#he's blind and doesn't really have any desire to go to the surface

[tyran-the-tyranical]

Baldur's Gate & The Human Condition

I want to rant about the themes in bg3 because I've been stuck thinking about them for a while, so now I must rant.

*Also just a recap on the definition of the human condition (haha rhymes)

"The human condition can be defined as the characteristics and key events of human life, including birth, learning, emotion, aspiration, morality, conflict, and death."

I think on the surface it's very clear that there is let's say a motif of breaking cycles or behaviors, liberating oneself from perpetual toxic cycles put upon the characters. From the beginning, I definitely could see that, but furthermore, I think it all comes back to the human condition and its importance throughout the story (Also, yes, the human condition doesn't need to strictly relate the humans as a species or race in bg3)

Time and time again we see these higher powers abuse their subjects or followers; Mystra, Cazador, Shar, Vlaakith, and so on. The common throughline with all these people is that in some way they have lost their humanity or never had it to begin with, and that's where they inevitably fail, and why on the other side our main characters can succeed.

If we look at the good endings for the bg3 cast, when they do not ascend or go back to their masters/leaders they end up much better and perhaps not perfectly but still it's the best endings for them since they still managed to keep their humanity and experience the human condition. If we look at Gale or Astarion, if you choose to ascend them, they're clearly not the same people anymore, they lost some integral part of themselves that allowed them to understand and I suppose emphasize with humanity, with mortals. Though now, if they lose that ability, they are doomed to repeat the faults of their predecessors, incapable of becoming anything more or seeing what they once did, they are forever changed.

On the other-other side of this, we see that even if the characters don't ascend, they're still doomed. Lae'zel is sacrificed, Karlach burns out (tho both of her endings are kinda glum), and so on. There are some exceptions since Wyll still can keep himself (unless u kill Mizora and doom him lol) but at the cost of his father's life and having to replace him when he really doesn't want to anyway.

We are shown these people in a higher power and not even necessarily supernaturally higher either, like the dead three, since they're still all well mortal. Each of them could've kept themselves but each of them couldn't see past themselves, past their sight for power, grief, and desire for destruction. They were either blinded to their human condition or chose not to acknowledge it, which is what enables them to perpetrate the will of their gods without any remorse. They could be seen as victims, especially in Thorm's case, but at the same time, they inevitably chose what they chose with full knowledge of the consequences.

The difference between the Dead Three and our main characters is that our main cast can let people in, they can depend on each other and be vulnerable. They allow themselves to express their fears and thoughts and let others know about their past and their pains. I think it's interesting that the dark urge is probably the only one of the chosen that even comes close to this, as seen with their relationship and affinity for Gortash as well as their later self-reflections throughout the game.

I also think it's cool that the cast longs for connection and can both do so figuratively and literally since they all have the tadpole and can actually mentally connect with each other.

I hope this makes sense and doesn't just sound like absolute shite, or maybe it was already super obvious and I only realized it late lol, I just never put it together that it was the human condition lol.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #Baldur's gate #bg3 astarion #bg3 gale #bg3 lae'zel #bg3 karlach #enver gortash #bg3 durge #bg3 rant #I'm actually so cooked #teehee

[oneatlatime]

The Blue Spirit

Before we get into the episode, a couple of thoughts that have been rattling around my brain: -Last episode was heavy. I need jokes please. -it's been a while since I've seen a hybrid animal. I thought those were going to be a running gag. -It's been a while since there has been any gorgeous background art. -The last couple of episodes have really pushed Sokka and Katara to the background. I'm missing the ensemble style episodes.

Episode time!

It's Zhao. Hi asshole. Actually this conversation is touching on something I've been wondering about:

The fire nation has bigger fish to fry than a quarter-trained 12 year old.

If this whole episode happens at night time I'm going to really miss my CRT.

Zhao is now turbo asshole. Also there's a weird blue cat on his roof.

Imagine having a sick day on an Appa couch. Heavenly. And where are they hiding this time? Why is there a giant tapestry?

Looks like this won't be much of a Sokka episode.

Not going to be a Katara episode either. This is a novel way of benching your side characters.

How does airbending make you go faster? I could see earthbending making you faster, just by moving your running surface, but how does Aang do it?

I do like roadrunner shenenigannery.

Momo doesn't understand English confirmed. Also he has green-tinted vision? Do his irises coat his pupils? That would be weird.

Behold! A non-hydrid animal.

"It's been almost an hour and you haven't given the men an order." Ouch. Burn.

I'm not much of a Zuko fan, but even I have to admit that this is a sucky situation in a long line of sucky situations. You have to feel for him here.

Frog popsicles. Did not see that coming. Note the lack of hybridity.

Now he looks like those arrow guys.

Using aerial weaponry against an airbender seems really stupid. I guess they've got numbers one their side.

Is literally everybody in this world a professionally trained acrobat? Do all four nations include that in the school curriculum?

Compensating?

Could the action wait until morning please? I can't see.

Zhao doubling down on the asshole behaviour. Not cool. Keeping someone barely alive in captivity for as long as possible has to be some sort of war crime. Waging a war for a century against an entire planet is probably also a war crime, so again, bigger fish. There are assholes that are entertaining to watch and fun to root for, and assholes that are just plain mean. Zhao is now firmly in the latter category.

Poor Momo is trying his best. Zhao's right about there being no one to rescue Aang this time though. Even Appa's benched by babysitting duties.

The blue cat is back. Clinging to the underside of a moving cart using just your fingernails has got to be murder on the hands.

Good lord these guards are blind. This episode is too dark for me to see anything but I still saw blue cat guy hot foot it into the compound. His mask even has white parts.

Oh god he's monologuing. Blegh. Although convenient for blue cat guy. A desire to monologue may be Zhao's most consistent character trait.

Did the frogs do that?

The hallway-that-eats-our-guys just ate one of our guys. What should we do? How about send two more of our guys down the hallway-that-eats-our-guys? And leave only one to guard the door keeping the world's most powerful bender contained? Sounds good.

CAT.

He extinguished that guy! That gets funnier the more I think about it. All that fancy bending, years of training, and your fatal weakness is a bucket.

Exactly how many of those sword flourishes were necessary?

I like the blue cat's theme music. It's some sort of wind instrument, a bit kazoo-like, but it sounds a lot like this plastic toy trumpet I had as a kid that I'd play with whenever I was mad at my parents. I loved that thing, but it mysteriously vanished one day.

Blue cat is doing some seriously precision sword bending. Imagine if he'd missed? How do you live down cutting off the Avatar's hands and feet?

It WAS the frogs! Caught red- um. Footed? Do frogs have hands?

The return of One Man Army Aang.

Blue cat is surprisingly go with the flow for having just been catapulted dozens of feet without warning. Stuck the landing too. Sort of.

