#a-very-clever-name-im-sure

[curiouschaosstarlight]

Okay, but the real OT3 is Niwa/Scaramouche/Dottore

where Scara is being a big dumb tsundere, Dotty's struggling with vulnerability, and Niwa's the only mentally healthy person keeping things together <3

#chaotic rambles #organishin #chaotic shipping #puppet leires #desert doktorspiele #not his first name niwa #what should i call this ship? #i dunno rn #also yes i keep forgetting that Niwa isnt his first name #also also i do have a wholeass AU for bringing Niwa back #becasue i find it a very fun concept #it's called Fatui Niwa AU-- #not a clever name but i can't make everything a pun #also do y'all like my character tags? working on the them <3 #organishin is gonna be the genshin tag #when i dont want it to show up in the main tags/search #'cause im sure people at large would have my head for Niwa ships or implying that Dottore might be a good boi #(my Dottore IS a good boi actually <3) #(not for EVERY segment but for Some Of Them) #(and not for any reasons I found in canon but because) #(a nice tragic monster makes things more interesting to me <3) #(esp if they can be reasoned with after some suitable soul-crushing drama <3)

[hisui-dreamer]

he lives in you

Characters: Leona, Floyd, Jamil, Lilia

Synopsis: You shared a night of passion with your lover before you left for the other side of the mirror, but fate's cruel hands strike once again as you realise you have to raise his child alone in your original world. Thankfully, your child is incredibly drawn to magic, and they opened a portal...?

Tags: slight angst, fluffy end because im a sap, fem reader, reader gives birth to a child, reunions, bot proofread

Word count: 2.4k+

Notes: uh i was practicing Japanese and researching Japanese names before writing this, so all my name ideas ended up in japanese? if it makes you uncomfortable, you can imagine that reader is japanese hehe

right in time for mother's day, so here's to a celebration of the motherly figures in our lives, blood related or not, for being there for us<3

Part 2✧Part 3✧Part 4✧Masterlist

A few months passed as you settled back into your routine at home. Eventually, with the noticeable changes in your body, it dawned on you that you were with child—his child, your lover from the other side of the mirror whom you could no longer reach.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks turn into months. You had adapted to the trials and tribulations of parenthood. Juggling the responsibilities of work, childcare, and household chores was no easy feat, but you found solace in the small moments of your child's growth and development.

Your child was a true joy to behold, a mirror image of their father in many ways, and you often see the ghost of your past lover in them. Having inherited his magic, your child experimented with their powers, leaving you to support them with what limited knowledge of magic that remained from your NRC days.

On one such experiment, your environment started to shift as a wave of magical energy engulfed you. When you opened your eyes again, he was there, right in front of you—

Hina (日来) with 日 meaning "sun, day" and 来 meaning "coming, future"

Leona reminded you of a shining sun that radiated warmth and light in your life, of how the it would surely shine again no matter how dark the night seemed, and so you named your daughter after that image

your daughter has the clearest emerald eyes and flowing dark brown locks that you often braided in a similar style to her father's

she's very energetic, always curious and asking questions, eager to learn more about the world around her

she's an obedient child, although she's eager to seek your affection and may whine a bit when things don't go her way

if there was one thing that was similar to the Leona you knew, it's that she's extremely clingy and constantly seeks physical affection, hugging your legs and asking for you to carry them any chance she has

and also the fact that she enjoyed her naps a bit too much

her lion ears are a bit of an issue in our world, but you often hide them with hoods, clever hair styling, or simply saying it's a costume

when you told her about the brilliant man her father is, she grew really excited about the possibility of meeting him, and started playing around with magic more to be like the intelligent mage he is

and then it happened, just an ordinary afternoon practicing magic had the two of you transported back to twisted wonderland, face to face to Leona

somehow, he had grown even more handsome in the years you hadn't seen him, but instead of his lazy smile, he looked confident and powerful, like the leader he was always meant to be

A sudden gust of magic swept through the air behind him as he raised his staff in response, only to immediately drop it in shock as your figure came into sight, and beside you, a small child that he had never seen before.

"Herbivore..." he whispered.

Without a second thought, Leona rushed towards you, his heart beating wildly in his chest. He felt a lump forming in his throat as he reached out to embrace you tightly.

"This better not be a dream," he murmured into the crook of your neck as he inhaled your scent. "It's really you."

after a tearful reunion and introduction, Leona quickly excuses himself from his duties with a quick meeting with Falena, and helps you and Hina settle into the palace

since you left, Leona's been working hard to do what he can do as per your promise with him

he's now in charge of foreign affairs and on better terms with his brother after much needed communication

he showers you in affection, he's even clingier than before that it almost starts a rivalry with your daughter

he puts in a lot of effort to spend time with Hina, learning her likes and dislikes and bonding over magic

uncle jack and ruggie are always fun to be around and play with her

though it wasn't his fault, leona feels guilty you had to bare the responsibility on your own for so long, and he puts in a lot of effort to make amends for any mistakes work to build a strong relationship with you two

he has a family now, and you're damn sure he'll protect it with his life

Leona looked down at Hina, feeling a sense of pride and wonder at the little girl standing before him. "Hey there," he said, his voice gentle. "Nice to meet ya, kiddo."

Hina stared at him, her eyes searching his face. "Are you my dad?" she asked, her voice small and uncertain.

Leona's heart ached at the question, knowing that he had missed so much of her life. "Yeah, I'm your dad," he said, reaching out to take her hand.

Hina looked at him for a moment before a smile spread across her face. "Can you show me magic?" she asked, her eyes lighting up with excitement.

Leona felt a sense of joy at her words, feeling a connection with her that he had never felt before. "Of course I can," he said, standing up and taking her hand. "What do you wanna see?"

Sakura (桜) meaning "cherry blossoms"

your daughter has sleek teal hair that reminds you of the sea, a single strand of dark hair, and mismatched eyes in the same manner as Floyd

Floyd had lovingly given you the nickname "Shrimpy", and it only felt right for your daughter to be named Sakura, after the tiny sakura-shrimp

she's incredibly mischievous and there's not a moment of silence with her, she's spontaneous and playful and you've got your hands full

though she is very considerate of you and will listen to your words, she's uncontrollable when she's bored and in need of a spark of interest

she's also a squeezer, much like her father, and hugs you every time she sees you or anyone she likes, and you're thankful her strength hasn't developed too much yet

she enjoys biting you, albeit gently, and you find your arms littered with bite marks, but it's her unique way of showing affection

her eel form won't show unless she's been in the water for too long (thankfully), and she enjoys squeezing you in her eel form even more

ever so curious, she's asked about her father many times, and you've told her how carefree and easygoing her father is, and that he'd love her the moment she saw her

which leads you to her magic actually teleporting you to him, her spontaneous idea having manifested itself, and you found in a dimly lit room similar to the Mostro Lounge

Floyd looked matured, his hair sleeked back and his features sharpened, though his wry smile that you loved had stayed the same

Floyd's eyes widened with shock and disbelief, and his steps quickened as he rushes towards you, his long arms outstretched in a gesture of longing. As he got closer, he noticed the beautiful and curious-looking child standing close to you.

"Shrimpy?" he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "No way... It's really you!"

Floyd pulled you close, holding you tightly as if he never wanted to let go. "I missed ya so much, I wish I hadn't let ya go," he said, his voice choked with emotion as tears threatened to spill. "You're not allowed to leave again, okay?"

Floyd is so ecstatic he can't stand still, once he's calmed down a bit, be immediately carries Sakura and drags you to Jade and Azul

Azul and Jade are pleasantly surprised at your return, and it's a warm welcome back

the two of them are glad Floyd won't be moping any time soon

the trio have now expanded into a franchise and divulged into many businesses, though Floyd largely acts as Azul's right-hand man

Now that you're back, he refuses to be apart from you, always holding onto you tightly and afraid you might disappear just like how suddenly you appeared

he does get mood swings where he's upset or angry, not at you though, just at how unfair things were and how he couldn't be there for you

he's a good eel who does everything to make sure you and Sakura are happy and comfortable, often cooking meals for you two

he's so curious about Sakura and enjoys playing with her and lifting her high up in the air

don't worry, he's extremely careful, this precious gem is why you got back to him!

Jade is the best uncle and Sakura wants to marry him??? (honestly same)

poor Azul is getting pranked by the daughter- father duo, though Sakura does comfort him afterwards with squeezes and kissss

Floyd looked down at Sakura, and he saw her staring back at him with wide, curious eyes in the opposite colours of his eyes. Though she resembled him physically, there was an air about her that was so distinctly his Shrimpy.

"Heya," Floyd said, trying to sound friendly. "I'm your dad."

Sakura giggled and reached out to him, her tiny hands grasping at his hands. Floyd froze, not sure what to do, letting her yand his hand forward. But then, she opened her mouth and bit down on finger.

"Hey!" Floyd cried, pulling back in surprise.

Sakura just laughed, her eyes sparkling with mischief. Floyd couldn't help but laugh too, despite the pain in his finger.

"Yer a feisty one, aren't ya, Sakura-shrimpy?" he teased, grinning down at her as he ruffled her hair. "You know," he whispered, "you can't just go around biting people like that. But I like your style."

Isami (功己) 功 meaning "achievement, credit, honour, merits" and 己 meaning "self, serpent, snake."

your son has smooth ebony locks and sharp grey eyes that make him look slightly intimidating

Jamil had shown you how much he valued his achievements over his social status, so you chose a name the could embody him

he's a quiet child who's always attentive and careful

he's rather shy in front of other people, but when it's you he'll soak up all of your affection and stare at you with longing eyes seeking praise

he's a cute helper at home too! he always volunteers to help you with chores and cook in the kitchen, though you're careful he's not close to anything sharp or dangerous

he does have an inherent fear of bugs, something he's inherited from Jamil, but thankfully you've taught him to be less destructive than his father

do expect screams and for him to be crying as a little fly chases him around though

he's incredibly smart and talented at magic, easily grasping the concepts of magic you can only teach him theoretically

when you told him about his father, you've told him about the diligent man that his father is, and how would let his guard down around those he treasured

he had listened quietly without much of a change in his expression, but you could tell there was a bubbling excitement building up in his eyes

and no long after that, he managed to teleport the two of you to a warm, airy room of marble walls

Jamil's features had sharpened, he seemed more openly confident and comfortable with himself

Jamil's heart skipped a beat as he saw you. It had been five years since he bid your farewell at the mirror chamber and lost you forever. And yet here you were standing here in front of him with a child in tow, a child who resembled him so much.

"It can't be..." he murmurs.

Without hesitation, Jamil dropped all the papers and rushed towards you, his heart pounding furiously. His eyes locked with yours, and in that moment, time seemed to stand still. He could see the love and longing still shining in your eyes, and he knew deep down that he had never stopped loving you.

Jamil couldn't stop the tears that began streaming down his face. "I've missed you so much," he said, his voice raspy. "Letting you go is the worst decision I've ever made." He reached out and pulling you into a tight embrace, his arms shaking with emotions.

he's a bit overwhelmed but still so thankful you're back in his life

Kalim barges in at this time and exclaims in surprise at your return and ??? OMG JAMIL YOU HAVE A SON?!!

Jamil has half a mind to dissuade him from holding a banquet immediately to welcome you back, and instead take things slow to not overwhelm you or Isami

asks Kalim for some privacy and the second he's away, he melts into your embrace

he hasn't felt so at ease in so long

if he wakes up in the morning and you're not right there beside him, he's panicking and searching all over the place for some confirmation you're still here

he's very curious about Isami and asks him all sorts of questions to piece together his development and personality

they definitely have a rivalry over who's braver over bugs but it just ends up with the two hugging you for safety

he's a bit awkward with how careful he is with his emotions, so it takes Isami some time to fully trust him

but trust me, Jamil will go above and beyond for his family and there's no way Isami will have to endure what Jamil did in his childhood

Jamil's eyes widened in surprise and wonder. He couldn't believe that they had created a life together. He knelt down to the Isami' eye level and looked into his eyes. "Hello there," he said, his voice gentle and warm. "What's your name?"

Isami starred back at him, his eyes wide with distrust and caution before he buried his face in your legs. Jamil chuckled softly. "It's okay," he comforted. "You don't have to be shy around me. I'm your dad."

Isami looked up at him again, this time with a mix of curiosity and wonder. "Daddy?" they said, testing the word out.

Jamil smiled warmly as nodded, his heart swelling with love and joy. "Yes, daddy," he parroted. "And I promise I'm never going to leave you or your mommy again."

Yuri (百合) meaning "lily"

Lilia's name always reminded you for lily flowers, and what better name for your daughter to embody him?

your daughter has straight raven hair with some of the hair flipping upwards resembling two horns, angular fae ears, and bright crimson eyes

she's always up for pranks and mischief, it's rare to see her without a smile

she loves exploring places, if you keep your eyes off her for one second, she's letting her curiosity take her to whatever she wants

if you're serious and stern though, she will listen to you, she wouldn't dare make her mother upset!

she's friendly with everyone and isn't shy to say hi to neighbors or absolute strangers

she's not overly affectionate, but she definitely enjoys hugs and kisses from you

she has an odd habit of taking stray animals back home in an attempt to adopt them, so you have little adventures with her trying to find an owner

do not let her in the kitchen

she has surely inherited her father's cooking abilities, somehow, she can render even a piece of toast beyond human consumption

magic comes as second nature to her, and she's always standing on ceilings

gosh her eyes absolutely sparkled when you told her about the teasing and mischievous fae that is her father

and soon, the portal opened and you found yourself in a gothic castle lit up by green candles

He's a lot taller, his hair longer and reaching his waist, and more enchanting than ever

Lilia stood in shock as your family figure come into sight. In all his years of living, he had never been so utterly stunned. After all these years, you had finally returned to him.

