place in the story will be guesstimated because I have that power ah ha ha ha ha

Disclaimer: I've pulled all of these from posts or reblogs made by this specific blog. If I didn't see or repost any Songfell art you've done, especially for the videos, I did not leave it out on purpose. I threw in exactly one image from Discord for the sake of completing a set, but that was it.

In cases of multiple...okay it's just the fork scene that has multiple iterations because everyone liked it, but besides the opening one here (which is still my AO3 pfp!), the one that was the first piece of non-commissioned art I ever got will be first. Enjoy!

This was the first non-potatoes art in the videos, I believe, done by the superlative @venelona (probably the most prolific of the arts on here), when somebody realizes he's gonna lose 😘

The collection skips ahead to Sans contemplating killing the nice lady and then totally randomly thinking of Kris instead, by @mambourin D: But whaddya know--

See? That's the sound of losing, son

That's the sight of losing, by @sharkowskii, whose work speaks for itself. Here's the whole thing, colored fantastically by Vene.

Know what else they did together, and happens once he's been knocked out?

(Look at this so good holy shit) Frisk's had a bit of a tired, scared cry in the hall, and it's time to face her new guest head-on.

I lost my mind at least a little bit when I first saw these, ngl. I can't find the next page that she did for the compiled "movie" video 😢 But now we're coming up on a fun bit of Songfell lore!

I was scrolling through Tumblr and glanced over what looked like a picture of my Frisk ha ha that was kind of VENELONA DID A THING WAIT WHAT

First ever fanart, that's what. We have a High Priestess who is completely done with his goddamn nonsense, and

Pictured: goddamned nonsense. N-Not like he LIKES you, baka

Aaand here's my Discord pfp, by @xxkoichiixx (who seems not to be on here anymore D:).

And here's a very plausible alternate outcome by @vafro1.

Though this was a bit more like it, thanks to @naomyart.

Oh look a distraction after he was stupid what are the odds (Catler1!)

Last and never least (none of you are >:( so there), puns are dumb and it turns out they're into it. The End...for now

...

Bonus outtake recording illustration from @dale-the-human

#songfell #songfell anniversary post #dale's dogs fearlessly protect her against useable audio

[froizetta]

WIP Wednesday: baby edition

This week I present my first attempt at writing DC fic for a pairing other than superbat - but, you know, only barely because this is for superbat mini, aka jondami. This is the start of a fic I'm planning out about Jon and Damian through the years (ignoring Bendis' timeskip because I can) in a coming of age story, in which Jon tries to deal with figuring out he's bi and having a crush on his cool(-ish) older best friend. Working title: Puberty Fucking Sucks because like. It just does.

It started when Jon was 12.

There wasn’t anything special about the day itself. In fact, it was pretty ordinary: a normal Thursday afternoon where he and Damian were passing the time between school and patrol in their base, as they did every week. Damian was sitting on the floor with his back to the couch, curled over his sketchbook, doing… Well, Jon didn’t know what Damian put in his sketchbook, since he’d made Jon promise not to look. Jon was nice and a good friend – and maybe a little scared of what Damian might consider fair retribution – so he always humored him.

Meanwhile, Jon was slumped on the couch, putting off doing his homework by half-reading a manga that Damian had recommended. A…shujo? Shogo? Some kind of romance thing. Whatever it was, it wasn’t really enough to capture Jon’s attention. So instead, he found himself watching Damian.

They’d been best friends for most of the last 2 years at this point, so Damian was very familiar to him at this point. But in his boredom, Jon found himself focusing on the details of his face in a way he hadn't before, looking at the parts and not the whole. His eyes were slanted and striking, piercingly and vividly green even hidden below the thick, dark sweep of his lashes. His nose had a little bump at the bridge, and his mouth was small and turned down at the corners, so he always looked a little grumpy even when he was in a good mood. His hair was dark and crazy thick (it was an Arab thing apparently, or so Damian had told him when he’d mentioned it one time) and it was surprisingly soft when he didn’t style it. Jon knew that from personal experience, because once Damian had let Jon hug him during a sleepover when he’d had a nightmare, and Jon couldn’t help but rub his face into it a little, like a cat. Damian had grumbled a little but hadn’t pulled away

Damian was really pretty, Jon thought. It wasn’t a new thought. Damian had always been pretty – though not pretty like girls were pretty, just…attractive. It was just a fact of life, in the way that most actors and pop stars and even Damian’s own parents were just obviously, objectively nice to look at.

But still, something about this Damian was different from the version that lived in Jon’s head. He was still shorter than Jon, although not by much. But even though Damian was smaller than him, he somehow looked…more. Older. His hands had always been long and kinda elegant, but now they looked as strong as Jon knew they were. And his jaw was no longer round and soft like Jon’s, but sharp and defined. Masculine. There was a breadth to his shoulders that felt new, even though logically it couldn’t be since he saw Damian most days, but…but somehow he hadn’t really noticed it before. It made his uniform blazer hang differently, in a way that felt weirdly distracting.

Damian wasn’t just pretty anymore, he realized. Damian was handsome. And Jon wasn’t sure why, but something about that thought got to him, made him feel weirdly hot and squirmy inside.

He quickly buried his face in the pages of the manga he wasn’t reading. He’d felt like this before, months ago. He was watching a commercial break with his parents and the pretty actress on screen had really enjoyed her branded yoghurt. Jon had gone very quiet and very red, and his dad had shot him a knowing look. Which was pretty much the most embarrassing thing that had ever happened to anyone ever.

Jon had mumbled something about finishing his homework and fled upstairs. He spent most of that evening typing a bunch of awkward questions into google in private browsing mode. And then after that, he’d guiltily rewatched that yoghurt commercial a few dozen times – but on mute, so his dad couldn’t hear. His attempt at secrecy didn't really pay off, because a week later his dad had come into his room and sat him down for a Talk, as in the Talk, which had firmly pushed the yoghurt incident itself to second place in the ranking of Most Embarrassing Things.

But…but this didn’t make sense, Jon thought to himself. Why would Jon be having yoghurt commercial feelings about Damian? Damian was his best friend!

He chanced a peek at Damian over the top of his manga. It was still just Damian, familiar and sulky and way lamer than he liked to pretend he was. His best friend, Damian. He had his head bowed, pink tongue poking out between his lips like it did when he was intensely focused, and for some reason Jon couldn’t stop staring—

He forcibly ripped his gaze away, mortified. Oh no, this was weird. This was so weird. The yoghurt commercial was rapidly being pushed to third place in the rankings. He needed to leave right now.

He stood abruptly. “Hey, so I’m gonna go.”

Damian turned his head to look at him sharply. His habitual scowl was tinged with confusion. “What? Go where? We’re supposed to patrol in an hour.”

“Just training,” Jon said, false-bright. “I’m gonna work on some stuff. Training stuff.”

The confusion was very much still present. “Oookay?” Damian said. He flipped his sketchbook closed. “Did you want to spar? I could—”

“Nope,” Jon chirped, already edging towards the door. He was trying very hard to look at anything but Damian, which was probably super suspicious, but. Looking at Damian just felt like a lot, okay?

“It’s just some dumb superpower training my dad told me to do,” he continued. “It wouldn’t interest you, trust me. So you can just stay right here, while I go…away from here.” He winced. “Anyway, see you at patrol!”

He didn’t wait for Damian to respond before he turned and marched out of the room, well aware that he was acting absolutely insane but completely powerless to stop it. Thankfully, even though Jon knew Damian was incredibly suspicious of his behavior, he didn’t follow him.

Jon spent the rest of the time before patrol carefully carving patterns into wooden blocks with his heat vision and trying not to think about Damian’s opinions on Activia.

#dc #super sons #damijon #jondami #which one do people normally use?? #jonathan kent #damian wayne #my fic #it honestly feels a little awkward writing about what a 12 year old finds attractive about a 15 year old #especially since I have limited personal experience to draw on #but I tried!

[jackleg-penwright]

Universal Translator head-canon

In case you’re actually coming to this post because you like my Tumblr, instead of coming from the AO3 link in my fic, I should probably mention that I’m kind of hijacking my account here in order to break down some of the quite frankly ridiculous amounts of worldbuilding that goes into the stuff I’m starting to write. I’m autistic, which in my case means that I was the kid who sorted her legos for hours (by color, by width, by length etc) and never did get around to building anything. For me, the worldbuilding is the fun part, while writing the story is the work (though I do hope I’m pretty decent at it too, or at least getting better). 

I don’t want to put the worldbuilding itself into the fics, that would just distract from the story (my acting teachers would always say, never act your homework. When you’re on stage/camera, you have to be in the moment) - but just in case you’re curious, or if you want to use my aliens in your fics, or if you’re just a nerd like me who loves sorting details for their own sake, here it is.

This one is my head-canon for how the Universal Translator works. 

Well, actually I don’t have any idea how it works - do you hear a real-time voice in your head translating, does a text-based translation pop up in your field of vision, does your brain just know what they mean? Not a clue.

But what I do figure is that you can choose how it’s translated - both for words, and for numbers and systems.

There are a number of levels that are preset for you to choose.

There’s translate everything, where everything you hear is turned into the closest approximation that you would understand. If someone said “para mi es chino,” you would hear “it’s all Greek to me,” even though the Spanish version actually references Chinese. Idioms are converted to the closest with a similar meaning.

Then there’s the level where you get the meanings at the level of phrases and expressions, but idioms are left intact. So if someone said “me gusta pasta,” you would hear “I like pasta," but if they said "para mi es chino," you'd hear "for me, it's Chinese" instead of the closest English idiom.

At the next level down, you would instead hear “pasta is pleasing to me.” The literal meaning of the words is preserved, although the word order is rearranged to make the most sense grammatically.

That’s probably as minimalist a translation as anyone who’s interested in the unique beauty of a language would choose to go, and that’s the most minimalist of the pre-sets available.  

If you actually want to LEARN the other language, then you’ll switch to manual settings. Ok, there’s one more pre-set, which is the “vocabulary only” setting. Every word is translated literally, and left in the exact order of the other language. So if someone said “me gusta pasta,” you would hear “to me, pleases pasta.” 

From the vocabulary-only setting, you can manually adjust all sorts of things - you can set specific words or phrases to be entirely untranslated whenever you hear them, you can have a literal translation but use the native-speaker’s original prefixes or suffixes. You can have the parts-of-speech information that’s embedded in the grammar be added to the translation (so “me gusta pasta” might include information like reflexive verb first person singular etc). The sky’s kind of the limit with the manual settings - you can even take a preset level and modify it so that you hear the native suffixes to your own words (which I suspect is where fan-terms like “federaji” come from). 

My headcanon is that when they recorded the episodes, there is a universal translator embedded in the recording equipment, and which settings it is on is chosen by the director for the purposes of his or her artistic vision for the episode. That’s why we hear Klingons speaking English - except when we don’t. 

There’s a whole other set of settings when it comes to numbers and units of measurement etc, which I may or may not get to in another note. For now, suffice it to say that the settings that both Garak and Julian use translate numbers automatically, but leave the units untranslated. So if I had those settings, and I were to travel from the US to the UK and hear people talking about a heat wave of 39 degrees, my translator would not automatically translate the centigrade to the 102.2 degrees fahrenheit I’d be able to picture - I’d hear 39 degrees and have to learn just how hot that actually is. 