I'm sure there's some fascinating fight choreography going on at the moment but I CAN'T SEE IT.

Aang can briefly function as a load-bearing helicopter. Briefly.

So… how many of these guards are dead?

I am a dumb! How did I NOT see that coming? I am dumb! Much dumb!

Turns out there is one hairstyle worse than Zuko's usual.

In addition to roadrunnering, helicoptering, and ladderwalking, Aang can also carry someone taller and heavier than him at high speeds while fleeing the enemy. Is there anything airbending can't do?

Or maybe it was the frogs. Also I just realised that Fire Nation ships are shaped like Fire Nation shoes. I bet those shoes give you bunions.

Zuko was out for a WHILE. Might want to get that head wound checked out.

This hit unexpectedly hard. This episode's second surprisingly heavy scene. Can't they at least hug?

Was the kazoo-trumpet diagetic all along?

"Did you make any new friends?" "No. I don't think I did." Me:

Appa is your friend, not your toothbrush.

Final Thoughts

This was a character episode disguised as an action episode. Which I did not realise until I figured out that Blue cat man was Zuko all along.

Firebender Zuko has chihuahua energy. Blue Spirit Zuko has cat energy. Discuss.

Everyone needed a hug this episode. Including me. Except Zhao. Screw Zhao.

Zuko seems much more confident with those swords than he is with his fire. I don't mean to compare skill levels; I have no way of evaluating that. I mean he seems more sure of his movements with swords. Fire makes him shouty. Swords make him dance.

Can't really say much about Sokka and Katara this episode, although I do like that the reason they're out of commission is a direct consequence of last episode's exploits. Makes the through narrative feel more grounded if the small things as well as the large plot points have continuity/consequences.

Momo! Poor Momo. He really tried! Actually, I've been assuming, but is Momo a boy lemur?

I am utterly indifferent to the Arrow guys. Nice bit of stealthy worldbuilding, but I'll eat my hat if they ever recur.

This episode was The Storm part 2. Parallel angst threads concluding in the two mains staring contemplatively in silence after each other? Yep. Storm Part 2. This episode may have had even less humour than The Storm. I found the recurring frog jokes worked better than the Sokka and Katara are sick jokes.

I've been kind of nitpicky about this episode, but don't get me wrong, I did enjoy it. Kind of really ended on a downer though. It's also contributing to a growing suspicion of mine: would they pour all this development into Zuko, and set up a more powerful villain to take his place, if they meant for Zuko to stay the villain? The show started giving us insight into Zuko's character, and arguably a reason to pity him, at the same time as it gave us those things for Aang - The Southern Air Temple. This show has 60-some episodes. Would you humanise your villain in episode three if he was supposed to be the antagonist for the rest of the show's run? You could, but it would be a waste of writing energy. So what's going to happen? Is this war going to have three sides? I can't see Zuko fully switching sides, when his reasons for chasing Aang are so personal. Whatever Honour means in the fire nation, Zuko's only way to get it back seems to be capturing Aang. I can't think of anything Aang could give him that would be worth forever forfeiting his Honour.

I think this episode made the correct choice, in not having Zuko say anything when he wakes up in the forest with Aang. Like the end of the Southern Air Temple, and the end of (I think?) the Winter Solstice Part 2, some moments are enough - no dialogue needed. But - bear with me as I stray into fanfiction territory - wouldn't it be fascinating to hear the conversation Aang and Zuko might have had? And isn't it neat that Aang chose the conversational topic he did - not questioning why Zuko rescued him, but attempting to reach out? There was a choice made in his one-sided conversation with Zuko that I want to pick at. I can't put into words why I found that short scene so impactful. But I want to pick at it.

I'll be rewatching this episode on the CRT in my parents' basement when I can, because the brightness on my little laptop just does not go high enough. This episode was dark. Fittingly so, but still. I want to SEE.

#atla #avatar: the last airbender #the blue spirit #avatar the last airbender

[thesparklingwriter]

don't dwell on the past

'"Please forgive me," he says, kissing your hand lightly.'

tags: pet names, Zhongli is very pure, soft Zhongli, fem!reader, Zhongli and reader are in a relationship, reader and Zhongli fall out, reader tries to sleep on the couch, someone remind me to come back and edit this

masterlist | ao3 link | taglist | next

please do not repost or edit my work. reblogs are greatly appreciated !

i'm also taking ideas for the rest of the flufftober days, feel free to leave any suggestions in my asks, no matter how self-indulgent they may be!

You and Zhongli rarely fall out. To be more exact, you rarely fall out over anything serious. And even when you do, screaming matches and insults are never thrown about, and today is no exception. The problem is that sometimes, quiet, rational words don't do enough to show how you feel, and you wish you could have a good old scream at a wall, just to get rid of the tension. You love Zhongli, you truly do. But he can be really out of touch with you sometimes.

"I really don't like it when you intervene when I'm fighting." you say to him, after a silent journey home. You prefer discussing things at home than out where everyone can hear you. It's probably why you like living in the mountains so much.

"I know.” Zhongli sighs. He'd moved by instinct, driven by his desire to keep you safe. He has to manually override the urges he's gotten used to condoning as an archon, and he tries his best for your sake. Either way, he doesn't want you to think he's making excuses for himself, so he tries to word things carefully. "I should have made more of an effort to respect your wishes."

You nod. "Sometimes it makes me feel like you don't think I'm capable."

"I don't think that. Not at all. I like protecting you because I know it's a luxury, and it’s something you’re more than capable of doing yourself. But I understand." Zhongli says softly. You nod, thankful for his ever-reasonable response, and scold yourself for getting so frustrated. He was only trying to keep you safe, but it felt like he was undermining years of your experience. "I shall think of a compromise so this doesn't happen again."

Zhongli always gets formal when it comes to disagreements. He's driven towards an end solution, to the point when you sometimes have to tell him that you want to feel a little bit sad. Bottling up the emotions doesn't make you feel all too great, especially when it's because you feel unreasonable. "Can we talk about that tomorrow, please?"

He looks at you, sensing that today is one of those days when you want to be upset for a little while. He nods. He'll oblige you for a while longer, but he won't let you go to sleep angry at him. Just as you never let him sleep angry at you. He wonders whether you know you do it, how you always make sure he's okay after an argument, or whether it's a habit burned into your sheer being. He doesn't care. He loves it anyway.

But he also senses that this has been brewing for a little while. There was two weeks ago, when a Fatui skirmisher was about to hit your blind spot and he shielded you. Your complaint on that front was quick surface level—you admitted that you forgot to cover your blind spot. And then there was the week after that when you were in a domain, and he panicked yet again, generating a pillar directly in your line of sight. You'd taken a while to calm down from that one. And finally today. You were going to go out on your own for some practice, but Zhongli couldn't bear the thought of you getting injured, especially against Sumerian enemies you had no experience with. He promised he would only intervene when you told him to, but once again, he panicked and petrified all the enemies in a mile radius.