"Beastie..." Lilia gasped, his voice catching in his throat.

With a surge of energy, Lilia broke free from the trance-like state and hurried towards you, his hair streaming behind him like a dark flag as he enveloped you tightly in his embrace. "After all these years, you've truly come back to me?"

Carefully, Lilia held you at arm's length, studying your matured features, etching them into his memory like a cherished work of art. His eyes traced the lines and contours of your face, memorizing every detail that time had etched upon you.

"My, how you've grown," Lilia murmured, a mix of pride and wistfulness coloring his words. "The years have shaped you into a remarkable individual."

it's family reunion time!!!

he immediately drags you to the throne room where malleus, silver and sebek are

malleus is now king with two incredibly reliable bodyguards, and Lilia's his most trusted advisor

malleus is so glad his dear human friend is back, silver is satisfied that his father will have someone to be with, and sebek is screaming about Yuri, though she enjoys his loudness

for a while, Lilia is extremely affectionate, trying to make up for all the years that had gone by

when you're sleeping together at night, he hugs you tightly and it's difficult to leave his embrace

he definitely tries to cook for you two, going on and on about how the two of you need to stay healthy and need lots of nutrients

you always volunteer your portion for Yuri, and she'll gladly eat whatever her father has cooked for her

silver is an older brother often on babysitting duty, and Yuri loves watching him spar with sebek and also wants to learn

Sebek is quite fond of Yuri, and he sees his half-fae self in her

Lilia is always trying to fun with Yuri, bouncing her high up in the air and teaching her to hang upside down and swing around

plans so many family vacations, he can't wait to be exploring places with his two darlings

"Is she... ours?" Lilia asked. At your nod, he reached out to caress Yuri's cheek, his touch gentle as if he were touching fragile porcelain.

"Well, I'll be damned," Lilia chuckled, his voice cracking with emotion. "I never thought I'd be a father again. But I'm glad to meet you, little one. What's your name?"

Yuri giggled and and beamed at his touch. "My name's Yuri," she said, her voice sweet as honey.

"Yuri," Lilia repeated, his heart swelling with emotion. "What a beautiful name for my beautiful girl," he reached up to fondle her hair. "You know, Yuri," Lilia said, his voice growing serious. "I may not have been there for you when you were born, but I promise I'll always be here for you from now on. No matter what happens, I'm your father, and I'll always love you darling."

Part 2✧Part 3✧Part 4✧Masterlist

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

#twstnexus #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland leona #leona kingscholar x reader #leona kingsholar #twisted wonderland floyd #floyd leech x reader #floyd leech #twisted wonderland jamil #jamil viper #jamil viper x reader #twisted wonderland lilia #lilia vanrouge #lilia vanrouge x reader

[reiderwriter]

hii I absolutely love your writing!! I was wondering if you could write a one shot with gun kink? maybe not really something *aggressive* but just gun kink in the plot !! and please smut with no angst, also maybe aftercare in the end? it's totally okay if you're not comfortable. im loving your kinktober one shots! have a good day :)

A/N: This being one of like... three gun kink requests I've received, we are all not seeing the pearly gates lmao. If you enjoy reading this, even 50% of how much I enjoyed writing it, then I'm happy 😚

Warnings: Undercover FBI Agent reader, gun kink, interrogation room sex, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, some BDSM themes, Spencer has to 'rough up' the reader etc.

Masterlist

Being rough-housed by a group of FBI agents and pushed against a wall before being handcuffed was never your idea of a fun Tuesday night. It wasn't exactly high on the list for any night of the week, really, but here you were. 

“Caitlyn Grant? You're under arrest for being an accessory to a felony and evading law enforcement, whatever you say…” You drowned out the rest of the statement. It was nothing you didn't have memorized. 

“You're not the usual drug crew, and you don't look sturdy enough to be on most of the other teams either. What part of the Bureau are you in?” You asked the lanky man currently pinning you to the wall as he made sure your handcuffs were aptly tight. 

“You have the right to an attorney, if you can't afford one-” 

“I waive my rights. It's not human trafficking. You wouldn't be working this case if you were human trafficking.” 

The man just stared at you in vague disapproval as you grinned back at him. His closeness meant you could see every detail of his face up close, the five o'clock shadow, the dark circles from lack of sleep. On most of the agents you'd encountered, it had the effect of making them look older, a little haggard, and depressed. On this man, it was honestly very hot. 

He started your pat down by spreading your legs, though honestly, if he'd asked nicely enough, you'd have done just that for him. You near enough told him just that as he reached the two pockets on the ass of your jeans. 

“Watch it, Agent, my bite is worse than my bark.” 

“Turn around.” 

You pouted at his solid resolve, wondering what it would take to get the man to crack a smile or even a frown. Something that wasn't just disinterest slapped on a face and called a day. 

You did as he asked, making sure your body pressed nicely up against his the entire way until your shoulders were resting on the wall and he was feeling along your waist. 

“Come on, what kind of weapon are you going to find there?”

“Standard protocol, please let me do my job.”

“Standard protocol is calling one of your female agents over here to maintain the boundary, Agent. This feels more like you're just trying to cop a feel.” 

Those words finally got a reaction. The subtle clench of the jaw as his hands tightened slightly on your waist had you suddenly regretting your decision to be put in handcuffs. Your hands should've been free to tuck the stray lock of hair that had fallen in his eyes behind his ear, free so your fingernails could trace a path down his face and neck and chest. 

His gaze landed on the simple silver chain you wore around your list and he delicately pulled it out of your shirt, careful not to touch you (and avoiding you even as you arched your back into him). 

With a quick tug, he pulled the necklace clean off your neck, not pausing to bother with the clasp at all. 

“Clever boy. I'll see you in the interrogation room, shall I?” He said nothing as the female agents you'd mentioned earlier stationed themselves on either side of you as you walked away. You didn't break eye contact until the doors to the police van closed behind you. 

Six months undercover on a case, and this was the first time you'd stepped foot in a police precinct since you'd ditched your real name and life. 

The interrogation rooms hadn't changed in that time, at least, still grey and depressing. Time felt void as you waited for company, and thankfully, you weren't waiting long.

“Agent Y/N, sorry about the arrest, we wanted to make it look as real as possible while pulling you out.” The woman who greeted you obviously held the authority, and while you wanted to respect that, the sight of the man trailing behind her actually caught her full attention. 

“Pleasure to meet you….?” You let the question hang open for both of them but kept your gaze fully focused on the man, who stood himself next to the door, keeping surprisingly quiet. 

“I'm Unit Chief Emily Prentiss, this is Doctor Spencer Reid, we're from the-” 

“Behavioural Analysis Unit, of course. I was close, you know, earlier. A face like yours wouldn't last five minutes in cartel land. I almost guessed cyber, but you looked a bit too bookish. Doctor Reid, hmm.” 

“This interview is taking place with Agent Prentiss. Please direct all your questions to her.”

“Oh shit, sorry, where are my manners. I didn't mean to disrespect you like that, Agent Prentiss. It's just been a long few months.”

The other woman just chuckled and shook her head, leafing through some documents to pass you over the information on the case they needed assistance on. 

“We think there's a serial killer in the drug ring you infiltrated,” the woman explained, passing over the files with the case details. You took a moment's breath before opening to the crime scene photos, steeling yourself for what you might encounter. 

“There are probably a lot of serials in the organization. It's a drug ring. What makes this one worse?” You said, just as you flipped the file open and answered your own question. 

“Shit- Okay, that's what makes this one worse. He can't be more than 15, right?” 

The answering grimace on the two agents' faces suggested you'd been generous in your estimate. “Okay, how can I help?” 

xxxxx 

A few hours passed in the interrogation room, and you'd walked them through all of your up to date information on your case and cover. The chair wasn't exactly comfortable, but you were glad to be finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. The interview was ending, and you could see an end to your undercover work swiftly following too with the BAU's assistance. 

You weren't looking forward to having to acclimatize back into the real world. You'd gone from pushing papers at a desk 9 hours a day to rubbing shoulders with drug dealers and junkies, a lot of whom were kids, young people like you who had no other options than the streets and crime. 

You made a mental note to give a few warnings to the younger kids on the streets to stay alert and then started getting back into character. 

“Thanks again for your help, Agent. We appreciate your time.” Prentiss nodded at you as she gathered the folders, getting ready to leave. 

Spencer Reid stood, too, stretching himself out as he rose from the chair, giving you quite the show as your eyes dragged from his face, down his chest and down further still as you appreciated the view. 

The last few hours had been strictly professional, and you'd enjoyed bouncing ideas off of him, running through theories. Now, trying to get back into your ‘lusty barmaid’ persona, you thought instead about how much you'd like to bounce on him yourself, possibly while running your hands through his hair. 

A girl could dream. 

“Hold on a second, I'm still in cover, I can't go back out there looking this pristine, it's too suspicious,” you said, the two agents turning back to you curiously. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Someone needs to throw me around a little. Rough housing, you know, a few bruises will do it.” 

Prentiss looked at you, caught halfway between impressed and amused. The good Doctor however seemed to darken slightly, covering his shock with a tensed jaw. 

“She's all yours, Spencer,” Wmily winked at the man, turning the door handle and beginning her exit.

“What? Why?” 

“I don't hit women.” 

“And I do? Emily, wha-” 

But the door to the interrogation room has already closed with a small cackle, and you're already being drawn closer to the man like a moth to a flame. 

Turning to face you, you see the shock of the situation on his face before he looks away in a flash, refusing to meet your eyes as he keeps himself close to the door. 

“Doctor Reid, I'm not actually a criminal, you know?” 

“I thought you wanted one of us to treat you like a criminal now.” 

“You make a good point, shall we begin?” 

He signed and rubbed his temples as you advanced, letting you get a little bit closer before holding his hands up in surrender. 

“Wait, wait, tell me first, what should we be doing?” 

You took a deep breath and expelled it, then took the time to think about it. 

You would need some visible marks of the FBI's unkindness - wrists red, a bruise or two on your knees, maybe, from falling. The problem was, you couldn't think about how to get the marks without driving yourself insane. 

There was a quick and easy way to get tender knees, an even easier way to mark up your neck and chest, but you couldn't figure out how to ask Spencer Reid to do those things without spreading your legs and letting him do whatever he wanted. You weren't sure you wouldn't do that eventually, anyway.

“Let's start with my wrists. You were too generous with the handcuffs earlier - just grab them really tight, pin me against the wall if it helps.”

He nodded and took a hesitant step towards you, thinking for a second, before grabbing one wrist and spinning you around. Before you could even process the action, he had you pinned, chest against the wall, arms above your head. 

“Is that okay?” He asked, his grip tight  but not bruising yet. 

“A little tighter, I want the marks to last a while. Why is my face against the wall?” 

He gripped tighter, the pain sending a jolt through your wrists that trailed all the way down to pool between your thighs. 

“I thought you'd be less uncomfortable like this.” 

“With your dick pushed up against my ass? Yes, Doctor, great decision.” 

He let out a cold, quick laugh, leaving you flushed as he pushed your upper body into the wall, too, finally getting to the grip strength he needed to get attention. 

“I'm sorry to disappoint, Y/N, but that's my gun,” the words whispered in your ear were the last straw as you shuddered in his grasp, his hands releasing your wrists as he stepped back a little. 

You shook out your hands a little, trying to momentarily relive the stiffness in your joints. 

He took a few paces to the desk and upholstered his weapon, placing it on the desk before joining you again. 

“So you don't get confused again,” he explained at seeing your raised eyebrow. 

“Oh so next time, it will be your dick?” You whispered, moving back to the desk and sitting yourself on the edge or it, picking up the gun and studying it for a few minutes. 

“Y/N, put it down.” 

“Ooh, possessive, are we?” You giggled, aiming it at him for a second before grabbing it by the barrel and holding it back out for him to grab. 

“Hold it, point it at me or whatever. Maybe it'll help you rough me up.” 

His brow furrowed, but he grabbed it anyway, not immediately slipping it into the holster as he stepped forward. 

“What now?” He asked, and you shrugged. 

“Whatever feels natural. And looks visible, I guess.”

It took him a few minutes to decide, surveying your body like it was a puzzle. Professionally, of course. You were about to speak up and urge him to get on with it when his hand shot out and wrapped around your throat. 

You tried to gasp, but the grip was firm, and boy, was it driving you crazy. Your legs had naturally parted as you sat yourself on the edge of the desk, and he walked into that space now, his free hand still holding the gun. 

Your body pushed forward into his, suddenly awash with arousal as your chest heaved with tiny breaths, lungs burning. 

“Are you enjoying this, Y/N? Or is it Caitlyn Grant that's enjoying this?” 

You felt the gun touch your thigh gently, and you moaned, just as he softened his grip on your throat. 

“Answer me, please. This is an interrogation room, after all.”

You met his eyes, checking to see how far he would take this, how far you could push back. 

“I'll admit, I'm not against mixing pain and pleasure.” 

His gaze flicked down, slowly pushing his gun up the skin of your thigh, raising your skirt with the barrel to catch a quick glimpse of your panties. 

“I can tell.” 

If it weren't for his grip on you, you'd have lunged for him right then and there. The cool metal against your thigh had you shuddering against him, growing wetter by the minute. 

“I read somewhere once that we can't pretend to be someone else without actually becoming them in some small way. You've been a cartel whore for six months, I wonder if this is a lasting effect.” 