I think, as xenophiles, both Julian and Garak would find that appealing.

#Anzoni worldbuilding #excessive worldbuilding #I know you're coming from AO3 #Universal Translator #star trek headcanon

[giggly-bun]

Sticky Situation {KaeBedo}

A/N [WARNING THIS IS A TICKLE FIC] if you don’t like it, don’t read it. Sorry for any mistakes that i’ve made but i hope if you read this I hope you enjoy it. hehe i missed writing especially kaebedo (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵) - bunny🔮

The life of a scientist was always what one could consider adventurous. The life of a scientist with a pirate boyfriend was what Albedo would consider disastrous. Albedo considered himself a well-organised, intellectual, devote of anything distracting and too chaotic. Kaeya was his complete foil, providing what he describes as much-needed chaos and mischief. And mischievous he was. 

The chief of alchemy was currently in his usual work place, defying the bitter cold of Dragonspine, working on a new experiment. He had the brilliant idea to come up with a spider-like webbing substance, able to attach itself to objects to keep them in place. His cavalry captain boyfriend sat further away by the fire, battling a nip on the nose from Jack Frost. He was previously watching his boyfriend at work, he enjoyed the way Albedo’s face contorted with curiosity and confusion, however he decided to take a look at a few potions lying next to him. Until…

“Oh shit!” He heard Albedo say in the corner, cursing out loud. Kaeya jumped up at the noise of concern and jogged over to his lover. 

“Albedo what happened? Did you hurt yourself?” Kaeya asked, voice laced with concern. 

“No, no, I’m alright, it’s just that my arms are stuck.” Albedo said, gesturing to where his arms were currently tied up and held above his head. He tried to tug his arms down to show that he was truly stuck. “Well, at least I know that invention works.” He said, half-heartedly. 

Upon further inspection of the situation, now knowing he isn’t hurt, Kaeya let out a few giggles. “You alchemists always seem to find yourselves in the stickiest of situations.” And he continued to snicker. How thankful Albedo was that he didn’t bring his Kamera with him today. 

“Ha ha ha, laugh it up cavalry captain, very funny. When you’re done being a royal pain, can you reach into my pocket and get the solvent to release me? I wasn’t that foolish to not make a back-up plan.” The blond asked, rolling his eyes at his boyfriend. 

Kaeya let some residual laughter slip first before walking closer to the alchemist. “Alright I’ll get it.” The blue haired man set his sights on getting the solvent and freeing his partner, so he snuck his hand into Albedo’s right pant pocket, in search. 

“I’m not really sure which pocket it’s in, so just have a feel ar-GYAH!” Albedo suddenly yelped. 

Kaeya looked up with sudden urgency. “What? What’s happened now? Is the solution burning, Albedo?” He scanned the smaller’s face, looking for any face of pain or agony. What he received instead was a slight rosy tint to the elder’s cheeks, followed by some wary eyes. 

“Uhh n-no no it um... I’m okay, Kaeya, just please look for the solvent.” Albedo stammered out. 

Truthfully, as Kaeya was feeling around for the elixir, he had temporarily scratched over Albedo’s hypersensitive hip, causing the squawk that he let out. Albedo would rather die than admit that such a small gesture tickled so much, but the thin fabric of the pocket made it very much possible. Although, Albedo may have tried to play off his reactions, Kaeya was no fool, and he knew his boyfriend all too well to be deceived by him. While his head was ducked down, a smirk grew on Kaeya’s face. 

“Albedo, dear, are you sure the solution is in here? I don’t seem to be able to find it.” He asked, feigning innocence. Kaeya reached deeper into the pocket, using his index finger to ‘accidentally’ brush past the prominent hip bone he could feel. The young alchemist squeaked again. He was getting antsy with every touch.

“K-Kaeya plehease hurry… I-I’m sure it’s in there, just don’t take too long, I don’t want to be here long.” Honestly, he didn’t really care about the position of his arms, until he realized how absolutely vulnerable and defenceless he was in said position. He was hoping the taller hadn’t caught on to how he was acting and how utterly flustered he was. How wrong he was. 

Kaeya looked up at him with a devilish smile. “What’s the matter, sweetheart? Why are you fidgeting so much if you’re not hurt?” He knew. “My touch isn’t bothering you, is it?” Oh, he knew. 

“Kaeya d-don’t do this…” He pleaded. Albedo cursed the way his voice came out timid and nervous; he really couldn’t hide from his boyfriend. 

“Do what, darling?” Kaeya thought, surely there would be no way that he would fall for this. 

“Tihickle me.”

Well, would you look at that!

A wicked smirk began to grow on the taller’s face as he watched the way Albedo’s eyes widened in realization. 

“As you wish, my prince.” 

“No n-no kaehaya plehease p-please let’s- PLEHEHEHEHEEE!” Albedo’s sentence was lost between high-pitched cackles and boisterous giggles. He pulled at his bound hands, desperately trying to bring them down to protect himself, as Kaeya used his two index fingers to hook and scratch around his hips. The blond began to panic, knowing how devastatingly sensitive that area was, and Kaeya knew too. He smiled with pride at the reaction. 

“Please what, dear? Please help you find the solvent? Well, I’m looking my best here, but it just doesn’t seem to be in here. I’ll keep looking just for you though.” And he shot the smaller a wink before returning to his ticklish activities. 

Honestly, the action he was doing was very minimal, just two fingers nibbling away at his skin relatively lightly, but that was already enough to bring Albedo to the state he was in now. And he knew it would only escalate from here. 

“Kaeya! PleheHEASE I cAHA- EEK! nohohot thehehehehere PLEASE” Albedo pleaded between giggles, attempting to bring his knees up to save himself. Kaeya just chuckles. 

“But Bedo, I can’t go anywhere else. I’m fulfilling my duty as your lover to help you out of your spider-web like predicament. I would appreciate it if you could do your part and stay still, please.” Kaeya said in that ever-teasing tone, as if he wasn’t tickling the snot out of his partner right now. It flustered Albedo tenfold, the way he acted so nonchalant about this. 

“Ihihihihi cahahan’t- NAHAnahaha HEHEHEHE” 

“Sure you can, sweetheart! Look, I’ll help you stay still, watch.” Albedo had about half a second to furrow his eyebrows before his face shifted back into that beaming smile and bright laughter. Kaeya had slotted his thumbs right into the divot of the blond’s hipbones, using his four fingers to vibrate where his hips met his back. Albedo screeched.

“WAHAHAIT- NO ahahahaha OHOHO MY- k-kaeya! ihihihit tihihihihihickles.” Albedo shook his head, trying to diffuse the sensations. 

Kaeya kept up his act of innocence, holding back his own bout of laughter. “Tickles? Albedo it shouldn’t tickle, I’m helping you.” He said, massaging his thumbs deeper into the pockets. 

“thihihis IHIHISNT he-heHEHEHEHEHELPING! hmphf- mmmhehehe nohoho-“ Albedo tried to close his mouth and muffle his laughter, but the dam had already broken, and he couldn’t even hope to keep his giggling at bay. 

His face was burning red, this was absolutely humiliating. He was the professional, well-kept, chief alchemist for archon’s sake! But he was anything from professional right now. And Kaeya was revelling in the sight of being able to undo his boyfriend like this. 

“God, you’re absolutely adorable, you know. How are your hips this ticklish? So sensitive to my touch, I bet this is just breaking you, isn’t it?” The teasing lilt to the blue haired man’s voice was just as maddening as the actual sensation. Albedo could have held out longer if he wasn’t tickling that spot. He squealed, screeched, snorted and giggled his head off. 

“ohohoHOHO ARHOHOHONS! I’m sorry! I’m sohohorry S-SOHOHOREEEEE-“ He didn’t know what he was apologizing for, he had done absolutely nothing wrong, yet it seemed to be the only word on his mind right now; the only capable sentence he was able to form. Kaeya giggled. 

“What’re you sorry for, my prince?” Kaeya mused. 

“IHIHIHI D-DOHOHON’T GAH! IHIHI DOHOHONT KNOW P-PLEHEHEASE” By now, his knees had given out beneath him, and he was purely being held up by Kaeya’s wiggling fingers. 

After a few more seconds of tortuous tickling, Albedo’s laughter fell silent, broken up by wheezing and some soft snorts, and Kaeya knew he’d reached his limit. He slowed his hands, limiting it to very light and slow tracing. 

“Good news, Bedo! I think I found the solvent, stay still, and I’ll get it for you.” Kaeya said, a bright smile on his face, mirroring his lover’s. 

“Huhuhurry plehehease.” He giggled out, taking the break to regain the oxygen he’d lost by laughing. 

Kaeya reached further into the pocket and pulled out the small glass vial containing a luminescent liquid. He pulled his hands completely out of the pockets, ceasing the tickles completely. He poured the liquid onto his boyfriend’s wrists and soon enough, it melted away, Albedo falling limp into his arms. 

“Does that feel better, my prince?” He asked, but the other could barely answer, still giggling his head off into Kaeya’s chest. The latter held a fond smile as he kept his arms around Albedo. A few more seconds and Albedo stood shakily on his legs. 

“Y-Yohohou are nehehever cohoming to work with mehe again.” He said, less threatening than he intended. Kaeya barked out a laugh and kissed Albedo’s nose. 

“You are unbelievably cute.” 

#tickle fic #tickling #genshin tickle #lee!albedo #ler!kaeya

[practically-an-x-man]

1, 4, 6, 10 for Heart in Your Hands and/or Catch and Release?

Ooh thank you!!!

Answers under the cut for space :D

1: What inspired you to write the fic this way?

HIYH: We're really just getting started so that's hard to answer at the moment... I guess I wanted to play with perspectives a little more, contrasting Lars' modern and scientific worldview with Jimmy's more historic but curious perspective. And I wanted to take a few tropes, like the "true love's kiss" trope, and revamp them in a way that I found more appealing.

C&R: Hm... I think my main goal in this one was themes of grief and family, which I think I accomplished, but I also wanted to play around with this grief-stricken, somewhat guarded antihero character since that was a perspective I hadn't touched quite as much with my other characters. And I had just seen No Way Home three times in theaters and I wanted desperately to try and fit my own character into that world to the point that people would start to forget she wasn't really there in the movie.

4: What’s your favorite line of dialogue?

HIYH: Again, not much of a pool to pick from yet, but... this interaction was one of the first that popped into my head, and I just think it's so funny:

“You’re… shockingly normal.” Lars blurted, unable to help himself.  “You’re shockingly British.” the spirit responded, baring him another of those little half-smiles, “Where’ve you taken me, stranger?”

C&R: Oooh, there are a lot of lines to pick from here, I really love Olly's sharp wit. I could write a whole essay on her entrance into the battle with Charybdis, but instead I'm gonna go with this line from the fight on Lady Liberty:

“You like hip-hop? Or is jazz more your style?” Max taunted, lifting his hands. Argonaut kept her eyes on his palms, waiting for a spark. Even as she did, her mouth was running. “I prefer tango.” she said calmly, the only warning before her actuators came flying out at him. One claw slammed him mercilessly into the scaffolding, the resulting screech of metal on metal almost enough to make her wince. With two claws still anchoring her, the fourth and final spiraled outwards, reaching for the reactor glued to his chest. Argonaut grinned. “You had it coming.”

