#adding lore and backstory to my fics

[turtletaubwrites]

Misty Eyes ~ Part 5

THIS FIC CONTAINS DARK CONTENT. 18+ ONLY. MDNI.

Pairings: Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader, Doflamingo x Fem!Reader (Past & Flashbacks)

Word Count: 3975

Misty Eyes Masterlist

Ao3 Link

Summary: Feeling good seemed out of reach, but you'd never felt safer than you do with Law. Safe enough to ask for what you want.

Author's Note: Alright friends, patience is required, but rewarded 🥰

Thank you so much @pinejayy for this delicious request!!

Rating/Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Devil Fruit User Reader, Swearing, Eventual Smut, Angst, Pet Names, Degradation, Punishment, Emotional Abuse, DARK CONTENT, DUBCON, Grooming, Trauma, Past Sexual Abuse, Manipulation, Power Imbalance, Dubious Consent, Doflamingo is His Own Warning, Bondage, Dissociation, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers, Kissing, Shame, Blood and Violence, Vomiting, Minor Character Death, Sparring, Childhood Memories, Chaste Childhood Kiss, Teasing, Tickling, Yandere Doflamingo, Hurt/Comfort, Smut, Hair-Pulling, Birth Control, Unprotected Sex (stay safe out there!), Forced Pregnancy (Implied/Intended), Sterilization (Implied/Intended), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Fingering, Penis in Vagina Sex, Soft Trafalgar D. Water Law, Other Additional Tags To Be Added, Fluff, Sexual Dysfunction, Safe words, Choking, Praise Kink, Body Worship, Multiple Orgasms, Aftercare

!!! SPOILERS !!! This story begins during the 2 year timeskip before the Punk Hazard Arc, and there will also be spoilers for the Dressrosa Arc for backstory lore

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

“What do you mea–”

“Nuh uh,” Law scolded, sticking his thumb in your mouth like a hook to pull you closer by your bottom teeth. “You know I could always tell when you were lying. I know you faked it.”

You pulled his hand away from your face, frowning at his shit-eating grin. 

“I don’t know wha–”

“You little liar,” he accused, sitting up. His movement forced you to slide from straddling his waist to sitting in his lap, the feel of his still firm cock beneath you making you gasp. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck, even as you scowled at him. His satisfied chuckle made you scrunch your nose, heat burning your face. 

“How could you tell,” you gave in, earning a quick kiss before he flipped you, laughing at you while he laid you on your back beneath him. 

“You’re a terrible liar.”

Your mouth fell open in outrage, but you couldn’t attack him while he held your fists, kissing your knuckles. 

“I’m an incredible liar,” you squirmed, his weight pinning you down. 

“See what I mean,” he taunted, your futile thrashing making you breathless. “That wasn’t believable at all.”

A frustrated huff left your lips as you struggled to punch that smirk off of his face, but he stopped talking while he kissed his way along your neck and collarbones, so you let it slide. He finally slowed, releasing your hands as he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. 

“Why didn’t you just mist away,” he seemed to tease, but his voice was too soft. 

“I…” you paused, about to argue until you realized that you didn’t want to answer. You clamped your eyes shut against that feeling, then opened them again to glare at him. “Don’t change the subject. How could you tell I was lying?”

Law took a moment, seeming to search for his answer, which did not appease you.

“I’m not sure,” he smirked at your disgruntled hum. “You always seemed so… cute when you lied.”

He blinked, looking down as if he hadn’t meant to say that, but you wouldn’t give him a pass just for looking adorable. 

So you bit him.

“Gah, what,” he sat up, pulling back in surprise until your teeth left his arm.

“Two things,” you snarked, propping up onto your elbows, “I want to know exactly what my tell is so I can get rid of it, then I want to hear all about how you thought I was cute back then.”

“So your tells are,” he grunted, catching your fist at the plural word, “sometimes the corner of your lip goes up just a bit–”

“It does not! That’s the first thing I trained out,” you argued, sitting up on your knees to face him. You narrowed your eyes at him while he ran his thumb over the edge of your mouth, until you sighed at his touch. 

“Maybe I just pay more attention,” he mused, voice husky as he kissed your temple. His breath moved to your neck, your need for answers melting away. Until your body reminded you of the moment.

“Uh, Law,” you coughed, pushing him away gently, “do you have a towel?”

He returned from his adjacent bathroom with a warm, damp towel, helping you clean up the mess he’d made before kissing up your stomach and chest again.

“What’s my other tell,” you interrupted, his soft touches ending as he rolled his eyes. He grabbed your hand, kissing your fingers before moving your own thumb across them. 

“You rub your thumb over your fingernails,” he reported, brow raised as if judging your performance. 

“I do that all the time,” you yanked your hand back, embarrassed that he’d read you so well. Lying was something you prided yourself on. It’s what kept you safe. 

“It’s a self-soothing behavior,” he softened, pushing the hair back from your face. “And you’re right, you’re probably a great liar. I just spent too much time watching you.”

Releasing a frustrated breath, you looked at his stupid face, and couldn’t help but smile. 

“Is this when you tell me how cute you thought I was?”

Law sucked his teeth, his bright eyes ready for a challenge, but instead, he kissed you. Unhurried lips and tongues, treasuring the taste of each other. 

“I thought you were gross,” he whispered against you, earning a hard punch to the arm. He laughed before he continued, holding your wrists again. “But then I thought you were cute, and I thought that was gross too.”

You grinned at the memory of what a grouchy kid he was. For over two years, you’d spent everyday together, bickering, sparring, and causing chaos. 

“At first, I studied you to gain an advantage during training,” he confessed with a sigh, looking away while his fingers tugged at the sheet. “I don’t know when it changed, but eventually I was watching you because I wanted to. Because you were cute.”

He teased the last word, caving in to your demands, and you rewarded him with another kiss, wrapping your arms around him. Soon hands and lips were traveling, until he laid you back against the pillows. 

“Can I make you come now, or do you have other demands?”

You rolled to the side to hide your face while your skin burned, and his pleased hum and teasing kisses along your side didn’t help. 

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” he soothed, your breath going too slow, and too shallow. “But I would love to make you feel good.”

His voice, his words, his gentle fingers that had pulled away to give you space, all of it made you freeze. 

“What can I do to help you feel good, Y/N?”

There were so many strange thoughts in your head, most moving too fast for you to follow.

Except for one thought that felt more like an emotion, a need. You were barely conscious of it, yet it drove you forward, pulling him onto you.

Make him feel good. 

Lost again in the way he touched you. Lost in the way he breathed your name while his marked fingers smoothed along your skin. Lost in the need to please him. 

“Fu-huck,” he gasped out, moaning as your fingers wrapped around his shaft, already hard again. 

Stroking him with purpose, you lined yourself up as you rubbed his tip through the new wetness his touch had drawn. His eyes rolled back before he buried his face in your neck, leaving a sloppy kiss against your skin.

A long whine left your lips, frustration making you writhe when he pulled away. He laid on his side at the edge of the bed, panting while his eyes tried to focus on your face. 

You rolled, crawling toward him with your lip caught between your teeth, more needy sounds leaving your throat. 

“Gods, you’re too fucking good,” he rasped, catching your hands before they could reach his cock again, “but, you didn’t answer my question, Y/N. How can I make you feel good?”

Your body slumped, a heavy sigh leaving your lips before his fingers brushed across them. 

“Let me take care of you,” he pleaded, the words hot against your ear. 

All you could do was nod, body limp as he lifted you back to the pillows, propping you up as if you were one of the precious comics on his shelves. That thought made you laugh, making him narrow his eyes at you until you giggled even more. 

“Something funny,” he teased with that lovely smirk. 

Words weren’t leaving your lips, so he sucked his teeth while he watched you squirm. Your breath stilled at the touch of his fingers along your inner thighs. 

“It seemed like you enjoyed me eating you out earlier, until I started fingering you. Did I read that right?”

Your eyes went wide, pausing for a moment before your words spilled out.

“N-no, it all felt amazing! I just got overwhelmed, but you felt so good…”

He watched you closely then, and you wondered if you’d shown a tell. 

But I didn't lie… 

“Okay… Please tell me if you’re feeling overwhelmed, or if you don’t like something.”

“I will,” you promised, your voice a bit high while you tilted your head down to the side, looking up at him with a teasing smile playing on your lips. 

“How about we use a safe word,” he suggested, smoothing a hand along your arm while he ignored your attempt to distract from the topic. “Do you already have one you’d like to use?”

Your eyes were a little wide as you shook your head, but a gentle kiss on your temple slowed your breathing. 

“It should be a word that doesn’t mean much, and that we wouldn’t normally say. Anytime you’re feeling overwhelmed or want to stop, you can say it, okay,” he paused, waiting for you to nod before continuing. “How about… radish?”

“Why radish,” you snorted, your body loosening up.

“Why not,” he grinned at you. His smile was a sight you’d never get enough of. “Do you have any other ideas?”

Your lips quirked, but you agreed to the word.

“Perfect. Now, will you please tell me how to make you feel good?”

He stared at your parted lips while you froze. No words came to mind. Just tension, and a mild sense of danger. 

“It’s alright if you don’t know,” he reassured, his eyes going soft as they raked over you. “Just talk to me. Is it alright if I touch you?”

You caught yourself rubbing your thumb over your fingernails when you agreed, stopping the movement before he noticed.

What’s wrong with me?

Law’s hands and lips traveled the length of your body, pulling soft gasps and sighs from your throat. You moved into his touch, reacting, showing him how good it felt. 

“I can’t believe how beautiful you are,” he whispered, looking down at your face while he traced his fingers along your leg. Your cheeks were already burning before a breathy moan surprised you both. 

He cocked his head at you, repeating the movement. For some reason, the barest touch of his fingertips to the middle of your shin made you moan again, the ticklish sensation feeling better than you thought it should. 

“Mm, found something,” he teased, leaning closer to kiss your embarrassed face. “Do you know any other places I can touch to make you moan like that?”

“Law,” you writhed, voice breathy as his fingers danced up your body. 

“Come on, pretty. Tell me one thing that feels good. I know you can think of something.”

There was no pressure in his words, but there was heat, and the hint of a challenge. You still couldn’t think of any words, but you managed to move your head to the side, trailing your fingers along the crook of your neck. 

He hummed as his fingers replaced yours, as your eyes fluttered shut. 

“Your skin’s so soft,” he purred, the hunger in his words making your toes curl. “Does it feel good when I kiss here too?”

Whining, your body went loose when he laid beside you, one of his legs resting between yours before he kissed your neck again. 

It felt so good, you could have stayed in this moment forever. The feel of his lips, tongue, facial hair, even his breath overwhelmed you. That sensitive skin sent electric shocks down to your lower back until you shook for him, his warm laughter only adding to it. 

“Thank you for showing me what you like,” he breathed against your ear. “You’re being such a good girl for me.”

Law’s praise took every thought away, everything was gone while your body reacted. Your hands fisted the sheets, your thighs tried to rub together, seeking friction, but his leg was in the way. 

“Mm, Y/N, is it alright if I finger you? You can say the word if you want me to stop, okay?”

Hesitation came back, along with anger. Anger at yourself for whatever was stopping you. For whatever was keeping you from enjoying this time with him. 

Anger at yourself for not pleasing him by giving him what he wanted.

“It’s okay, hey,” Law soothed, his thumb stroking your cheek, “we can stop here, or we can do something else. Whatever you–”

“I want to,” you choked out. Clearing your throat wasn’t enough fix the broken sound in your voice. “I don’t know why, but… me feeling good seems…”

His soft eyes warmed your skin, even though you couldn’t meet them. He waited for you.

“I keep getting nervous when it’s just me,” you murmured, keeping your eyes wide to fight the heat there. 

“Just you feeling pleasure,” he prompted, studying your face while you gulped, nodding to confirm. “You said you want to. Do you wanna try, and we can stop if you need to?”

“Mhm,” you agreed, looking up as you brushed away an unwelcome tear with the back of your hand. 

Law pressed gentle kisses across your face, wiping away another wayward tear. 

“You deserve to feel good, Y/N.” His fingers followed his pretty words, and you fought to just be here with him. So slow, so light, that tattooed hand trailed lower, until he traced around your entrance, leaning close to your ear again. “I wanna make you come so bad. Please, can I feel you come on my fingers?”

Your “yes,” came out in a whine, and you both moaned at the slide of his fingers, your drenched pussy aching for his touch. 

“Gods, you're so wet,” he panted, playing with your clit while he watched your face. “Can I–”

You interrupted his request, nodding permission before he pushed one finger, then two inside of you. His eyes never stopped scanning, and he sat up to free his other hand, caressing down your body. 

It felt so good, but there was something. You’d been able to keep memories out, but you couldn’t relax. 

“What do you need,” he checked in, his skilled fingers bringing you close, but not close enough. 

“I feel like I–” you moaned, his thumb moving over your clit while his fingers curled up to that spongy spot inside you. “I feel like I need to make you feel good.”

“Mm, you are making me feel good,” he rasped, his body seeming to relax at your confession. “I love the way you’re gripping my fingers like this. I love the little sounds you make. Watching you come would make my fucking year, Y/N.”

A laugh fell from your lips, then a moan as he pressed a little deeper.

“You don’t need it, but you have my permission to come,” he teased, his voice just a bit too real, and somehow those words released something. A tiny smirk graced his lips as you started to fall apart. 

“Gonna be a good girl, and come for me?”

“Fuck,” you breathed, the steady rhythm he’d found was building so much pressure in your core it almost hurt. 

“That’s it, you’re doing so well,” he praised, his free hand grabbing your chin to force your heavy lidded eyes to his. “You’re close, yeah? I want you to tell me exactly what you need so you can come on my fingers like a good girl. I know you can.”