He was so close now all he needed to do to close the gap was change the angle of his head, but he kept you in place with that gun, pointing up from your pussy, flush against your stomach. 

“I'll tell you a secret - the part of me that's aroused right now definitely predates this cover.” 

His lips drop to yours, tongue clashing with yours furiously as he grabs the back of your head to angle you better. 

Letting his hand drop back to your thigh, he gently coaxed you further open, skirt riding up. Putting down the gym momentarily, he pressed a wandering finger against your pantie-clad pussy, feeling your arousal before he used it to coat his fingers. 

A second later and the offending pair of underwear lay discarded on the floor. 

“Fuck, Spencer,” you said, gasping for breath as he again picked up the gun. 

“You wanted this so badly, didn't you? You've been needing someone to treat you like this for months now. It didn't even have to be me.” 

He traced circles on your thigh with the gun, and you twitched, years of training not letting you relax around the weapon and months of sexual frustration, making you desperate for something to touch you. 

“Yes, yes, please touch me.” 

The hand at your throat slid down to your chest and pushed gently  urging you to lie back and let him do whatever he wanted with you. The desk was cold - metal biting at your bare skin - and it only sent more shivers down your spine as he lowered himself to his knees and parted your legs for his tongue. 

The first touch was heaven, a state of bliss you'd been without in what felt like forever. His tongue danced across your folds as he tasted every inch of your exposed cunt, grip still strong on the gun pointed now to your chest, pinning you between the machine and the table. 

You tried to be as still as possible, to take the pleasure he gave calmly, but you couldn't. You writhed, moaned, chest heaving as you tried to hold off the first orgasm you'd achieved with someone else in probably a year.  

Like a man on a mission, Spencer Reid did not care. He gladly suffocated between your thighs as you squeezed them together, wrapping them around his head so you could keep feeling the insurmountable pleasure of his tongue on your pussy. 

“Spencer…Spencer, fuck-” you said as he finally pried your legs apart, lifting them just slightly so his tongue could reach further inside of you, curling with each wave of passion. Your hands fisted his hair, desperate for something to ground you to the moment as your pleasure spilt out of you, orgasm jolting through you in tiny sparks of pleasure. 

The gun moved first, coming level with your chest as you untangled your fingers from his hair. Spencer stood, wiping his face with the back of his hand as he kept the gun on you. 

“I think this turns you on even more. You've been ruined by this cover, Y/N, you're so used to being in danger that you can't even get off without someone threatening you.” 

You attempted to scoff, to brush off his words somehow, but his hand was suddenly back around your throat, picking you up off the desk and pulling you instead towards the room's one-way window. 

“Look at yourself,” he said, again twisting you around so you were pressed into the wall, wrists above your hair, raising your shirt to expose the cold skin underneath. He ran the barrel across the fresh skin, leaving a field of goosebumps along his path. 

“I don't think it would've mattered who came in to rough you up. I think you'd just as happily have convinced Emily to fuck your little pussy raw, right Y/N? As long as there was a gun…” 

Your moan was the only response as he used the weapon to spread your legs. You naturally arched your back and kept your hands in place as he holstered the weapon momentarily to unzip his pants and let his cock free. 

You couldn't see it, but you saw his reflection in the mirror as he slowly stretched you out with it, mouth dropping in a lustful ‘o’ as he fed his dick to you, hard and thick. 

As soon as it was in, the gun came back out, this time to rest against your temple. 

“Get yourself off,” his voice was so low it was practically a growl. “Use my cock, and pleasure yourself.” 

Your body listened immediately, beginning to move back and forth on his cock as he held himself in place. His moans and groans were all the encouragements you needed, the gun at your temple was just made the pleasure more profound as you approached your release. 

But he kept you pinned to the glass, your full range of motion limited, and you whimpered in frustration that you couldn't feel every inch of him. 

“If you need something, use your words, Agent.” 

“More, need more, please..please,” you gasped, breathing ragged. 

The hands at your wrists released, and he fisted a hand into the flesh at your hip, your wrists resting on the glass next to your face as he took over your thrusting. 

“Can't even do this anymore, what a spoiled little whore,” he said as his hips began snapping into you, reaching that spot deep inside you as you drooled against the glass, wondering if anyone had just happened to step into that room and what they must think about you. 

“Cum for me, Y/N. Cum on my cock,” he said it, and entranced, your body did just that, your orgasm taking the last breath of strength you had as he too plunged himself deeper and stilled there, his cum coating your walls. 

Neither of you moved for an eternity, but the first sign of clarity returning was the careful return of the gun to the holster. 

Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, Spencer minimized the mess you made together, cleaning you up as he slipped out of you. Discarding it momentarily on the floor, he pulled your clothes back into position and led you back over to the chairs. Just as he moved to sit you down, though, you turned and wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him into a hug. 

His arms hung suspended for a minute or two before he let them rest on your back, stroking your hair. 

“Sorry, it's been… it's been lonely, and I didn't realize how hard it had been until-” 

“It's okay. Take your time,” he said, sitting down in the chair and letting you curl up in his lap, burying your head in his neck

“We’ll catch this guy, and then you're out, okay Y/N? We'll come back and get you out soon.” 

Lifting your eyes to his, you nodded, pressing your lips to his with a smile as you again worked yourself back into character, regaining your earlier composure and lifting yourself from the man's too comfortable arms. 

“Well, Spencer, what do you say we get me back into panties and handcuffs and cut Caitlyn Grant loose?” 

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

[catwhispers0]

✧༝┉˚*❋ Silly Pickup Lines ❋*˚┉༝✧

Featuring - 

Cyno, Al Haitham, Tighnari, Kaveh, Zhongli, Xiao, Scaramouche, Neuvillette, Wriothesley

gn reader - pronouns: you/your

Tw and authors note - might be a lil suggestive for some lines, i dont play genshin 😭😭 so if any of the characters are kinda goofy its cause im too poor for that game, ooc, bad grammar 😬 VERY LIGHTLY EDITED, annoying reader lol

minors shoo shoo as always

✧༝┉˚*❋ Cyno ❋*˚┉༝✧

“do you believe in love at first sight, or should i walk by again?”

finally, its my time to shine

“do you have a bandaid? because i scraped my knee falling for you.”

“are you a time traveler? because i see you in my future.”

“if we were socks, we would make a great pair.”

if anyone were nearby, they would be gone now. you would surely attract a crowd of people who appreciated the little pickup line competition more, if you werent in the middle of a library. 

“are you a loan? because youve got my interest.”

“if you were a vegetable, youd be a cute-cumber.”

that was the breaking point of the poor librarian, who hoped you two would just stop on your own. but nothing could stop you before you could fluster cyno, and he could go all day and night before he would fluster you. 

so, yea, yall got kicked out of the library, but at what cost? honestly, yall never stopped throwing terrible pickups at each other, much to the pain and disappointment of anyone around you (cough tighnari cough).

but depending on your strength against cynos charms, you may last either forever, or give cyno a new hobby of flustering you whenever and wherever he could.

✧༝┉˚*❋ Al Haitham ❋*˚┉༝✧

“do you have a name, or can i just call you mine?”

Al haitham just looked up from his book, confused. 

“i have a name, did you really forget it?”

well this was odd, he thought you were smarter than this. forgetting his name, really?? of all the things you could forget, his name was one of the most, no, THE most offensive one. 

maybe you tripped and hit your head on the way in. he didnt think you were the smartest person in sumeru, but surely you werent stupid enough to forget the scribes name. 

“no, i know your name, but can i call you mine?”

he somehow found a way to look even more confused. ‘can i call you mine’ who is ‘mine’?? oh. wait. mine!! 

by the time he finally realized, you walked away with a cheeky grin. he was left in the dust, flustered. and to think he thought you were dumb. 

now, how was he going to work for the rest of the day?

✧༝┉˚*❋ Tighnari ❋*˚┉༝✧

“arent you tired of running through my mind all day?”

he put his head in his hands in defeat, dropping the papers he was working on. with his ears flat against his head, he groaned. 

“...are you ok nari?” 

“no.”

“...”

after a moment, he looked up at you. he had a disappointed, dead-panned expression. his ears were still flat and he just stared at you, ridiculing you in awkward silence. 

he thought he would only have to deal with one idiot in a life time. why were you so..? annoying? no, thats not it. alluring? maybe… he didnt understand how through all of the shenanigans you pull him through, all the terrible jokes and one liners, youve sill managed to capture his heart and let him keep you around. so yea, alluring.

“... do you wanna hear another one?”

*sigh* “sure, but only if its good.”

his reluctance was apparent in his voice, but the agreement was a good sign. 

you gave it a beat of time to dig through your head for a clever one that would sweep tighnari off his feet. 

“i think i need to see an optometrist, because i cant keep my eyes off of you~.”

“...”

“...” “get out.”

“...ok”

✧༝┉˚*❋ Kaveh ❋*˚┉༝✧

“i must be in a museum, because youre a work of art.”

The architect nearly chokes on his drink and spits it out. you scramble to help him out of concern though there was little you could do in the first place. 

so pat him on the back awkwardly as he endeavors his coughing fit. sometime through the hacking, you notice it has shifted to laughter. 

“what are you laughing about?? are you ok??”

“-yea, im fine, you are just too cute! you caught me off guard.” 

with this, he picked you cheek adoringly. you gave him an incredulous look, this man really choked on his drink and now he demeans you? absolutely not. 

you turn on your heel and walk away after giving him a look of a mix of disappointment and exasperation. 

he follows quickly after to try and pester you for the rest of the day on ‘how adorable you are’.

✧༝┉˚*❋ Zhongli ❋*˚┉༝✧

“are you a geo user, because you rock my world! *wink*”

a small smile and a giggle does little to hide his growing flush. he looks away for a moment, letting your words settle in the air. 

why did you have to be so cute? and you look at him expectantly - waiting for a reaction. you didnt think he would fall that easily, hm?

-though, he does appreciate a challenge. 

sure, hes heard plenty of one-liners in his time, most when and about his dragon or archon forms. but he didnt expect you to exchange one with him, he doesnt know what to do or how to feel. 

“you are something, my dear. are you hungry? its about time for my lunch break, i thought you wouldnt mind the offer, seeing as you seem to want to sweep me away so badly.”

“something?” 

what was that supposed to mean? a good something or a bad something? his reaction did little to answer, but you took him up on his offer. maybe tomorrow you would get him. 

gotta keep that old man on his toes afterall. 

✧༝┉˚*❋ Xiao ❋*˚┉༝✧

“are you an adeptus, because youve reached a depth of my heart.”

at first, Xiao thought it was some adepti pun, but as the day went on, he wasnt so sure. 

it had become such an issue, the yaksha had began pacing around with his finger to his chin and a furrowed brow. 

he was overthinking it, he knew that, but he needed to know what it meant to be in a “depth of your heart”. did you mean it as friendly dialogue? or was there something more…? 

was this a sign? a hint? a clue? a puzzle? he didnt know. how could you do this to him, what is he supposed to make of this?

could you have put him in a depth of your heart that noone else was? Perhaps it was wishful thinking. archons, why were mortals so complicated?! 

by the time he had worked himself up to confront you about the issue that plagued his heart, the sun set and the stars had risen. 

‘maybe tomorrow then, ill let you rest for now.’ he thought as he watched you sleep peacefully, protected. 

✧༝┉˚*❋ Scaramouche ❋*˚┉༝✧

“im not a photographer, but i can picture us together.”

*silence*

“scara?”

“no.”

“what?”

“no, you are not doing this.”

aaaand he walks away…

as much as you try to talk to him after that, he avoids you. it doesnt last long though, maybe 2-3 days. 

still, not very nice. you knew he wasnt the best person in the communication department, but wow.

anytime you tried to bring it up, he would shoot it down or avoid confrontation. 

how nice would it be if he would just tell you if he was uncomfortable with teasing like that? 

with all the teasing he makes you go through, you would think he could endure some himself. maybe he wasnt used to it though, or maybe you connection with him didnt abide by the rules of hypocracy. 

maybe you should shun him back? a taste of his own medicine. 

so thats how you ended up with indigo eyes piercing into you soul. as soon as you gave him any hint of a cold shoulder, his disappeared. 

hes a stubborn man, he wont just go talk to you like a normal person. and all this over a cheesy pickup line. 

its more than that though, the way he treats you is much more that what he can handle himself. be gentle on him, he doesnt know these things. 

he doesnt know this feeling that arises every time he looks at you, when you say his name in that pretty voice of yours, the faces and reactions you make that are too precious for anyone else to see. 

so when you hit him with a one-liner, maybe the feeling is too unbearable for the guy. 

go reassure him, he needs it. 

✧༝┉˚*❋ Neuvillette ❋*˚┉༝✧

“your lips look lonely, can mine keep them company?”

Neuvillette nearly dies on the spot. this is the most romantic gesture hes ever heard of - he loves poetry, you know.

“why of course, my love.”

okay

okay, you just kissed the chief justice of fontaine. wow wow wow cool cool okay dont freak out. 

his face is still so close to yours - hairs away. his eyes meet yours, full of love and adoration. 

his lips are still parted, you can feel his breath against your lips. 

they were soft and gentle. would he mind if you went in for another? surely not..?

and just amd you closed your eyes, they were startled open. a melusine opened the door and interrupted your moment. 

oh well, how could you be mad when the look neuvillette snuck you screamed 'meet me again and we can pick up where we left off'.

✧༝┉˚*❋ Wriothesley ❋*˚┉༝✧

“you should lock yourself up, ya know, stealing is prohibited. “

he plays along immediately, smiling, but doesnt lift his eyes from his paperwork. 