It's the combination of her mouth running on its own, automatically firing off these sharp quips about fighting-as-dancing and all that, while inwardly she's distracted by Peter's good-luck kiss and promise to take her to a Broadway show when everything's over (the "you had it coming" is a reference to the Cell Block Tango from Chicago)

6: What makes this fic special or different from all your other fics?

HIYH: It's got a lighter overall tone than my other fics, and it's going to stay there. The darkest this one will get is the canon events in Frozen Empire, and even that's brief. Currently Heartstrings is a little fluffier than this one overall, but Heartstrings is gonna have some killer angst once we get to it.

C&R: It's the closest I get to a crossover fic. Usually I stick to one canon or universe, and I am still sticking to the general world of Spider-Man in this one, but we get surprise appearances from Hobie, references to Spiderverse's LYLA, and of course all the multiverse-jumping in No Way Home itself. I have to say, it's a BEAST to keep track of, but I think it's paid off.

10: Why did you choose this pairing for this particular story?

HIYH: I knew I wanted to write for Lars since he seemed like a really neat character (and he's kinda cute ngl), and while his sexuality isn't ever stated or even hinted at in the movie as far as I could tell, I think his character works well as a gay man and I really wanted to explore the dynamic between his modern view on queerness compared to Jimmy's hidden-in-life/brave-in-death approach.

C&R: I've been a longtime fan of Andrew Garfield's Peter Parker, and I wanted to look at this, like... "two ships passing in the night" sort of romance as brought on by the multiverse. And he's super super bi, so I wanted to give him a partner who is equally bi and have them both be open about those past relationships.

In general, I tend to build my OCs to complement the canon characters, so I can explore some really neat character dynamics and relationships. That's also why I like writing OC x Canon rather than fully canon-character or fully OC ships most of the time, it allows me to build one character as a tool to explore whatever dynamic I want to capture with the other, like an extended character study. It's the challenge of keeping the canon character(s) reasonably accurate to their source material, while putting them into situations where they're interacting with someone completely new.

#my friends!!! #answered asks #my writing #heart in your hands fic #catch and release fic #ask game

[istadris]

Hey, i hope this isn't a bother, but i really like that short fic you wrote where mario and luigi are sleeping next to a campfire while mario thinks to himself, imo you nail their characters so well and the premise itself is so sweet :')! I reread it every so often when i need a pick-me-up sjkshd,,

But there's a part in it thats a little hard for me to understand and i really want to, its this paragraph:

"And it hurt Mario every time. He knew he didn't understand, couldn't understand how it felt to always be scared. It even frustrated him at times, but he knew it was not something he could change and he had learned to live with it. It didn't mean he should put Luigi through it."

Who is frustrated at what? What did he know he couldn't change and learnt to live with? What shouldn't mario put luigi through?

Again i apologize if its obvious, im not a native English speaker but i really really love this fic and i can tell this paragraph is a heart wrencher and i wanna fully understand it hskdhdk,,,

I hope youre doing well! Thank you for writing such a heartwarming short story :')

First of all, thank you so much for this sweet ask, Anon! I'm very happy this fic comforts you, I have a special fondness for it since it was my first try at writing in this fandom !

Don't worry about asking ! English isn't my native language either, or maybe I could have worded that part better.

To answer your questions : Mario gets frustrated at times by Luigi's anxiety and cowardice. Usually they both manage around it, but sometimes it acts up at the worst times, and as patient as Mario is with Luigi, he's still only human, and as much as they understand each other, they're still two different people and have both parts of themselves the other can't fully understand. In Mario's case, he can't completely put himself in Luigi's shoes when it comes to his fears, and he can't completely understand what it's like to always be scared.

But, and I insist on that, Mario doesn't hold it against Luigi, ever. His frustration comes from the danger Luigi's cowardice can draw (freezing in the middle of a fight, running away from something ready to chase you, freaking out and getting hurt, distracting Mario at a crucial time...).

He knows Luigi's nature can't be changed easily and it will do nothing good to force him. Instead, he does his best to keep Luigi out of stressful situations, and provides an anchor for Luigi to get through the difficult times when they can't avoid them.

The thing is, most stressful things in their lives come from their adventures, and Mario feels guilty that by taking his brother with him, he's exposing him to danger and stress. He feels it's not fair for Luigi to face his worst fears just because he came along with Mario.

As mentioned after in the fic, his method to keep Luigi away from that stress is to leave him home, but then Luigi will get anxious anyway because he worries he's a dead weight for his brother due to his cowardice. Luigi then will try to get out of his comfort zone for Mario's sake, and sometimes it works, and sometimes it don't. Which is why Mario feels anxious in turn that he can't just find the perfect solution, like he's supposed to do.

I hope I could make it more clear for you !

#super mario bros #Ista writes #the quiet of night #answers

[notasapleasure]

I'm asking aLL THE FIC WRITER MEMES!!! in reverse order from current WIP back through your published works

Omg thank you, you mad man! But you know now I’m wondering just how much homework you set your actual students… ^^;

So I’ve chosen to interpret this in a very literal way. I started with the bottom ask and applied it to the current WIP, and worked backwards through my fics as I went up the list. I didn’t answer any of the ones that needed a trope or ship picking, but am still open to being asked if anyone wants!

★ what was the scene you most wanted to write in [fic]? what was the hardest scene to write?

(Whumptober 2022 day 31: Comfort | Bedside Vigil | “You can rest now.”) The whole thing is really just one scene, but it really did epitomise the eternal problem with writing Francis/Jerott, which is how do you get them to stop being smart with each other and just. Open up a little? Of course this opening up is also the scene I want most to write at any given time. Though any and all Jerott whump makes my horrible little gremlin brain happy, so to be able to include various flashbacks to times Jerott was having an even worse day was fun. And Francis feeling guilty about the kiss in Anemone was also fun >:} But I think finishing this one was hard. I wanted to push for more intimacy between them but that isn’t where either of them is at this point, but Francis’ care for Jerott even in his disappointment – AND VICE VERSA – is honestly one of my favourite things about Checkmate, so it was trying to do that justice while keeping them in-character.

✿ did anything major change when you started writing [fic] to when you finished?

(Only Ever Just One Night). I initially thought I’d write follow-up chapters. I had a mean little desire to whump Brasso and have Cassian get him out of a Situation. But it would have meant Plot, which I never fully managed to figure out, and then I got distracted writing lead-up smut to the friends-with-benefits situation instead. But on the whole what’s posted wrote itself really easily – it’s often the way with my first fic in a new fandom, all the initial impressions and headcanons come gushing out before I can start making problems for myself by overthinking.

☉ what do you do when you get stuck writing?

Ahhh, sulk? Nah, it doesn’t happen too often, and usually I manage to knuckle on through. A tried and tested method is a two hour bath lol. Lock the door, turn my music on, nothing to do except figure out that tricky bit of bridging. Usually results in fewer words than it feels like, but gets me through sections I’m struggling with. Also just leaving gaps and continuing to write the bit I want to write, knowing I can go back and join things together later. Making a playlist to remind myself of vibes helps, too.

✄ what’s your editing process?

I re-read quite a lot and tinker with things as I go. I quite like editing (good job as I do it all day), and I like seeing things come together, but I am awful at kill your darlings. I’m writing for fun so I just leave it all in – ‘sure this might not be relevant relevant but it adds fLAvourrrr!!’ I will stick a bunch of line-breaks in or use highlighting/bold to remind myself that a section doesn’t read well or needs adding to, though, and try to go back and figure it out before I let myself continue much further.

✦ what was your easiest fic to write & your hardest?

Some of the Whumptober days were like pulling teeth and I think it shows. I think the sweet spot is when I have a pretty clear idea of vibes and outcome and it’s not had the chance to outgrow containment – some scenes (e.g. the chapters at the summer house in Inchoate) lie in wait in my head and when I get to that part of the fic they practically write themselves (sometimes it’s nice stuff, sometimes it’s DDDNE, but it’s basically kind of scene or action with a concrete beginning and ending). But often fitting these scenes in – what comes just before and after – is a nightmare. And like. Yeah ok, I could just write one-shots of the scenes I want to write without the thousands and thousands of words of context but – and you might have noticed this – I am a CONTEXT FIEND. In terms of stand alone fics it’s like I said above about Only Ever Just One Night – fresh in a new fandom and determined-to-get-my-thoughts-down fics are usually dead easy to write.

✎ how do you think readers would guess a fic was yours if you posted anonymously?

Ah this one’s easy: it would be LONG. Probably at least three times as long as it needed to be. For a long time very little would happen, but the minutest detail of everyone’s body language would be described and everyone would probably be in denial about their emotions/circumstances. Most likely they would fuck nasty about it.

♡ pick a fic and I’ll pick a comment that made me really happy

(Escape Velocity) Well OF COURSE I am happy the person it was dedicated to left lovely comments. But especially where you picked up on Brasso being worried about flying in ships because he knows how to take them apart, and even more especially the idea of Cassian ‘stealing’ Brasso temporarily at the moment it’s paralleling the light on Kassa’s face when he leaves Kenari :’) it’s especially pleasing when readers pick up on stuff like that.

▵ pick a fic and I’ll tell you my favorite line

(Counting on You) Still a wip, so subject to change, but I’m very pleased with ‘something crueller than punishment - the certainty that Cass is loved’ and utterly delighted that @elwenyere picked it out in a comment <3

♫ send a fic and i’ll make a 3-5 song playlist for you

(Brassian saga au) Thankfully I already have a 3 hour playlist for the vibes, so to cherry pick some essentials, here we go…

Kate Bush – Get Out of My House Sam Lee – The Devil & the Huntsman Björk – Pagan Poetry Nikniume – Nonantzin Anna B. Savage – Crown Shyness

#asks #ask memes #fic asks #my writing #my fics

[riverlethe]

(via Sailor Moon Usagi GIF - Sailor Moon Usagi Balancing Pen - Discover & Share GIFs)

Fic Authors Self Rec

When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love! 💖

Thanks to @areptiledysfunction1107 for the tag!

Here are mine, in no particular order.

1. Once More, with Feeling! This is my ongoing WiP, a re-write of the Dark Kingdom arc in which Usagi and Mamoru begin dating before learning each other’s alter egos, and then navigating a relationship in secret afterwards. It’s mostly Manga-canon from Mamoru’s perspective, and I took some liberties with Mamoru’s psychometry and plot. There’s angst-galore (who doesn’t love angst?) but also plenty of tenderness and romance.

I purposely didn’t age them up because I am a sucker for the “high school sweethearts thing” (yes, she is in Jr High, but you know what I mean) so while their relationship is very physical, (as teens tend to be), there is nothing explicit.

This was my foray into writing, if you will, because I needed a mental distraction from my health care worker job during COVID back in 2021. OMwF! has changed so much since I originally started posting it, and I just couldn’t be prouder of it considering it is my very first fanfiction, even if a few of my other stories were posted first.