You understand that he's protective of you, but archons, he can be a little suffocating sometimes.

"I'm going to clean up and get changed," you say to him. You know he'll hover downstairs for a little while and give you your space before joining you in bed. But today, you don't want to be so easily swayed. Maybe a night on the couch is in order.

You grab a light cover from the closet and make your way downstairs. You meet Zhongli halfway, who's in his archon form. You frown to yourself. Zhongli's archon form finds itself displayed to you on various occasions, some of them as domestic as wanting to change a lightbulb, but there are times when it has significance. Like him wanting to release himself of some tension. Is he beating himself up over this that badly?

"Where are you going?" He asks, eyes laced with confusion.

"I think I'm going to stay on the couch tonight. I'm going to think about some things."

Zhongli doesn't seem entirely pleased with that, but he doesn't dare tell you otherwise. He has to give you your space, he reminds himself.

"Alright," he says softly. "Sleep well." He omits the 'love' he usually adds at the end, for fear of making you feel obliged to follow him up the stairs. Your feelings are always his priority. He knew what he was getting into with you, and he refuses for his ignorance or inability to control his own instinct to ruin things.

"You too."

He goes into the room you share before deciding that, if you're not joining him, he'd rather not be painfully reminded of your absence, so he changes course and heads to a spare room with his change of clothes. Usually, he talks to you as you wash your face, or you braid his hair for him before you get too tired, but there are no such intimacies happening today. You've been upset with him for a grand total of three hours and he already misses you.

He quiets his thoughts and crawls into bed. Bad call. The bed in this room wasn't chosen with his eight-foot-tall form in mind. He'll either have to shift back and deal with the repercussions or spend the entire night with half of his body hanging off the bed.

You can't sleep either. You never realised how much you relied on Zhongli's calming effect on you to sleep so peacefully. It's almost embarrassing how much you rely on him, even after a year of being together, to the point when you miss him when he's in a room away from you. You decide that if Zhongli doesn't come downstairs in the next ten minutes, you'll go to him. There's really no point in dragging this on any further. Your need to be a little bit sad has blossomed into feelings of loneliness, and you can't take the extra pain.

"yn?" You sit up, glancing at the staircase. There stands Zhongli, his hair untied, his pyjamas rumpled as if he'd been tossing and turning all night. "May I talk to you?"

Always so formal, you think, before standing up and approaching him.

"I know I'm often overbearing when it comes to your safety," he says softly, taking your hands in his. “And I know it can be frustrating for you. But I promise I will do whatever it takes to restrain myself from inciting this sort of complaint from you again.”

You should be focusing on his words, but you're more distracted by the fact he's on his knees before you, looking up at you with such an earnest gaze.

"Please forgive me," he says, kissing your hand lightly. You slide your hands out of his, and into the hair between his horns. He smiles blissfully, glancing at you through relief-filled eyes. “I can’t bear to spend the night without you by my side.”

"I can't stay mad at you," you sigh. "You're forgiven. You can get off your knees now."

Zhongli chuckles, standing up and pulling you into a hug. "I have a feeling you're trying to hide how much pleasure you found in that."

You roll your eyes and lead him upstairs by his hand. "I'm not hiding anything."

"Fine then, remind me of what I said." Zhongli crosses his arms, and you ignore him, sitting him down on the bed so you can reach his hair. He thinks your ritual of braiding his hair is for his sake, but in reality, if you don't do it, you end up with half of it in your mouth in the night.

"No need to dwell on the past," you quip, leaning down to kiss his neck softly. "All is forgiven, remember?"

a/n there's a whole section that got removed between reader being upstairs and coming back down, I'll fix it at someone point but i blame ao3

#zhongli #zhongli fancfic #flufftober #zhongli flufftober #genshin fanfic #genshin fluff #zhongli x reader #zhongli x you #my beloved <3 #headcanons #fanfiction #ao3 fanfiction #thank you for all the likes and reblogs i was scared this blog would stay buried #zhongli fluff #zhingli fluff #31 days of Zhongli fluff #tswzhongliflufftober

[navree]

Who do you think more similar to Cersei, Alicent or Rhaenyra? Also don't you think that Rhaenyra shares alot of similarities with Aegon iv ?

When it comes to comparing characters from HOTD to characters from the main ASOIAF/GOT universe, I find that nearly any and all possible comparisons are incredibly surface level. Not a lot of people seem to realize that part of what makes GRRM such a good writer is that he's writing his characters as people, not as characters, and that as such everyone has very unique flaws and characteristics and virtues that differentiate them all from each other, just like people in the real world. Nobody's entirely like someone else, especially when put into different circumstances, so comparisons of "this person's like Margaery! this person's like Dany! this person's like Joffrey! this person's like Tyrion! this person's like Ned!" don't really work.

I think both Rhaenyra and Alicent have some similarities to Cersei, but a lot of them are incredibly surface level. The Alicent and Cersei comparisons in particular get my goat, because they're actually quite different characters (and this isn't even touching on show!Cersei, who's basically a completely different character than book!Cersei). They're both queens with a green color aesthetic and they're both protective of their children, but that's really it. Alicent has none of Cersei's internalized misogyny, her paranoia (I'd describe Alicent as extremely cautious, not paranoid, which belies this idea that the fears are unfounded when Alicent's kinda aren't), her narcissism, her inability to admit when she's been wrong, her hedonism and her desire for indulgence, her incapability to see people for who they really are. Like, especially as mothers they're different, Cersei is all but blind to the kind of person Joffrey was, whereas Alicent is very aware of her children's shortcomings and isn't unable to discipline them as need be and get them to fall in line, unlike Cersei. And unlike Cersei, Alicent is a capable administrator and a capable placeholder ruler, like we see during Viserys's infirmity, while Cersei makes an utter mess of everything in the span of, like, a month when she's in charge. While Alicent and Cersei do share a certain sort of ambition, it's still different types, as Alicent is ambitious for her children and the advancement of her family and her line, while Cersei is incredibly personally ambitious and wants power for herself, not for other people in her circle. Alicent doesn't have an answer to Rhaenys's "have you never imagined yourself on the Iron Throne?" line because she hasn't, she's never thought of it and that's not her ultimate desire or anything she particularly wants. Meanwhile, Cersei's first POV chapter literally starts with "She dreamt she sat the Iron Throne, high above them all." because that is precisely what she wants more than anything.