“and i am so very sorry for your lunch, perhaps you could let me go with a fine, my generous love?”

your lunch? oh, hes gonna pay for this! you didnt even know about it until now, too! 

“my lunch?! what did you do to it?!” 

he looks up finally. 

“you dont know? oh well never mind dont think about it, love. its for… the better…”

how mysterious. if you could deadpan him harder, you would. 

“...so, what else did i steal?”

the audacity.

“well if you have to know, it was going to be cute and romantic, i was going to say you stole my heart but you can just give it right back, along with your lunch.”

and you walk away, off to check where you put your food. 

some wishful thinking said that he was just joking for a bit, but knowing him, you cant always be sure…

---------

if u want any other characters, drop a request in my mail/ask box ❤️❤️

#whisperwrites #whisperseries #genshin impact #genshin #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #genshin x you #cyno #cyno x reader #al haitham #al haitam x reader #tighnari #tighnari x reader #kaveh #kaveh x reader #zhongli #zhongli x reader #xiao #xiao x reader #scaramouche #scara x reader #scaramouche x reader #neuvillette #neuvillete x reader #wriothesley #wriothesely x reader #x reader #genshin x gn reader #gender neutral reader

[tai-janai]

ok so apparently all the voices have a little ability ? of some sort that comes from different forms of trauma responses and the sake of safety so im going to list what i think they are. im open to discussion

tldr: they all are their own form of trauma response

with the obvious:

The Voice of the Paranoid with reign over the system. It goes with the fact that someone with anxiety has more stress responses than the average person, he knows how to keep the heart from exploding. His response is pretty clear, the nightmare is very clearly traumatizing. His focus works on survival from the inside.

The Voice of the Hunted has his animalistic instinct and heightened senses. I stand by the fact that he could hold his own better than any other voice in a battle to the death. Though he may not outsmart an enemy, his focus works to keep the system safe.

The Voice of the Hero is, in a way, inconsistent. I think his ability has to do with adaptability. I also have this minor headcanon that he isn't quite the same as the other voices, since he's always kind of there. He can reach the Quiet even when others cannot. His interactions with and reactions to the princess depend on the player more than any other thing. His focus is less of a Hero, and more of an ally.

The Voice of the Broken is fear in a way Paranoid is not. His fear makes him small, but more powerful. In the instance of "Fight or Flight," his response is "Fawn," as in he will use his power to give in to the fear. His will and fear are very powerful compared to the others, being able to control the Quiet's actions without much effort. In a way, his focus is making himself powerless.

The Voice of the Cold is pretty infamous for being as unfeeling as possible. I believe this is not just his little emo persona, I think his focus has shifted in a way that he has become unfeeling (usually as a result of turning off after being stuck in Nothing for "eternity"). His focus is a straightforward lack of empathy as a response to the trauma of nothingness and murder.

The Voice of the Opportunist is like the Hero with adaptability, but that is not his focus. He works with self-interest in mind. He is focused on self-improvement, with the self becoming the best and most powerful. When others backstab, and when you, yourself are a backstabber, it is often that one learns from this to get a vantage point. He is very clever to the best situation and outcome, not caring how he gets there. His focus is the self's best interest.

The Voice of the Stubborn is a very angry little guy. Fight or Flight, his choice is pretty obvious. In the route of the Adversary, of which he is the foil, his response is to become the enemy. He has to fight her, until it becomes a game where "nobody can get hurt." He, like Paranoid, can keep the body from stopping. Remind you of anyone named Frisk Undertale? His focus comes down to denial and determination. He won't let himself be the victim.

The Voice of the Skeptic is, of course, constantly questioning. Once bitten, twice shy, as we all know. The lies , this time from the Narrator, are definitely stress-inducing, and coming from someone that preaches trust, it is not so easy to replenish the guy's trust in anything. His views can venture beyond what is available; he is the first to think outside of the box. It comes down to the focus of self-preservation, the opposition to the Opportunist's focus of self-interest.

The Voice of the Contrarian is similar, but it can be argued that he isn't exactly a trauma response. He is just a reaction to the self. There is a disorder (i cant remember the name) where its just constant denial and contradiction, and that feels more like him than anything. But we all know Conty. It's very clear his focus is Brewing Chaos. His affect can literally alter reality as the reality is being perceived.

The Voice of the Smitten is ... a little bit sad. I'm sure we all know about stockholm syndrome, but in a lot of instances, Smitten will trauma bond with the princess. It's as if she can do no wrong, right? even when she kills you? Multiple times? And will again? ? ? The sheer denial and willingness to be hurt is, yes, another trauma response, wanting the person you love to be perfect, and hoping that they are. His focus is effort; trying his best to love and be loved. Often in vain. It is arguable that his affect effects reality more than any other Voice.

Last but not least, The Voice of the Cheated. Thought of as weak, but could have been more if he was "treated fairly." Anyone who feels as though they have been treated unfairly in the past knows the desire to have things be fair. In the route of the Razor, he also has an incredible resolve and determination. His stubbornness comes from a need to "settle the score." He can unify, and eventually "empty the cup," as in letting go of his vengeance. All of the voices do not bother him. If anything, he is glad that everyone can have their effect, and he hopes his efforts will be enough. His focus is equality, and unity.

#stp #slay the princess #character study #????? #thats a lot of words #pick your favorite #the voices #stp voices #the long quiet #i have a lot of feelings #traumatized birds #all of them but the contrarian #i think hes just a freak

[bonefall]

Is Sandgorse still abusive in BB? If so does he still save Sparrow? Idk I think it'd be a neat thing for Talltail to brood on and move past once realizing the truth. Like just because your abuser did a "Good Thing tm" doesn't mean you have to forgive them or that all of a sudden it excuses their past a tion towards you.

Or did you remove this plot beat entirely? If so I don't blame you :P

Weird that Tumblr search isn't giving me all the stuff I tagged :/ hopefully after finals are done I can compile a 1st draft/The Story So Far for the rework of Tallstar’s Revenge

It's now called TALLSTAR’S COLLAPSE. It is actually a story I am rewriting with tragedy in mind. It's about Talltail fleeing WindClan with his starcrossed lover, Sparrow, only to eventually be drawn back to it where he becomes a perpetuator of all the things that made him leave.

To answer your question; Yes, and. Sandgorse is abusive and there's a LOT of nuance to this situation. I'm not sure if he still saves "Sparrow" though because I have waaaay more of a point in mind with Tallstar’s tumultuous relationship to him.

Summary of changes,

Tallstar's Collapse

Sparrow is the Clanmew name Jake takes when his group interacts with WindClan. His first language is actually a dialect of Townmew!

(Also Firestar has no known father in BB)

His group is nomadic. They go from place to place trading goods. I need a name for both them and their cultural "cluster" but in my head, Jake's family is the Algernauts because Algernon is the current leader

It's important the Algernauts are extremely endearing because leaving them is VERY painful

(and something i want to frame as the wrong choice for tallstar, emotionally)

WindClan is in a very sensitive period of its history. Before Tallstar was born, Heatherstar began the Mothermouth Moorland War, to take a very large parcel of land from ShadowClan. A good 1/5th of it.

Naturally this is a huge project and incredibly ambitious. Sacrifices Must Be Made

The sacrifice she has chosen to make is the death of tunneling. Because she's smothering it.

Tunneling is PEACEFUL, defensive at best. You can't dig them in a floodplain, they would be useless for holding the Mothermouth Moorland territory

Tallkit is born into a terrible position. Son of the head tunneler, mother in a terrible depression, and Heatherstar trying to pry a wedge between the "future" and the "past"

Im also planning to change his name. He was born Slowworm-Kit, which has a connotation of cleverness in Clanmew. To bully him, Shrewpaw calls him Wormtail, because Slowworms drop their tails if pulled. It means "you will get trapped in a cave-in, and when they pull your tail, it'll fall off"

But it doesn't translate well into English... so I'm not sure what his Heatherstar-given warrior name would be. Wormwing or Wormleap maybe, like he "defied fate" to become a wonderful moor-runner...

Or maybe the prefix is Drop? Droptail as the mean bully name and Dropflight as the warrior name...

Anyway, when he returns, Heatherstar welcomes back the extra claws and honors the lesson he learned with "Talltale." In Clanmew this is "Story-travelled," his leader name meaning "Tale-star."

Anyway. Back to the cat drama

Talltail (name pending) is in a tight spot. I kind of want to show everyone being a victim except Heatherstar herself, who has all the power in this situation.

Not that it excuses anyone

Sandgorse is watching something he loves dying, an ancient tradition passed down for generations. He is trying to force his son into a position he shouldn't HAVE to occupy, but his child is the one thing he might have any control over

(Until Tall breaks it ofc)

Tallpaw was just a kid. He needed to take out his bullying and the stress on something, and that was usually his mother and the concept of tunneling

Palebird has been completely neglected by her mate as he focuses on the person he WANTS his kid to be. She NAMED a Fading Kit, a serious social taboo, and even the support of the nursery and Woolytail can't pull her out before Tall's kithood is over

Heatherstar is using Tallpaw as a political pawn and Tallpaw is too young and hurt to realize it. He was given to her sister, Dawnstripe, and endlessly praised for his skill and talent in a time where he NEEDED positive feedback

Which is making his relationships with his parents worse

All the while, there's VIOLENCE. Regular raids and counterstrikes. Cats die and get injured, and it only escalates as Tall gets older and Cedarstar is reaching the end of his lives, hoping to end the conflict before then

And in all this chaos and uncertainty, there comes Sparrow.

Just a trader and an honored guest, there's been lots of these nomadic visitors since the time of Windstar herself, but they've become quite rare.

When Sandgorse dies suddenly in that collapse (TITLE DROP) Talltail has the push he finally needs. It's too much. He can't process this

Sparrow begs him to leave with them, they don't even need to confront anyone, just come!

IF IT SUCKS HIT DA BRICKS

I have tons of really nice little things planned for this part of the story. It's several chapters of Talltail being free.

He engages in the funeral rites of Wee Hen, asking if he may sit vigil for her. His new family is honored to allow it, Reena even tries to do it too and falls asleep

(Little sister energy)

They meet all sorts of people and go to many places. Talltail learns that the world is vast, and there's an endless amount of knowledge out here.

It all starts crashing down when him and Jake find a litter of abandoned kittens, and become parents.

They're a few moons old.. around the same age as his halfsibs back home.

It starts bringing back memories. He wonders how they're doing. If they made a nice grave for Sandgorse...

The sudden longing for his own mother strikes him like lightning.

For the first time in eons, he feels GUILT over leaving. He thought it was over-- he's living his own life now!

But what if they're hurt? What if there was a battle and he couldn't help? What if his mentor died and he didn't even know?

What kind of a horrible son doesn't even say goodbye?

The problems that made him leave seem so small now, and the homesickness is like acid leaking from his stomach, dissolving his guts and leaving him hollow

He's raising kits who will never know what it means to earn a title, or have a permanent home, or--

(Any of the other things he should have learned don't have meaning outside of clan culture. Things they wouldn't miss.)

He cherishes the memories he makes here, raising children with his mate, but something turns inside of Talltail. Like the groaning ache of a hundred stones on top of a decaying mineshaft

The REAL collapse is this. An existential crisis Talltail can't escape from.

And eventually, it comes tumbling down with one last, horrible nightmare.

In his dream, he came home only to find the sandy camp abandoned, the dens decrepit, full of musty scent and cobwebs.

Sandgorse was there. And they talked.

His dad was gruff as always, disappointed. But he didn't say anything the real Sandgorse would say.

The nightmare said, "You really did turn out like me. We both left your mother when she needed us. Turned our backs on our leader. And now we're both dead to WindClan."

Tall wakes up crying. Jake is there to comfort him, but the conversation they have is sad.

Jake tries to tell him that's all not true, and even if it WAS his dad, his dad sucked and would only say that to hurt him!

But... Tall can't believe it. Jake's right but also wrong. He IS all those horrible things.

And...... how can jake ever Understand? He does not know the Bonds of a Clan cat

(thought terminating cliche. Outsiders Cant Understand Our Bonds.)

He stays a few more days, but that nightmare was the end. And everyone sees the change.

The kits are apprentice-aged. He stayed until they would be old enough to keep up with the Algernauts.

And he says goodbye. He won't ever leave without saying goodbye ever again.

Jake says it doesn't have to be goodbye, he'll always love him, and they can visit! They can see each other again!

And Tall says yes. That this isn't the end. It's... see you later, my love.

(...but they both know how violent it's getting between Wind and Shadow. It isn't safe to visit.)

It is the end. But neither can admit it.

But after Tall is a fair distance away, one of his kits tackles him.

POSSIBLY Post-Tallstar's Collapse

Not sure if I'd put these in a novella or still make it part of it, but these are all directly related to the fallout of Tallstar's Collapse

Most likely is that there would be overlap between this and Brokenstar's Cataclysm, so the same events would be seen in different perspectives.

The kit's name is Fly. Tall has to wait for him to catch his breath and stop crying before they can talk.

Fly already lost parents before. He says he knows he can't make his dads stay together, "But PLEASE, papa, let me choose where I go this time!"

How could he say no? How could he send his son away after a plea like that?

He told him it would be hard. That he would be trained. That there would be dangerous fights.

Fly didn't care, he said he could be strong. He could do anything he needed to.

So... Tall took him to WindClan, where he became Flypaw. He became the warrior he promised he would be.

And Tall didn't notice how much the kid was changing until it was too late. Flytail took to it as if he was Clanborn-- but had to work twice as hard, fight thrice as viciously.

Though Talltail was graced with an Honor Title and open arms, he'd adopted his greatest rival.