Rated M

2. Home My Day 2 Contribution to UsaMamo week 2021 was supposed to be about Post-Stars Usa and Mamoru while he is at Harvard for his Study Abroad 2.0, but the story took itself in another direction. What was originally intended as a sweet story about how Usagi is “Home” for Mamoru, instead transformed into an emotional Usagi-centric introspection about the events of Stars.

And I just love it. All aboard the Feels Bus!

Rated T

3. Interlude Full discloser, this story was written for 2 reasons: 1. Because of a discussion on the Moonlight Legends Discord back in August or Sept of 2021 in which we lamented the lack of Dark Endymion and Usagi/Sailor Moon fics, and 2. Because I wanted to push myself out of my M-rated comfort zone and write some actual smut for the first time.

Now, for some, the smut-level of this story is still pretty low (I referred to it as “Diet Smut” when I originally posted it), as it wasn’t overly explicit. But when I reworked it a bit for @dendyweek, I did make it a tad more explicit. I also made the story a better a companion for another I wrote later called Consequences, a Princess D Masquerade fic inspired by @areptiledysfunction1107′s Deja Vu (and posted with her approval) that became an unintended prequel to “Interlude” (funny how that happens)

Rated E

4. What Dwells Within My Day 4 contribution for @dendyweek 2022. I really wanted to try my hand at a psychological horror inspired piece, and I had so much fun writing it. As we move further and further away from Dendy Week I find myself wishing I had done even more with this concept, perhaps even a short multi-fic, but I am so very proud of this story as it is.

Rated T

5. The Morning and Evening Star My Day 1 contribution to @sailormoonrarepairweek is all about Sailor Venus!

SilMil Venus makes an interesting proposal to Kunzite to blow off some steam, and the rest is history. While I don’t have anything against any ships involving the senshi, I just don’t really ship them with anyone. But if I did have to choose one SenShi pairing, it would be Venus/Kunzite.

This could very well be the only non-UsaMamo story I write, and I love how it turned out.

Rated E

Tagging @goddessalthena @moonchildoh8 as many others I know have already been tagged, but please feel free to share your own favs! This is open tagging! I don’t know everyone who writes, so please introduce yourself and your works!

#Sailor Moon #Usagi #Balancing Pen #tumblr games #sailor moon fanfiction #fanfiction

[bluejayblueskies]

for the writer asks:

🌿,🤍,💞

love you and your work, as always <33

fic writer asks

🌿 how does creating make you feel?

creating makes me feel a lot of things! most often proud that i've accomplished something, or excited that i get to share that something with friends. the act of creating itself is often either calming and satisfying or frustrating (often depending on the day). and there's almost always an element of self-consciousness or negativity immediately after i post something, which is often tied to that sense of pride, because i like my work a lot, and i want other people to like it to! there's a lot of emotions wrapped up in what i do, and i think overall most of them are positive, which is why i keep creating 💜

🤍 what's one fic of yours you think people didn't "get"?

hmm, i'm not sure! i don't think i have any fics where the response was generally different than i expected, or i wanted people to get something from it that they didn't. i have fics that i thought would resonate more with people that instead fell flat--half-ligh, merry and bright, and the heart is mute come to mind--but i don't know if it's that people didn't get them so much as i just didn't hit on a concept that was all that interesting to people. it happens! i move on to other things. i do have one fic, herbal remedies, that presents a more consensual take on the sex pollen trope, which i enjoy but i know some people don't (and didn't), and i personally think i did a damn good job with that fic and i'm tired of feeling bad about 'misusing the trope' or whatever. but overall--however people want to interpret my writing is probably the correct way! i leave some stuff vague on purpose.

💞 what's the most important part of a story for you? the plot, the characters, the worldbuilding, the technical stuff (grammar etc), the figurative language

for me, plot and grammar go hand-in-hand as the most important parts. a story with an excellent plot but poor grammar is hard to stumble through, and a story with perfect grammar but a boring plot is similarly probably not going to capture my attention. i think good grammar (not perfect! commas and prepositions and such can be tricky--just getting basic SPAG rules right) is the baseline for writing, and every piece of writing should have syntax that doesn't distract the reader from the story it's trying to tell. beyond that, yeah--i think a good plot is the most important part for me. of course, that's different if the story is more character-driven--but with that, i consider the characters and their motivations the plot, so i wrap back around to finding plot important. ultimately though, you need all the elements to tell a compelling story!

#ask #ask game #4nge1dust #one thing that will make me click away from a story every time no exceptions is no spacing between paragraphs on ao3 #that's not necessarily grammar; more formatting; but fixing the little things like that and running your stuff through grammarly #(which i also do!) makes a huge difference to me

[deerfests]

in the shadow of the altars!

Title: In the Shadow of the Altars Fandom: Sherlock Holmes Chapter One Relationship: There are relationships in this but the focus is on Sherlock in it, so not naming them as of yet (until I see what becomes most interesting/prominent). Summary: SHCO AU where after the game's resolution, the plot of "In the Shadow of the Altars" takes place (sort of...kind of...there are alterations to the actual plot). Comment: I am still early in this concept but I do have the whole outline of it done... for the non-Lithuanians, "In the Shadow of the Altars"* is a three-part novel (pretty lengthy one, too) telling a tale of a priest and his path to renouncing priesthood. That's the shortest way I can describe it. It's a romance novel, from one perspective, and a somewhat psychological in another. I still gotta write more of this AU, provided I will ever actually finish this... but I've been distracted lately, whoops. I don't foresee myself having well over 1k pages of this like the actual novel... but one can dream, right? Well, the fic itself-- as I said-- has a whole outline ready...paired with some interesting alterations to the actual plot of the book-- or well, I hope they are.

*("Altorių šešėly" actually, seeing as the book has no official translation I know of)

Excerpt:

Mycroft Holmes was aware his brother was rather…fragile. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he was after all—his mother’s son. That came with quite some pre-determined variables. Even now, as ‘Jon’ was gone, Sherlock still seemed uneasy. Most likely, he was not at all coping well with this. His imaginary friend had assisted him all through life till very recently, so when Sherlock came back to London and a week after announced his latest decision of what he was going to do—Mycroft was more than slightly perturbed, to say the least. The anxiety and worry from one sentence alone was more than he could have expected—it simply made no sense.

“But Sherlock! You aren’t exactly the most devout person… so why?” Usually, Mycroft could read clues and come to his own conclusion, deduce the reasoning behind a choice. But Sherlock announcing he wanted to become a priest, let alone a catholic one in England... It simply seemed like such an odd decision to what had happened in Cordona. It didn’t add up no matter which angle Mycroft looked at it. Unless… “Is this because I didn’t permit you to be arrested?” Eventually, Mycroft spoke up again as an uneasy silence settled atop of them. He barely had managed to talk his brother out of turning himself into the police, over something so unreasonable, too. For Sherlock, this just had to be another way to punish himself after what had happened.

“I’m sure I can only learn to become more devout as time goes by!” Sherlock said, sounding exhausted more so than sure of himself. “Either way, I’ll be leaving in a couple days.” His eyes managed to seem almost dead… what was happening here? Sherlock glared up at the man sitting across from him, furious enough to confirm this is exactly what this was about. Mycroft nodded, unsure how saving his brother had become such a problem in both their lives, a separating conflict as it was.

If only Sherlock managed to realize he did it all for him. He wanted to provide stability and security, to work side by side instead of against each other. By the end of the day, however, it seems his brother will never forgive him.

#my writing #ask #sirjohnbrannox

[chocolatepot]

3, 20, 37~

3. Is there a trope you wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole?

Mmmm ... I guess stuff like "female character/character of color teaches skill(s) white male protagonist who becomes better than them at it/them"? I do Yuletide and the Hurt/Comfort Exchange and one of the things I love about writing to other people's requests is trying to fit in as many of the recip's favored tropes as I can and if I cut one it's usually because I've got an idea already and that trope doesn't fit with it.

20. Describe your perfect writing conditions.

Sitting outside on the porch in a rainstorm! It seems to offer the perfect amount of external stimulation to keep me from getting antsy while being, like, generic enough that it doesn't distract me. Also, since I'm outside the cats are sitting at the window, staring at me, rather than scratching on the furniture or jumping on the table where I do bookbinding. It's perfect. Unfortunately, most of the time when it's rained lately have been while I was at work so I haven't been able to take advantage of it.

37. Talk about your current wips.

SURE! So okay, right now I'm working on a one-shot based on a short post by @wearfinethingsalltoowell speculating on what if Stede got back to the Revenge early, while Ed was deep in his depression. It's about 1700 words and they haven't even interacted yet so I expect it will be a solid one! I have no real plan for it, just writing by the seat of my pants and discovering what happens as I go along, as I usually do with one-shots.

My more serious chaptered WIP is Prisons Of Our Own Perceptions, which is outlined to some extent. The basic plotline is that instead of being rescued from the Spanish by Ed, Stede and his crew are "rescued" by a pirate not inclined to fall in love with Stede (a philistine) and the Revenge is invaded the way everyone assumed it was in ep 4. Which is all a setup for Stede and Ed to meet in a different way than in canon! And for a more halting relationship to develop between them. They still immediately hit it off, but the power dynamics are massively different (Stede is a guest on Ed's ship, having lost his own ship and crew) (they're not dead) and Stede's issues are nearer to the surface. Basically it's an excuse for me to write Ed having squishy and protective feelings about Stede, and to write Stede having to be more creative and deliberate in getting fine things for Ed - which are both fun!

My very serious long-term original WIP, which is about 2/3 done, is still untitled. It's the story of Mary Marchbanks, the youngest, countrified daughter of a beautiful widow (I'm pandering to a specific crowd); the family is invited to a cousin's house in London, which kickstarts Mary's discovery of her magical talents and ... "her true identity" implies that she's been hidden, but it's more like she discovers herself. I'm writing it in the style of an early nineteenth century novel, but the content itself isn't very typical of the time - in addition to the fantasy aspect, Mary runs away from the dangers at home in the night to live with her unconventional friends and, well, she falls in love with the girl one. Mary is totes one of my blorbos but she's been sadly neglected because of all the OFMD fic (although I'm definitely going to be taking aspects of Stede and Ed to intensify the Mary/Olive dynamics, which were already not entirely dissimilar to Blackbonnet). I've got to get back to working on it, I think it could have a nice home at Tor ...

(I almost did @caddyxjellyby's bingo prompt with Mary Marchbanks but I thought that would be too self-indulgent ajskldjakl)

#writing #ask meme

[melibemusca]

I’m finally doing the writing questionnaire that @eunyisadoran tagged me in! Thank youuu and let’s see if I can make the formatting work.

Fandoms: These days it’s Good Omens all the way down. But I have older fics from Batman (animated series) and The Enchanted Forest Chronicles that I might get around to posting on AO3.

Tropes: Happy endings. (Even if they’re a bit twisted.) Adversarial relationships that range from snarky banter to outright physical fights. Doing way too much research for unnecessary details.

Number of fics: 14 GO fics on AO3, plus the couple from other fandoms I haven’t posted.

Fic I spent the most time on: Probably The Wit of the Bee even though it’s not done yet.