I think Rhaenyra has the most potential to become like Cersei, because the similarities we might see aren't currently present in the person she is right now. But if they follow her F&B arc, then we'll likely see similarities, things like an exacerbation of Rhaenyra's unforgiving nature and her temper getting her to Cersei levels, and her inability to properly administrate and her vindictive are definitely going to come into play and get to a Cersei level, considering that the show does need to follow the eventual arc of Rhaenyra being forced out of King's Landing due to her mismanagement and the anger of the populace. Rhaenyra and Cersei do share a similar chafing at gender roler and the expectations placed upon them as women in Westeros, though there's variation, Rhaenyra wants women to be able to be treated as men, Cersei wants to be a man because she thinks she is exceptional amongst women who all suck (internalized misogyny babes it's a Hell of a drug). And while Rhaenyra also shares personal ambition, like Cersei, the circumstances themselves are different too, since she was actually promised the crown and told she would inherit the throne, while Cersei just Wants Power and sees the crown as the way to get that in the fastest and most efficient way that she can.

I'm not entirely sure how many similarities Rhaenyra and her grandson will ultimately share, because we don't know that much about Aegon IV as a person. He's going to be in the next volume of F&B, and TWOIAF is pretty sparse on characterization (compare what we know about any F&B monarchs to anyone just mentioned in TWOIAF, it's very stark), so all we have is just that he's a glutton and never wanted to deny himself any pleasures. Rhaenyra doesn't necessarily seem to be someone who over indulges, or can't be told no, it's just that she's thoughtless and thinks that she should have stuff without thinking through why, which is different. I think there are some similarities (what I just mentioned, for a start), and I think Aegon and Rhaenyra share that fiery Targaryen temper. But anything more than that, I can't necessarily say with what little we know about Aegon The Unworthy as a person, and I certainly think he's much more of a bastard piece of shit than Rhaenyra.

#personal #answered #anonymous #god the attempts to compare hotd characters to asoiaf characters bothers me sometimes #they're different fucking people!!! not everything is like something else!!! god fandom get it together!! #i'm not mad at you anon you've just touched on a point i've ranted about before

[icharchivist]

I mean, yeah, obviously, Reddit videos are harmless fun and sometimes you just want some noise while you debate whether you're gonna take a nap or not, but thanks anyway.

And yeah, looks like you'd already familiarized yourself with Somerton's thoughts then, if you already read the stuff he's been plagiarizing.

You explained that really well btw, maybe you should also do investigative journalism 🤔

But it definitely feels like you dodged a bullet. I just feel bad for people who weren't so lucky and admired and even supported these creators. That's gotta be quite a shock.

I also agree on the plagiarism discussion being in the spotlight right now being a good thing. I just hope it stays there and doesn't just disappear again in two weeks, because it is an important topic and it doesn't get less important in times of Chat GPT and such, but I'm also rambling.

It was a good video and I was thoroughly entertained and yeah, I'll keep my eyes peeled from now on. Semi-related, but Somerton is a bad person on a lot of fronts, between the plagiarism, the victim complex, setting his co-writer up as the scapegoat and the misogyny. Just an all around despicable person.

If you haven't even watched a show, don't make content on it, you stupid idiot. May he find an office job now that his career has hopefully imploded.

yeah right! i just felt the need to reassure in case, it can be so easy to beat oneself down for some silly stuff like that, i felt the need to clarify ^^

And yeah lmao, quite wild turn of event, all things considered.

And aww thank you so much! i don't know if i could ever go into investigation journalism, it demands a whole lot more research and patience than i happen to have ahah. But for what it's worth i do have two diplomas centering around researching and analysing historical texts and various media analysis (mainly literature, but also cinema in general). One of those diploma is in French (which also involved philosophy analysis) and the other is in English (which involved translation and linguistic analysis) so yeah. (while at it i also have a general art diploma that also involved art history analysis for instance). Like i don't like to brag about it and all and i still think i have many blind spots, but it's kinda why i'm passionate about media analysis and about historical integrity in general. I don't think i'm doing things super well, but as Harris says in the video, this is the typical type of skill you don't realize you have because it's a second nature to analyse the stuff you run into that way. (i did get teachers tell me that i had a natural gift for analysis and incredible insight, but i haven't recovered from that at all and if i let myself talk i'll downplay it super bad lmao but that sure was a thing) So at least i do have the desire to dig into stuff on another level, it's the way i've interreacted with media both for fun and for my studies to start with. But i'm also very lazy about sourcing, mostly because i read a lot of things, forget where i read it, and then it becomes just my base knowledge so if i want to regurgitate it i'm just like weep. what is a source. so i have no pretension of doing it professionally and i encourage people to take everything i say with a grain of salt honestly.

but yeah, i definitely feel like i dodged a bullet but i feel horrible for the people the guy scammed. Like he was stealing the work of vastly more experienced creators, and even surface levels stuff are fine because there's a first to any topic you get into - and i think he specifically appealed to people who didn't have a lot of ressources to start with, so those things were brand new for them. We can't blame people for wanting to learn. It is however shocking to see someone using this desire for his own notoriety while trampling over the rest of the community he builds himself upon while stealing from it.

I sympathize a lot with the people who did use to follow him. It's harder to see the red flags when you feel your concern heard for once in your life and you have nowhere else to expend your horizons to. I truly hope the former fans are going to be okay, and i feel so much for those who actually paid money for all of this :(

and i agree, i hope the conversation about plagiarism stays there and is actually discussed in depth. I do worry people might scapegoat Somerton so much that they forget the main point about the plagiarism complains, but it is also hasty to make this remark now as everyone is heated by the content of the videos and it's normal for now they're talking about Somerton more than not. I do hope the conversation about plagiarism remains when everything else die down though. It is an important thing in our current landscape, especially with AI, as you say, and yea, as Harris also says

shows how well you understood one of the purpose of the video that you saw this argument coming right ;D you should be proud of yourself for actually connecting the dots honestly.

I'm glad you liked the video though! truly!

And yeah Somerton is...truly problematic on various level. I do appreciate that Harris focused on the factual approach of plagiarism, the one thing people can't really go against. But the more you look into his general behavior, especially the stuff he adds when he goes off script from the plagiarism, the more it's bewildering. and honestly i feel horrible for the people he stole the words of, who had to have those disgusting addition added to their own personal experience. What a dreadful thing.

AND YEAH GOD how does he get the CONFIDENCE to talk about a show he didn't watch just from stealing from people!! and i have an imposter complex when i talk about things I HAPPEN TO KNOW VERY WELL because i'm constantly stressing out about "shit what if i misread it though"??? if anything thanks to this video for doing a number to beat down my inferiority complex. Like geez i might be an analysis fraud but at least i only engage MY OWN OPINIONS when i'm wrong! that's a win!

but i'm honestly glad to see the general reception to this video on tumblr, even from ex-Somerton fans. It shows the willingness to really look into things, the intellectual curiosity that is necessary to navigate this type of analytic corners.