Fly and Tall started competing for deputyship as soon as they finished training apprentices; Heatherstar had a fondness for the two of them.

In the end, Talltail won the spot by springing into action and saving Heatherstar's young nephew, a little golden tabby, from an adder.

Flytail continued as one of the more aggressive warriors in the Clan, surviving increasingly violent and bitter battles, until it came to a head in Heatherstar's Last Stand.

Her final battle as an old leader was a gruesome, definitive curbstomp in the last strategic point ShadowClan held above Carrionplace.

One of the losses was Lizardstripe-- neck snapped in Flytail's jaws.

Runningnose, and by extension, the oak-tree to his long-shadow, Brokentail, remembered this. Especially when Runningnose's father Mudfoot collapsed later that year.

As Talltail took leadership from the dying Heatherstar, a familiar regretful guilt wormed into his belly.

His son Flytail stood with a bloody mouth, eyes wet with sorrow, looking down at the leader Talltail once loved almost as much. Appreciating her sacrifice.

(secretly he didnt choose Deadfoot as his deputy just for his honor title or the battle move he invented... he chose him because there was a shocked, sorrowful look in his eyes at the fallen shadowclan cat. Sympathy seems more honorable in this moment.)

Tallstar is a wise leader... but his fatal flaw is naivety. How could he think he'd bring his son into WindClan, and not see the boy grow into a ferocious Warrior?

And naivety is what he displayed when he offered Raggedstar a peace deal. WindClan would keep the land, but they would pay a small tax of rabbits over the winter.

It was unprecedented. It was merciful. It was stupid.

When the winter was over, what would stop them from pushing further south?

Would they trade back the frogs and the flax, come summer?

On the blood and bones of so many warriors? As if giving up was ever an option?

Brokentail killed his father to prevent him from taking the deal, and reawakened Ripplestar's War Tactics.

BURN the peat. KILL the prey. OFFENSE is defense. A dead warrior is 10 less claws. A dead apprentice is 1 less warrior.

Stolen kittens are 1 more warrior on your own side.

Tallstar paid the ultimate price for letting Flytail follow him home that day. On the night of the massacre, Flytail went down fighting alongside a mate and a daughter. Dogpiled by Tangleburr and her squadron in revenge for Lizardstripe and Mudfoot.

Tallstar's granddaughter Stoneclaw, made a warrior and sitting for her vigil on that night, was the sole survivor of the little family.

The event stopped her from speaking again, like she's still sitting vigil.

Tallstar is a character who almost broke free of the control of the Clans. For a brief moment of his life, he was free.

He thought maybe he could change things a little, protect his Clanmates from the battles by being part of them, have the Mothermouth Moorland and protect the peace at the same time. But you CAN'T.

You can't fix broken systems without fundamentally changing them. He thought he could be a nice warlord and that would work on the Clan whose territory he had inherited. Power acts through people just as much as they act through power.

And that's Tallstar. He who travels the world, yet is never able to go far enough. Always falling just a little short of the point, believing that love and mercy is enough while blissfully ignorant of the pressures of pride and power.

Into this role, as a successor to this leader, Onestar is unwillingly thrust.

#BB!Tallstar #Better bones au #BB!Flytail #Tallstar's Collapse

[calehenituse-brainrot]

Hiiiii may I request a very obvious and everyone knows it— a simp, pining, very much in love cale? With a dense reader who doesn’t realize they’re making him flustered- dense and oblivious? :>>

Thats all u can choose how u want to write it :))

Oh, ur works are so gooooodd btw :DD

LETS GO BABE !!! AND THANK YOU 🥺🥺💗

im gonna make this short as hell because i need sleep and it's three in the morning. im loopy as hell and couldnt think of how cale as a character would simp and this is the best i could do, im sorry 😭

Alver was a bit elated, to be honest.

After the war, things finally settled down and the lives of the citizens of the Roan Kingdom settled back to normal, or perhaps even better than before.

The talk of heroes was still a warm topic amongst the nobles and commoners, especially about Cale Henituse, the most praised hero of the continent.

Despite the heavy nickname he carries, Cale Henituse continued to be himself — not that Alver was surprised — and still became that bastard guy that Alver trusts.

Cale was chosen to handle the matters a Prime Minister would handle, gaining the position as the proxy of the Prime Minister — a position that was still vacant, of course reserved for Cale himself. But if the man himself knew of it, he'd immediately run away so Alver declared him to just be a proxy to keep the man by his side with the reason that he hasn't found someone fitting for the position yet.

Of course, Cale wasn't given as much as work as an actual Prime Minister are usually given. Alver was kind to his dongsaeng, so he would make sure Cale still has enough rest to slack off for awhile.

During those times, Cale would rarely come by to visit the Royal Palace, which was absolutely understandable. Alver himself would not want to visit his workplace if he's given a day off if he wasn't the Emperor and practically living in his workplace where a political dispute is always happening.

'He's been visiting often, hasn't he?'

Alver glanced up from his paperwork to his dongsaeng who wss reclining on the couch of his study, just sitting there and munching on cookies, this time without Raon.

"Cale..." Alver sets his fountain pen down, looking at Cale with a slight frown on his handsome face. "Is there something wrong?"

"Of course not, Your Highness," Cale answered quickly. "Nothing is wrong."

Alver pursed his lips into a thin line, not believing Cale once a bit because he knows his dongsaeng and while it is probably not something particularly serious from how lax Cale was, Alver was sure it was still something that bothers the redhead.

Alver hummed, taking another sheet of paper from the piles that were on his desk. "Then, is there a reason why you're here?"

"Can I not spend time with my Hyung-nim?" Cale asked with a raised eyebrow as if he was completely serious - Alver knows that he's not because why would Cale be here and spend time with him when he had been whining the other day about how looking at Alver's face was enough to remind him of the stress of work?

Alver shook his head, deciding to just accept Cale Henituse being contradictory as usual. He wonders why he's still so confused when he should know best that Cale Henituse is a walking contradiction and everything he does is confusing.

"Well, if you're staying here, might as well know that Dame [Name] is going to be here again for a private audience."

"From the [Last Name] Household?" Cale questioned and Alver let out a chuckle, "Is there any other one?"

You were a lady from the [Last Name] household, the head family being your single mother, Baroness Charlotte and you were the eldest one out of the three daughters the baroness had. People had originally thought the daughters were going to get married off to older noblemen who were willing to pay off their dowry but due to the Baroness' competence and your clever mind, your sisters have been pried away from the clutches of older noblemen as you were both enough to help your sisters to live.

Your household was compassionate towards orphans and the poor even before the war, providing food and shelter to the ones who needed them. This gives your family very good support from the commoners and loved ones, always being helped by the commoners with the little things. Your family had been very neutral when it comes to siding with the Princes as you all only focused on yourselves and those who are in need.

During the war, Alver had you and not your mother be in charge of sending out help to those who are in need, citizens of the Roan kingdom or not, and to make sure everyone is safe. Due to seeing his thoughtfulness, your family eventually sided with Alver. You had been exceptional in carrying out your duties and earned quite the fame for being the representative of the warm and generous Roan Kingdom, so when you returned, the title Dame was given to you for your services.

Cale would know that, not only because you were an important figure in what would be Roan Kingdom's history regarding politics and international affairs, but you had always coincidentally been wherever he was during the last few years so your title was given pretty quickly and earned much more respect from the nobles.

"Right..." Cale turns away from Alver.

Alver let the conversation to sink into his brain. Why did he have to say that to Cale? The man has been present every time you had to have a private audience with Alver, which had been a frequent event because you were building an establishment to house the homeless.

A knock was heard from the other side of the door of Alver's study.

"Come in."

You stepped into the office, dressed as formally as usual with a white shirt with ruffles and a long, fitted red skirt that flares around your lower calves. There was a folder clutched close to your chest, most likely the cause of your presence here.

"Oh!" You sound elated when you saw Cale in Alver's study but then turned back to look at Alver. "Your Highness, I didn't know you were expecting a guest."

"Dame [Name]," Alver greeted you with a relieved smile. "Please tell me you've brought me good news regarding that housing property case."

Cale stood up from the couch, approaching Alver's desk as well, curious about what good news you were bringing that you were smiling so brightly.

"Of course," you say, closing the door behind you and approaching Alver's desk. "The verdict's out -- the housing property is still within its area and not Viscount Chers'. We sued Viscount Chers for destroying some of the building he claimed to have entered his estate and won, so he has to pay for the cost, damages, and also interest."

Cale has heard of the case before. Viscount Chers had thought the housing property was being built on his land and had ordered his guards to destroy some of the building. With you supervising the project, you immediately sued Viscount Chers for his actions.

"Dame [Name], have I ever told you that I love you?" Alver smiled at you as he received the folder in your hand.

Cale jolted a bit upon hearing Alver's words and glanced at you, seeing your smile as you spoke, "Flattery gets you nowhere, Your Highness."

Alver sighed. "Shame."

Cale wanted to ask since when were you and Alver gotten close enough to be joking around like that. Of course you had been close to the two of them, but it seemed you have gotten more familiar with Alver. Just in time, Alver caught his gaze and raised an eyebrow, confused why Cale looked like he had a lot on his mind.

"How's your family, Dame [Name]?"

"Oh, my, thank you for asking." You cupped your cheek and closed your eyes as you continued, "My mother is well, but my sisters have been going out to parties more than ever. I think they're starting to have people they fancy."

Cale tilted his head, interested. "You seem relaxed about that."

"It's a part of being young," you told him. "Besides, I'm so busy to the point I can't really keep them safe forever. It's like having kids of your own, I guess. What about you, Cale-nim? What would you do with your own kids?"

Cale let his mouth speak before thinking properly, stumbling out his words. "I guess if we have kids -- wait, no, I mean, I already have kids, like Raon, Ohn, and Hong."

Alver watched this with a raised eyebrow, a knowing smirk forming on his lips as he watched his sworn brother trip over his own words and overexplain things. 'Is this why he had been in my office for the last few days?'

"I'm not the type to restrict them too much from experiencing life," Cale told you. "I don't want to be someone they grew to hate because I held them back from living their lives."

You smiled softly at him and Cale grinned, patting himselfon the back for his answer. "That's actually a very good insight for parenting. I might need to remember it once I have kids of my own."

"Aw, look at you both, talking about kids," Alver teased, the shit-eating grin on his face made the alarms in Cale's head come to life.

He caught on.

"Speaking of, Dame [Name], I heard you've been getting many letters regarding marriage," Alver brought up the rumor he had picked up a few weeks ago. He didn't think that such a rumor would end up being something so useful.

"Marriage?" Cale asked, his whole body going tense.

Your cheeks are tinted red as you laughed away Alver's words. "Oh, please, all of them are only sent because they heard you were handing me one of your major projects for developing the kingdom. I'm not dumb enough to see they're simply trying to get to you and Cale-nim."

"You should tell them that you're with my sworn brother so they won't bother you," Alver said, wasting no time to immediately struck that nerve.

You laughed again. "Oh, no, I don't want Cale-nim to get entangled in weird rumors."

"I don't mind."

Cale's cheeks are red when he said that and he wanted to hide from you when you and Alver turned to look at him. He cleared his throat and continued, stuttering a bit when he spoke; "I-I mean, just use my name if they caused you trouble. I don't mind."

"Oh, my, thank you so much, Cale-nim!" You grasped his hand with both hands, the smile on your face so bright that Cale's face immediately darkened with so much blood rushing to his face.

"I might overuse it so much that no one will dare to get close to me," you say, letting go of his hands.

'Oh, please do overuse it,' thought Cale.

"I think that's what my sworn brother would like," Alver added with a grin.

Cale wanted to kick Alver in the shin.

"Do you hate the idea of me with another man that much, Cale-nim?" You asked with a playful grin.

Cale opened his mouth to defend himself but no sound came out when he saw your smile and the red flush of your skin. He closed his mouth and decided to just stand there like an idiot.

"I don't think another man could live up to my standards considering I have been spending so much time with the both of you," you continued shyly. "Perhaps I should linger with the others lest my mother will complain about my being single."

"Or you could just keep spending time with us," Cale prompted, shrugging his shoulders to appear nonchalant. "There's no harm in that. Keep all of the bugging men away."

He doesn't miss the raised blond eyebrow Alver was giving him while you weren't looking.

"Perhaps," you murmured, beginning to walk towards the door. "Talking with the both of you is wonderful but I do have to rush to handle these paperwork."

"What time do you get off work?" Cale questioned quickly.

You stopped, turning to look at the red-head. "Around four. Planning on taking me home and meeting my mother, Cale-nim?"

"She loves the cakes from that dessert shop, right?"

You laughed, shaking your head in disbelief. "Yes, Cale-nim. The strawberry shortcakes are her favorite."

Cale nodded. "Noted."

You bowed to the both of them, excusing yourself out and leaving the two brothers inside the study.

Cale let out a sigh. "Well, I'll be leaving—"

Alver grabbed a discarded paper and crumpled it into a ball, throwing it at Cale who frowns. "What?"

"I cannot believe you came here just so you could ask Dame [Name] on a date."

#cale henituse #cale henituse x reader #lout of count's family #tcf cale #trash of the count's family #lcf cale

[bellewintersroe]

Sebastian Vettel x RBDesignEngineer! Reader.

Set in 2013 during the GP, Jennifer is fresh out of uni and has made a name for herself within the F1 world. She joins Redbull-Renault as one of their engineer designers and easily fits into the team, forming friendships easily. Most of all, she captures the attention of three time world champion, Sebastian Vettel. Part 1- just an introduction to the OC and situation, please excuse my inaccuracies about the 2013 GP and design engineering im not a pro and was like 11 back then 😭😭 here’s the LINK to part 2.