Fic I spent the least time on: Fun, Fun, Fun, a Crowley/Aziraphale crack fic based on a Beach Boys song. Yep.

Longest Fic: You Can’t Win Because You Don’t Really Want To is my longest complete fic at 26K, but The Wit of the Bee is definitely going to go longer.

Shortest Fic: If comics count, then Worst At Flirting. Otherwise, Such an Old-Fashioned Word.

Most hits/kudos/comments/bookmarks: You Can’t Win Because You Don’t Really Want To (hits/comments/bookmarks) and Playing Games with Loyal Servants (kudos). This is interesting, but I cannot decipher it.

Favorite fic I wrote: I think it’s Let Me Love, the first explicit smut I ever posted. I wouldn’t have tried to write it if a commenter hadn’t requested it, and I’m very happy with how it turned out, so it feels like a tribute to the lovely community of AO3. Plus it’s got fly biology and a happy ending, what more could you ask for? ;) I’m also extremely proud of Please Come Get Prince Charmless, but that one’s only as good as it is because the best bits (including the title) were written by @goodbyevanny and @eunyisadoran.

Fic I want to rewrite/expand: There’s a part three to the Sharper than Any Two-Edged Sword series rattling around in my brain.

Share a bit of a WIP or story I’m planning: From the next chapter of The Wit of the Bee--

Baize has Gabriel’s number in their phone because they’re both emergency contacts for Adam. No other reason. If he texts them photos of any stupid thing he sees with a bee on it, a cafe sign or a t-shirt or a cutesy mug, then that’s just Gabriel’s standard idiocy. Baize can’t be bothered to tell him to stop. And if Baize occasionally stays up late scrolling through the photos and his accompanying comments “thought of you” or “buzz buzz,” then that’s their business and nobody else’s.

Baize has never, not once, texted Gabriel anything.

#fanfic #writing #ineffable bureaucracy #because that is my jam #good omens #I did this instead of writing fic which was itself a distraction from work #so it's like meta-procrastination

[littlepadika]

Calling Home (1) | Frankie Morales x Reader

Summary: You are a receptionist at the VA. Frankie Morales keeps calling. Yearning ensues...

Rating: M -> E in later chapters

Warnings: fem!reader, age gap (legal), praise kink, voice kink, discussion of addiction/PTSD/trauma, no use of y/n, no beta reader, reader is bad at Spanish, Frankie has a sexy voice 😩

Masterlist here

AN: My first fic. Pedro writers have inspired me to finally start writing again 🥺. Concept inspired by the movie RED. I hope you like it ❤️Set after triple frontier.