I've seen a lot of Internet History fans on twitter being super mad at Harris for this video for being "an hypocrite" who "is only blasting IH because he's not a leftie" like...... tell me you didn't finish watching the video without telling me you didn't finish watching the video.... And it's bewildering to me how they're missing the plagiarism concerns because they're too busy supporting the political allignment of the guy who is accused of it.

This video is a reckoning honestly but good lord. what a mess.

#ichareply #anonymous

[muzzleroars]

a goblin shark akira, bc i got a prompt over on my curiouscat about a mer au and i immediately thought of him as a deep sea fish,,,for obvious reasons

#yaldabaoth is a giant prehistoric shark that doesn't leave the depths #he's blind and doesn't really have any desire to go to the surface #but he lets akira do whatever...and akira likes collecting #ryuji's a pirate that he's chill w bc he gives him stuff #goro is a half-selkie hunter he has multiple run ins with #it's kind of like the little mermaid but akira's just interested in human culture #and doesn't actually want to be one nor is he enamored with them #he more likes collecting bc he finds the stuff interesting looking #and it looks so different from anything in the sea #p5 #akira kurusu #body horror tw #doodle tag

[wornoutmouse]

Fun fact: demon slayer starts in 1912 and ends in 1927(or at least that's when the Tashio era ends). Using that math Tanjiro (as long as he kept his health good) would very well be alive today at the ripe age of like 78 if my math is correct since he started as 13 in the series. (My math probably wrong asf)

Power imbalance, power bottom reader, knife play,  blood but not blood play...

He hated you.

Your very being irked him more than anything he'd ever experienced in all his centuries of living. You were clumsy, boisterous, and played that arrogant music all throughout your home while walking around half naked. Well in Muzan's opinion you were half naked, he couldn't even begin to describe his disbelief at the trend of exposing skin. 

It didn't help that you had that insignificant filth running through your veins. At first he was unsure, after all this was a completely different country than Japan, not to mention your darker skin and coiled hair. But no, he could smell and recognise the Kamado blood running through your veins just as strongly as it had run through all your ancestors. 

Completely undiluted. 

At the very beginning when you first moved in, you  came to his home. Knocking aggressively on his front door already getting off to the wrong start. When he opened it, you slipped past him and walked into his living room barely even saying hello as you put poorly decorated sugar cookies on his obsidian coffee table. "This is a nice place you got here Mj." 

Muzan's eyes twitched, that joke had long since gotten old since he moved to America. 

Now that you were closer he could definitely smell, the century old stench of rivaling bloodlust simmered just below your onyx skin. At any moment he expected you to attack him in some way or form. "Anyways I'm here to say hello neighbor, my name is Y/n and I'm your new best friend!"

Your happy attitude also agitated him to no end. Even though the knowledge of demons had dwindled down to only a few select families, even basic humans were wary of him as their baser instincts made them aware of his dangerous origins. This fact had long since forced Muzan to only prey on the elderly to survive. You had stayed a bit longer babbling about some nonsense that Muzan never acknowledged as he watched you from a good distance.

"You know you really got to add more to your wardrobe than 1963 suits." You walked from the back of his home, an area that he didn't even notice you wandered to. Finally getting bored, you open his door bidding your farewells. 

Just before leaving you stop and with a cheeky grin say, "If you ever need anything just come on over. We Kamado's are known for our kindness." 

Since then he'd been on edge around you. The point of relocating was for him to keep a low profile but now it seems he'd have to come face to face with an old nemesis reborn. 

Muzan snapped out of his thoughts with a flinch as he pierced his hand with his nail. He watches the dark blood well up from the wound and drip down his wrist. In the end this world had long since lost its hostility dwindling the average human incapable of basic combat. Giving you were no doubt a great descendant, Muzan failed to see you as a true threat.  

But one can never be too sure

🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢

You heard a knock on your door, soft and hesitant. "I don't think I'm expecting company." You checked your watch and peered out of a nearby window. It was at least 8 at night, you were braless wearing sweats with a red T-Shirt and on your way to bed.  In the back of your mind you visualize your two grand-uncles Inosuke and Zenitsu coming over to make you spectate their fights. For two old dudes they still had enough strength in them to do hip breaking nonsense.

You open the door shocked to see your next door neighbor standing before you. For once he wasn't wearing a suit that cost more than your house. His attire was still expensively dressed but in a more casual sense, that being a black dress shirt and slacks. His sleeves were rolled up displaying his pale skin. "Can I come in?" A dazzling smile you had never seen before practically blinds you as he walks past you into your home.

When Muzan walks in his eyes immediately dart to the clear as day Nichirin Blade sword displayed recklessly on your living room wall above your couch. "You like it?" A hand on his shoulder makes him jump, "Got it from my grandpa, he says it's really special but I feel like he's exaggerating. You know how old people are." Muzan shakes out of his stupor. "I don't quite understand what you mean by that, however I do know that it's much more wise to listen to your elders than ignoring…..It could save your life."

Muzan replicates you and puts a hand on your shoulder gently squeezing. This was it, he'd go in for the kill and it would be over, the amount of blood he'd pump into you would be enough to watch you meet a satisfying end of combustion completely untraceable if the police were to get involved. How he wishes he'd be there when your poor grandfather walks along your remains splattered on every surface in your living room. Unable to do a thing as he's finally in his last stretch of life. 

The beauty.

Muzan's finger only twitches in the slightest before pain sparks from his own neck. "The thought of you coming into my own home unprovoked and at night no less, was the most obvious sign one could ask more." You had his hand gripped so tight your veins popped while your other hand held a small pocket knife that burned  brighter than any Nichirin sword he'd ever encountered. He didn't understand, he was quick enough to kill even the best of the ancient Hiroshima. So how did a little foreign girl like you get the upper hand?

It was embarrassing and almost laughable if any of his pillars were alive to tell the tale.

You press the blade harder before bringing your other hand to caress Muzan's cheek,  "Did you think I'd be just an ignorant descendant of an infamous hero?" You clicked your teeth disappointingly. "How naive, you've really become lazy after all these millennia huh?" You walk forward, pushing Muzan back with seductive strength. He allows you to push him into your couch,  I say allow because at any time he could have stopped you.  

Muzan is most definitely not holding me at gunpoint right now. 

The knife never wavers even as you climb into Muzan's lap, pressing it even closer against his jugular. "You do know getting beheaded will not kill me, and I doubt this petty little kitchen knife will get the job done in the first place." Your lips draw into a smirk and you press the knife closer as you trail it down his chest, "That may be true but it's gonna take one hell of a time for you to grow back." Your hand jerks down, popping his shirt buttons open.