“Law…”

“Can you do that for me?”

So close. So fucking close. But here was a new plateau, and all of his wonderful work was about to go to waste. Until you thought of something. 

Something that came with a pile of confusing memories and shame. Something you would have ignored, and stuffed away if you hadn’t felt so safe. 

If Law hadn’t made you feel so safe.

“Choke me, please.”

The request was almost silent, but you saw his lips part slightly. A hesitation. A mountain of self loathing threatened to roll over you.

Long, tattooed fingers encircled your throat, a necklace marked with “DEATH.” 

“Such a good girl, telling me what you want. Let me feel you– Mm, there’s my girl.”

He wrapped the perfect amount of pressure around your neck, keeping the pace with his other hand until your body started bucking, your eyes rolling white. 

It was everything you fucking needed. 

And it kept going. 

Law never stopped giving and giving, praising you while you shattered. You almost went to mist from the overwhelm, only managing to stay solid because you needed to keep coming for him. For you.

You mourned the loss of those wicked fingers choking and fucking you, but he worshipped your body again while aftershocks tore through you. 

“You’re fucking amazing,” he chuckled, laughing harder at the gibberish you replied with. He kissed and caressed you while your body came back to the room. “Can I get you anything? Water, or are you hung–”

He’d moved away slightly, but you reached out with your wobbly arms, pulling him close. He hummed at your touch, then gasped again when your hands found his cock, the heat of him making you writhe.

“Y/N, we don’t have to–”

“Please, fuck me,” you begged, sluggishly rolling onto your stomach. Looking over your shoulder at him, you got to witness the loveliest, most desperate look you’d ever seen on his face when you lifted your ass toward him. “I need your cock.”

There was no hesitation now. 

Just the whispered, “say the word if you need to,” before he was behind you, thrusting into your twitching cunt while you screamed for him. 

Tattooed hands on your hips helped him slam into you, hitting that perfect spot so fast, so hard, that you came in what felt like seconds.

“Oh fuck. Pussy feels so good, baby,” he moaned, slurring a bit before pressing your upper body into the bed. The new angle made you scream louder, clawing at the sheets. 

“You like that, Y/N,” he checked in, voice strained as he fought his need. 

“Pull my hair,” you demanded softly.

One of those hands pushed you down, his weight between your shoulder blades while he pounded into you. Frenzied thrusts rocked your body while his free hand fisted into the hair at the back of your head, finally giving you that sting you needed. 

“Do it again,” he forced through his teeth, his bruising grip making you drool onto the sheets. “Come for me, pretty. Come on my cock right fucking now.”

“Law, fuck, I’m…”

Words were gone, his quarters ringing with your breathy screams, and his heavy grunts. The slapping of wet, needy flesh nearly drowned you both out until he buried himself as deep as he could go, your toes curling while he filled you with heat. Your body milked the come out of him until you both collapsed, sweaty limbs still reaching for each other. 

“Are you okay,” he coaxed, brushing another hot tear away from your cheek. 

“I’m happy.”

Those words had left your lips many times over the past few years, but this time you didn’t have to lie. This time you let tears fall without shame, laughing as he left tickling kisses anywhere he could reach, holding you close. More laughter floated through the air while he carried you to the bathroom. You trailed your fingertips along his lines of ink, as though you were walking the paths around your new home, memorizing each lovely view. 

“You know this doesn't mean I’m gonna go easy on you, right,” Law threatened as he threw a blanket over your bare skin, wrapping himself around you. 

“You’re such an ass,” you hummed, nuzzling into his warmth. 

“You could be nicer to your captain, you know,” he quipped, his deep voice making you shiver. 

“If you’re my captain, does that make me a Heart Pirate?”

His arm tensed around you, and your mind cringed against your presumption.

Nothing’s changed. I’m still a tool, a threat, even if I am something more. Don’t fucking push–

“Only if you want to be.”

Law’s hushed offer stilled your thoughts. You couldn’t answer without seeing his face, so you twisted in his arms until you could cup his cheek, knowing that the shy smile on his face reflected your own. His eyes poured over you, until his brows creased slightly as he waited for your response. Waited to hear if you wanted to spend your life as a pirate, living on this submarine, putting yourself in danger. Waited to hear if you wanted to stay with him. 

It wasn’t a question.

“I do,” you promised with a kiss, pulling back to smirk at him, “but I’m still gonna call you an ass.”

Soon you were begging, breathless as you lost the fight, your cheeks hurting from laughing after his long fingers had stopped tickling you. Being wrapped up in each other still felt unreal. He fell asleep so fast, his light snores a comforting sound, even when you couldn’t stop the tears from staining your skin. 

You’d never felt safer. 

But memories were still there.

Doffy. 

He’ll find me. He’ll take me back. After he makes me watch him kill Law. 

He’ll probably use my hands. Just like…

You went completely limp, head lolling as your body fought the sticky memory of blood on your hands.

Part of your brain still had memories. Part of your brain berated you for not enjoying this perfect moment with Law. But most of your brain went to a strange buzzing place, unfocused eyes seeing nothing but a blur. 

When this empty space wasn’t frightening, it was relaxing, in a sick way. 

Leaving. 

Being nothing. 

Safe.

“Y/N? You okay,” he checked in, groggy voice filled with concern. 

Your limp body rolled as he shifted. A tiny part of you floated above the bed, watching, yelling at yourself to move, hating that he had to deal with this.

The rest of you was trapped in a fish tank, sinking to the bottom.

Law stayed with you. Even though you couldn’t feel, even though you couldn’t hear, you knew he was there. He was there when you returned, soothing your “sorry’s” away. Asking what you needed, bringing you water, then starting all over again as if it hadn’t happened.

Holding you close as he drifted off to sleep, and this time, you followed him. 

This time, Law pulled you from the nightmares. He reminded you where you were while he kept you from clawing at your chest. He waited until he saw your eyes stay present, then he teased you until you were his again. 

“Hurry up, or I’ll make you use the barracks bathroom,” he warned, pushing you through the door with a towel and a change of clothes. He beamed at your middle finger, and you could hear him counting down random numbers while you got ready. 

“Why don’t you just join me,” you challenged, about to turn on the water.

“You know why.”

You showered fast, even though your body twisted with need at the thought of him shoving you against the tile wall, but your mood soured when you looked in the mirror. It was disorienting to see that face on this submarine. To see that face anywhere but at Doffy’s side.

You managed to pull yourself out before you fell too deep, but this time you didn’t push it away. No hiding, no running in fear. 

Doffy lived there, behind your misty eyes. The weight of his presence hung around your shoulders like that heavy, pink coat. Your body screamed with the need to be safe, the need to be whatever he wanted you to be. His laugh echoed in your skull as he called for his “pretty doll.”

But you weren’t a doll anymore. 

I’m a Heart Pirate now, Doffy. And I’m gonna help Law kill you.

Likes, comments, and reblogs bring me all the ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: Heeeyyyy we made it. We completed the fic request. It's over... Lol, not! I have so much more planned for this story, but there will be a pause here while I circle back to another fic. But fret not, I'm obsessed with this story, and have already outlined some upcoming chapters!

Thank you so much for joining me! Again, I hope none of you relate to the reader's trauma, and her struggle to enjoy her own pleasure, but if you do, you're not alone 🖤 I hope you are given all the patience and love you need so that you can enjoy all the pleasure you desire.

You deserve to feel good!!

Tag List: @shewrites02 | @jadeddangel | @nothing-but-brass | @lovemesomefanfic846

Part 6

Operation Olive Branch has compiled a working spreadsheet of ways to help families fleeing from the genocide in Palestine. If you enjoyed this fic, and are able, please click the link to find a list of GoFundMe's, as well as other ways to help.

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

#trafalgar law x reader #doflamingo x reader #one piece x reader #trafalgar law smut #trafalgar law #doflamingo #fic requests #trafalgar d law x reader #eventual smut #one piece smut #reader insert #fem!reader #smut #x reader #turtletaub fics #use of y/n #trafalgar law fanfiction #one piece angst #cw dark content #cw grooming #cw dubcon #cw toxic relationship #cw emotional abuse #angst #cw blood #cw violence #cw vomit #cw yandere #dead dove do not eat #cw murder

[boundinparchment]

Dream a Little Dream of Me - LIV

Celestia had a cruel sense of humor. He knew this, even before his days as a student. But to be given a soulmate? Now, when he openly blasphemed against the cursed island in the sky? He would outlive you and the dreadful fated bond that haunted your shared dreams. There was little point in this. He could at least put a Vision to good use. People were nothing but disappointments. He had no use for you. Until you pulled the bow across your instrument and awoke a part of him long buried by self-hatred and arrogance. Soulmate AU; Il Dottore/Female reader w/ established personality and backstory. Slow burn. Lore and world speculation and interpretation within; follows canon story where possible. Fic is rated explicit; MDNI. Mind the tags. Chapter on AO3 here.

A blast of heat greeted you as you stepped into the House of the Hearth. Early twilight cast shades of pink and orange against warm wooden paneling, echoes of laughter dancing down the halls. You could already smell dinner wafting from the far reaches of the large house. If you closed your eyes, you could just make out the out-of-tune violin being practiced upstairs.

Arlecchino’s passing comment at the bank was followed up with a proper invitation. One you knew better than to avoid or turn down. Zandik didn’t entirely seem pleased but even he knew you were more bound by social conventions. If you were to stay, you might as well attempt to make other bonds.

You knew little about this particular division of the Fatui other than Zandik’s remark about espionage and that loyalty was an interesting facet of cognitive development for children.

A housekeeper took your cloak and lead you to Arlecchino’s office at the back of the house. Wide windows dressed in heavy drapes provided a view to gardens long-since buried in snow and trampled through by both wildlife and children. The furniture looked only slightly out of place and bore the uniquely detailed style typical of Fontainian woodworkers and upholsterers. The table between the couches held a tea set that was, although plain, clearly made from one of the best guild-families; it was accompanied by a large stand of desserts, colorful, fresh, and familiar.

Around you, floor to ceiling bookshelves held various tomes, the age of some betraying the woman standing behind her desk. Another oddity you were beginning to recognize among the top-ranked Fatui leaders.

“Perfect timing, maestra, although I’d expect as such from someone of your skill,” Arlecchino said, her smile softly carving her face. “Make yourself at home.”

You settled into the sofa nearest you, the fire in the hearth on your left spilling its warmth onto your feet. The Harbinger handed off a letter to the housekeeper before she took a seat across from you, legs crossed as her hands reached for the teapot and poured.

“Before I recount the important details of Fontaine’s changes, there is one that I feel you, and many others, were owed a long time ago.”

She picked up a cup and saucer and held it out to you, black fingers curling so her nails wouldn’t scratch you. You took it, the smell of lavender teasing your senses, and watched as Arlecchino pulled something from inside her jacket and placed it on the table.

Metal glinted in the firelight and your blood iced over. You turned your head to look the Harbinger square in the face, eyes narrowed.

“I thought your compositions sounded familiar but your piano playing made it difficult to place. Once my children confirmed you had taken to another instrument, it didn't take much more than an ad placed for a cellist in the national orchestra. The Steambird does love its gossip and a renowned cellist leaving the tour in Sumeru after a devastating scene of destruction is quite...attention-grabbing."

Arlecchino took a sip of her tea before she spoke again.

“Not that it truly matters, although the Doctor was always a bit touched with paranoia. You are owed accolades in your own right and if the Doctor is keen on keeping your visage to himself, then so be it.”

“Then why is that signet ring on the table?” you asked, your tea untouched in your lap.

The last you saw of that accursed thing, he was playing with it as you signed your non-disclosure forms and waivers. How many bruises had that thing wrought? How many scars?

A trembling ache sat in your rib cage. Deep down, a part of you hoped you get to slice your claymore through him, bit by bit. Make him regret hurting you, hurting everyone. It was never a conscious thought but when you practiced, sometimes the training mech wore his face in your mind, and you worked yourself to exhaustion.

Zandik never asked. With many things, he didn’t need to. Spite recognized spite and of all people, he knew how to use it to fuel one’s goals.

“When I arrived, I caught wind that he had a new contract with a violinist. Talented young man. Your patron recently took to darker circles, was far more open about his…activities to others. When one gets away with something for too long, they get careless. I'll spare you the rest but the poor boy did not die a dignified death. Even at the end of a spear, your patron whined and blamed others, thinking it would save him.”

Between your fingers, the handle of the porcelain cup snapped and hot liquid spilled across the fabric you wore. Unsteadily, you placed the cup and saucer on the table and reached for a cloth napkin, dabbing your outfit.

You’d wanted to kill him.

Ever since you finally developed the proper strength and had the means, you’d silently hoped that one day, you’d take up the chance. Hurt him for all that he robbed you and others of, for all the pain and lasting marks, for taking your own passion and throttling you with it…

Gone, just like that.

The flood of rage, hot and boiling, faded as relief washed over you, certainty taking hold. He would never harm a single person again. No one would die again.

But maybe if you hadn’t left, that violinist would be alive. Others after you would have been spared. You could have endured it. Wouldn’t that have been better? At least no one else would have...

Vision blurry and shoulders shaking, you were unaware that Arlecchino had moved to sit beside you, her steady hands taking the napkin from you and dabbing the fabric in your place.

“What good is justice when the guilty all walk free?” she whispered soothingly.

You couldn’t cry, not here, not properly. Even if Arlecchino knew who you were, where you came from, you liked the privacy and anonymity your mask gave you. That something kept you from the rest of the world while Zandik got all of you.