Chapter One

~~~~~~~~~~~

The first time he called was an ordinary Thursday.

“Veterans Affairs, how can I help you?”

You had been working at the VA office for about two weeks. Fresh out of college you felt lucky to have a job in the first place. You went to school to be a writer but your big idea for 'The Next Great American Novel' had yet to present itself. At least here you had access to the most inspiring stories and interesting people. Men and women who had seen more and done more than you probably would in your entire life. You loved talking to clients on the phone. It was weird but something about only being able to hear people’s voices excited you. You would sometimes write little stories in your head about the people you'd talk to, filling in the details that were unknown.

Your desk accessories reflected your love of books and writing. You had your growing collection of books sitting on your desk sandwiched between baby pink bookends. Next to them was a matching desk organizer filled with your favorite sparkly pens and sticky notes. You had decorated the plain cubicle walls with posters of quotes from your favorite books. You also brought your favorite candle from home. Even though you couldn’t light it you still liked to lift it to your nose once and a while and smell it between chapters. When you weren’t on the phone or scanning documents you would read. You finished To Kill A Mockingbird in your first week on the job and were now halfway through Murder on the Orient Express.

You were starting a new chapter when Frankie Morales called the first time.

You picked up the phone on the second ring already mustering your chipper 'customer service' voice. “Veterans affairs.” You stated your name. “How may I help you?”

“H-Hi. My name is Frankie- uh-Francisco Morales." A deep voice answered you. "I’m calling because I have gotten my benefits check yet. It’s been a month. I was hoping you could tell me if it got sent?”

“Okay Mr. Morales." You flipped on the computer. "Let me check. Can you spell your last name for me?”

“M-o-r-a-l-e-s”

“Okay... let's see.” You clicked on his account. You were momentarily distracted by his picture likely taken when he graduated basic if you had to guess based off the uniform. He looked sweet. Sharp nose and strong jaw balanced by kind eyes and a shy smile. You could imagine how age would continue to soften his expression making him even more handsome. The image was a strange juxtaposition to the voice you were hearing on the phone which was much deeper and rougher. His profile said he was special forces. A pilot. The rest of the information was blacked out. Something you were used to seeing on many people's accounts but even his years of service were redacted. He must have been involved in some dangerous stuff, you thought to yourself. The dates that were not redacted were mostly in Latin America. You clicked over to processing requests. “Looks like the check got sent one week ago.” You informed him.

"I'll look again but I haven't seen anything-" It sounded like he was apologizing when clearly it was not his fault.

"No no. It's probably a mistake on our end." You interrupted. With how shitty and outdated the payroll interface was you wouldn't be surprised if there was a mix up. "I’ll go ahead and let payroll know to send another."

"Great. Thanks." He replied sounding relieved. The roughness in his voice gave way to a smooth baritone.

“No problem. I'm sorry for any inconvenience it may have caused. We'll get it sent right away." You hoped he was not relying on this benefit check for anything important. While you could promise you'd fix the problem, the administration was notoriously slow. When he didn't respond you asked, "Is there anything else I can help you with today, Mr. Morales?”

“Uh-no" The roughness back in place. "Thank you." He paused before adding your name onto his thank you which made you smile. People usually never remembered your name.

“Alright. Have a nice day and thank you for your service.” You chirped before hanging up. The smile he put on your face lingered for a few minutes as you returned to your book.

The next time he called was exactly twelve days later.

“Veterans affairs” you answered, your routine greeting cut short as your eyes were still on your book.

“Hi- I’m calling because uh I still haven’t gotten my benefits check. This is Frankie Morales.”

“Oh Mr. Morales.” You recognized his voice even before he even said his name. You quickly shut your book, pushing your hair out of your face. Had you been thinking about him? No! Okay maybe you stared at his picture for a few minutes longer after he hung up. Yes, it was probably very unprofessional but you couldn't fight the curiosity. You were trying to rationalize the contrasting sharpness and softness of his features with his voice. How it all worked together. How one person's voice could change textures and colors so easily. You wondered what kind of things this man might have seen on the job. Most of the veterans you would help day to day did not have so many redacted missions and deployments. You were in the middle of Narcos season one so you immediately thought of drugs or something equally dangerous. After much pondering, you had come to the conclusion that Frankie Morales was both insanely attractive and insanely courageous. “Still no check, huh?”

“Nope.” He sighed the sound making the phone's shitty speaker crackle as you held it to your ear.

“Let me just check that it was approved...“ you found his profile again and scrolled to the status page. “Hmm... it says it was sent out last Friday after we spoke. That’s so weird...”

“Yeah. Really weird.” He echoed your frustration on the other end.

Typical payroll, you thought to yourself as you rolled your eyes. “I'll get another one sent to you right away. I'll see to it myself.” You tucked the phone under your chin and typed out a short email to Mary in payroll letting her know you'd be stopping by her office to explain the situation. You realized he hadn't hung up yet.

“Sorry for the back and forth.” You said, trying to fill the silence.

“It’s not your fault." The earlier irritation gone. "You’ve been really helpful.” His voice sounded warm and reassuring. Less gruff than it was last you spoke. Instead it was that rich baritone that you caught of glimpse of last time.

You feel your face warm at his compliment. It was this annoying reflex you had. Praise always made you blush no matter what context but it was worse when it came from a (you assume) gorgeous stranger.

“And just to verify that your address is correct- you’re on Maple Lane in Miami, Florida?”

“That’s right.” He confirmed.

“Okay. Sent!” You clicked send on the email, which caused the window to close and reveal Frankie’s profile page again. “I was curious-" You spoke before you really made the decision to speak. You didn’t want to overstep but once again your curiosity got the better of you. Honestly, you were just searching for a way to keep him on the phone. The day had been so boring.

“Your profile says you were stationed in Costa Rica.”

“For a bit.” He replied after a moment. He didn’t sound too defensive but there was definitely some tightness in his answer that made you feel bad for asking. Like you were scratching a wound.

“Did you like it? The country I mean.”

“Are you planning a trip?” He sounds a little amused.

“Yeah- well- kind of. It's more a trip in my head right now. I’d like to go there one day. It looks so beautiful.” You sighed closing your eyes trying to imagine the heat on your skin.

“It is." He agrees. "Really humid though.”

“Mm that sounds nice.” You would kill for some warm weather after such a long winter in DC.

“It was too muggy for me at times." He grumbled. "If you do go, stick to the costal areas where it’s more breezy or else you’ll just be sweating the whole time.”

“I don’t mind a little sweat” you shrugged, still thinking of the awful east coast winter you were currently suffering through. The sexual connotation of what you said hit you hard as soon as you heard the statement in its entirety. You felt your face flush again, though the man on the other end would never know.

“I’m learning Spanish!" You announced loudly trying to move the conversation past your awkwardness.

“Wow. Muy impressivo.”

“Si” you replied but after a moment you admit “I don’t really know what you said.”

Frankie laughed loudly on the other end and you couldn’t help but join in, drawing dirty looks from the elderly lady, Donna, working in the cubicle across from you. You ducked your head behind a stack of papers to avoid her glare.

“Fake it till you make it.” He chuckled.

“Maybe you should help me out.” You took on an indigent but still playful tone. “You sound better than duolingo” Your smile widened when he laughed again. His laugh was what you hoped it would be, by all your assumptions from his picture. It was an unencumbered, unburdened, rich sound with only a hit of roughness from the air behind it.

“Tell me you’re not using that dumb app to learn.” he scoffed, saying your name in an almost scolding tone.

“I’m got my thirty day streak today.” You boasted.

“You’ll be a total tourist if you go by duolingo.”

“But the owl is so cute every time I get something right!” You argued your voice taking on a more childish cadence.

“That’s how they trap you, silly girl.” He teased right back. Usually such a condescending nickname would piss you off but something about the affection behind him using it made you feel very differently. You felt warm like you were proud to be silly as long as it made him laugh.

“Then you saved me just in time, Mr. Morales.” You bit your lip. His scoffing and laughter died down on the other end.

“Frankie” He corrects you.

“Frankie…” You repeated it, smiling at how well the nick name suited the voice over the phone. Honest, sincere, and not pretentious at all. Way better than the pompous guys you know with equally stuffy names like “Edward” and “Christopher.”

“So what do you want to know?” Frankie interrupted your thoughts. “Dime”

You started asking him questions in Spanish to the best of your ability. Granted they weren't particularly probing questions. What is your name? What is your favorite color? What is your favorite animal? What's your favorite book? I am reading Gone Girl. He answered them all with patience and amusement, occasionally interrupting you to correct your pronunciation or explain what a word meant. Every time you’d repeat the word back correctly he would say something like “good” or “there you go” or “you got it”. You hated to admit that his kind words and his praise was doing something to you. You didn't even realize you were clenching your legs together unconsciously, almost in anticipation of his next correction or next answer. His low voice so sweet and encouraging against your ear, more tangible when he was speaking Spanish. You just wanted to hear more of it. Would it be this sweet in other situations? Would it get huskier or rougher? If you closed your eyes it was like he was sitting right next to you. It would be all too easy to slip into that daydream and escape the dull office.

Suddenly out of the corner of your drooping eyes you saw a flashing red light on the phone console meaning another caller was waiting.

“Shoot- i’m sorry, Frankie- I have to take this call.” You shot forward in your chair, legs uncrossing.

“Of-Of course. I should let you get back to work.” He sounded a little sad or so you hoped. You felt bad for interrupting him after you both were having so much fun. You wanted to say he could wait on hold but he killed that idea when he said, "I have work too. Technically I'm five minutes past my lunch break."

Your pout turned to a smile. He was spending his precious lunch break with you? Get a grip! you snapped at yourself.

“You’re welcome to call again if you want.” You threw out the offer in a small voice, scared you would be rejected. You peered over the cubicle wall to see if you were still being glared at. Thankfully Donna was away from her desk. Probably out for a smoke. “It’s really boring here and usually no one calls.”

“Maybe I will.” He replied and you could hear the smile behind those words. You felt your heart clench weirdly in your chest like it didn't know how to process the sudden spike in emotions.

“Bye, Frankie.” You beamed.

“Bye”

This time the smile on your face lasted for hours. Frankie’s laugh echoed around in your head, taunting you, sending your mind to the gutter. His voice went from grit to molasses on a dime. You wanted to be the one to bring out those sounds. You wanted to hear his voice bend and stretch and strain as you fucked him. What the hell is wrong with me? you screamed internally. You had never been so depraved and with a stranger no less! You clearly needed to get laid fast because this much yearning would not end well.

Frankie got the second VA check a few days later and this time he didn’t even feel bad about ripping it in half. He was already reaching for the phone to call you.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Tags: Message to be added 💕 no minors please!

#frankie morales #francisco morales #triple frontier #pedro pascal #frankie morales x reader #frankie catfish morales #pedro pascal x reader #frankie morales x you #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #frankie morales x y/n #catfish morales #calling home series #i would die for frankie #frankie morales has a sexy voice #daddy!frankie

[queenshelby]

My Friend’s Father (Part Seven)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Age Gap, Smut

Words: 4,498

Notes:

I have decided to make this into a series.

Alright, no judgment. This was a dream of mine and I felt like I had to write it down. Everyone in this Fic is over the age of 18 and this Fic is in no way based on Cillian’s real family life. It’s pure filth.

*********

Throughout the entire night, you couldn’t help but think about Cillian. You dreamed about the kiss you shared, the touch of his hands on your face and even the scent of his skin.

You knew you shouldn’t think this way about your best friend’s father but it was something you couldn’t control even though you were angry with him.

But there was one person you who you were even more angry with and this was Connor, the man you were actually dating.

You got up early that morning to confront Connor about his behaviour at the art gallery opening and the truth was that you were pretty much done with him. You never had feelings for him in the first place and the truth was that he had simply become a distraction for you. You wanted to distract yourself from having taken a liking in your best friend’s father which, in itself, you knew was wrong.

Connor embarrassed you in front of your friends and Cillian was right when he said that he was acting controlling, even though you didn’t want to hear it, especially not from him.

You knew you had to end it and you knew that it wasn’t going to be a difficult task for you. You had always been a strong woman and you didn’t want to be with someone like that and, just when you arrived at Connor’s house you took a deep breath and did what had to be done.

‘It’s your loss Y/N’ were his words when you eventually left his house after a ten minute conversation but you didn’t feel like you had lost anything. In fact, you’ve gained something and that was experience in standing up for yourself.

***

Just after you encounter with Connor that morning, you went to have breakfast with Denise and her friends at the G Hotel in Galway.

They were all staying at the five-star hotel, courtesy of Denise’s father who had organised the weekend for Denise for her birthday and as a reward for her achievements after she had worked so hard on her project.

‘Happy Birthday’ you said as you greeted her and the others and Denise immediately told you off for being too loud as her head was pounding. It was obvious to you that she was rather hungover from the night the before.

‘You had too much champaign, huh?’ you giggled before handing her the present you had bought for her.

You usually didn’t spend much money on each other for birthdays but, since she was your best friend, you had spent a few hours’ worth in wages and gotten her something meaningful.

She was collecting vintage tea-cups and you had recently found a beautiful Royal Dalton set in a second-hand shop which you knew she would adore.

‘This is absolutely beautiful, thank you so much’ Denise said as she unwrapped it before hugging you gently.

‘You are welcome. I knew you would like it’ you said with a warm smile and, just as you did and sat down next to her, your mobile phone went off.

You received a text message from a number that was unfamiliar to you and when you opened it, you were none the wiser.

‘It was good to see you’ the message said and you were rather confused by it. You had some job interviews recently and wondered whether this was sent by one of the interviewers. Or perhaps someone from university, you wondered?

‘What is it?” Denise asked as she saw the look of confusion on your face when you glanced at your phone.

‘Someone just send me a message saying that it was good to see me’ you chuckled before explaining to her that you didn’t know the number.