Australia, March 2013…

“And here… right through here is… our youngest, and my personal favourite design engineer. This is where all the magic happens.” The sound of Sebastian’s German accent caused my lips to lift as I took my head set off, spinning around in my chair. Sebastian was walking alongside a camera man, touring around the garages. It was pre practice day, only two more days and the 2013 GP would begin. Although I’d been hired for Red Bull back in October of last year, it had taken 5 months to get to this point of merciless training and shadowing to ensure I was good at what I was doing. The Red Bull driver made his way over, resting on the back of my large chair with an amused smile. “Hi.” I nervously giggled, pushing my hair behind my ear as my headset fell around my neck. “This is Jennifer, do you want to tell them what you’re doing today, Jennifer?” The use of my full, formal name was sending me slightly giggly as I gazed up to the blonde man. Maybe it was just him making me feel that way…

“Um… so, to put it in simple terms so it’s not so boring, we’re just checking all the components of the RB9’s- what Sebastian and Mark will be driving- to make sure we don’t need to make any last minute changes.” “And what’s your name again?” The camera man asked. “Jen, I never go by Jennifer.” I laughed, glancing back up to Sebastian again. Whenever our eyes met I found myself struggling to keep composure on camera. “Tell then a bit about yourself.” He then nudged me on, grinning down. He could tell I was getting flustered, but continued purposefully. “Nobody wants to know about me!” I laughed, attempting to spin my chair back around in embarrassment. Hiding behind my computer for the first two weeks was my safe haven, that’s what I’d reverted back to. “They do!! Tell us, how did you get into your position?!” Seb spun the chair back, sliding a hand down onto my very ticklish shoulder, squeezing as both my shoulders jumped up with a giggle.

“Sorry.” Seb breathlessly laughed. “Um- well I started here in October, I just finished my masters last year at Manchester in Motorsport Engineering- um… Im 22- I don’t really have anything else very interesting to say! Uh- I suppose I had- just had experience from working part time with my brother who’s an engineer when I was like… 15.” I explained.

“Clever girl.” Seb responded as I automatically gulped in response, looking up to him and awkwardly glimpsing back to the camera. I didn’t know how to act with that in my face. “And what’s this?” The camera zoomed closer in on my second screen, it was just information about F1’s plan to go electric next year and use Hybrid engines, but it contained private information. My hand flew up blocking the screen dramatically, “oh! Sorry, that’s a secret!” Seb burst out laughing. “Oh no!” I laughed, “don’t worry I’ll cut that.” Luckily the camera man turned away as I sunk back into my chair. I really hoped I didn’t leak some super, confidential information about Red Bull or I’d be facing the sack a mere half year into employment.

Sebastian flashed me another smile and squeeze on the shoulder before following the camera man and showing him around some more. When they left I let out an internal sigh. I’d known Seb for the same amount as everybody else here, but I just felt this immediate warmth to him. Once the intimidation had worn off (even now I still felt it) I could tell there was an instant attraction. At points it felt mutual, Seb would openly flirt with me, tease me, I know he was a charmer, but I couldn’t tell if I was being delusional or not. He was cuddly, funny, he always looked so deeply into my eyes whenever I explained something to him. I wasn’t sure how I’d deal with the feelings that would keep me on edge for a full season. The worst thing about it??? I had a boyfriend.

#sebastian vettel #sebastian vettel x reader #Sebastian vettel x oc #Sebastian vettel 2013 #Sebastian vettel x you

[astronnova]

please tell us about deep sea expedition

yes.... finally......... i can SHILL..........

basically, deep sea expedition or WHATEVER it would be called would be the salmon run dlc. wave THREE of splatoon THREE's dlc waves. you feel me?

so i've done just two posts before about this idea, but it would star agent 4 as our player character. reasons why?

agent four and agent 8 both having dlcs in splat3 would be a great way to pay homage to splatoon 2, since both were the protagonists of that game

grizzco and salmon run were introduced to the series with splatoon 2, might as well have the protgaonist of that game be the one to end the salmon run story line since return of the mammalians focuses more on mr. grizz himself instead of the salmonids

the basic idea for gameplay i have for this DLC would be a mix of a more open world approach (think security breach: RUIN) alongside a the PVE horde gameplay from salmon run. agent 4 would have to fight through hordes of salmonids and other deep sea creatures to descend deeper to reach a sort of salmonid capital. think maybe like... sparta? since the salmonids are inspired by that. maybe a giant ass collesuem (i know thats in rome i do not care).

point is, you start near the surface and have to descend to defeat the bosses (ha get it. cus side order has an elevator where you go up? im clever i think sometimes)

actually this sounds a bit like doom. oh well

i'd like to think there's some sort of phenomena of like... underwater air pockets. like underwater caves? where a bunch of civilizations are maybe? would be pretty neat to see all the stuff where salmonids go when they arent doing the salmon run part, among other species that could live in these areas considered the deep sea metro

(the naming coincidences are not lost on me but i have no idea what else to call this hypothetical salmon run DLC)

story? agent 4 has been stranded in hostile, salmonid territory with no backup, a faulty pair of grizzco (tm) dualies, and her wits. 4 meets a goldie salmonid, named chrysos, who takes 4 under their fin (ha) to help them find a way home. 4 and chrysos must explore deeper into the heart of the sea to find enough super golden eggs (name and idea pending) to have enough power to send 4 home.

thats the working synopsis anyway, excluding major spoilers and all

apart of the open world sections of the DLC would have the player controlling 4 and chrysos in a kind of open world diving situation. four is equipped with a prototype pressurized underwater scuba gear that makes it safe for ink-based people to go underwater! its grizzco brand and needs many upgrades (that could be acquired thru out the story).

im thinking for these sections you'd be timed to find an air pocket or new treasure of sorts? and if you run out of time idk 4 runs out of air or something and gets splatted. dw they have a life preserver which chrysos would reactivate to save four, basically restarting the level from the beginning.

chrysos would be a very straightforward character with a dry sense of humor and a natural curiosity for all things from the surface. they're helping 4 out of the goodness of their heart and to satiate that curiosity of what inklings are like, among other reasons.

they pluck one of their scales at the beginning of the story to help power up the faulty grizzco dualies, which would also be a tutorial on how to like.... level up? get upgrades? not sure

this was long! if you have any more questions feel free to ask. i love the salmonids and i love agent 4. mwah

#critical . txt #splatoon 3 #agent 4 #critical plays squid game #salmonid DLC concept #🧻 sharts #✉ mailbox

[larkspyrr]

chapter viii — deeper than the truth (wc. 4.1k)

prev — masterlist / ao3 — next

reblogs are appreciated!

NOTE: i made some changes to the last chapter bc im fickle and didn't like it lmfao. you can either reread for the new context or check the tldr i posted on ao3

You had been right about one thing — Wriothesley was not a stupid man.

He was not unaware of himself. It was this self-awareness that had been key to Wriothesley's ascent from the very bottom to the slightly-less-so — to making the most of his station, regardless of whatever Celestia-forsaken obstacles had been thrown into his path. That, and his dogged determination to get there, at any cost, even if he had to fight tooth and nail.

And, by the Archons, he was going to fight now.

He understood precisely what it was that propelled him forward as he rose to the overworld the morning after you left, fast enough that one might think the Abyss itself nipped at his ankles like an angry hound, snarling, snapping. He’d known for a while the name of the beast that curled around his ribs and squeezed , even if he hadn’t been brave enough to yet speak it aloud. He was afraid that to utter it would be to invite it in closer, ever closer, leaving no room in his chest even for breath, for the frantic thundering of his heart. No room for the inevitable break once your arrangement came to its conclusion and you went on toward your future and Wriothesley stayed exactly where he had been all along, fractured but trying to mend.

Maybe he should have named it. Maybe then you wouldn’t have walked away.

He’d known there was nothing more for him to do when you left; that to follow you out would only push you away further. So he had stayed, and plotted out the next course of action he would take, so long as he was able to bide his time until the morning—if what he'd gathered from vague correspondences in Paquette's office was correct.

Paquette was clever, that much could be said. He'd covered his tracks with an almost masterful finesse and it had been a challenge to glean so much as a date from what seemed like mostly mundane communications with Thibeault.

He was good, sure. But Wriothesley was better.

After you’d left, Wriothesley had waited, sleepless, and then allowed himself no more than the time required to dress and make the Fortress’ arrangements for the day before he fled his quarters, not even sparing the bronze doors to his office a passing thought as he blew by.

Wriothesley had never been one to stand down from a challenge, not even those who crash-landed into his life bedecked in pearls and lace and more spirit than he knew what to do with; witty, and kind, and dutiful to a fault; a fallen meteorite from somewhere else, somewhere more.

And Wriothesley would sooner dive into the Primordial Sea and become no more than a ripple in cold waters than let you march to your death. Before he allowed you to throw away your life for the sake of the people you cared about.

Before he let you go.

So he ran, and the hounds howled in his wake.

When he arrived at the stables, half-wild, muscles screaming, his heart nearly stopped its thrumming at the same moment his purposeful strides came to a halt. The sun hadn't even fully risen.

Lucy’s stall was already empty, neither the mare nor her rider anywhere to be seen.

“So she’s accepted the job?” asked Thibeault, bony fingers curling delicately around the handle of the fine china teacup he held — an imported piece from Liyue, hand-painted, and worth more than most of the working class in the Court of Fontaine would see in a year. Thibeault’s mouth was as straight a line as it ever was, but his eyes glittered with something that looked dangerously akin to delight.

As close to delight as a miserable bastard like Thibeault could achieve, as it were.

Paquette, by contrast, smiled; a luxury he didn’t often allow himself, as frugal and dignified a man as he was, but he postulated he could spare himself a moment of frivolity on the eve of his triumph without too great an impact on the perception of his unblemished decorum. A smile would not be remiss, not amidst the host of more secular pleasures he wreathed his lifestyle in; though if you asked Paquette, and you should, they were simply par for the course for a man of his rank, so long as his taste remained staunchly on the side of ‘classy’ and gave a wide berth to the realm of ‘gaudy’, a feat he was loathe to say still escaped some of the peerage—present company very much withstanding, he noted, observing the garish hue of magenta in the tie his companion donned, not an ounce of shame in sight.

Dreadful.

Paquette tutted quietly, sipping his own tea. A custom blend, catered to his very specific needs and preferences. He swallowed thickly. He’d send this one back, as he had the others.

They still hadn’t gotten it right. Clearly, they hadn’t heeded his generous advice that the best mint was grown on Kannazuka Island.

“But of course she did,” Paquette said, placing his cup down on the tea table between the gentlemen. “As I told you she would, my friend.”

Paquette fought back a sneer at the word on his mouth; a cheap lie, but one he had to maintain if he wanted to remain on good terms with the sniveling man across him. They didn’t need to like each other, per se, in order to work together toward a common goal, but he supposed their machinations were easier to architect if there was some degree of civility between them. It would make it much easier to coexist while they awaited their vision coming to fruition.

A vision so very in reach now. Paquette looked quite forward to the privilege of dispensing with the pleasantries and he imagined Thibeault felt much the same.

While Paquette had certainly become adept at maneuvering around the other members of the court over the decades, he certainly hadn’t grown to like it any more than he had at the start. Especially that old bat Vellerot, a man (loosely called) made of little more than wealth and rot.

All in good time.

Thibeault leaned back in his chair, folding two withered hands in front of his stomach, a self-satisfied gesture that might have been reminiscent of a well-fed house cat if he weren’t so serpentine. His lips curled, teeth bared, and Paquette started; it was a gesture far too vicious to ever be considered a proper smile, though it was an effort nonetheless, even if it was as tasteless as the rest of him. “Once she’s little more than a smear in the woods, the rest will become much simpler,” he mused, drumming his fingers against his abdomen, a rhythmic tap-tap-tap that made Paquette wonder if it was an unconscious gesture. An appalling lack of composure. “The old man hasn’t paid attention to the world beyond his cups in nigh on a decade, and the two younger ones haven’t got the intelligence nor the fortitude to accomplish anything at all. She would be the problem. One terrible accident and she’s gone. Then the old man drowns in his cups from ‘grief', at least as far as anyone is concerned.”

Paquette hummed. “It also takes that delinquent whelp out of the equation, what with all the sniffing around he’s been doing. He will be utterly shattered at the loss of his love, I’m sure. Might do something reckless.”

“I still can’t believe our luck on that front,” said Thibeault. “Two birds, one stone, as the commoners are known to say.”

“Tale as old as time,” agreed Paquette.

Thibeault grimaced again in that way which was so unlike a smile. Paquette fought against his every instinct telling him to pull back from the frankly upsetting expression.

“The Viscountcy has been wasted on him for far too long,” said Thibeault, and he sipped his tea.

Neuvillette stood at the edge of the bridge, his hands folded primly behind his back, chin tilted towards the rolling sea.

Wriothesley heaved a breath as he approached and the man turned his face towards him.

“Neuvillette.”

“Wriothesley,” said the other man, eyebrows rising ever-so-faintly in surprise and interest. “I wasn’t expecting you. You look flushed.”

“Went for a run,” Wriothesley panted. “Can I have a word?”

Something flickered in his eyes, but Neuvillette merely gestured his chin towards the Opera without a moment’s hesitation and made his way towards the structure. Wriothesley fell into step behind him easily, fighting every cell of his being that was telling him to rush the other man, to urge him to walk faster, Archons damn it all.

He bit his tongue, yet it seemed Neuvillette sensed Wriothesley’s urgency and picked up his pace nonetheless.