Muzan watches with interest, your eyes light up as more skin becomes exposed. The tones of your dark skin contrast strikingly as you caress his pectoral with the tips of your fingers. "For a 1,000 year old grandpa you look decent." Still threatening his life with your blade, you kiss him. It's deep and carnal. Your lustful desires being made known as you grind in his lap. The flesh of your ass snuggly hotdogs the forming outline of his cock. "I've always wanted to be with a demon. You've had to of become a real freak after living this long!"

When you pull away Muzan's thin lips are pink and a bit swollen. He is out of breath despite needing none, "You have a lot of nerve for a mere human." With your free hand you loosen the belt of his slacks, only standing to pull them off, pleased when Muzan voluntarily raises his hips to aid you. 

Don't get him wrong, he was still planning on killing you and ending your wretched bloodline once and for all, he just needed his mind to clear itself. Your scent, your confidence, strung him along like a puppet. His hands grip onto your ass cheeks like a lifeline. Molding them between his fingers, even giving them a shake through your sweats. His nails elongate and puncture the thick fabric as if it was nothing more than a spider web. 

Your sweats are tugged off completely leaving your lower half nude. Muzan moves his hands to hold your ass again but your blade politely makes itself known. You are out of breath and clearly flustered. "Watch yourself, demon, I'm the one calling the shots, don't forget that." Muzan bites his tongue with sharp glare. He raises his hands in surrender, "Of course." 

Muzan can feel your wetness against his leg and it's driving him insane. "Hey…" red eyes refocus on yours, "You ain't got any diseases do you? And you can't get me pregnant right?" Muzan smirks hands enclosing around your ass despite your protest. "I can, however it will cost a lot more than doing it once." The odds didn't seem in your favor but you were in no position to stand down and grab a condom and Muzan knew it.

You curve the blade towards his chin, "If you are lying and give me some ancient unknown disease or I find out you have superman sperm, I will kill you." Muzan links his lips, "Wasn't that the plan from the beginning or have you had a moment of level headedness?" Your wrist is quick and precise, cutting a thin slash along his jawline., not enough to scar and it barely even bled, but the threat was clear.

You grab Muzan's dick and use your thumb to attack the underside with fast strokes. Said man doesn't react outwardly, the only sign being his eyelids lowering by a fraction. "Were you always this well endowed or did you adjust this part too?" Muzan was not amused by your insinuation. Deciding to once again display the true power imbalance this situation had, he loops his arms underneath your large thighs and lifts you just enough to thrust his cock against your hole. 

From there he let's go, making you plop down on his length, making you yelp and allowing him to lean back with a relaxed sigh. You were so warm and tight. Now even though I explained what had happened with great detail,  keep in mind that in reality it all happened within a fraction of a second. 

Your large and in charge persona was cracking.  You gripped Muzan's sides tightly as your pussy spasmed around his girth. "F-Fuck it's too….." you trail off not wanting to give Muzan the credit he was truly due. 

It takes a few moments for you to get your bearings all the while Muzan and his dangerous jaw swayed in the crevice of your neck. A viper playing with its prey. The blade is back against his neck once again making his cock twitch. If he were human this would be a dangerous feat.  Your grip never slacked nor lessened against his neck, slicing into a growing wound that dropped dark blood down his chest and to his abdomen. 

His dick stretched your pussy and made it weap on each downstroke. Muzan's hands grip onto the cheeks of your ass with gritted teeth.  Your insides gripped him ever so slightly.  Sucking him back in as if he belonged there.  He felt used and it felt good.  His black ringlets stuck to his face from sweat and his red eyes grew in intensity. 

He couldn't see much of your body, hell he could barely even touch. In the back of his mind humorous thoughts such as how he knew Tanjiro would lose his sanity if he knew his granddaughter was being bedded by the man he despised. But the more you bounced, the more you squeezed, the deeper you cut into his neck proved that you were truly the one in charge. 

"Oh God you're so deep!" Your deep almond eyes shut themselves with pleasure. Muzan could feel your legs shaking with exertion at the same rhythm your pussy twitched. His balls felt tight after having no action in over a dozen years. "F-Faster." He has no care for your blade, only wanting to cum and feel the sweet ecstasy he knew your creamed pussy would provide. "Come on human, go faster." Muzan locks lips with you, gaze hardened and intent on proving some sort of point.

Tossing the knife you wrap your arms around his neck pulling his head closer. Red eyes target brown ones as his hands take a stronger grip on your ass. He uses his strength to bounce you. The sound of his balls slapping against the curve of your ass is just as disgusting as it is sexy. Your nipples rub against his through your tank-top making you both moan. The feeling blood stains your shirt making you shiver from the cool wetness

The couch you rest on bangs against the wall behind you the faster you both go. Muzan's feet are planted firmly in the ground, his fangs further elongated. He looks feral and it is in this moment where you get a glimpse of the horror many people felt when he took their lives. "Focus little Kamado, you wouldn't want to disappoint me now would you?" 

Muzan's hips meet yours, spreading the tempo. Your juices coat his lap before finally you tense up completely into a cramp inducing stance as Muzan impaled you on his cock one last time. "Ahh.." Muzan empties himself within you with a relieved sigh. 

Maybe the Kamado bloodline could go on.

#blackreader #black y/n #demon slayer smut #muzan x reader #anime smut #muzan smut #muzan x black reader #demon slayer x black reader

[rosyfingereddawnn]

spellbound

pairing: jimmy page x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of substances, one (1) swear and a little nsfw at the end

words: 3k

summary: when in new orleans, there’s always something new and exciting to experience. when the boys take shelter in a quaint jazz lounge, they discover a hidden gem.

author’s note: this was an idea born from @timetraveller4 and her lovely mind, so thank you for that ash <3 no beta as always, and i really hope you enjoy :)

masterlist

It was Bonzo’s idea, originally.

The drummer had proposed that the band, accompanied, of course, by the infamous Richard Cole, go to a lounge for the night. See what the music scene was like, outside of their little bubble.

Touring had become almost monotonous, the endless flow of groupies blending into a hazy background of alcohol and drugs. They were in New Orleans for the night, and needed a release from the antics; a release of pressure.

Walking along the cobbled streets, lit only by tall, blinding streetlights, the hunt for the perfect spot continued. Rain twinkled like stardust upon them, landing in their hair and falling down their backs. Jimmy shivered, burrowing further into his coat, a rich navy blue, butterflies made of sparkling sequins fluttering across his shoulders. Cigarette dangling from lush, pink lips, he sighed out a faint white cloud of smoke. His long, dark hair stuck to his face and neck, and a swear burst past his lips. His curls hid emerald eyes from view like a curtain of darkness, and he shook his head.