You managed a shuddering breath as you focused on the warmth of the fire, Arlecchino’s voice, and the way your boots moved when you flexed your ankles. The Harbinger, satisfied you at least weren’t melting, rose and folded the fabric in her hands gently.

“He was not the first of his kind, nor the last. Many of the children I’ve come across suffered similar or worse. At the very least, he will no longer hurt another.”

Which was all you could have asked for, in the end.

Arlecchino whisked away the broken cup and wet saucer back to the tray, used the napkin to wipe up the remnants on the polished wood, and placed a new one in front of you without hesitation. Practiced motions that only came with experience.

“I—"

“I hated this set anyway,” the Harbinger said as smoothed her pants and sat down. “One cup won’t be missed.”

You nodded but didn’t bring yourself to take the cup just yet. Hands still shaking slightly, you didn’t quite trust yourself not to break this one, too.

“Fontaine loves to pretend they have everything in order and Monsieur Neuvillette tries, certainly. Lady Furina tried but lacked the confidence in her skills and abilities. Plenty of people, including the perpetrator behind the serial disappearances, got away with the harm they caused due to those blindspots. Systems fail, maestra. No one intends for them to, but they do.”

“They failed those victims for a decade,” you said. “They failed every single person who trusted the ones who put a roof over their head.”

The venom in your words was intentional but it was burning you from the inside out; you couldn’t keep it in forever.

You recalled a case where a boy killed his parents when he discovered they were selling the children they took in when they got too old. More and more young women went missing, never to be seen again. Performers, the best of the best, suddenly without the partner they rose to fame with; shared looks across a crowded room said everything one needed to know about what transpired.

“It is why people like us must step in,” Arlecchino sat back and took a sip of her tea. “Play the roles no one else can or wants to.”

“Because Celestia won’t?”

You recalled the long trip from Sumeru, during which Zandik recounted the structure of the world, the true nature of the Heavenly Principles, and the Descenders who tried to dismantle them. Celestia and the Principles were meant to be guides and when those guides failed, when people were desperate and shaken with a fear of something greater than the divine…

That, too, was a system that failed every single time. A usurper who thought they understood the culture of the people they ruled over, out of touch.

The Knave gave an enigmatic smile over the rim of her cup before she took another long sip.

“It brings me great joy to see Columbina find another who shares her passion for creation. I am not sure how you convinced that madman to allow you to accompany him, but I’m glad for it.”

Although you could not bring yourself to remove your mask, the warmth of being seen kept you cozy until you arrived back at the Palace and in the sanctuary of your rooms.

“Where are you taking me?”

All you received in response was a chuckle of amusement as the forearm beneath your hand tensed for a brief second.

From the moment you’d awoken, Zandik had a lightness to his step that only came with a major breakthrough in his research. In the privacy of your rooms, he had been liberal with his affection that morning, flashing a wolfish grin when he pulled you back under the covers. He had a surprise, he said, but it had to wait until after dinner.

You still bore the reminder at the base of your neck, hidden beneath a high collared blouse.

His excitement took the edge off the knowledge that the ball was tomorrow night. Only that afternoon’s rehearsal stood between you and the moment of truth.

As soon as you’d cleared your plate, Zandik tugged at his cravat and covered your eyes with it, careful not to tie it too tight. He slid your veil back on, muttering something about ensuring no one else saw the color in your cheeks, and guided your hand into the crook of his elbow.

You’d lost track after the first few turns and a stairwell down which Zandik carried you himself. Judging by the muted sounds from his boots, you had to be in one of the wings of the Palace, but only on the first floor, same as the throne room and your music room. Most of those corridors had soft runners and there had only been a single flight of stairs. But with the continued turns, you had no idea where, precisely, you could be on the main floor.

The air grew a little humid when Zandik’s steps slowed and the carpet gave way to hard stone again. He said something you recognized as an order just from his tone and receding footsteps. Carefully, you were lead down three steps before a set of doors (mostly glass, you guessed, from the way the material clattered slightly) closed behind you.

You turned your head as you were guided further into the space, footsteps echoing. Around you, the air was heavy but crisp, filled with scents both familiar and exotic. The freshness of a Rainbow Rose lingered amongst an airiness you only smelled once in Mondstadt.

“You can look now; we shouldn’t be disturbed. Now where did…”

Zandik gently touched your hand and pulled away, leaving you standing by yourself for a moment as he walked elsewhere. You lifted your veil and pulled it back before you slid your fingers into the knotted cravat. The fabric slipped down your neck. Tugging your cowl back to free your hair, you looked around the room illuminated only by the moon and the distant aurorae.

A greenhouse.

All glass, you could see the freshly fallen snow and the ice crystals that bloomed over the windows. Beds of flowers you recognized from home were intermixed with Glaze Lilies, their flowers yet to open for the evening, and Cecilias moving to a breeze of their own.

Perhaps a solarium was a better word for the space than a greenhouse, you realized. It was clearly well-manicured and maintained, meant to be seen.

From behind, you heard the telltale whisper of a spin-crystal gramophone and the click of the needle sliding into place. A crackle, and then familiar notes trickled through the air as Zandik returned to you. Your response to the music was almost instant, your ears conditioned over the last few weeks to know the initial note by heart, and you looked at him, confused.

“Columbina helped with the recording device. You’ll be too busy conducting tomorrow night. I thought you should enjoy your hard work properly,” he said.

He removed his mask and gloves before he held his hand out, palm up; your skin met his with the ease at which the sun rose every morning. His touch was warm, his fingers calloused from experiences both chemical and physical, as he led you in the steady one-two-three rhythm of the waltz.

It felt like you were there, in the concert hall, except instead of waving a baton you were observing. Artists often stepped back from their canvases to make sure everything was within perspective and scale. Without the additional depth to the sound only found in person, you could focus the larger parts and the flow of the music.

“The passion of the musicians is palpable, even in a recording,” you said. “Waltzes aren’t complicated; it’s only six basic steps, but having such dedicated colleagues certainly helped…when they were focused.”

Zandik chuckled softly as you flowed through the room. Your other hand, the one not clasped in his, rested on his shoulder blade and you felt his muscles move and flex. The touch at your waist sent a jolt through you when he pulled you closer.

“Are you aware of the litmus test, such as it is, for a perfect waltz?” he asked, blue eyebrow arching inquisitively.

“If there is one, I certainly never learned it. They trained us on the practical knowledge of playing the music, not dancing to it.”

“A shame. It used to be said that a couple dancing a waltz should be so delicate, smooth, and most importantly, swift that the flame of a candle in the lead dancer’s hand should retain its flame the entire time.”

“That’s only as good as the dance partner, though,” you shot back. “Seems more of a party trick.”

Zandik murmured.

You were uniquely aware of your torso pressed against his, the way his fingers wrapped around your hand, how hard and warm he was beneath your other hand. He followed your lead with an exact precision you only ever experienced with a fellow musician.

The time signature was not up for debate and he did not seek to fight it, fight you.

As the solarium spun around you, all you could think of was Zandik’s lips, red eyes beneath blue lashes watching from between your legs, bodies united in a way that, once upon a time, you would have considered shameful. But who was there to judge you now, save the full moon and the man before you?

Your hand left his shoulder long enough to find the expose strap of his harness across his chest and tug him to you as you angled your head to capture his lips. Cautious once, twice, before you became searing hunger and your tongue met his with a fervor that bordered on starved. You interlaced your fingers with Zandik’s, still firmly gripping his harness with your other hand; you were no longer dancing, and instead swayed to the music as it swelled, Columbina’s vocals overtaken by woodwinds.

Zandik’s hand on your waist dipped lower, grabbing your behind and pressing you firmly against him. He loosened his grip on your hand to cradle the back of your head, seemingly determined to coax your very soul from your lips. That creeping ache took root again as Zandik met your desire at every turn, a pit of fire growing in your chest and working down to curl in your lower belly.

Terrifying and freeing all at once.

You broke the kiss, parting only far enough for Zandik to press his cheek against yours. The last of the notes faded out and you could only hear your breathing over the low static of the gramophone. You swallowed audibly as the hand in your hair trailed down to your cheek, Zandik’s bare thumb brushing your swollen lips.

A match, lit after so many failed strikes, burned within you when you met his gaze again; its flame licked at unwavering patience and dedicated curiosity, determined to retain its light.

“I believe there is merit in understanding the movements of the body just as much as the structure of the music itself,” he whispered. “When you’re ready, we can put that hypothesis to the test.”

#dottore #il dottore #il dottore x reader #dottore x reader #dottore/female reader #il dottore/female reader #dottore x female reader #il dottore x female reader #genshin impact reader insert #soulmate au #merry christmas here's my last update of the year

[bunniekittiee]

Im a bit out of loop with the Johnny updates on his lore and his VA conflicts as well. Im just reading what others are posting about his (possible) new character lore and how they feel about it. Especially about the necrophiliac claims.

Like obviously Johnny isn’t innocent, I think we all understand that he has his issues and he is a product of his environment, i just wish GUN would focus on that rather than made wild ass character lore about him being a necrophiliac.

The only reason why they are possibly making that a part of Johnny’s character background is to make him seem more “darker” and the psychotic one of the family. That he’s evil enough to engage in such acts. It doesn’t fit his character at all. I’ve written a few fics and headcanons about him and yes, I’ve explored the darker side of it but necrophiliac is seriously out of character for him. Nubbins and Chop Top? Yeah I could see that, but Johnny? No.

I don’t use Twitter so I haven’t seen any discourse about those supporting his character changes; but the claim “well he’s a serial killer so of course he’s going to engage in not so great activity” is not reliable. Why cant we just leave it at the fact that he’s a cannibal and a serial killer? Maybe even abusive? Do we really need more irredeemable qualities added to someone who already is bad as it is?

I wish we would get more information and lore about his backstory and how he was raised as a kid. What made him sadistic. That is what I’m interested in and I would rather hear about that than what they are giving us currently.

And they are so inconsistent with their lore and work. It’s frustrating and hard to keep up with.

I haven’t played TCM in about 2 months since my PS4 data corrupted and I haven’t kept up with the fandom in a little bit. So maybe there is more lore about his childhood that I don’t know about or about him in general, but I do not support the necrophiliac claims. We all have our boundaries with our favorite characters and i know he’s a POS as it is but this one is ridiculous.

Either way, im not writing him as a necrophiliac and im going to pretend that it doesn’t exist. It’s gross, it doesn’t fit his character, and i dont like it. Plain and simple. It’s bad character development and claims. They are not doing Johnny any justice by adding that onto him.

And yeah, I’ve seen other people’s discussions that the fandom is watering down Johnny and they “fell in love with the pretty boy” but it’s a fictional character. You believe what you want, and other people will believe what they want. No one has to support the necrophiliac claims. That’s why there’s many different fictional standpoints of the characters we like. Just like people believe Vincent Sinclair was manipulated by his brother Bo and others believe Vincent was just as bad as Bo. We all have different beliefs and character idealizations in our head of our favorite characters.

#texas chainsaw game #texas chainsaw massacre #johnny tcm game #johnny slaughter #tcm johnny #johnny sawyer

[partnersincrimesuau]

PARTNERS IN CRIME - Stevinel SU Fan Comic Chapter 2: Rogues Like Me Page No. 46

Ch.1 Start Ch.2 Start Previous Next

Our first close up view of 83!!! I was so excited to finally draw this gal, since like Condor, she’s gonna be a very important reoccurring character in this comic!!! <333 (Her gem is obscured in this shot of her, but it’s actually in her left upper shoulder ^^)

And we also get some more 83 & Armoury lore… apparently there used to be four other bismuths working there, who have all moved on since the beginning of Era 3. Two went to Homeworld, and two others went to an unknown planet. (And NO, it’s not Earth – let’s just say, any blue/green planet I draw in this comic that DOESN’T have Australia on it, ISN’T Earth. That makes it easier to recognise! XD). I had a lot of fun designing the five bismuth sisters, and later on I’ll definitely be posting full versions of them. They all have names, personalities and backstories as well!!! (In fact, two of the bismuths were originally created for one of my earliest fics… they even predate Partners In Crime itself!!! They were added to the story during the script development for Chapters 2 and 3 ^^)

And lastly, we get another look at the outside of the Armoury. Originally the final panel was going to be a distant x-ray like view of the Armoury with the elevator leading down to the Workshop underneath, but I decided not to for simplicity’s sake. That would have taken FAR too long and would have been difficult in terms of perspective. So instead, we’re briefly returning the blue/pink palette, and showing Gingersnap and Snickerdoodle again!!! XD

(You don’t wanna know how long it took me to draw Homeworld. I really hope it was worth it. ALSO NO, THOSE THREE PLANETS ARE NOT ACTUALLY THAT CLOSE TOGETHER!!! I only drew them like that to show where the bismuths live now XD)

(Also tell me in the comments which bismuth design you like best – 1, 2, 3, 4 or 5???)

Info and FAQ about PIC here. Join the official PIC discord server!

(Made in FireAlpaca) Steven Universe is owned by Rebecca Sugar

#partners in crime #steven universe comic #spinel steven universe #steven universe #pic condor agate #condor agate #pic eighty three #eighty three #partners in crime chapter 2 #bismuth

[moeitsu]

Can i ask you about your OC Kate?

Where did your inspo for her character come from? Does she represent anything about yourself?

I really love your fic. I think it’s an interesting approach to Arthur’s character to explore the parental guilt he has for what happened to Eliza and Isaac. And I love the way you do that by introducing a character that’s pretty much a mirror of himself, but under different circumstances. And she has broken the cycle already. Her backstory literally gave me chills when I read it. You have a great way of adding so much detail in such a short amount of words! I really look forward to each chapter :)))

AHH OF COURSE YOU CAN!!!! 💗♥️💜

Ty Ty Ty for asking it means so much to me when you guys ask question/give feedback/leave comments on my work. I’m so serious it literally brightens my day.