Finally, after an eternity and then some, they settled into Neuvillette’s office at the Epiclese; a smaller rendition of his office at the Palais, though no less elegant and organized. It was a bright space, walled in books and ornate masonry, bathed in the light that sparkled off the water just beyond the stained glass windows. It smelled like the sea and romaritimes; a light fragrance that Wriothesley had come to associate with the Iudex over many years of knowing him.

Neuvillette looked over at him from behind his desk, his face kind but eerily calm, a direct juxtaposition to Wriothesley’s own storming, blazing heart.

Wriothesley inhaled. Exhaled. “I’m sorry to impose but this is an emergency.”

“It’s no imposition,” Neuvillette said. “I am at your disposal.”

Wriothesley held the other man’s gaze. “Which Melusine Marechaussee Phantoms are off-duty today?”

You clicked your tongue and pulled, bringing Lucy to a halt just before the clearing Paquette had described came into view. You dismounted her, quickly hitching her to a nearby tree, tucked safely behind a dense thicket. She looked at you, ears pitched forward, eyes restless. You moved to pat her gently on the nose, but she tossed her head away from your touch. You frowned, letting your hand drop back to your side.

The last time she had rebuffed you like that, there had been a hilichurl hiding in a nearby tree.

You would be on your guard. This time, you had the element of surprise on your side.

You tried again, satisfied when Lucy allowed your pat this time, and moved onward alone. The sun was high in the sky, casting the upcoming smattering of tents a warm golden hue as they slowly came into view, a collection of brightly-colored headstones in an otherwise silent graveyard.

Immediately, you missed the rhythmic beat of Lucy’s hooves on the dirt as you entered the soundless clearing. Even the wind, forever a comfort at your back, seemed to hold its breath.

It was empty.

You surveyed the camp with careful eyes. Five tents, hastily constructed, flaps lowered to conceal the interiors of all but one — large, royal purple, dead-center. A table sat in view from within. A fire pit, lush with kindling and several freshly cut logs, though it appeared to never have been lit. A hitching post, though there wasn't a horse in sight. A weapons rack, battered but vacant.

You continued to inspect the area with growing unease.

But then, you saw it. In the purple tent, on the wide table. A folder.

The documents.

Emboldened by the silence of the deserted camp, you moved in.

You did not make it far.

You heard a twig snap from somewhere to your right, and you whirled, your heart leaping into your throat. Leaves rustled from all around, every corner of the clearing, and you heard the sharp crack of a slap, followed by hooves — Lucy’s hooves — barreling away into the wilderness, away and away, until you couldn’t hear her at all anymore.

Slowly, one by one, as though they were visions from a nightmare, men emerged from within the dense brush, cloaked in shadow, smiles jagged and cutting on the faces whose mouths weren’t clothed.

Your thoughts came to you rapid-fire, like bullets firing from a pistol.

An ambush.

They had known you were coming.

This was a trap.

Wriothesley had been right.

Your limbs shook. Your mind went foggy. Your fear was streaked with shafts of other emotions—regret, shame, resentment. Longing.

You shook your head to clear the haze, clenching your jaw, flexing your fists.

You didn’t have time to regret; you didn’t have time to wish.

You would get out of here. You had no other choice.

You had to get back to him.

But you were alone. They had known you were coming. Lucy had been scared off. No one was coming.

You were alone.

They began advancing.

Blades with wicked edges glinted in the afternoon sun as they emerged from the shade of the trees. You clutched at the hilt of your sword, savoring the tiny fraction of power you reclaimed at the feeling of the warm leather against your shaking fingers. Fingers that you found were getting increasingly difficult to control.

You fought to master your breath.

One man stepped ahead of the others, brandishing a razor-sharp rapier in your direction, your eyes following the way it swayed in his loose, unworried grip, light and free as wild barley. His eyes gleamed with profane delight from over the cloth secured around the lower half of his face. You didn’t need to see his mouth to know he was smiling.

“Right on time, my lady,” he sneered, voice reedy and meandering. You had never hated the honorific more. Several of the others snickered. “We’ve been expecting you.”

You met his gaze, willing yourself to maintain your composure as you assessed the situation—two, three, four Treasure Hoarders stood in the clearing with you. They didn’t appear to have any horses themselves; at least, not any that were nearby, so hijacking one to make a swift escape was not an option. It seemed all four men carried various swords; not a bow nor arrow in sight, but that could only help you, as you wouldn’t need to concern yourself with avoiding or deflecting ranged attacks while focusing on the close-quarters combat. On defending yourself from their blows. Looking for an opening to make an exit.

You unsheathed your sword, the metal hissing against the scabbard. You widened your stance, rolling your shoulders, willing your breathing to a slow, controlled pace.

Dozens of lessons swam through your mind and you fought to sort through your learning.

So many lessons. So little to show for it.

Wriothesley’s voice floated to the forefront, a memory as sharp and piercing as ice.

Don’t overthink it, he’d told you, over and over, lesson after lesson.

Muscle memory and instinct are your greatest ally.

Trust yourself.

You tensed, ready to trust yourself, to trust him , even if it was too late, to at least try —

Something slammed into your arm and side and you gasped, your sword clattering away across the rocks and into the thicket. Gone.

“Ah, ah, ah. I don’t think so,” sing-songed a new voice.

A low, feminine laugh warbled from over your shoulder and the four men echoed, reveled in the cruel mockery of it. You felt as though all the blood drained from your body. The edges of your vision darkened in panic, further blurring the tangle where your sword now lay, hidden. Out of reach.

Five. There had been five tents.

The woman slowly made her way around you, inching into your line of sight excruciatingly slowly, playfully, circling around you like a vulture circles its prey before it dives. Her eyes glittered, impish and hostile. She held an enormous claymore in her hands.

She opened her mouth to speak.

Don’t overthink. Trust yourself.

You lunged before she could utter a word.

Wriothesley hurried, urging the mare forward, faster, faster.

The Melusine in front of him froze, going stock still in her place on the saddle. Her shaggy, dusty rose hair whipped in the wind and she placed a tiny hand on Wriothesley’s wrist, drawing his attention to her.

There was another horse barreling through the woods, not far ahead. Chestnut, with an auburn coat. A familiar leather saddle.

A saddle which was empty.

Wriothesley wasn’t sure he remembered how to breathe. He pressed into the stirrups, signaling his mare to stop.

Lucy, in the distance, slowed her gallop, noticing the new arrivals; darted directly to them.

Trow frowned as the chestnut mare came to a sliding stop a mere few feet away, tossing her head and stomping, hoof to hoof, more agitated than Wriothesley had ever seen her. He hopped off the mare and went to her, checking her over for injuries or any sign of her rider. She seemed fine, if stressed. Nothing on her to indicate what might have happened to cause her separation from you.

“Your Grace,” Trow said abruptly, blue nose wrinkling. Her eyes flicked away from Lucy and towards the denser forest ahead, narrowing in concentration. “I smell something… just over there. Sweet, but bad. Like gasoline.”

Wriothesley’s stomach flipped. He looked ahead at the thicket, but beyond it was utterly silent. Unmoving. He could vaguely make out the trampled shrubbery from where Lucy had emerged. His hand felt heavier than stone against the side of Lucy’s quivering neck.

He flexed his fingers against her, scratching lightly. For her, for him.

“Wanna help me save our friend, Luce?” he asked softly.

Lucy, of course, said not a word; but whether or not she understood what Wriothesley was asking, her gentle brown eyes seemed to agree with the sentiment.

Wriothesley turned his gaze back to Trow.

“Can you ride?” he asked.

She hesitated before nodding shallowly. “I can get by, sir.”

“Go back,” Wriothesley said. “Notify Neuvillette of what’s happened and where we are. I will take it from here.”

Trow's look was long and searching and for a moment Wriothesley wondered whether she would protest his order. But then her worried lilac eyes softened and she nodded once more. Her tail flicked behind her. “Be safe, Your Grace.”

Wriothesley took the reins in-hand and quickly mounted Lucy. He gave the Melusine a small smile. “Thank you. You too.”

He didn't even have to signal for Lucy to go before she was off, hurtling back towards the trees.

Back to you.

Falling back on your months of training in the Pankration Ring was easier than breathing; particularly at the moment, when it seemed breathing had suddenly become very difficult.

You acted without thinking.

You shot forward, swiftly sweeping a leg out from beneath the prowling woman, sending her hurtling onto her ass before she could register you had even moved. She made an undignified squawk, throwing her arms out to try and save her fall, the claymore slamming into the ground, fanning dirt out around it.

The others burst into action, trying to ascertain the best way to subdue you, kill you, you didn’t know, it didn’t matter — you didn’t allow them even a second. You dove for the woman’s claymore, unclaimed at her side, your fingers closing soundly around the hilt before spinning to face your attackers, the new weight unfamiliar and unwieldy in your palm. You would adjust. You had no other choice.

The woman had clambered back to her feet, yanking a dagger from her boot with a vicious snarl that raised the hair on the back of your neck. A lock of dark hair had shaken loose from beneath her hood. Her eyes no longer held any trace of the violent glee they’d had a moment ago; searing rage was all that was reflected in them now.

The masked man dove, rapier swinging in a wide arc towards your side; you deflected it with ease, the clang of metal on metal ringing in your ears as the heft of the claymore easily intercepted the strike.

You adjusted your grip, the shift in weight causing your fingers to slide on the hilt.

Another lunged, sword pointed for your gut. You narrowly avoided impact, sidestepping on already unsteady feet and directly into the range of the woman, who was ready to pounce on your moment of imbalance.

Clearly, subduing you wasn’t part of their plans. And you were sorely outmatched.

You weren’t quick enough.

Swift as a viper, she lashed out, bronze dagger flashing in the sun the only warning you received before you felt its bite. She nicked your dominant wrist, loosening your grip on her claymore—your only weapon—

You dropped it, your hand disobeying your order to hold on as blood dripped down your trembling fingers from the wound on your wrist.

You wouldn’t walk away from this, you realized then, as the claymore fell. No level of skill would allow you to overcome this.

Fool. You were a fool. And you were about to die for it.

You scrambled for the claymore once more—

One of the men sent his boot hurtling into your side, throwing you off course and forcing all the air from your body.

You slammed down onto the rocks and curled in on yourself instinctively, defensively, tucking your legs into your chest before pushing yourself away, away from them; from the threat. You fought to catch your breath, but your lungs and throat burned like ice.

Your back hit the base of a wide tree and you could go no farther.

The woman gestured angrily at one of the men, who then yanked the claymore off the ground. She stalked over to your hunched form, eyebrows lowered.

She flipped the dagger in her hand and squatted before you.

“That’s enough,” she cooed, flicking the tip of the blade across the curve of your neck, softer than a kiss. You felt a sting followed by the feeling of—something warm collecting at the base of your throat. “This is pathetic. It's getting hard to watch.”

She swung her unarmed fist then, and the resulting impact on your head set your ears ringing and your vision blurry. You vaguely made out the sensation of...of being tied, restrained, bound at your wrists and ankles.

You thrashed, but you were too late. You could barely move. Your wrists burned as you pulled. Your head pounded. Your legs would not—could not—obey.

“Get the canister,” one of the men ordered, the words hitting your ears as though delayed—you felt like you couldn't keep up with the pounding in your skull. Another man disappeared into one of the tents, reemerging after a moment with an opaque container in hand.

Your nostrils flared at the familiar smell.

Gasoline.

The woman clicked her tongue, looking down on you. She wiped her dagger on a pant leg, smearing your blood onto the fabric. “Disposing of evidence. Those pesky Melusines. You understand.” Her voice was as casual as if she were discussing the weather or the latest play at the Epiclese. “You know, I had planned on killing you first ,” she explained evenly as the man sloshed the liquid from within the dark canister onto you. You gasped and recoiled, the liquid colder than you would have anticipated, overwhelming your senses as it sank into your clothing, onto your skin. The woman leaned forward, gently taking your chin in her hand, forcing you to meet her gaze. She stared at you hard for a few long seconds. “But then you went ahead and pissed me off ,” she hissed, pushing your face away roughly and stepping back, out of the spreading pool of accelerant.

You couldn't suppress the coughs that wracked your body as you continued to inhale the fumes, as you continued to fight. One of the men approached you slowly as all the others retreated, a torch lit and flickering in his hands. The sun was still high in the sky; this flame was not meant to offer warmth or illumination.

It was meant to ignite.

Something in you cracked and fell away as you realized... this was it.

There truly was no way out. There had never been a way out.

You couldn't do any more against them now than when you were a child, quivering and confused and helpless. The faces before you were different, yet you had not changed at all.

Powerless.

You had failed. You’d failed your family. You’d failed yourself. And there would be nothing left to show for all your efforts, for everything that you were or could have been but ash and regret.

You wished you had been able to protect them.

You wished you'd been braver when it truly mattered.

You wished you'd been a little more selfish.

You wished… You wished—

Everything went white and chills wracked your body at the sudden onslaught of freezing air against your wet clothes.

The world erupted into chaos—hail and snow and shards of savage, unforgiving ice. Shouting rose from somewhere in the camp, but you couldn't make out who they had belonged to or what was said.

The blizzard glittered beneath the morning sun. You fought not to squint, to try keep your eyes open in the face of the storm to see—to see—

There he was. Wreathed in the torrent of rime and burning frost.