It’ll be fun, he said. Don’t worry about it, he said. Just relax.

Robert, unaware of the glare the raven-haired guitarist was sporting, strolled ahead, eyes catching on a glowing sign, slick with rain and slightly weather-beaten. The place must be old, he thought.

Sliding closer, he gazed up at it, ocean eyes squinting against the rain that seemed to pour harder, faster, the further they ventured from their hotel. The sign, neon lights blurring into haloes of colour, read ‘The Whispering Wind’. Underneath sat a truly artistic rendition of wispy winds fading into a cloud, the pure ivory of its light cascading across the damp sidewalk like a graceful stream. You could almost feel the warmth and hospitality behind the closed doors, and Robert, whose smile seemed to light the path better than any streetlamp could, turned to his companions.

“This looks like a fine place, doesn't it?”

“Let’s go inside. Better than staying out here,” Jonesy replied, slipping past the singer to grasp at the ornate golden handle of the mahogany door. The bassist pulled the door open and stepped through, and almost immediately, he was enveloped by the comforting heat that seemed to settle into his chilled bones. “Definitely better.”

One by one, the boys stepped into the lounge, smiling as they took in the atmosphere. By the door sat a long bar, maple wood shining in the dim light filtering out from the fixtures hanging from above. Paintings of old Hollywood royalty decorated the taupe walls, while a spotlight affixed to the ceiling bathed the wooden surface of the stage against the wall in faint yellow light. The ruby red of the curtains complimented the exposed maroon brick of the opposite wall, and booths, with scarlet upholstery streaked through with pristine gold, littered the floor.

It was cramped and dimly lit, certainly not fit for the rock gods it sheltered. It was perfect.

Jimmy stood just outside the door, taking a final drag of the cigarette burning between his lips. Glancing around the cove of the entryway, his eyes locked onto a poster plastered across the wet brick of the building. The silhouette of a woman stood against a simple black background, gripping a microphone stand in manicured hands, mystery and class in the subtle curve of her lips. Half of her body was painted in a silvery light, and Jimmy stared at the long crimson dress she was wearing. Tantalizingly long legs are just visible from the slit that splits the gown.

In bold white lettering, a collection of dates are scrawled across its surface, but it’s the name that rippled across the paper that caught his eye.

“Y/N Y/L/N. Hm…”

Must be tonight’s performer, he thought. She’s gorgeous, from what Jimmy could tell; the sultry gaze, the teasing uptick of her rosy lips. The guitarist just hoped that she’s as talented as she is beautiful.

Jimmy let the cigarette in his hands drop to the floor, crushing it under his heel, smoky ash mingling with the scent of petrichor. Grasping the frigid metal of the door handle, the man’s ebony curls flew in every direction as he shivered once more. Slipping through the open door, a wave of comfort rushed over him, warmth settling into his core. The light din of unimportant conversation settled over him like a plush blanket, calming his perpetually racing mind.

Jimmy, spotting his friends at a table far back from the stage, sidled up to the bar, signalling for attention. Ordering his favourite of gin and tonic, the dark-haired guitarist walked back over to join the group, sitting down right next to Robert. The blond glanced over at him and grinned, wrapping a tanned arm around his shoulders.

“It’s a wonder you’ve stopped frowning, Pagey.”

“I was warned I’d get stuck like that, you see,” Jimmy grumbled, the hint of a smile that graced his lips shattering the image of dissatisfaction. “Hasn’t happened yet, but who knows what the future holds.”

“Ah. If it weren’t for your sunny disposition, we’d be in trouble.”

“You—”

The retort died on his tongue, and his mossy green eyes went impossibly wide.

An alluring voice, smooth and rich, rang clear and sharp through the air, charming the patrons of the lounge. The rasping tone made Jimmy’s mind go utterly blank, too entranced to react. Mingling with the droplets that danced from the black grand piano, the performer made his heart pound in his chest like a bass drum. Shaking Robert’s arm off, he turned to face the stage, and promptly forgot how to breathe.

“I put a spell on you, because you're mine. Oh, mine…”

Up on the stage, stood the most beautiful woman Jimmy had ever seen. Her hair cascaded down her shoulders, a lovely contrast to the skin of her exposed shoulder. The woman fluttered around the stage, her dress, the colour of a midnight sky, swaying as she moved. She was full to the brim with restrained confidence: she knew she could dazzle the audience, but really, she didn't need to. They were already eating out of her palm.

Jaws hit the floor and every eye in the room was firmly trained on her, and the graceful smirk painting her features served as proof. She was a siren, and the audience her doomed admirers. Jimmy couldn't tear his eyes away through the whole performance, and his distracted clapping as she curtsied alerted his bandmates.

“You okay, Jim? Looks to me like,” Bonzo started, glancing over at Robert with mischief shining in his dark eyes, “You’ve got yourself a little crush, no?”

“I’m… She’s just—”

“Perfect? Gorgeous, talented,” Jonesy interrupted, catching the guitarist’s attention. A smug grin at home on his lips, the bassist shrugged, turning to face his friend. “And… standing right over there.”

Following the path pointed out by Jonesy’s outstretched finger, Jimmy’s eyes locked on a familiar figure, floor-length gown shimmering in the dim light. Stood at the bar, she rested her arms on the surface as she leaned closer to talk to the bartender. Throwing her head back in a genuine laugh, she bares her throat, and Jimmy’s mouth goes dry. The performer takes the drink offered to her, a glass filled with what looks to be whiskey in her manicured hands. A finger lazily traced the rim. The beautiful woman turned towards them then, locking eyes with the guitarist over her shoulder. She winked, and walked away, a ring of condensation on the tabletop all that was left of her.

“Hey, Cole,” Jimmy whispered into the silence that had fallen over the table, and turned to the man, whose only response was a telling smirk. “Would you… Could you, uh…”

“On it, boss.”

In a split second, the man shuffled away from the table, his parting gift a wink at the sable-haired guitarist.

------

As you step on stage, the crowd’s chatter continues, and you smile to yourself. Nights at The Whispering Wind were always like this: the snippets of conversation fading into a symphony of white noise. It calms you, being so used to the bustling New Orleans streets. This is a little slice of paradise, in your eyes.

You flatten down your dress, velvet soft against your hand, and gaze over to your pianist. Nodding back, he launches in, soft at first, but crescendoing soon after. His hand raised in the air, he looks over to you.

Your cue.