I wish this wasn’t anon so I can thank you properly, but please DM me and if you want I will add you to the tags for the next chapters!!

I’m so ready to dive into the Kate McCanon lore, I’m sorry if I get carried away:

I can’t really take any credit for her name. It’s from a Colter Wall song called “Kate McCanon”, but her character is nothing like the woman he’s singing about. I just really loved the name tbh. (And I’m a big fan of his music)

As far as my inspo for her character traits, they kinda just developed over time. I began forming ideas of her as I played rdr2 for the first time, at first I kinda pictured myself in the time period and how I would respond/react to certain events. Then as the story progressed I was like hm, I would definitely be dead by now if this was me. So i made someone stronger but also kept certain aspects like her humor, sarcasm, honesty, intelligence and kindness that I think are sorta reflection of myself.

In a nutshell, the Kate we see with Arthur and the gang is a free spirited tomboy who fully embraces the freedom and possibilities of life in the west and she also defies the gender stereotypes of that time period.

However, the lack of description of Kates appearance was entirely on purpose. I dropped little snippets of her looks at the beginning such as her height and size. (She’s a big woman) But tbh i didn’t want the focus of the story to be on what she looked like or what she was wearing. I purposely mentioned she is half Italian on her mothers side, (bc that will come up again later in the story for the plot) but I also wanted you guys to picture her however you felt was right. In my mind, she is a woman who appears intimidating but once you get to know her she’s a total sweetheart (much like Arthur hehe)

One of the reasons why I choose to keep Kate out of most missions is because she genuinely wants to be done with hurting people. She gave that life up and vowed to do better. Only when she’s pushed and survival is at stake do we see her break that promise. It’s almost ironic considering she is with a gang of outlaws, but like the girls, and Arthur too, she sees them as just people trying to get by. When she meets Jack and Abigail she sees a future dangling on a thread, and decides that if there’s something good she can do here. Then it’s going to be helping that family escape this life. Falling in love with Arthur just happens to be a bonus ;)

I had always intended to give Kate a traumatic backstory (sorry girlie). It started with her family, I wrote out an entire detailed timeline of her life. With names and dates and even random life events that will never make it in the story. But it helped me so much with building her background. It made her feel more real to me. I did so much research on the time period and what Boston was like in the 1800s. Even though I didn’t go into grave detail about her childhood or the death of her family members. But by doing so, it made it easier for me to write about that hopelessness and vulnerability she felt when she finally lost everything.

I chose to open the story with her burying her husband and child because (spoiler alert, but not really if you’ve been actively reading) that is the tie that links her soul with Arthur’s. Even though she does not blame herself for their deaths, it’s something that is engraved into the very being of her identity. And it pretty much dictates the person she becomes throughout the story.

When Kate is captured and taken to a military fort, that is where her “rock bottom” hits its “peak” so to speak. She has nothing left to lose at this point but herself. And in a way, she does lose herself. River is a character I hold very dear to me. And i might write a small spin off about him and Kate in the future. He was a reflection of what Kate would have become if she did not make a change. At first, he was her hope. But when his family met the same fate as hers, he became consumed by the darkness and rage. And unfortunately, she was in a state where Rivers anger nurtured her own. (I want to make it clear River is not a villain, he’s a victim)

I do kinda regret not exploring their relationship more in the chapter. But tbh it probably wouldn’t have added anything. However, I will say the two of them pretty much trauma bonded. They loved each other deeply, but not really in a romantic sense. River offered to marry her, but it was more out of “you are the only one i have left” kind of way. He was never going to give up that life and settle down again, getting married to Kate would just be a way to seal their relationship and vow to stand by each other till the very end. (Does this kinda mirror Arthur/Mary? That might be a reach idk)

All in all, I wanted to give Arthur someone who already understands him, but doesn’t know it yet. Someone that he doesn’t need to explain himself to because Kate has already been there. Arthur knows he’s a bad man, and he knows Kate has been a bad woman. He believes he is beyond saving, beyond redemption. But Kate sees someone who can be saved, he just need the support to do it.

I’ve been trying to plant the seeds over time that Kate truly misses being a mother, and feels robbed of the life she should be living. Raising her daughter. Jacks character has helped me manifest that in the story a lot. Especially that first kiss scene. Kate longs for a family. But she’s pretty much convinced herself that she will never have one again. So by helping the Marstons it alleviates some of that yearning. Arthur believes he has failed as a father, but what Kate sees is the potential for him to be a very loving parent. And it makes her head dizzy with adoration. (There will be many more tender moments with Jack/Arthur/Kate in the future btw)

I hope you guys don’t think my Arthur is too out-of-character. In the game, his son really isn’t mentioned a whole lot, and we know the reason he gives John such a hard time is because he doesn’t want to see him make the same mistakes. But I honestly believe Arthur would have made a wonderful father. The motivation behind this whole fanfic is really just exploring grief and parenthood. Which is ironic because i don’t have children lmao.

TLDR: Kate McCanon domesticates the wild outlaw known as Arthur Morgan 😂

I can’t believe I rambled so much on this. I hope I didn’t overwhelm you. But I guess it just goes to show how much I appreciate your question, and the fact that you’ve taken time out of your day to read my story.

I love you guys! ♥️

#arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #arthur morgan x original female character #rdr2 fanfic #red dead fandom #red dead redemption community #arthur morgan x reader #send asks #anon ask #ask me anything

[qqueenofhades]

what would you say are the best parts of fanfiction as a type of a written work? (if, theoretically speaking, someone has been writing&worldbuilding an AU so far from the original thing that with a few minor tweaks they could make it into a pretty much original text - not to publish for money, Ao3 has an original work fandom, it could go there - it's, uh, what would you say are good reasons to keep it a fanfic? what are good reasons to not?)

The main thing about fanfiction is that it relies upon re-contextualizing, reworking, or otherwise drawing directly on the readers' knowledge of a pre-existing work, using that work's characters, plot, and universe. As such, when you're writing fanfiction, you don't need to spend tons of time introducing the personalities, conflicts, settings, etc; that is already built in, your readers are expecting you to pick it up and go, and part of the narrative conceit or overall plot can rest on how it's similar to, diverging from, or totally separate from the canon universe (as in the case of AUs). Because you're writing in response to another text, you're performing a dialogue with something else, and that's why most fanfiction needs some amount of reworking in order to contain its own story without reference to another intellectual property, because you're using pre-built parts instead of making your own.

However, as someone who also tends to write long, plotty AUs with extensive worldbuilding beyond and quite separate from canon (and various original characters), I know that it's fairly easy to just change a few names and plot details and have a basically original work. Which at that point it is! You've done the work to develop your own angle of the story, there is a ton of published stuff out there that is either thinly reworked fanfic or inspired by fanfic or based on another very similar premise, and there's no reason you shouldn't throw your own hat into the ring and see what happens. What you have to do if converting it into original fiction, aside from changing the names, is checking to see if it holds up as its own narrative without reference to another text. That might mean filling out character backstory/motivations, plot points, events, major conflicts, romantic relationships, or anything else that is taken as assumed in a fic and will need to be strengthened in order to make the story work as its own entity. If you're writing an AU where Blorbo A and Blorbo B fall in love in a space opera, you have the readers' implicit knowledge of those characters and their dynamics already, and the fun comes from transposing that to a new setting/universe. You can obviously use that to develop the original characters, but you also have to be aware of where you need to draw something out, or rework something, so that a reader not familiar with the source material (i.e. whatever you based your fic on) can get it.

You can also take the premise of a fic and rewrite/rework it as an original novel. I'm doing that right now with The Key of Solomon, which has one of my favorite plots in my own fics, but rather than just changing the names in the existing work, I'm reworking a lot, setting it in a different world, adding new characters and plotlines, building out more lore and history, etc., and it will not go the way fic-TKOS currently goes, because the core of this story is about something different/involves a different set of thematic conflicts and character arcs. (And yes, I am excited about it.) This is the sort of stuff that I discovered by just poking around with the premise, throwing some outline + worldbuilding notes in a Word doc, and starting to write and see what happened. In other words, there are a lot of ways you can rework or redo your existing work, which published authors do all the time, and if you're wondering how to restructure your story on its own terms and not as a derivative of another story, a comprehensive dismantle and rebuild might be a good idea in any case. Take your AU setting, your renamed characters, your tweaked plot, etc, and start writing it from scratch, as that will give you the best sense of how it holds together and where there are the most useful opportunities to change and expand. Because of how writing works, you will usually then understand more about what you want to do with it and what makes it compellingly different from where it started.

Likewise, if you DO want to make money off it/self-publish it on Amazon or wherever/look for a traditional-publishing agent and deal, that is completely fine. Because the "You Cannot Monetize Fanworks" thing is drilled into us so deeply, it can sometimes be viewed as a bad thing if you, as an artist, want to actually make money off your art and creative labor. It's not a bad thing! So don't feel like you have to disclaim any intention to publish it for money or think that it's only a "good" work if you don't do that. You can indeed put it on AO3 as an original work if all you want is for people to read it and enjoy it, which is the main pleasure from fic; you're an amateur writing in your spare time for other amateurs/fans to enjoy out of the love of sharing the story and characters. But if you do want to make it into something that you intend on selling for real-people money (as hey, I will explore in some fashion when the above project is finished), it doesn't make you A Dirty Capitalist or Less of an Artist or whatever the latest nonsensical Tumblr groupthink wants you to think. So while what you do with it is up to you, you can 100% pursue publication for money if you want to. (After all, aren't we all big fans of Pay Artists/Writers Appropriately For Their Work? Yeah.)

Anyway, what this all boils down to is whether you want to keep it as a fic just because you like it that way, and how much work you feel like doing in transforming it into an original story. I have plenty of fics where I have done enough AU/world-building/extra characters that it would be very easy to change the names and call it a day, but I haven't, because I wrote them as fics and I like them that way. But then, as noted above, I have also started developing an original project out of something that I first wrote as an AU fic, because I liked the idea and wanted to explore it with a different twist/set of characters/universe. So yeah, it's a matter of personal preference and what you then want to do with the finished result (i.e. just post it on AO3 or pursue publication and financial return from it), and either way, it's up to you. If you have a feeling that you want to develop it as an original story in whatever way, hence why you're asking me this question, then I say you should do that. You can always put it aside or try something else if the conversion isn't working, but if it does, hey! More things to explore! So do it and have fun.

#anonymous #ask #writing advice

[jynrso]

exorcism

baldur's gate has taken over my life since it came out for the ps5 and now that i've finished my first playthrough (that took me 80ish hours), i couldn't get this scene out of my head!! this isn't a reader insert fic –– though i call my oc tav, this fic deals with her specific backstory. appearance wise, i tried to keep it vague, but her scars and tattoo play a role in it. i haven't played dnd though i tried to do some research about the sinner tattoo option –– i couldn't find anything about it so i decided to give it my own backstory (and if it does have a backstory/affliation, we can just pretend it doesn't!) adding on to that, i've done my best to keep things relatively vague since i'm not super well-educated on the lore i'm super nervous to write in a new fandom –– it's been a few years since i've written something outside of rogue one. regardless, i hope you enjoy! read it on ao3!

It’s the middle of the night when Astarion wakes from his trance, an empty spot next to him in his bedroll. Ever since Tav decided to share his tent (can’t get enough of him, cheeky little thing), he’s gotten used to her warmth at his side, so much so that it’s almost difficult to rest without her there. 

(He’s gotten greedy –– he’d gone two hundred years without this sort of non-sexual intimacy and now he can barely last a few hours.)

He gets up slowly, keeping his footsteps light and quiet. It doesn’t feel like anything is wrong but he leaves his tent cautiously, just in case. It takes him a few seconds to find her but once he does, he frowns. 

There she is, sitting by herself on the very outskirts of camp, just out of earshot of everyone else. It’s late enough that most of their other companions are asleep and yet here she is, hours after her watch shift, seemingly wide awake and hunched over one of her daggers. He’d thought –– well, he’d seen her sharpening her knives earlier that day. Surely they’re sharp enough? 

The first of many alarm bells begins to ring in his head and he makes the decision to check on her, just in case. This, combined with her anxious, overly paranoid behavior over the past few days troubles him. If she just wants to be alone, he won’t push. But if there’s something truly wrong. . .he’s new to this whole “romantic relationship” thing but he’s pretty sure that means he should try and comfort her. 

(He wants to comfort her. It’s an odd feeling, not one that he’s used to.)

“Darling, you’re looking positively maudlin sitting over here by yourself,” Astarion exclaims quietly, making his presence known so as not to startle her. He approaches Tav with his arms open wide, posture easy and light with his usual dramatics, but there’s a hint of concern underlying his words, just barely perceptible. 

He perches next to her on the log she’s claimed on the outskirts of the camp, leaving a small gap of space between them. “What’s got you looking like you want to chop everyone up into little pieces, hmm?” 

The last remnants of the campfire flicker over her profile as she turns her face slightly to the side, one of her eyebrows raising in response. But her focus remains mostly on the dagger in her hands, the repetitive drag of her blade against a whetstone filling the air for a few fraught seconds. 

He’s just about to probe again when she finally speaks. “Just thinking about tomorrow,” she says. Her lips twist wryly, in a move that he doesn’t entirely believe to be genuine, when she adds, “I’ll admit, I’m eager to finally get my blades into Gortash.”  