‘Maybe it is this guy from university you were talking about a few weeks back? You know, the lecturer in the science department?’ Denise wondered before suggesting to you that you should text back and ask for a name, but you already knew it wouldn’t be him. There was no way he would have your number and you certainly were no longer interested in getting to know him after you had found out that he was married.

You texted back to the unknown number, enquiring who this was and, within a couple of seconds, your phone went off again and you almost choked on your coffee.

‘Cillian’ the message read and you quickly changed the angle of your phone so that Denise wouldn’t see it.

‘And? Who is it?’ she asked while trying to look at your phone.

‘Uhm…just a guy I met a few weeks ago…I ran into him again yesterday morning and I totally forgot about it…’ you stammered quickly but Denise didn’t buy a word you were saying.

‘You forgot?’ she giggled, winking at you as she did and your cheeks blushed almost instantly. ‘Well, he obviously didn’t and you must have given him your number for a reason. Is he hot? What’s he like? I need to know everything…’ she went on to say as, suddenly, without you haven’t sent anything back to Cillian, you received yet another text message from him.

‘For what its’s worth, you looked beautiful’ the next text read and you couldn’t help but smile as you continued to sip on your cup of coffee and Denise most certainly noticed the look on your face and asked you what he said.

‘Just that I looked nice’ you stammered, feeling awful about lying to her about who texted you but there was no way that you could have told her that it was, in fact, her father who you were texting with.

‘Uh, he likes you’ Denise then giggled before carrying on. ‘Well, since you ditched Connor now, you should go and meet up with him and have some fun. After Connor’s one-off ten-minute performance, I have no doubt that you really need it’ Denise said and, just as she did, the conversation across the breakfast table took a turn. Like so often, it now was all about sex and you realised that dissatisfaction was a common occurrence in women your age.

‘I believe that the whole talk about the female g-spot is load of rubbish. It’s a myth’ Amalie observed eventually after everyone across the table complained about the lovers that they had.

It was at this point that you mentally checked out from the conversation and, whilst you thought about the one pleasurable experience you had in your life when it came to sex, you certainly didn’t want to talk about it in front of Denise. Especially not Denise.

Instead of engaging in talks about vibrators and the male anatomy, you decided to respond to Cillian’s text messages after you had received yet another one, telling you that he was sorry. Clearly, he was desperate to hear from you.

‘I see, you kept my note?’ you responded quickly, ignoring his compliments and apologies, and, just moments after you sent it, you received a response from him.

‘Kept it in my wallet. Can we meet?’ Cillian asked and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes just before you received yet another message from him which read ‘BTW this is not a booty call. I just want to talk with you. Please.’

His message made you laugh but you agreed to meet him nonetheless.

‘I have an apartment at the Docks. Can you come there?’ Cillian asked in his next text message.  

‘Alright. How does 4 o’clock sound? Text me your address’ you texted back and it wasn’t long until Cillian sent you the address of his apartment.

‘And?’ Denise asked as she watched you text with the mysterious stranger and you simply blushed again and responded with a short and somewhat embarrassed ‘nothing’.

‘Oh common, tell me Y/N. I am your best friend’ she then said and you confirmed that you would quickly meet up with him this afternoon before Denise’s birthday dinner.

‘Oh la la, you are having a date’ Denise then said somewhat excitedly.

‘We are just catching up to talk Denise. It’s not a date’ you then said.

‘Sure…whatever you say Y/N’ she then said sarcastically which is when, finally, she backed off and you received yet another text message from Cillian.

‘Looking forward to see you, xx’ it read and your heart skipped a beat pretty much then and there.

***

After you went home to have a shower and get changed into some nice jeans and a black shirt as well as some nice lingerie (just in case) you made your way to Cillian’s apartment.

You parked around the corner and walked the rest of the way just to be sure that no one would see your car being parked there.

‘Jesus’ you said somewhat surprised when you walked into the lobby of the apartment building and took the elevator to the top floor after Cillian had buzzed you inside. You had never been to a building like this. It was luxurious and right on the harbour.

When you arrived on the top floor, Cillian already waited for you, glancing through the door of his apartment.

‘Wow, these are some good views. Do you own this place?’ you observed as you stepped inside and set your purse on the desk by the door.

‘Yeah, bought it a few years ago’ Cillian said as you began to shrug off your jacket, but Cillian came up from behind you, and caught your hands. You looked down at your hands, noticing that yours dwarfed in his. They were warm and soft.

‘Let me take this for you’ he said like a gentleman and you were somewhat surprised by his gesture. This was not something you were used to but you liked it, a lot.

‘You know, I didn’t expect that you would text me, especially not after last night. So, what is it that you want to talk about?’ you asked nervously and, just as you did, Cillian cut straight to the chase.

‘I wanted to tell you, in person, that I am sorry about last night. I shouldn’t have lectured you about this guy who you are seeing and the truth is that, yes, I was jealous and I know that I had no right to be jealous and for that I am also sorry. I should have acted differently, especially knowing that you are my daughter’s best friend’ he admitted just before you cut him off.

‘Well, for what its worth, I ended it with Connor this morning because I think you were right about him’ you said with a nervous smile, causing Cillian to cock an eyebrow.

‘I can’t say that I am not happy about that’ he said jokingly before continuing on. ‘But, regardless of this, I think that we need to talk about how we move forward from what happened between us for Denise’s sake’ he then said, causing you to nod.

‘Yeah’ you then said somewhat disappointed before building up your strength in order to say something else. ‘The thing is, Cillian, I know what I want. I just think that you don’t’ you said, cheeks blushing.

‘And what is that you want Y/N?’ Cillian asked curiously as if he didn’t already know the answer to his question.

‘You’ you then admitted and, just as you did, Cillian’s hands caressed your face and he pulled you close and kissed you yet again.

The kiss was slow and passionate and, unlike the night before, you allowed yourself to give into it until, eventually, your lips drifted apart.

‘Are you sure Y/N? Because, I am much older than you and you probably have better offers with more assurances that I simply cannot offer you’ Cillian then asked as he was standing directly in front of you and held you against his body.

‘The fact that you are older actually turns me on’ you admitted before pressing your lips onto his again and then pulling away. You adored his wrinkles and greying hair and you were surprised that he had no idea how attractive he actually was.

‘But what is it that you want Cillian?’ you then asked as you felt his firm chest against you while his warm breath fanned against your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

‘Honestly, I don’t know Y/N. I have never been so fucking confused in my life’ he explained reluctantly, not knowing where to place the feelings he had built for you. You were over twenty years younger than him and his daughter’s friend and this clearly bothered him. He knew that this wasn’t something he could easily overcome.

‘Well, I am confused too but I like you, a lot’ you admitted, also unsure about what this was that you were feeling for him but, what you knew was that you wanted to give whatever this was a chance. You were curious and you were filled with desire for this man standing there right in front of you.

‘And I need to know that you feel the same and that this isn’t going to be just another mistake you are making because, if you are going to walk away after we have sex, then I am not up for it’ you then explained, wanting to ensure that he wouldn’t pull away from you this time.

‘No more mistakes Y/N. I like you and I want this’ Cillian whispered as he pressed his lips firmly right under your ear, slowly kissing down your neck.

‘I want you’ he then said as his breath tickled your skin and the firmness of his kiss made your stomach flip.

‘Then that’s good enough for me’ you huffed out in a laboured breath and just, as you did, Cillian used his hands to spin you around, causing you to face away from him.

Then, his hands dropped to your waist where his fingers gently edged themselves under the hem of your shirt, barely touching your skin. His lips moved, and he left a trail of kisses down your shoulder and towards your arm.

‘I knew this was a booty call�� you teased as you couldn't help but move against him.

‘Do you want to stop?’ he asked as your hips rocked and shifted while he gently brushed his fingers against your skin.

‘Hell no’ you giggled before you lifted your arms and he began to pull your shirt up.

You felt like you were performing some secret dance that we both knew, but that you'd never realised you'd known.

Cillian lifted your shirt inch at a time up off you, and let it fall to the floor. He sighed in satisfaction as he looked down at your breasts.

‘Why are you so fucking perfect?’ Cillian asked and you opened your mouth to answer but it came out as a sigh as his hands tightened around your waist.

‘Let’s take this off’ Cillian said determined as one of his hands inched up towards your breast, and he squeezed it gently. Then, his hands came away from you, and unsnapped your bra.

You practically shook it off of you, and then dropped your hands to your jeans. You needed his hands back on you again as soon as possible and turned to watch him as you kicked your shoes off and shoved down your jeans, your underwear coming with them.

‘Eager, are we?’ Cillian chuckled as he quickly began to undress himself as well after you had given him a look full of hunger and anticipation.

‘We are short of time’ you said as you were momentarily distracted by the sight of him unbuttoning his shirt, but you hurried to kick off the fabric wrapped around your ankles.

‘We’ve got at least two and a half hours Y/N’ Cillian then said as you finally stood there in front of him completely naked.

‘Exactly’ you chuckled as Cillian was still fighting with the buttons on his shirt, and you grabbed the fabric of it and pulled him against you, crushing your mouth against his.

Cillian made love to your mouth with his lips and his tongue. He was firm, slow, and demanding.

You breathed together, tasted together. He dragged a soft moan from your mouth with a caress of his lips. He explored you, letting his tongue run along the roof of your mouth. Your teeth crashed. He sucked your tongue into his mouth, and your stomach clenched and you let out an embarrassingly desperate sound.

Before your first night with Cillian, you'd never been kissed like this. The kisses you shared were more intimate and more sensual than anything you'd ever experienced in your life.

As you were kissing, you finally managed to unbutton his shirt and shoved it open. Your hands ran up and down his chest, exploring his toned body all the while he was relentless in his kiss. His arms wrapped around you, one hand pressing into the small of your back, and the other working his fingers into your hair.

With a small tug of your hair, he pulled your face away from him.

‘I could kiss you all day Y/N, but you said that we are short of time so you better get onto the bed’ he winked and you snaked your arms around his neck and kissed him while he walked you back into his bedroom and towards the bed.

As you were moving towards the bed, he fought with his belt and his pants all while his lips never left yours.

You shuffled awkwardly backwards until the backs of your knees hit the bed, forcing you to sit down. You kept your arms behind you to prop yourself up, smiling as you watched him finish undressing. He was just gorgeous and so goddamn perfect.

‘You are so sexy, you know that?’ you said full of desire while you watched as he pushed his pants down, kicking them off his ankles and standing in front of you completely naked, and... Sweet. Baby. Jesus…your mouth watered at the sight of his hard cock.

‘So are you’ he winked and, just as he did, you met his eyes again after having stared at his cock for a little while. That terrifying intense stare was back, and he looked like he was going to eat you alive. For all you knew, he would.

Without breaking eye contact, Cillian bent down and went to his knees at the foot of the bed, grabbed your legs, and pulled you closer to him, spreading your legs wide as he did so.

‘Lay back’ he ordered and you couldn’t help but bite your lip in anticipation.

‘What are you going to do to me?’ you asked as he was still staring at you. A slow smile graced his face.

‘I am going to make love to you with my tongue until you cum’ Cillian smirked and the idea of his face between your legs made your breath catch.

‘Oh, Sweet Jesus’ you moaned as he let go of one of your legs and put a hand on your shoulder. He pushed you back and then he lowered his lips to you.

Sweet bliss washed over you in an instant. You gasped, and moaned, and shivered. Cillian lapped at you like you were the sweetest treasure he'd ever put in his mouth. A slow, deep rumble from his chest travelled straight into your body through his lips, shaking you to your core. His tongue dove inside you, exploring you. He sucked on the lips of your sex, and the circled his tongue around your clit, sending powerful shocks of pleasure straight to your centre.

He was building you up to something big. Something beautiful.

He eased off right before you exploded, and you cried out.

‘Cillian, don't stop, please’ you moaned and, just as you began to plead with him, his fingers began to gently run through your wet slit.

‘Don’t worry, I won’t’ he said as he slowly pushed two of his fingers inside you before his tongue resumed its work on your clit.

Curling his fingers slightly upwards, he reached an unfamiliar spot deep inside you and, as soon as he reached this spot, you cried out in pleasure.

‘Oh god, fuck, Cillian’ you moaned as his fingers began to gently thrust in and out of you while he made love to you with his tongue.

With his skilled tongue and fingers working you, it didn’t take you long to reach an orgasm. Your legs began to shake almost violently as a wave of pleasure erupted through your body and your walls tightened around Cillian’s fingers.

When you finally came down from your high, Cillian stood up, pushed his hands against your hips, and slid you farther onto the bed.

‘You sound so fucking sexy when you cum like this, without having to hold back’ Cillian observed as he climbed onto the bed. He crawled towards you like a wolf stalking his prey.

‘I want you inside me, please…I am aching for your cock’ you moaned, spurring him on and, without losing any time he spread your legs wide and pressed the head against your slit, gently working the tip in and out, teasing you.

‘Oh god, please, stop teasing’ you whimpered, trying to wiggle against him. You wanted to feel all of him so badly.

‘Be patient, we will get there’ he whispered, and leaned forward so his arms were on either side of your face.

You felt him push a little deeper into you.

‘Oh god yes’ you gasped and winced and Cillian tilted his head and took your mouth with his, kissing you slowly as he rocked in and out. His lips and his tongue matched the pace of his thrusts, and you felt overwhelmed with desire as he slid deeper and deeper inside of you.

‘Fuck you feel so good Y/N’ Cillian groaned as he stretched you and pushed you until he was all the way in, and he pulled his mouth away from yours just long enough to let out a string of curses before he took your mouth again.

You couldn't breathe. Everything about him was amazing. The way he felt inside you was just perfect.

He held your head firmly in place as he kissed you, thrusting into you and grinding his hips so that he hit every single spot you didn't even know you had. Right as you were nearing your climax, he pulled all the way out and pushed himself off of you, pausing to catch his breath.

‘No…don’t stop…I was so close’ you whimpered.

‘Don’t worry, I am not done with you yet but I do enjoy teasing you’ he gasped and you could tell that he enjoyed edging you which is something no other man you have been with had ever done to you before. Unlike them, Cillian had amazing self-control which you thought might come with age.