And finally, you breathed.

a/n: title from 'war of hearts' by ruelle

it goes without saying that the ‘updates on saturday’ plan is no longer going to happen lol. im a STEM girlie and my job is very mentally taxing so i don’t always have the energy leftover to write, no matter how much i want to. and tbh then i end up rushing to get something out on time that i’m just not happy with lol

on that note: like i mentioned above, i was still not satisfied with the last chapter so i made some changes and it shifts the context quite a bit

essentially i had 2 paths in my mind for how this could go angst-wise, chose one, heard a loud WRONG buzzer, and then changed it so it is instead the other lmao

aaanyways my b one of these days i will actually have a work finished before i start publishing it (no i will not)

hope you enjoyed xo

#wriothesley #wrio #wriothesley x reader #wrio x reader #genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin imagines #reader insert #reader inserts #lark.writes #🌊

[androgynouspenguinexpert]

What are your thoughts on Adam? I just found your page and love the way you think, so I'm very curious /lh

ok first im printing this ask and wallpapering my house with it

adam is an interesting one. i think he's something of a prototype for quinn (see sadism and not taking anything seriously) but they're still very distinct characters who serve different purposes. adam is a foil to vincent - he represents all that vincent could have turned into if william hadn't kept an eye on him. the key difference is that adam doesn't have the intelligence that makes quinn such a threatening villain; he's clever, sure, but he's not smart.

which is not to say he's an idiot, he isn't, but adam is incredibly short-sighted. he doesn't really think in the long term, because he doesn't need to preserve anything except himself. sam (by way of vincent) points out that by the time lovely was found, adam was definitely running low on healing magic, and they likely would've died if adam hadn't been caught. i struggle to believe that adam had even considered anything that would keep lovely alive (like. y'know. food) other than just saturating them with healing and hoping for the best.

adam is also very narcissistic - which is most of what makes him fun to watch, as well as his eventual bloody end - and i think it stops him from making intelligent decisions. quinn (again) is a fantastic counter to darlin (and by extension, sam; arguably david as well) because he knows exactly what he's up against. quinn's head is impressively far up his own ass, but that arrogance is earned. he knows that darlin won't be able to track him down, that sam won't kill him on principle, that he can't be significantly harmed when interrogated because he has access to important information. adam doesn't have that. adam - quite literally - is a nobody, who was swept into house solaire because he was There. he killed his maker, sure, but that was probably an opportunistic betrayal rather than a calculated move. he doesn't have anything to hold over anyone's head (pin this thought for later!). not to mention adam either not realising or ignoring the fact that kidnapping and torturing someone of great importance to the prince of the local vampire clan, who have an established reputation for killing their enemies (thanks porter), is a very bad idea.

i think adam is especially interesting in the imperium - his feral nature in the prime timeline is because of his lack of power. he has nothing to his name, so he has to be brutal so people respect (citation needed) and fear him. however, his link to vincent (however short-lived) grants him a tiny amount of influence by proxy. adam is able to manipulate vincent incredibly effectively by twisting the abandonment issues knife, but can also hide behind him if a bigger threat arises. you can see this in the tiny snippet of imperium!adam we get in the way he's playing with his food (ha) instead of seeking security first, because he already has it in vincent.

adam, at his core, is an animal. he's a personification of pure primal instinct that doesn't - can't - consider the long term, and won't even entertain the idea of relying on someone else for any reason. that would be weakness, and a weak animal is just prey for a strong one.

thank you for coming to my ted talk

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redactedverse #redacted adam #redacted vincent #redacted sam #im the english child does it show

[the-s1lly-corner]

Caine, Ragatha, and Kinger x plush!reader

not much in the inbox so i think imma rattle off some ideas ive had in the brain for a while but didnt have the time or energy to get out!! i know im posting earlier than i have been the past few days but!! idk i just cant sleep. ill probably hop back on later and get to writing again, maybe

CAINE:

thinks youre really cute. definitely ramps up on calling you names like "Doll", he thinks hes so clever for the petname. I like to think that he gives you a whole wardrobe of cute outfits and accessories. sure you might not be a doll... well... do plushies fall under the same category? as far as caine knows, you do! probably offers to give you other stuff, like alternative eyes (IE. buttons) or hair, probably unaware of how morbid that sounds since he cant relate to the whole "having a body/sense of self" thing that the circus members have. theres no malicious intent, i promise! loves snuggling into you, bonus if youre scented

RAGATHA:

on the off chance one or both of you get torn during the day/IHA, you guys patch each other up. of course this is assuming you guys can get torn up in the first place.. honestly im on the fence about it but the image of the idea of you guys caring for one anothers injuries has me feeling things. you guys have matching outfits, its nice, i think. both very soft, emotionally and physically. really i mostly put ragatha here so i could write down that first idea! maybe you guys sew in patches of fabric into one another, like you have ragathas favorite color and she has yours.. think of it as your versions of matching couples tattoos!

KINGER:

imagine being weight and/or scented. that man would be all over you, holding onto you. i mean even if you werent, he would still be clinging onto you since it brings him comfort. but the added smell and weight gives him that bonus level of comfort! probably immediately calms down when you lean in to hug him, wrap your arms around him and his body is already calming down from its shaking and noclipping. if youre an animal plushie, he probably runs his fingers through your fur and plays with it. very gently grabs a handful of it and ever so lightly tugs. in a way its how he determines youre actually. there. and in the present moment

#tadc x reader #the amazing digital circus x reader #digital circus x reader #caine x reader #caine x you #caine imagine #ragatha x you #ragatha x reader #ragatha imagine #kinger x reader #kinger x you #kinger imagine

[notaspectator]

valorant headcannons 6 im pretty sure (im bad at math?) its very interesting to think how everyone would see their counterparts. obviously, most of the duelists are pretty pro-murder toward each other (its definitely just a "i need to be better than myself") but several of them feel like it wouldn't JUST be that. for example: cypher. Cypher refers to his counterpart by their actual name. It feels like Cypher doesn't just want to be better than his counterpart- but that he wants to tear them down. it is not just a competition, but Cypher feels like he has something to prove. that he's faster, more clever, something. or even just that he cannot afford to lose at all. that he cant be outsmarted by himself. a better example is Omen. Omen seems to pity his counterpart. a mix of self-loathing and pity when he kills his own counterpart. I get the feeling Omen would prefer to be the one to kill his copy because it would be toying with the idea of death. he knows that both of them will come back from this fight one way or another, but the idea of letting go- or even just watching a copy of himself let go and die- is relieving and Omen can mask the urge to just die as competition with his clone like everyone else. Fade similarly pities her counterpart. It seems that most agents are either competing with their copies, pity their copies, or see it as a new challenge. which is odd, because you would really think watching yourself die in terrible ways would be more alarming. I find it interesting to imagine that outside of battle, it affects the agents a lot more than they actually mention. Neon and Gekko are some of the youngest agents; surely it scares them when they go up against themselves. A moment of hesitation before either they or their copy is dead, and many of them would have nightmares because it is a REALITY to stare into their own eyes before their copy pulls the trigger. Omen in particular seems like he would find it really aggravating to have a copy at all. He mentions wondering how many times he has been ripped apart. He doesn't WANT to have a counterpart because that means someone else has gone through what he has gone through- that means someone else suffers with him. He wants them dead because he finds the act of pretending to live too much to bear, and so he takes it into his own hands to kill the other Omen to make sure it is quick. It is a mercy in his eyes, and so, they compete to kill each other first. For that reason, Brimstone probably tries really hard to keep certain agents from facing their counterparts. The duelists do better with the extra incentive to kill; but agents like Omen and Viper focus on a specific target out of self-loathing. While Cypher and Killjoy lose interest in winning the site when they could be prying into the inefficiencies of their counterparts setup to undermine the effectiveness of their copy. idk rambling. just interesting to think about how the agents feel about killing essentially themselves.

#valorant #valorant omen #valorant cypher #valorant headcanons #they have issues #i give them issues.

[sleepy-timaeus]

been in a steven universey mood lately. ive also got an au brewing in my head. steven + the gems & humans in the world of the owl house (my phone changed it to "owo" before i could even put the 'L' 😭 i hate this new autocorrect update bro).

i dont want it to be an exact 1:1 of everyone fitting other's roles, but a few of them will be (like no one is taking amity's role of antagonistic to friendship to romance, but connie will be in luz' starting role of a human coming into the demon realm, and i do plan to have a golden guard & someone in lilth's place) and im contemplating having pink and rose be separate characters (for Reasons ™ 👁️). and as of right now, there's gonna be some time travel shenanigans in the backstory of the crystal gems, bc it's necessary for how steven is born 😭 (i had a very specific idea of what i wanted steven to be mixed with & how the crystal gems are connected to rose... do u see where this is headed??!)

anyway. this is why i drew steven with pointy ears in the left doodles lol. those were based on screenshots from the show & i re-found most of them. funnily enough, i couldn't find the ref for the doodle i liked the least 😭 it has disappeared !!

ty for reading my somewhat vague rambling. i hope to start writing soon but ya boy gotta iron out some concepts n stuff. i could name the au something that's a clever mashup of both show's names, but im not sure yet 🤔 steven's house, universe house, the universe owl, the owl universe, the gem house, the crystal house, steven's coven, steven's witches & demons...

yeah. i'll think of something eventually. also open to suggestions this—the su x toh au about a human girl meeting a magical boy, who's probably gonna have some horns (similar to his 'corrupted' form in su: future)

my references and some progress pictures.

#steven universe #steven universe future #ao3 #screenshot redraw #the owl house #su toh au #timaeus talks #timaeus art #peridot

[altruistic-meme]

okay im back to actually talk about this now that i’ve gathered my thoughts a little bit better. But let’s have a conversation about how it was August who defended Simon after they lost the rowing competition:

i think this was actually extremely clever. i know we were all rooting for Wille to destroy August and everything he cared about (as he deserves) but it’s so interesting seeing the effects this had around Hillerska. We know that the seniors were upset about the changes because they were losing the power they held over the first years, and that the first years were pushing back and standing up for themselves, breaking tradition. I feel like this is, in general, a good thing. Wille inspired them to not just sit back and take the senior’s abuse in the name of tradition. 

But this scene is one of a few that shows us the opposite side, how Wille punishing August also hurts the school. Wille pushes Vincent to take over as prefect and as team captain because he knows it will get August out of those seats, but Vincent really is much worse than August is in those positions. 

During his time as team captain, Vincent: makes the team run on a dangerous path, ignores actual talent on the team in favor of those who “want it most” in a competition that would focus on something almost irrelevant to the sport, treats Simon terribly and doesn’t make sure he is trained properly for the competition, and, as this post started, blames Simon for the team’s loss and gets incredibly angry over it. 

Compare that to August. August is the one who pointed out that the forest trail wasn’t safe to run on. August had the team all working together when they were trying to get picked. August praised Simon during one day of training (albeit not for altruistic reasons but still) and we don’t see him specifically ever make Simon feel “othered” during practices. And, as we see here, he is very intentionally trying to shift the blame off of only Simon and calm the whole team down by telling them that the competition wasn’t important anyway. 

As much as we all hate him, August was a better captain than Vincent. Wille wasn’t considering that when he got Vincent to take August’s position away from him, he was only thinking about how it would hurt August. And I also think that that is a very big thing, because like Edvin has said, Wille wasn’t seeing the bigger picture. Especially in the beginning of the season, he wasn’t considering how Vincent would be as a prefect or a captain. He didn’t think of the long term.

#young royals #yr s2 spoilers #this is just a few thoughts anyways #young royals meta #may as well tag that as well since it kinda is #shh ac #as always im like. unsure if this is said clearly or a disaster. but i think that's just my brand whatever it is

[artist-issues]

Snow White's Race and Skin Color Are Not Integral to the Story.

They're just not. It doesn't matter if she's brown or black or white or literally anything in color. Im sorry. I know it's a talking point, but it's not a very good one if you know how many different cultures have stories with the exact same point and themes as the popularized German version that Disney's is based off of.

I know, I know, it's in the name, her NAME is "Snow White," how can whether or not she's white not be a thing?? Because the point of Snow White is not "she's white." The point of Snow White is, "she's pure and beautiful." And the popular version just uses the symbolism of "Snow" to make that point with a clever name. She could also have been named after her "blood-red lips" or her "ebony-black hair."

But they didn't name her "Blood-Red." They named her "Snow White." Because the point wasn't really on the way one specific feature looked--it was on who she was. Pure.

It's a story about purity. So sure, the Disney version--and the only versions in any cultures that can lay accurate claim to the title "Snow White--" depict the lead character with white skin.

But that really only matters to the story if you're trying to associate her, by look, with the color of snow. Which you don't strictly need to do. Because the color of snow is not the only way to communicate "this girl is pure and innocent."

Any skin color can go into portraying that. There's lots of different ways to say "pure and innocent."

NOW

You can say, "but this proves that the Live Action Disney creators are racist against white people now; they're erasing white people culture! They're erasing white people history! They're just being ridiculous, because the word "white" is in her name!"

You can say all that if you feel like it. But those are different issues than the one I'm talking about, and for the sake of argument, it should be very clear: The STORY does not need the Princess to have pale skin in order to work.

(The character doesn't even need pale skin for her name to still be "Snow White," because again, the snow-and-white-thing was only a word picture for "purity." Her name could also be "Silver" or "Salt" or "Refined Gold" or "Filtered Water." It would all serve the same purpose. It just maybe wouldn't have the double-ness of the meaning unless her hair is refined gold-colored or her eyes are the color of filtered water or something. You get what I'm saying)

#Snow White #Snow White 2024 #racist #racism #anti-racism #race #white #Latina Snow White #representation in media #representation doesn't matter because we're all humans #this just in: we're all just people #Rachel Zegler #Snow White and the seven dwarfs #snow white 1937 #Disney #Community #Dean peloton #conservatives #woke #liberals #left #right #everybody