And if he hadn’t known her so well, he wouldn’t have been able to see the microexpressions that flit across her face: the way the corner of her mouth tightens ever so slightly, how her gaze briefly darkens with shadows. The other rogue is good at hiding but he is, too –– even better at noticing it in the people he. . . cares for. 

“Oh, you always know just the right words to get me all riled up,” he replies smoothly, but he’s not going to let her get away with brushing off what’s clearly bothering her that easily. “But I don’t think that’s all that’s on your mind, is it?” 

It never fails to surprise him that he actually does care. While his affection for her had started off as a manipulative attempt to make himself invaluable to her, over the past few weeks, his feelings for her have morphed into something real. And no matter how hard he’d tried to get her out of his mind, he just couldn’t.  

His opinion of her had shifted after the tiefling party, when she’d offered her blood to him for the first time. Prior to that moment, when she’d woken up with his lips on her neck, she’d threatened to stake him should he try that on her or any of their companions ever again. But then –– 

(“I trust you won’t take more than you need,” Tav says, untying the leather gorget from around her throat. It’s only half a threat –– Astarian can see the faith in her eyes (the faith in him!) and is momentarily floored by it. 

He’d say something flirtatious if he could even think, but all thoughts fly out of his head the moment he sees the expanse of skin she’s just bared to him. His tongue darts out to lick his lips, eyes darkening at the possibility of feeding.

And then he sees her neck –– properly sees it. There’s a large scar covering the expanse of her throat, jagged and uneven, curling up toward her jawline. If he had to guess, someone had gotten behind her with either a dagger or garrote wire, and she’d fought back, if the messiness of it was anything to go by. 

She’s a survivor. He’d known this already, having seen the scrappy and dirty way she fought, and this only confirmed his prior assumptions. Oh, but this makes her so much more –– 

“If there’s not enough room, just bite somewhere else,” she mutters, her voice cutting through his internal musings. She looks away from him, jaw clenching, clearly misunderstanding the path his mind has gone down. Her eyes harden. “Maybe this is a mistake –– ” 

He strides over to her, takes her chin gently, and nudges her face up to meet his gaze properly. “There is plenty of room,” he purrs, practically ravenous at the thought of sinking his teeth into her neck. But there’s a line he won’t cross, not with her. “If you’re. . .still willing?”

She searches his gaze for something he can’t quite identify but evidently finds what she’s looking for after a few beats. With a determined glint in her eyes, she tilts her chin back and exposes more of her throat to him. She warns him again, “Only a taste.” 

As if he could ever be satisfied with only a taste of her.)

“I want to stab Gortash. That's all.” Her words are firm and decisive. The lightness from earlier has left her voice, eyes narrowing.

Astarion clicks his tongue in impatience, pushing further. This only confirms that there’s something he’s missing, a piece of the puzzle that he’s yet to put together. It’s more than this whole mess with the tadpoles and the Absolute –– he bets it’s more personal. 

“Come now,” he tsks, “I hardly find it fair that you know all my deepest darkest secrets . . . and yet I barely know a thing about you.” 

The other rogue levels him with a flat look, an edge entering her tone. To anyone else, her expression and the blade in her hands would leave them reeling ––  but not him. “Neither one of us is the type to play fair .” 

Humming in agreement, he takes a risk and moves closer to her, their arms and thighs brushing. She, like him, struggles with gentle touches like this; whereas she’s always looking for an opportune blade, he finds it difficult to remember that he’s more than what his body can provide someone else. 

But once she’d told him that she didn’t want more than he could give, that she didn’t expect anything out of a simple caress or kiss, he couldn’t get enough of her, to touch her just because he could. 

“Maybe not,” he acquiesces, tilting his head to the side. He swallows, then adds, not fully comfortable with what he’s saying but needing to nonetheless, “But. . . you were here, after that whole mess with Cazador,” he tells her quietly. “Now I’m here. And I –– I want to be here. For you, for whatever it is. You don’t have to tell me, but if you want to. . .I’m here.” 

Tav’s gaze shifts from him and instead moves to a point in the distance. Even though she tries to hide it, he can see the tension in her expression, the rigidness of her muscles, and the strained pull of her mouth. She’s afraid, he realizes, on edge. Not of him, but of whatever secret she’s got locked away. 

Finally, she sets her shoulders as if preparing for a fight and asks him a question he doesn’t expect. “Have I ever told you about the tattoo on my face?” 

The tattoo in question is a single word right on her cheekbone and underneath her right eye: “sinner.” It had struck him odd when he’d first seen it; though facial tattoos are hardly uncommon in Baldur’s Gate, the lack of decoration and placement makes it seem more like a brand than an aesthetic choice. 

Upon learning more about her past and how she’d been close to making a name for herself in the criminal underground before the nautiloid had picked her up, his suspicions had eased some. Sinner. A classic –– if not somewhat obvious –– choice for a woman who’d crafted a life built from illegal activity. Though he’d found it strange that someone working under the noses of the authorities would have such a defining, identifiable mark, he’d had bigger concerns than her aesthetic choices. 

But the mention of it now, in this setting, leaves him feeling off-balanced, unsteady. 

As she speaks, she angles her face slightly so he can examine it properly. Upon closer inspection, he notes the jagged and crooked lines, the uneven application of the ink. A third of it is partially obscured by faint scarring. It looks almost like someone (or perhaps, Tav herself, he realizes with a frightening clarity) had unsuccessfully tried to claw it off her face. 

Astarion shifts, throat dry from his unpleasant realization. His words sound a bit forced when he answers her question, an attempt to put the two of them more at ease. “Well, love, I overheard you telling Wyll that you’d gotten it after you’d stolen your first piece of jewelry worth more than a thousand gold.” He taps his chin in thought, putting on a dramatic air to try and cut through the discomfort. “Then, of course, you told Gale you’d gotten caught stealing from the church in Rivington and lost a bet.” 

She huffs out a small but amused breath. It’s barely noticeable, though he perks up upon hearing it anyway, a warm feeling spreading across his chest. He’s not good at this but at least he’s gotten one thing right.  

Tav nudges him with her shoulder, muttering fondly, “You’re so nosy.”  

Taking it as a compliment, he preens at her praise. “Really, though, darling, you must keep better track of your lies. Wouldn’t want your wires to get crossed, so to speak.” 

She scoffs, shaking her head. “An amateur mistake. It’s just. . .” she jabs the blade of her dagger into the dirt in between her knees as she thinks. “They know it’s a lie, I’m sure, but it’s easier to make up stories. To. . .pretend that it didn’t happen like it did.” 

The tension hangs in the air between them, interrupted only by the soft chirps of wildlife and the occasional snore of one of their companions. Tentatively, he reaches out and takes her hand, giving her time to pull away before he laces their fingers together. Small physical touches like this always help him so he figures. . . “If it’s too difficult to talk about –– believe me, I get it.” 

“No, I –– ” she grits her teeth, jaw clenching. “I want to tell you –– I want you to know.” 

At his side, his free hand flexes helplessly. 

“I took a job a few years ago,” she starts finally, shifting her gaze so she’s once again staring at the ground. “It was with a team I’d worked with once or twice before and the specs of it. . .it was too easy. I should’ve known better but. . .” she trails off, lost in her head. 

When the silence goes on, he prompts quietly, “But you did it anyway?” 

“I did,” she exhales. “It was supposed to be my big break but we got caught. Fists burst in out of nowhere, rounded us up, and threw us into the prison under Wyrm’s Rock. Nothing unusual. But then –– and I still don’t understand why –– a group of them blindfolded me and took me out to a carriage. I thought it was a standard prisoner transport. It. . .” she laughs but it sounds wrong, sounds broken. “It wasn’t.” 

Astarion’s never liked the Flaming Fists and their versions of justice but hearing this makes him want to destroy the whole organization singlehandedly, to rip apart each and every individual responsible for making her sound like this. He hates it, hates the way her voice wavers when he continues her story. And he’ll take his time, too, draw it out until they’re begging him for––

 “They took me to this. . .I don’t even know what to call it,” she murmurs, cutting through his murderous thoughts. He shakes his head slightly, refocusing on her. “Soon as I got there, these people sat me down and told me. . .” her expression shifts into something more pained; in response, he squeezes her hand tighter, feeling hopeless. 

He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know how to comfort her, how to properly care about her like the others might. The way she listens to every memory he tells her about Cazador seems effortless; she always knows the right thing to say and do. But here he sits, absolutely useless, unable to do anything but hold her fucking hand. 

“It was some religious group. They told me that I had sinned but I could still be saved. That they would save me.” Perhaps unconsciously, she forgets her dagger on the ground next to her and reaches up to her cheek, covering the tattoo with her hands. Her nails dig into her skin, an exact match to the faint marks crossing it. 

Without thinking, he reaches over and gently tugs her other hand from her face. She blinks, as if being released from a trance, and finally turns to look at him, eyes wide and uncertain. Shifting sideways on the log so his upper body faces her, he holds both of her hands with his own. 

A bit frantically, he combs through his memories to try and remember how Tav pulls him out of his head. In the wake of a nightmare when all he can see and feel is Cazador, she’ll touch him gently and gather him to her chest, murmuring quiet stories into his ear as he struggles to maintain his sense of reality. It’s her that brings him back: her voice, her smell, her touch. Cazador has destroyed almost everything in his life but not this. He hasn’t touched her.  

Maybe he can be that touchpoint for her, too. (Gods, he wants to be.) 

“Stay with me, darling,” he says lowly, an undercurrent of urgency in his voice. “Don’t lose yourself in that beautiful head of yours. You’re here, with me.” 

Her expression wavers but she forces herself into her usual neutrality, taking each emotion that slips through her mask and forcefully shoving it back down. For him, for his fucking sake. “I know,” she exhales shakily. “Just –– let me finish so we never have to talk about this again.” 

After a beat of hesitation, he nods slowly. Who is he to judge her limitations, just because he’s uncertain? “I’m here,” he promises, voice serious. He surprises himself with how much he means it. “I’m listening.” 

“It was just a different kind of prison,” she tells him quietly. “And I ––  I was there for only two fucking years and then the nautiloid –– “ her voice hitches. “I didn’t, at first, but then –– I think they drugged us, all of us fucking sinners, and ––  and then it was just easier to –– ”

The sound of her voice breaking combined with the look in her eyes. . .he’s never seen her cry, not even when she’d taken an arrow to her gut. It’s always stoic silence from her –– at first, he’d had to work to get her to even crack a smile at his quips. But the sight of her watery eyes (no tears, even after all this) snaps the fraying thread left of his restraint, especially when he knows firsthand what it feels like to lose all sense of your identity, to be treated like a spawn or a sinner instead of a person. 

He reaches out and gathers her into his arms. 

Her hands curl in the front of his shirt as she shakes. Astarion clutches her to his chest, arms banded around her back as she buries herself in him, getting impossibly close. She’s done this for him so many times that it feels like second nature to comfort her in the same way, to let her take shelter in him for as long as she needs. 

A soft, wounded noise leaves the back of his throat involuntarily. He tucks his face into her hair, closes his eyes to stop the wave of sadness that threatens to overcome him. “Say the word,” he tells her fiercely, his words hissing out in an angry breath. “Say the word and I’ll burn their entire fucking organization down. ” 

She doesn’t even need to say it. Already, his mind churns with possibilities of how he can sneak out one night and find it on his own, to round everyone up who’d ever hurt her but leave their fates to her justice. 

Against his shirt, she lets out a muffled, wet laugh. When she pulls back, he doesn’t let her go far, resting his forehead against hers and cupping her face between his hands. Her eyes flutter closed when he brushes against her tattoo with his thumb, rubbing back and forth in a soothing motion. 

“It’s harder than I thought, being back in the city,” she confesses. “I keep thinking that someone’s just going to grab me and take me back. That they’ll. . .” she shakes her head, unable to speak the words. 

How she’s been acting lately slowly begins to make sense. Her jumpiness, her eagerness to take more than her fair share of watches. With the way they’re closing in on the Absolute, it’s not difficult to draw parallels between that cult and whatever group had taken her captive all those years ago. 

“I won’t let them take you,” he vows to her, pulling away slightly to better see her expression. At her look of slight disbelief, he cuts her off before she can interrupt, “And if they somehow do . . .well, I’ll just have no choice but to come after you.” 

The corners of Tav’s mouth curve up into a smile. Astarion presses a kiss to her forehead, smoothing away stray strands of hair before pulling away, but he doesn’t go far. “And don’t you think for a minute that I’m alone in thinking this way. If something happens to you? I may be the first –– and let’s face it, the most dashing –– but all of them,” he gestures to their sleeping companions a few feet away. “They’re not going to be far behind.” 

When Tav had told him that she would be at his side to take down Cazador, he hadn’t believed her, not at first. And when the others in their merry band of misfits had joined her –– joined him –– 

“It’s strange having friends, isn’t it?” she wonders quietly, tucking herself in his side. 

Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, he swallows once, then nods. He doesn’t need to say anything; she knows almost as well as him that this is the first time in more than two hundred years that he’s had people he can rely on. 

The two of them sit there for a few minutes, staring into the dying embers of the fire and listening to the sounds of the world around them. His brain spins with the weight of everything he’s just learned about the woman in his arms, a tight feeling balled up in the middle of his chest. 

Astarion is accustomed to wanting. But this? Caring about someone else, enough that he’s willing to burn down the world for them? That is a new feeling. . . but not an unwanted one. 

He turns his head to look down at her. Tav’s eyes are closed, her breathing having evened out just by being in his presence alone. She’s not asleep, though she’s much calmer than she had been before. A little longer, then he’ll get her up and back to her bedroll. But for now, he marvels at the trust she’s placed in him to let her walls down and let him in. She sees him –– and now, for the first time, he sees her properly, too. 