Almost an hour later, after he edged you numerous times and made you change positions on several occasions, you ended up with Cillian on top of you once again. He slid back inside you, resuming his relentless pace. With every thrust, he ground his pelvis against your clit, and with only a few careful movements of his hips, you exploded in pleasure around him. There was no way you could have held back any longer as waves of heat and ice crashed onto you, and you fought to breathe through the intensity of your orgasm.

‘Fuck Y/N’ Cillian groaned shortly thereafter, feeling your walls contract around his shaft. He collapsed forward onto you, and you could feel him pulsing inside you and filling you with rope after rope of his warm cum.

You loved the feeling of him cuming inside you and his breath was hot against your neck, and he kissed your neck and your mouth again as he pulled back and out of you, giving you a chance to breathe.

***

‘Cillian’ you whispered, barely able to speak even after five minutes had passed since you came down from your high.

‘Yes Beautiful?’ he said, and moved slightly so he could wrap his lips around your nipple. He sucked and tongued at it, and pulled at it with his teeth.

‘Careful’ you laughed, and shifted under him slightly. ‘I’m super sensitive now’ you said.

‘I certainly hope so’ he murmured. ‘Although, I am not done with you yet. We still have an hour before dinner’ he smirked and your eyes widened immediately.

‘Oh really?’ you asked surprised and, when you looked down on him, you noticed that his cock was already hardening again just after a short five minutes of relaxation.

‘Really’ Cillian then chuckled as he rolled you onto your stomach, spreading your legs and crouching behind you.

Without losing any time, he lined himself up with your entrance and pushed back inside of you, eliciting a loud groan.

After doing you from behind for what felt like forever, he'd hauled you up into his lap and made love to you with his arms around you and our foreheads pressed together. You'd watched his eyes widen and roll back in his head as he came inside you again just after you reached your own high as well.

He then kissed you as he slowly pulled out of you, and then carried you in his arms like a bride into the bathroom where he'd showered you, washed your hair and your body, and treated you to another mind-blowing orgasm with his fingers.

‘I am fucking sore Cillian’ you huffed out as you were standing in front of the mirror and retouched your make up with a white towel wrapped around your body. You had only limited supplies with you in your handbag but were somewhat lucky that Denise had kept a few items in one of the bathrooms in the three-bedroom apartment.

‘I am sorry’ he then said as he stepped behind you and applied some more aftershave before kissing your neck.

‘Are you?’ you asked, looking back at him before pressing a gentle kiss on his lips.

‘Not really’ he then smirked before buttoning up his shirt.

You knew that you couldn’t arrive at the dinner together and, after you got ready, you decided to walk to the restaurant first so that Cillian would allow you a ten-minute head start.

But walking was difficult in itself and Cillian had a slight chuckle when he watched you waddle out of his apartment.

Your core was stinging but it was defiantly worth it.

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#cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy x y/n

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Everybody Talks Too Much (Cassandra Dimitrescu/Mute!Reader)

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language, brief violence Summary: Whenever Cassandra gets angry, no one wants to deal with her. Well, no one but you, that is. Thankfully, the middle child appreciates your company... not that she'd ever admit it. Notes: Another self-indulgent fic with a selectively mute reader. This one's a lil different. Sections in italic are mostly indications that the reader is miming actions in order to communicate, though there are a few internal thoughts that are marked as such. Unlike the past two I've done, this takes place pre-relationship, so there's some mutual pining of sorts. I think that's the word.

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

Among the many servants of Castle Dimitrescu, there were a number of secret rules to be followed. Guidelines that were never written down, only spoken in hushed whispers, for specific (and dangerous) circumstances. Most could be divided into one of two categories: 1, how to reduce the chances of a Lady of the house killing someone. 2, how to make sure that if they kill someone, it will not be you. Of these rules, there was one that you knew best of all, despite never having been told it. Why? Because you have observed it time and time again. After all, the rule revolved around you. To put it plainly… If Cassandra Dimitrescu was in an awful mood, but had yet to draw blood, send in the mute.

Even now, as you rushed down a corridor, you did not know why this rule was in place. You simply knew that you had been summoned countless times by frantic maidens, to go serve their volatile mistress. Admittedly you did understand their eagerness to thrust the task upon someone else. Cassandra was often considered the deadliest of the Dimitrescu daughters, for she was the quickest to anger, the one with the deepest bloodlust, and took the longest to calm down. Personally, you disagreed, believing that it wasn’t terribly hard to know what she did and did not like. All it took was some observation. It was Daniela who scared you, seeing as she was unpredictable. She didn’t even need to be in a bad mood to want to kill you.

Of course, that didn’t necessarily mean that you saw no danger in working with Cassandra. In fact, you saw a fair bit, such as now: Right as you round the corner, a shiny object hurls past your head, embedding itself into the wall. Had you been walking ever so slightly faster… Well, you preferred not to dwell on such things, especially not when the one who threw the thing was still nearby. Based on the howling laughter and swarm of insects that moves around you, the intended target was Lady Daniela. Across the room is the markswoman herself; Cassandra stood tall, huffing in anger, staring at the spot her sister had just vacated from.

“Damn it!” She yelled, stomping her foot as if the resulting shockwave might do what her weapon had not. Oddly amused, you’re quick to remove the sickle from the wall, careful as to not damage it. It’s a tad dirty, but nothing you can’t fix with your handy pocket cloth. Cleaning as you walk, you slowly move towards your employer, not even bothering to spare her a glance. After all, you had your own rules for dealing with her.

(1: Avoid eye contact for at least one minute after an outburst.)

By the time you make it to Cassandra, the minute has come and gone, allowing you to ever-so politely look her in the eyes when you return her blade. She scoffs, then practically rips the sickle from your hands. This was your job, however, so you made no complaints. Not that you could, at least not verbally. Instead, you gave a short bow of acknowledgement. Afterwards you stood still, awaiting either instructions or a dismissal. Neither came.

“I can’t believe that little shit tried to take my favorite dagger and thought she could get away with it! Agh, the nerve of her! Can you believe this?” Cassandra snapped, turning to you as if you might agree with her. Nod, simple yet effective. “At least you know how to handle a blade. Damn Daniela is lucky she didn’t get any scratches on mine.” Then she pulls the knife in question from its place on her belt, letting it gleam in the light. A soft exhale, head tipping to the side, wow is it pretty. So is the one holding it. Your mind wanders but your gaze does not. Always polite, always ready to serve.

(2: Do not get distracted; she is no patient lover, rather a demanding boss.)

“Cassandra! What was all that noise a minute ago?” Someone called, interrupting your ‘conversation’. The speaker soon appears, being none other than Lady Bela, the most reasonable of the castle residents. Though that meant little, considering the nature of her family. As if to prove your point, Cassandra merely rolls her eyes in reply, refusing to divulge the truth. And so Bela turned her gaze to you, perking a brow. “Feeling up to talking today?” She asked, already knowing the answer. Of course, your hands are already moving, not even waiting for her to finish speaking. This is a game you know intimately.

A hand goes to your belt, moving to pull a nonexistent blade from its sheath. Raising it, moving it forward then back several times, launching it towards the wall- towards the hole left behind. Then shifting, waving your hand in front of your face while exhaling a sharp breath. Flinching. An exaggerated gulp, pretending to check if your nose is still attached, sighing in relief. Lastly, an inclination of your head towards the culprit. Cassandra.

“I was aiming for Daniela. Not that it matters, nobody got hurt,” she stated, confident. Both hands clasped together, then tapping the palms together, mimicking a heartbeat at a reasonable pace. Suddenly a stomp. The beating stops, and you hold your hands next to your ear, as if listening for signs of life. Pause. Three seconds. Worried expression, eyes wide. Finally, fast as a gunshot, the heart beats again, wildly. At this, Bela shoots her sister a look of doubt, as well as judgement. Hoping to change the subject, Cassandra looks to you. “What are you doing here anyway?”

Rubbing your chin, thinking. Squinting for effect. Ah, got it! Both hands go to your sides, lifting the imaginary hem of a dress you aren’t wearing. Waltzing forward, yet in place, with the poise expected of a professional maid. Then the focus shifts to your face. Fear. A silent scream, a hand at your forehead, feeling like you… might… faint. Falling backwards, making a step at the very last second to prevent a real collapse. End scene.

“Someone was scared?” Bela asked, sounding uncharacteristically unsure of herself. When you nod, she does as well, considering the implications. “Why would they send you?”

“I hardly care why, I just want to know who so I can kick their ass,” Cassandra interjects, taking a step closer to you. All you do in response is shrug. Unsurprisingly this is not enough to please her, and before you know it she’s wrapped a hand around your throat. “Give. Me. A. Name. Now.” A perked brow. Thoughts practically telegraphed. ‘What do you expect?’ Opening your mouth, slightly, then wide, back to almost closed. No sound comes out. Obviously. It’s not like you wanted to break your own rule, but in this case you had no choice.

(3: Give her whatever she wants, consequences be damned.)

Luckily for you, Bela acts as a foil to Cassandra, there to smooth the seas. Moving behind you, she reaches into your back pocket and retrieves the notepad you keep there. Then she’s handing it to you while making eye contact with her sister. Cassandra promptly releases you, though she’s clearly not pleased, going so far as to push you away in one last act of anger. Internally you roll your eyes. On the outside, however, you quickly write down everything you know… which isn’t much.

“I don’t remember who it was. A lot of people have asked. This happens a lot.” Then you hand the paper to Bela, who soon looks back up at you in confusion. Too antsy to wait for her own turn, Cassandra yoinks the notepad from her sister’s hands, reading it over several times before reacting.

“What the fuck? Why would they send you to me because somebody pissed their pants in fear? I’m going to kill someone. Ugh, I don’t- this doesn’t make any goddamn sense,” Cassandra ranted, pacing back and forth, looking like she wanted to destroy something immediately. To your surprise, Bela doesn’t look the slightest bit concerned. If anything, she looks amused, and smiles when the two of you make eye contact. Something tells you that she knows something that you don’t. Before you can react, she quietly retrieves your notepad and returns it to you. Then she pauses, thinking, eying you with curiosity.

“Why don’t you go for now? See if anyone thanks you for stepping in, hmm?” She suggested, tone implying that this was absolutely about something else entirely. Still, you don’t care to disobey, and so you bid the two of them farewell with a deep bow. As you leave, you can almost make out part of what they say next. But you’re certain that you must have heard incorrectly. “Showing your favoritism a little too much, sister? If even the servants can see it-” the rest of the sentence is cut off by angry muttering from Cassandra. After that you’re too far away to hear anymore. What a strange day...

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

“Hey, you know where Lady Cassandra’s room is, right?” Ygritte asked, casually, definitely not having just been told by someone else that you were the solution to her problem. Pretending that you were unaware of this, you give her a smile and a nod. Later, behind her back, you will mentally add her to your list of people to watch out for. Maybe even decide to refuse to share your biscuits with her. In the meantime, you pretend that you don’t mind whatever task she’s about to dump on you. “Can you bring these books to her? I really have to get back to the kitchen soon, and that’s in the opposite direction…”

Technically true. Something told you that the real problem was that Cassandra had been extra loud the past few days. Regardless, you accept the books from her, leaving before she even finishes thanking you. Why do people do this? I don’t get it, you think. It’s like they think I’m immune to her rage. If that were true, I’d gladly throw myself between her and others. But no, that’s not the case. Hmmph, if only they saw my scars. Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you keep walking, subconsciously rubbing the spot on your arm where Cassandra had cut you. Well, the worst spot. Being pain tolerant had made her take interest in you, during your first few weeks, but it’s what allowed you to learn her rules. Your rules, really.

Knock. Knock. A pause… three more, much softer. The door swings open, revealing your Lady, whose eyes widen at the sight of you. Tipping your hat (which you are not wearing), you greet her, forcing another smile. Then you present the books, free hand gesturing with a spiral motion towards them. She doesn’t respond. No, wait, she glances at the door hinges, considering closing the door in your face. Now both of you are staring at each other, daring the other to move.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” she finally said. There’s a gruffness to her voice that you hadn’t expected. It’s unlike her usual tone, less angry, more tired. Were those bags under her eyes?... No, just smudged makeup. “Don’t just stand there- tell me why you’re here.” Again, you gesture to the books, extending your hands further towards her. This time she takes a half-step backwards to avoid you. Peculiar. “Someone else was supposed to bring them, dipshit. Fucking hell, why can’t anyone around here do their damn jobs?” At last, she takes the books from you, carrying them deeper into your room. Though she does not close the door, you assume that your job is done. Or maybe you simply do not wish to deal with a Cassandra who’s frustrated by your specific presence. Either way, it breaks one of your rules, though you do not remember until it is too late.

(4: Do not leave until dismissed by a member of the family.)

“Where the hell are you going?” The sound of buzzing flies, a blur of motion around you, then the form of Cassandra solidifying in front of you. One of her hands is raised, pressing against the center of your chest. She pushes you, hard, making you stumble backwards into her room. Next thing you know you’ve crashed onto her floor. A tad stunned, you bring a hand up to hold your head, blinking rapidly for a few seconds. There’s the sound of a door closing, and then someone’s trying to help you stand. “I didn’t say you could leave yet. Now c’mon, I’ve got stuff for you to do.” Then she’s guiding you to her bed, making you sit down on the end. Panicked thoughts race through your mind one after another. What exactly was she intending? Thankfully you don’t have to wait long to find out. “Read through these, and-” a pause, like she hadn’t known what she was going to say until she was already speaking- “take notes. Make a summary of the bookmarked sections, or whatever.” Handing you a couple books (neither of which being ones you had just brought to her), she sits on the other side of the bed, refusing to look at you. She does, however, say one last thing, voice barely above a whisper. “Just stay for a while, okay?”

Inside your head, you make a mental note to amend your list of rules.

(4.b: Do not leave until dismissed by a member of the family. If Cassandra asks you to stay, you stay, no matter what. It’s worth it.)

#cassandra dimitrescu x reader #cassandra dimitrescu #resident evil: village #re8 village #stayed up to write this #totes worth it