It’s not love, not yet. It may be in the future, once they’ve both healed a little more. But for now, it’s enough.

#baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfic #astarion fanfic #bg3 fic #astarian/oc #astarion romance #oc: tav #my writing

[one-strugling-bean]

DSMP Fanfic Rec List because I’m bored Part 2

(IF YOU READ ANY OF THESE, DON'T FORGET TO COMMENT - even a simple "great work" or "this was a lot of fun" suffices, just  comment)

Happy Duo & Egg Lore (the fluffy and the saddy)

OrphanDuo + Skephalo AU by cawthelesbian 

Techno discovers the Skeppy cage and remembers Skeppy's claustrophobia, which leads him unable to keep his anger and disgust in check.

-

This series is what made me love these three dummies. Seriously, there's so much unexplored potential here.

I love how close Techno and Skeppy are, how much Techno cares for Skeppy despite how different they are, and that Skeppy is considered one of the few that have always been loyal to Techno. It's just sweet, ya know?

Adding Bad to this mix just makes it all that much better. Techno and Bad aren't very popular together, but I personally love imagining their possible interactions and how they view each other.

I loved getting Techno's pov on the Skephalo relationship as well - how Techno trusts Bad to take care of Skeppy because he's seen and been proven that they are that important to each other.

I can only wish this series gets continued at some point, or someone else picks up on the idea because I'd kill to see more of this concept.

___

What's a Skeppy? by 42starsintheuniverse

When he has the capacity to, Bad uses higher order thinking. In those times, he is well aware that the Skeppy is as much of an individual as he is. That it presumably managed for a long time before him, that it was good at surviving, and he’d come to learn, excellent at fighting and defending itself. The Skeppy is very capable. But Bad is nothing if not flawed, and one of his flaws is that he is very eager, and very happy when he finds things to collect. So he’d sort of... Unintentionally taken the Skeppy. It wasn’t a plan, exactly. He’d carried it home that first day and assumed it wanted to stay with him.

-

"For a long time, Bad thought all he would ever be was a Bad. But when a Bad finds a Skeppy, suddenly a Bad becomes... A happy." If this quote doesn't make you want to read the fic, I'm not sure you're okay, I'm sorry.

This fic is literally the cutest thing, istg. I dare you to try and find me something that's more wholesome.

Bad and Skeppy are both not-quite sentient creatures - Bad is a Nether demon, Skeppy is a diamond golem - who find each other by chance and just, connect and stick together and do shenanigans.

The genius of this fic for me is the "not-quite sentient" part. They're not people, they're creatures, and it shows. They remind me a lot of the dragons from HTTYD, as in they possess a higher order of thinking than a dog or a cat, while still being somewhere lower than a human. Does that make sense?

They can't communicate with each other the traditional way - aka, through speech - and so have to find ways to get around that, which is a trope I love.

Also also, this author is amaaaaaazing at writing Happy Duo, I very very much recommend checking out any of their other works - Flickering Flame and Your voice: The Sound of your Laughter are two of my faves, but really, all of them are more than worth a read.

___

My sunshine by Redbug

There's something wrong with the world around Bad, and reality isn't making any sense. No one is, and it's starting to eat away at his mind.

-

This series is pure pain and yearning. I'm not even trying to be funny, it simply is. Maybe it's because Bad and his "predicament" reminded me too much of a family member of mine, but this fic really just hit me like a truck out of nowhere.

I don't want to spoil much, but i love what the author did with Bad's backstory. Who he is, his connections with XD, how he got to have the life he does in the present. He's so tragic, it's painful to read all that suffering (but in a good way, because it's also beautiful??)

The way Rain cloud ended threw me for a loop a bit, but I think that might've been the point - it also made me cry actual tears, sooooo, there's that :p

But yeah, go read this right now if you feel like BBH-centric angst with lots of worried Skeppy, some functional Karlnapity, and a kind of confusing but still very envolving plot.

___

dripping with red gardenia by kirichin

A sardonic smile tugs his lips up as he watches the petals curl up, catch fire, and turn into ashes. He was sure there is a metaphor there somewhere, between his love and the pathetic flowers turning into ashes.

-

or Skeppy gets blessed with Hanahaki.

-

Happy Duo writers really do love their angst. And Hanahaki too, apparently.

Techno is MVP. He and Skeppy continue to warm my heart with their brotherly bond. Skeppy and Bad deserve all the hugs.

It's been a while since I last read this one, so I don't remember the plot too well, but I do remember I stayed up 'til 4am to finish it and I hate going to bed late, so I hope this speaks for itself on how engaging the fic is. Go read.

so this is love by Isi_Khan_3000

You’ve always been a clingy person – always had a hard time letting things go.

It’s not really all that surprising that that was your downfall.

OR, the Skeppy POV we all want and need (featuring some extra commentary from somewhen else.)

-

(Yes, I'm self-advocating, leave me alone.)

This was written immediately after the Egg Lore finale. It's basically my personal take on what Skeppy was up to while Bad was busy building himself a cult. It spans from his death by lava bath to him killing Bad after the Banquet.

It's sad, angsty, and full of my fave headcanons for their DSMP characters (which means lots of happy duo family). It is also my first try at writing 2nd person, so yeahhhhh, please give it a read, and feel free to yell at me in the comments.

Anyway, go check it out if it sounds interesting, please and thank you.

#dsmp #dream smp #dsmp fanfic #fanfic recs #badboyhalo #bbh #skeppy #happy duo #skephalo #the egg

[dadmareau]

do you have a master list or a tag for your dadmare stuff?

Should’ve made one earlier, frankly. Thank you for asking!

TAG MASTERLIST

#info & #faq information that is useful

#art & #sketches & #comics & #writing & #fics for art I specifically made and what type; I might have mislabeled some things Lol

Stories like “A Gift for Sunbeam” and “Komorebi” have their own individual tags as well where all updates to that series will be added for easy viewing.

#story & #not story differentiate the main timeline/narrative being followed by asks (may be discontinued because I get confused LOL)

#design references & #design blueprints show all things related to designs posted and wips (blueprints) of those designs.

#ooc & #ic differentiate when a character or I am speaking just for clarification purposes ; ic would typically be used when characters have in-text narration or dialogue

#dadmare & #sunbeam & #outcodes & #villagers for posts featuring/mentioning the aforementioned characters

(#outcodes specifically relate to any outside AU characters who will appear in story/are tied and groups them together)

#modmare / #modmare answers for posts where I am speak/answer an ask

#inbox for anything with an ask/submission

#rattling for posts where I go on tangents/anything that isn’t main story related, such as worldbuilding

#worldbuilding is for all backstory, lore, and environment related info

#reblogs is for any content I did not make/ reblogged, as I reblog from my main with AU art sometimes

Any other blogs or AUs featured are tagged accordingly, like #osd dream or #resetmare. These posts likely include #reblogs if you wouldn’t like to see them and only want dadmareAU.

Tag list to be updated accordingly with time. Not all posts will be tagged accurately, I forget things.

#not story #ooc #modmare #inbox #modmare answers #faq #info #tag list #updated 5:/30/2023

[yawnderu]

for the ask game!!

🧃🍄☁️

From this game!

Hi love!!

🧃 ⇢ share some personal lore you never posted about before

SHIT I have a lot BUT ig the main thing is that Stray as an OC is EXTREMELY based on myself, including her backstory and personality as a whole, although in my fics Stray is just a nickname for the reader and no physical description is ever used. So hints of her backstory and behavior on Stray are heavily based in my own experience with CPTSD. Her stupid ass funny actions are also based in real-life things that have happened with me or friends LMFAO

🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings

Not written here yet but Stray and König grew up together in Austria. They both saw each other go through the most cringe phases and TO THIS DAY they tease each other about cringey nicknames they had or things they did, they have plenty of inner jokes and when they're together, there's always this bubble between them that makes anyone else unable to get in and get to know them the way they know each other. It's canon that König used to get into fights a lot, and this bitch was always his #1 supporter even on the rare times he lost

☁️ ⇢ what made you choose your username?

Yawnderu is a play on words. Yawn because I'm always dead tired no matter how much I sleep, and deru coming from yanderu, which means to be sick in Japanese. A very old online nickname back when I was struggling HARD and felt validated by a definition that seemed fitting at the time. I didn't have any new nickname ideas when I created this account, so I just used that one JHBFEHJBFE

Stray is the name of the reader in my fics and my OC, so I added that to my display name so both username and display name aren't the same!

#stray answers

[turtletaubwrites]

Misty Eyes ~ Part 2

Thank you so much @pinejayyfor this delicious request!!

Pairings: Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader, Doflamingo x Fem!Reader (Past)

Word Count: 3377

Misty Eyes Masterlist

Ao3 Link

Summary: Law can't trust you yet, so you do everything you can to prove yourself. Will your memories help or hurt you?

Author's Note: I'm really enjoying writing Law in multiple fics, so I can slap different vibes on him like he's trying on different shades of eyeliner 😅

THIS FIC CONTAINS DARK CONTENT.

Rating/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Devil Fruit User Reader, Swearing, Eventual Smut, Angst, Pet Names, Degradation, Punishment, Emotional Abuse, DARK CONTENT, DUBCON, Grooming, Trauma, Past Sexual Abuse, Manipulation, Power Imbalance, Dubious Consent, Donquixote Doflamingo is His Own Warning, Bondage, Other Additional Tags to be Added, Dissociation, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers

!!! SPOILERS !!! This story begins during the 2 year timeskip before the Punk Hazard Arc, and there will also be spoilers for the Dressrosa Arc for backstory lore

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

~🦩🦩🦩~

“Do you love me?”

“Of course I do, young master! You–”

“Now, now, Y/N. What did I tell you? You’re my pretty little thing now, so you get to call me Doffy, alright?”

His large hand cupped your face, warming your cheek that was already warm from his attention. 

He’s smiling at me now. I’m special to him. I mean something to him, finally. 

“Well? Are you going to answer my question properly?”

Doffy’s hand traveled down to your neck, long fingers circling your vulnerable flesh as he waited for you to obey him.

“Yes. I love you, Doffy.”

~🦩🦩🦩~

“Y/N?”

Law repeated your name softly until you returned, finding yourself in that metal room, a shrine dedicated to his hatred and rage. 

“I’m sorry to have to ask you this,” Law rasped, dipping his face to meet your eyes. “I can’t imagine what you’ve gone through all these years…”

His brows pinched together when he caught your grimace, and his shoulders slumped. 

Guilt pulled at his features, while you tried to understand which of the emotions inside you were worth focusing on. 

“I shouldn’t have asked you that–”

“I don’t know,” you confessed. Your voice was empty, as if a machine were spilling truths instead of your own lips. 

“I did love him. I know I did,” you continued, staring a hole through Law’s wooden desk. “I’ve been… feeling guilty for a while. Why am I not feeling that anymore?”

Your misty eyes looked up, almost pleading with him for an answer. 

“Loving Doffy is the only thing I’m good at. The only reason he needs me. What use am I–”

“You are worth more than what he takes from you,” he growled, your eyes widening until the mist turned to tears.

Law relaxed his shoulders again, releasing a breath. Those tattooed hands cupped your cheeks, and you sighed as his thumbs wiped away your show of weakness. 

“Y/N,” he soothed, his lips quirking before he continued. He dropped his hands away, and you missed their warmth, especially as those golden eyes hardened again. 

“I don’t want to keep you prisoner, but as much as I'd like to, I can’t trust you yet.”

Nodding, you tried not to shake as fear rolled back over you. 

“I can’t risk this mission. It’s not safe for me to leave you somewhere on your own. But if I let you roam the Polar Tang, interact with my crew… Especially when you can sneak into any room you like–”

“I would never,” you choked out, reaching for one of his hands on the desk. “Please, Law. I won’t betray you, I swear.”

He squeezed your hand in return, but shook his head. 

“I want to believe you, Y/N. But we both know the power he has over people. You might not think you’d betray me now, but he’s been in your head your whole life.”

The weight of loneliness pressed your body down, your hand going limp in his. He squeezed it a few more times until you looked up again. 

“If you're willing to trust me,” he started, his eyes a bit wide, “I have a way to make sure that I can trust you. It won’t hurt–”

“Hurt,” you whispered, wetting your dry lips as you waited for whatever he wanted to do to you.

“I can remove your heart,” he explained, pulling a key from his pocket to unlock the large bottom drawer of his desk. 

With all of the gruesome things you’d seen in your life, you were surprised at the gasp you let out. Law had pulled something from the drawer, holding it up so that you could take a look. 

It was a strange cube, almost glowing with blueish pink light. It looked squishy, and you reached out to touch it before you noticed the steady pulse. It was a beating heart. 

“So that story is true,” you breathed as you watched it in fascination, “you really did steal all of those pirate’s hearts.”

“I did,” he nodded grimly, tucking that heart back into the drawer. “I’ve done a lot of things to prepare for this goal.”

“Okay.”

“Okay? You–”

“Take my heart. It’s not helping me out anyway, it might be good to have a break,” you laughed, trying to cover the hollow sound in your words. 

Law stood, and you followed suit, his powerful voice vibrating through you. 

“Room.”

You watched in awe as he created a blue sphere of light to fill the space before coming toward you with his sword. 

“This is just a precaution,” he explained, his breath going heavy. “I won’t hurt you, Y/N. I'll protect you.”

“I trust you,” you admitted before you held your breath. 

You couldn’t follow all of the emotions that crossed his face, until he drained them all away. He looked at you as if you were just a problem to be solved. A loose end to tie up to make sure his plan would succeed.

His sunny eyes were as cold and distant as the vacuum of space when he held the tip of his blade to your chest.

“Scalpel.”

You couldn’t remember the last time a weapon had hurt you. There was no need to worry about being injured in battle when you hadn’t left the castle in so long. 

Doffy was the only one that could hurt you, besides the sea and its stone.

Nothing could cut through mist. 

Law was so confident in his ability that you hadn’t questioned him. Instead, you tried to cooperate, somehow willing your body to stay solid so he could rip you open. 

But the blade at your chest seemed as weak as your own abilities. 

Until it pierced your flesh.

“You’re okay,” Law assured you as he pressed further, your gasping breaths slowing as you realized there was no pain. 

“Would you like to hold it?”

Such a strange feeling, gazing at your own beating heart. The very core of your being, the thing that keeps you alive. 

Sitting in the palm of your hand like a piece of fruit.

“What happens if I squeeze it?”

“It would hurt very– Y/N, stop!”

Law pulled your heart from your grasp as you fell to your knees. The pain was indescribable, radiating from your chest through your whole body, as if your veins were on fire. Nausea came as the pain burned through you, and you leaned your forehead against his desk as he knelt beside you. 

“Why would you do that,” he questioned, almost scolding you like he would when you were kids. 

“Most things can’t hurt me,” you choked out, tilting your head up to see his grumpy face. “I was just curious.”

He frowned before sitting on the floor beside you, pushing the chair out of his way as he looked you over. 

“How are you feeling, Y/N? Have you been having thoughts of harming yourself?”

“What? No,” you exclaimed, sitting straight as the pain started to fade. “I promise, I just… I don’t know. I’ve never been handed my own fucking heart before. It was like an impulse.”

“You’ll tell me if you start having thoughts like that,” he requested after a pause, making you squirm with embarrassment. 

“I promise, I’m sorry. I was stupid.”

Law helped you to your feet, then gripped your shoulder until you were caught in his serious glare. 

“That was a stupid thing to do, but you are not stupid.”

You scrunched your face up, and sat down, itching to forget everything that happened in the last hour.

“This is just a precaution,” he repeated, locking your heart in that bottom drawer. You tried not to stare as he tucked the key into his pocket, but a sick taste of guilt hit your tongue.

I wouldn't need a key to steal my heart back. I could just mist into the drawer, and absorb it. 

You gulped down the pressure to confess, to tell him to hide it somewhere else. 

I’m not gonna steal it back, but I don’t know him anymore. I should be careful. 

“Now,” Law cleared his throat, picking up his notepad again, “do you know anything about Doflamingo’s dealings with Kaidou?”

Your mouth opened, but nothing came out. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to tell him. Everything just felt blank.

“I don’t… I’m not important enough to know anything,” you explained, the words burning your throat on the way out. “I’m sorry, I probably won’t be able to help much.”

Law sat back in his chair, tapping his pen against his lips while he assessed you.

I’m still fucking useless. 

‘Can’t do anything on your own, huh? Just listen to Doffy, you’ll be the perfect little doll for me, alright?’

“Were you with him a lot?”

“What,” you coughed, your skin flushing to the tips of your ears. 

“No, I– that’s not what I…” Law sighed, shaking his head to clear his own words away. “Did he have you with him throughout the day? During meals, maybe while he took calls or meetings?”

“Oh,” you said softly, noticing yourself going fuzzy again, staring into nothing as you tried to recall.

~🦩🦩🦩~

“I mean no offense, Joker, but shouldn’t we be discussing this in private?”

“Oh, don’t mind her, Caesar,” Doffy laughed, rubbing his hand over your back as you lounged in his lap. “She can’t do any harm.”

The scientist frowned at you for a moment. You couldn’t tell if he was wearing makeup, or if his skin really was that pale, his lips almost purple. He met your eyes before shifting his own away from you, and away from Doffy’s fingers that trailed over your thighs, your neck. 

Doffy always touched you so gently when visitors were around, and you melted into him. 

If not for Caesar’s grating laugh, you might have drifted off. Instead, you jolted now and then, Doffy’s hands clutching a little tighter. 

~🦩🦩🦩~

“Are you al–”

“I remember something. Doffy sent Monet with a scientist, this weird guy with–”

“Caesar Clown,” he prompted, his brow arching a bit.

“Yeah. And I guess you wouldn’t know Monet, she joined after you…”

Law pointed to a picture on the wall, your gaze slow in following the gesture. 

“I know of her.”

Your eyes were drawn to a shot of Monet, her wings curled around her as she read a book with those odd, hypnotizing glasses of hers. Memories of her disapproval hit you, a sigh escaping your lips as you tried to rid yourself of her judgments. 

“She’s even more loyal to Doffy than the rest of– than everyone else. She’s almost obsessive. That’s probably why he sent her.”

Law’s body had gone taut, like electricity was running through him as he set his pen to the paper. 

“Please, Y/N, tell me everything you can remember. Even if it doesn’t seem important.”

~

Your brain felt like a wet rag, with Law wringing out every detail of every call or meeting you could think of. 

It seemed strange how much you could recall from your quiet perch on his lap. You were always so bored, but had to fight yourself not to space out or yawn.

Doffy’s possessive fingers along your skin were wonderful, your revealing clothing giving him so much access. As bored as you could get, those teasing touches in front of visitors prepared your body for what came later. 

It was a relief to wet his thigh with slick before he dismissed the guests. He rarely had the patience to prep you any other way. 

You’d spaced out on those memories, Law’s face pinching in concern as he watched your nails digging into your arms.

“Are you hungry? We can continue tomorrow.”

Groaning at the thought, you followed Law back to the galley. He didn’t have much luck in calming his crew this time. They surrounded the two of you until Law begrudgingly introduced you, and your hand was shaken by many greasy, steamy hands pulled out of gloves, and one bear’s paw that you were very hesitant to touch. 

“I’m sorry about what I said before,” Bepo drawled, true sadness seeming to drip from his voice. “I just really love our cap–” 

“Bepo,” Law scolded, and you turned to scold him back as the bear scurried off.

“How could you be so mean, did you see his–”

“Don’t fall for his sad bear eyes,” Law bristled, and you held in your smile at his discomfort. 

“Is that something you’ve learned from experience,” you teased, earning you a scowl.

Law tucked into his meal, not meeting your eyes as he replied. 

“I know my crew.”

“Oh yeah? They all seem to think you’re the most wonderful man in the world. Could the Surgeon of Death be a big softie?”

If looks could kill.

“Okay, sorry,” you teased between bites, “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

“You do realize that I could take away your tongue if I wanted to,” he threatened, with what looked like the barest touch of pink gracing his cheeks. 

“Oh, I’m sure you’d enjoy some alone time with it.”

Law raised his brows as you clamped your hand over your mouth, your face going hot. He looked too smug, his lips curling as if trying not to laugh. 

“Shut up,” you choked out, putting your misty hands in your lap. 

“I’m not the one whose tongue keeps wagging,” he taunted, somehow keeping that stoic air about him, just a hint of playfulness showing through. 

You stuck that tongue out at him before focusing on your meal, and the low chuckle he let escape was hardly noticeable over the nearby conversations of his crew.

But you noticed it. 

Warmth tingled through your body, and your face was still burning by the time he led you to your room.

~

“Will you be alright in here,” he checked in, standing outside the door to the small room he’d set up for you in the barracks. “The crew are on rotating shifts, so there will always be someone sleeping or getting ready nearby if you need anything.”

“Okay,” you said in a small voice. The realization that you were about to be alone in a cramped, metal room made your skin crawl.

“Are you o—“

“I’ll be fine. Thank you,” you lied with a smile. You were good at lying with smiles. 

“Okay,” he nodded, clearing his throat. “I’ll, uh… I’ll come wake you in the morning, alright? We can have breakfast before we continue going over what you remember.”

“Sounds good,” you chirped. Your cheeks started to hurt as you waved him out, letting your muscles relax after he’d closed that heavy door. 

Quiet.

Not completely. Clanging sounds of the sub interrupted the stillness. Soft voices floated in the hallway beyond that door. 

But now that you were alone…

Thoughts. Memories. Fear. Shame. Guilt. 

Falling back on the single bed, you choked out silent sobs, the flood of emotions slamming into you. You had left your world, dove off the edge of a waterfall, but now you were caught beneath the crashing water, drowning while your body was ripped apart. 

What have I done? How could I leave the family? How could I betray Doffy? 

I’m nothing but scum. Useless my whole life, and now I’m a traitor.

Your mind went in endless loops. Gratitude for Law taking you away. Guilt for betraying the family. Relief that you weren’t stuck in that mindless existence anymore. Terror that Doffy would find and kill you both slowly. 

It hurt. Your whole body hurt, your head pounding like the clanging metal of the submarine.

And you couldn’t understand how you could feel your heart breaking and burning in your chest when it was locked up in Law’s office. 

“Y/N, can I come in?”

His knock had sent you to the ceiling, your body spread into cowardly mist while you tried to calm down. 

“Y/N,” he checked again, concern staining his voice. 

“Just a second,” you stalled, going solid in front of the door. You shook yourself, wiped your tears, and took a few quiet breaths before opening the door with another beaming smile. 

“What’s up?”

Law didn’t look at you like an old friend, an enemy, or a captain on a mission. 

He looked at you like a doctor, and you tried not to squirm.

“What’s that,” you pointed to the lump of shiny fabric he held under one arm.

He coughed, looking down at his shoes before returning your gaze, seeming to rebuild that doctor persona.

“You’ve been through an intense amount of trauma, and the shock of… If you would feel comfortable, I’d like to sleep on the floor in here tonight, just to make sure you’re okay. I could sleep outside the door if you prefer, I just—“

He glanced down at your clenched fists, and you tried to relax them as he continued. 

“I want you to feel safe.”

I’ll never be safe. I’m a traitor. I’m weak. I’ll be tortured before they kill me. 

Doffy will…

The lump in your throat burned, and you filled the room with thick mist so he wouldn’t see you shatter, sinking to the floor as you clawed at your empty chest.

Law closed the door, calling your name as he moved blindly toward you. You could feel him in your mist, and you could have avoided him. You could have let yourself expand into tiny droplets of water, keeping yourself away from any care or comfort he could try to provide. 

But you couldn’t think. Just heave silent sobs, and struggle through breaths that took in more mist than oxygen.

“Y/N– fuck,” he cursed, stubbing his toe on the bed as he waved his arms around slowly. 

The mist told you that he’d gone to his knees, crawling close to you in the small space, but you couldn’t do anything with that knowledge. 

Warm fingers found your arm, pressing lightly along to figure out what he was feeling. 

“I’m sorry I’m touching you, I just need to make sure you’re alright,” he breathed, tracing along your shaking body until he found your neck. His fingers almost burned your clammy skin as he took your pulse before gripping your shoulder gently. 

The way that you could see through your eyes was different than how you could see as mist, or through the mist you create, but you had no way to describe the difference. Through the mist, you saw him lean close, his head above yours as if he could see through the mist too. 

“I’m here. I’m right here with you, Y/N.”

Time was impossible to track as you alternated between crying and dissociating, Law’s calm presence never wavering. Eventually, your mist cleared up, from exhaustion instead of choice. 

He lifted your limp body, tucking you into the small bed before rolling out his sleeping bag.

“You don’t have to sta–”

Law interrupted your slurred words with a harsh glare, but sighed as he sat on the edge of the bed. 

“I’m not going anywhere, Y/N.”

His eyes seemed brighter in this dim room, his voice too soft, yet firm.

Staring into nothing, you felt numbness trying to take you again, but words jumped out of you before you drifted away. 

“Why does it still hurt,” you accused, tapping against your chest with angry fingers, desperate to rip these feelings out. “You took my heart, Law. Why does it still hurt so bad?”

Somehow, more hot tears fell, your body too weak to keep tearing at the hole inside. 

Law’s eyes trailed away, gone to some other time, some other place. When he came back to you, he took your hand in his, running his thumb over your knuckles. 

“If I could cure a broken heart, I wouldn’t be able to complete my mission.”

His words felt as hollow as your chest. You managed to squeeze his hand, pulling in his distant eyes. 

“So we can be broken together then,” you asked, your voice still hoarse as your lips lifted into a weak smile.

Law huffed a laugh, lifting your fingers to his lips before kissing his promise onto your skin.

“Broken together.”

Likes, comments, and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: I knew I was going to go crazy when I started writing for Law, and I was correct. I'm obsessed with this emotionally wrecked man 🖤

Tag List: @shewrites02 | @jadeddangel | @nothing-but-brass

Part 3

Operation Olive Branch has compiled a working spreadsheet of ways to help families fleeing from the genocide in Palestine. If you enjoyed this fic, and are able, please click the link to find a list of GoFundMe's, as well as other ways to help.

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

#fic requests #trafalgar d law x reader #doflamingo x reader #eventual smut #one piece smut #reader insert #fem!reader #smut #x reader #turtletaub fics #one piece x reader #use of y/n #trafalgar law fanfiction #trafalgar law smut #one piece angst #cw dark content #cw grooming #cw dubcon #cw toxic relationship #cw emotional abuse #angst

[d33pwithinmys0ul]

catch up post for those that care, a bit of my personal life a bit of fanfic planning

sorry i haven’t been active—one side of the internet took over from my other side of the internet. i’ve been playing so much everskies lately (lysdoll if u wanna add me!)

i watched all of attack on titan and got into super nana after being very not into anime for all my life (i haven’t finished nana yet so no spoilers but hachi feels a bit like my own younger self/a bit like my y/n character) i loved aot besides some imperfections, i might post my thoughts in depth sometime. i wish we got more backstory on founder ymir and other lore, and i’m trying to keep my crush on jean <3 from my bf lmao

i turned 21 on the 3rd and my parents got me a new laptop! my old laptop that i wrote fic on was from pre covid my sophomore year so uh. very very old and laggy, which i think contributed to me having some issues writing. hopefully will be tackling these projects soon, in no particular order:

-next chapter for Lovegod U137A (one ending from my main Rick x reader fic I Only Have Eyes For U137)

-next chapter for Welcome to Feeling U137B (the other ending from my main Rick x reader fic I Only Have Eyes For U137)

-U132Fast (2Fast2Furious inspired rick x y/n one shot? very still wip)

-my book i guess

-horny jean kirschtein x reader smut?

-scorsese goodfellas-casino inspired rick x reader fanfic.. which may or may not be added into the U137verse, haven’t decided yet

i’m a barista now and having so much fun. here’s a somewhat decent attempt at latte art, there’s a coffee shop related project i’ve been fantasizing about but i won’t say anything for now. it’s not a fanfic though!🤫🫣

hope y’all are doing well, tysm for all the interaction and love, my dms are always open :)

[nitewrighter]

Hey, uh, about the "retcons" in Overwatch's story, do you know which ones are genuine retcons and which ones are additional lore added into the story?

That's a good question, because I've been in this fandom for 6 years and I've seen a lot of people call things retcons that were really just lore reveals that went against fanon. Like for example, when Moira was introduced to the game, a lot of people were saying that it retconned Mercy being the creator of Reaper, when that's not true--a lot of people headcanoned the idea of "Mercy created Reaper" into fanon because Reaper had an elimination line for Mercy that said, "Don't forget, this is all your fault" but it was also never clear if that was an elimination line he had for Overwatch members in general, or if that was referring to something else, or if it was just a taunt. In any case, there simply weren't enough details on Reaper's condition before for Moira's addition to the cast and her corresponding lore of giving Reaper his abilities to call Moira's entry into the lore a retcon. (Also it's just fucking dumb to saddle literally every medical science thing Overwatch was up to onto Mercy I mean come on, people.)

Reaper having a family? Also definitely not a retcon, we see him stalking what is presumably his son and his family in the Christmas "Reflections" comic way back in 2016--and his family is mentioned again in Ana's "Bastet" short story.

Is the Cassidy Name change a retcon? I mean there had been hints at Cassidy using pseudonyms before in certain voice lines and also in the "Joel Morricone"/"My name's not Joel" bit with Sombra. But anyway I think the meta factor of not wanting to associate a fan favorite character with a predatory Blizzard employee is justifiable enough to just... hand wave the name change. I mean they still have the old name on his "Trainhopper" comic so I guess the Pseudonym lore bit is just there so they don't need to worry about changing it back in older media---but also that just shows that Blizz is lazy as hell because if I can edit and replace over a 1000 mentions of Cassidy's old name in my 300k+ word main fic continuity, I'm pretty sure they can edit a 10 page comic.

I feel like they've also always been a bit iffy on the whole status of God AI's, particularly Anubis. Like the lore says "Anubis and other god programs were quarantined in Egypt" but we never hear anything about any other God AI and it's Anubis that kicked off the omnic crisis, apparently, But I'll have to read the Sojourn novel to be clear.

For me the most egregious and clear retcon is the changes they made to Widow in what is clearly a hamfisted attempt to give her more 'agency.' In the previous lore, as we see in Ana's comic "Legacy," Overwatch thought Amélie Lacroix was either kidnapped again or dead following the death of Gérard LaCroix. She disappeared off the face of the earth (presumably doing super secret assassinations for Talon) and basically didn't appear again until she put Ana's eye out. In Widowmaker's new bio, which came out with Overwatch 2, they say that the police were pursuing Amélie as a suspect in Gérard's death and Amélie willingly went to Talon because she had nowhere else to go and quote, "Killing Gérard made her feel alive." Like, when you're being pursued by the cops, and you've literally already been brainwashed to kill your husband, I don't think there's actual agency there.

For me the old Widow backstory was a lot better because it made her scarier and more nuanced as a character, it made the stakes feel higher in the universe, and it doesn't make the timeline confusing with what Moira was up to at the time. And also Widowmaker taking out Ana's eye is vital to Ana's character because Amélie is part of the body of Overwatch's failures. All of Ana's thoughts leading up to the point where Widowmaker takes her eye out indicate how Talon has been in Overwatch's blind spot, both figuratively and literally. So all around it's just kind of a dumb choice that turned a genuinely eerie character who partially represents the failures and vulnerabilities of Overwatch into a boring generic Femme Fatale.

But yeah anyway I would say, compare the new Overwatch 2 bios to the old comics and kind of make your own judgments from there.

#overwatch #overwatch 2

[altocat]

”A Monster’s Threads” QnA please!!! (I know I’m late lol sorryyy)

Were there any films, songs, or other fics that particularly inspired you when developing the story?

If you added more chapters, where would they go and what would they cover?

Did you plan out the whole story or did you come up with it as you went?

Who was the easiest character to write? Who was the hardest?

Did you ever get emotional or cry when writing certain scenes?

Did you pull any punches with the heavier content? Where? When?

What was your fav scene to write in the whole fic?

How did your perspective grow/shift on certain characters after writing them?

If you could choose one scene to be fully illustrated, which one would it be?

Hhhhh yesss thank you! AMT is my first fic, though I was not nearly in the know as I am now. So let's see...

In terms of inspirations, it's weird. I remember reading a pretty accurate novelization of the Nibelheim Incident and feeling inspired to write my own version. There've also been plenty of Seph backstory fics out there as well and while I initially took inspiration from a few, I very quickly branched out from there. Novel inspirations included Gregory Maguire's Wicked, though only in design and not in practice or flow. I also listened to a LOT of Glass Animals for the Sephgen chapters.

My biggest regret is not having more Gast-Seph chapters. I'm still beating myself up over it. I maybe would have liked to have fleshed out a few more chapters with Seph in Wutai, and possibly integrating his scenes from Before Crisis as well, especially his encounter with Elfe. Her asking him why he fights I feel is an often overlooked but pivotal character moment for him. I also probably would have rewritten a lot of the Aerith chapters as well, with more of a focus on Ifalna.

AMT was originally going to be "snippets", hence the shortage of Gast chapters. It was going to jump through huge chunks of time with a focus on important canon moments. By chapter 7ish I started to get more ambitious.

Easiest character to write is Hojo. Or Jenova. Not that Jenova is an actual "character", but writing more animalistic horror characters is a lot easier than characters who go through an arc. Hojo is easy because he's a dick, and already knows the whole score. He knows exactly what he wants and what he expects. Less guessing work.

In terms of emotion, there were a few instances. Seph, Gen, and Angeal sharing pasta together. Angeal's farewell. And especially the ending. I'd been waiting for the ending for a long, long time.

There was lots of stuff that was eventually cut or shortened. Sephiroth was originally going to wear a shock collar most of his childhood. Angeal's body was going to take a bad tumble off the gurney and/or coffin while Seph and Zack had an argument over it. Hojo was going to be a lot creepier with some...unsettling implications. It was all too much. So I didn't go there.

Favorite scene was the penultimate confrontation between Sephiroth and Zack in Nibelheim. I just wanted to write Seph going apeshit insane. I was practically losing my mind during the buildup. It was the easiest chapter to write because I was blazing through on pure malicious glee.

I put some Sephzack in there, or at least hints of it. Probably wouldn't have leaned into that as much since I'm more staunchly into Sephgen. I know a lot more about certain points of lore now than I did at the time of writing it, though I did a lot of research. There's some things that are kind of screwy timeline-wise. I think I now view certain characters with a bit more sympathy now. Genesis, for example, while I liked him at the time of writing it, occasionally comes off as a genuine asshole. I might have softened him up a bit, though I did try to be really fair to him in the fic. At least, I hope I did.

HHHH illustrations. The waterfall scene was illustrated thanks to a lovely commission by @manalovebot. And that was one of the big ones for me. So if I really had to think about it...perhaps the end of part 2 with Seph on the roof. Or Lucrecia seeing baby Seph at the beginning of part 3. Or maybe even Sephiroth fighting Zack in Nibelheim. I'm really not kidding when I say that if I had any artistic abilities, I'd have every chapter illustrated.

#asks #ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #crisis core #sephiroth #sephcanons #genesis rhapsodos #angeal hewley #zack fair #hojo #jenova #fanfiction #ao3 #A Monster's Threads

[whatisgoingonpaul]

So I finished the Fright Night novelisation a little while ago and I’ve moved on to Fright night origins. A novel just recently put out by Tom Holland (the director) and another writer. I was definitely excited to pick it up considering it comes from the man who did the movie.

It’s pretty good so far. It is largely the plot of the movie but with a lot of added information. What’s interesting is that Jerry and Billy are both more interesting and better written then Charley and co. We get a lot of backstory and lore which I’m eating up but at the same time Charley, evil and Amy are actually getting less then the novelisation gave them? I like how it reveals Amy is a Duran Duran freak but it also has greatly removed a lot of stuff with Evil. Like how they’d also affectionally call him Eddie when serious or soft.

However some parts of this feel like Tom just wanted to write a crime novel? We keep getting drawn out of the main story to the police finding the bodies and going over the case. While interesting on the surface all it does is take up space and repeat what we JUST SAW happen.

It’s also VERY clear that this was written recently , as in not during the 80s. By this I mean that there is a lot of name dropping, explaining and sort of surface level set dressing? Like *throws up names of stuff like blockbuster and the most generic 80s horror or big films*. It may not be known to someone who’s not obsessed with the time period like my but the first blockbuster opened in 1985- the same year as the fucking movie. It just feels weird? Like it’ll be a normal paragraph and just namedrop “hey this thing existed in the 80s!!” Or stop to explain coin arcades and neon lights. It’s giving me the vibes of a 13 year old looking up 80s stuff for a Au fic and not someone who was very much alive and making movies during this time. This is a nitpick- but I can’t be the only one who feels this?

#fright night 1985 #fright night #horror books #80s horror #fright night novelization #fright night origins #80s books #the 1980s #nostalgia #tom holland #Tom Holland director #jerry dandridge #billy cole #charley brewster #amy peterson #evil Ed #ed thompson #vampire #vampires #80s vampires

[masterofdemise]

Top 5 mfb aus! Can be either yours or those of others!

Shoot this is very hard because I suck at ranking them. Instead, I'll list the AUs that I really like the ideas for, not really in any order just ones I love coming across. I'll also include one of my AUs (this one should be obvious) but for the most part, I would like to feature the AUs that other people have made.

@artisadie 's Ryo Survives the Volcano Instead of Gingka AU: This AU just has so much angst and it's so well thought out. I may not pay much attention to Ryo or Gingka most of the time but Sadie is always so good at keeping me intrigued. Absolutely love seeing the art associated with this particular AU.

2. @curedeity Faust Joins Team Star Breaker Early AU: This AU that you made as a secret santa gift is just so good I love the way you characterize Faust in this fic. It's so angsty but I love how you tie it all up in the end in such a nice manner. Faust actually gets to become his own character? That's pretty crazy.

Fanfic I am talking about is here:

3. @starfishes-and-watercolors's AUs with Yuki and Motti, in particular their most recent one where Yuki is kidnapped early in Fury: This AU is SO funny I love the interactions between Yuki and Motti and how much the villains get clowned on. It's so funny to just think about how much Motti can embarrass Johannes and Pluto when they do finally confront each other during the actual events of Fury. There are also some really cool concepts relating to how the star fragments work in this AU and the history behind the legendary bladers. I would definitely recommend reading the fic for this AU, it is hilarious. Val and I have discussed many AUs with eachother and they're all so funny but this is the one that comes up to my mind first at the moment.

4. SilverSwirl's "Never Too Late" Fanfic where Nemesis succeeds in defeating the Legendary Bladers and the gang is on the run: This fanfiction I found around last year while searching for Pluto content and I actually really enjoy the concept behind this one fic and its AU. To no one's surprise, I became very attached to the Pluto and Johannes backstory they gave and I think it's so interesting to see how their strained friendship is developed throughout the story. I'm so sad the fic stopped updating in 2017 because despite how strained Pluto and Johannes' friendship is, it's clear they still had concerns for one another and I'll never know if they ended up being separated due to Pluto's own choice to sacrifice himself, or if he finally decided to put his friendship first in the priority list. I will admit, I have not read the whole thing because I may or may not have skimmed just to read the Pluto stuff, but those bits where Pluto and Johannes are in it are so good (Chapter 23 and 27 have me dead, but in a good way).

It's a pretty old fic, and unfinished at that but god I always think about the Pluto/Johannes lore here.

5. My Solar Swap AU: I was originally not going to put my own AUs here, but considering how many ideas I bounced off of with Val and qloof, I just had to feature it here as well. The Solar Swap AU is by far my most developed alternate universe, actually going out of my way to create new designs and thinking about how different the world is just by switching up the roles of the Solar System/Nemesis Bladers. I have so much fun changing things up, while also trying to fix Fury in my own weird little way by making adjustments to the sections that I didn't like, or adding more story points to make the AU flow better. It's funny to me how much more I like Solar Swap Dynamis and Rago then I do in the original (although to be fair, they're not really much in the original to begin with). This AU is my definitely my favourite to develop out of all the MFB AUs I have (I don't count From Different Eyes since that follows very closely to the main headcanon universe that I have)

There are plenty more wonderful AUs that are probably out there, but these were the ones that just popped out from the top of my head :) Its amazing to see all the wonderful different alternate universes people come up with. Cool stuff!

#metal fight beyblade #beyblade #demise rambles