You take a deep breath, lungs filling with smoky air, and sing your heart out. Light and shade battle for dominance as you play the audience like a fiddle. Your voice, full of lust and desire, floats around the room, and you smirk to yourself, looking at the sea of faces in front of you. Everything is hazy, the spotlights blurring your vision, but you can swear someone is staring at you. A man, it looks like. His dark hair shines in the faded light, and his eyes sparkle with intelligence and, interestingly enough, appreciation. It takes effort to tear your eyes away from him, but you succeed, and belt out the last line. Your smile rivals the bright lights shining down on you, and you curtsy. The cheers of the audience serves as your soundtrack, as you step off stage, scurrying over to the bar. It takes a special effort not to gaze at the mystery man as you pass.

“Lovely evening for a drink, isn’t it? I’ll have whiskey, neat.”

“Coming right up, Madam,” The bartender winks at you, a smile blossoming on your face. He sets the drink into your waiting hands, and leans against the counter, smirking at you kindly. “Wonderful show, tonight. You’re a talent, my dear.”

“Well, thank you,” you reply, cheeks flushing a pretty pink. Your smile grows brighter, and your giggle is featherlight as it floats past your lips, “It’s what I love to do.”

Your conversation is interrupted by the sounds of whispers from behind you, and you look over your shoulder. Those eyes, the bright shade of green you had seen from the stage, were looking right back at you. He looks shy, nervous even, almost hiding behind his tawny-haired friend. From your spot at the bar, you can tell, now, just how handsome he truly is. His dark hair falls in tastefully mussed curls, and his skin looks clear, almost like porcelain. His lips are petal-pink, and look soft. His jaw is sharp, and he’s rather thin; scrawny even, but he’s still gorgeous.

Holding his gaze, you wink, and his eyes go impossibly wider. You tip the bartender and walk away, a “thank you” thrown over your shoulder. A safe distance away from the mystery man and his posse, you chance a look back, and spot a man standing from the table, patting the black-haired beauty on the back. To your surprise, he weaves through the crowd towards you.

“Excuse me, Miss,” he says, catching up to you. He smooths down his button-up shirt, and sends a charming grin your way, holding out a hand to shake. “May I ask your name?”

“It’s Y/N. And yours, if I may?”

“Richard Cole.”

“What can I do for you, Mr. Cole?” This is met by a chuckle from the man, his hand going up to stroke his dark beard.

“Well, lovely, do you see that man over there, with the black hair?” You follow his outstretched hand, and your eyes fall upon your mystery man. He’s looking back at you, hands fiddling with each other. His gaze finally drops from yours, and the tell-tale blush rising on his cheeks makes you laugh softly. “He’d love to have a chat with you.”

“If he wants to talk to me, he can come over here himself and tell me that.”

Cole chuckles, and shakes his head fondly. Glancing over at the mystery man, he waves him over. From your spot, you can see the way he approaches on shaky legs, and you smile, recognizing him instantly. With a pat on the back of the curly-haired man, Mr. Cole is gone, and you're alone together. This is going to be fun.

“What’s your name, darling?” You ask, though you already know the answer. It’s not every day that a world-famous musician stops by ‘The Whispering Wind’, after all.

“I-it’s Jimmy… uh, Page.” His hands, you notice, are clenched into fists, and he shuffles from foot to foot. You press closer to him, and he blushes harder, cheeks almost aflame.

“Pleasure to meet you, Jimmy. I’m—”

“You’re Y/N, aren't you? I saw the poster outside, and I thought you were beautiful,” Breath hitching as he realizes what he just said, Jimmy slaps a hand over his mouth. His emerald eyes signal that he’s embarrassed, but you can only giggle. “I only meant that—”

“Don’t worry about it. You’re not too bad yourself.”

Jimmy’s thin hand flies up to scratch the top of his head, and his hair falls in his face, effectively blocking him from view. You can see the beginnings of a smile on his lips.

“Thank you. I, uh… you’re an amazing vocalist. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you, your stage presence was… arresting.”

“So you admit to staring at me?”

“Well, I… You…”

I’m just playing, Jimmy,” Your laugh twinkles as it fills the silence, and Jimmy’s lips quirk up in a small smile upon hearing it. “If anything, I should be the one staring. Led Zeppelin’s a big deal, y’know.”

“You… you recognized me?”

“You boys aren't exactly rising stars. Being as famous as you are, I didn’t think you’d be this humble.”

He chuckles under his breath, and looks up at you through his eyelashes. It seems he’s grown more confident now, and you smile, gaze drifting down to his mouth. If you leaned in, just a little, your lips would meet, and you could finally know if his are as soft as they look.

“We’re in New Orleans for another day, uh… I was wondering if, well… God, I’m terrible at this.”

“Jimmy—”

“Could I… take you out, sometime?” His halting, nervous speech only makes him more endearing, and you gaze into his eyes as he squirms. Jimmy sputters, trying to take his words back, but you silence him with a hand on his bicep. Lean muscle ripples under your hand, and you smile at him.

“Jimmy.”

“Oh God, I’ve fucked it all up, haven’t I? J-just forget what I said, I don’t know what—”

“It’s—”

“Seriously, it was probably a mistake to ask you that. I mean,” Jimmy’s head droops, hair shielding him once more, and you can’t help the fondness that rushes through you. Unaware of the smile that nearly splits your cheeks, he presses on, hands flying back and forth to prove his point, “You’re absolutely divine, and I’m just— Uh...”

Close enough that you could almost feel the heat radiating off of him, you put a hand to his shoulder, wiping off imaginary dust from his coat. Your fingers catch slightly on the bedazzled butterflies that adorn it. His eyes follow your hands as they dance and twirl across the fabric, and you can hear his sharp intake of breath echo in the slight space between the two of you. A lone finger finally finds his chin, and you lift his head to look at you.

“Eyes on me, chéri.”

His gorgeous green eyes meet yours from under his curly fringe, and you push a stray lock to rest behind his ear. His cheeks redden even more, something you hadn’t thought possible, as he stares into your eyes.

Pressing close to him, his scent surrounds you, and your lips brush against the curve of his ear.

“Tu veux un rendez-vous? Tu dois travailler pour cela, chéri.”

You pull away, and he is left with the ghost of soft lips against his cheek, the scent of your perfume floating after you as you walk away. Jimmy stands in place, too stunned to even react, until a hand at his back makes him jump. Glancing over his shoulder, he spots his bandmates, smirks at home on their faces. Jonesy pipes up, looking him up and down.

“You okay, Page? You’re looking pretty red…”

“It seems, and correct me if I’m wrong,” interjects Bonzo, as he slips an arm around Jimmy, guiding him back to their table. Jimmy slumps into a chair, stunned into silence, a hand raising to his cheek. Bonzo chuckles, and continues, “Like your crush just got a lot more serious.”

------

Safe behind the door of his hotel room, Jimmy trudges to the bathroom to turn on the shower. Slipping out of his clothes, that he folds neatly on the bed, the guitarist steps in. Steam curls in tendrils around the small bathroom, and Jimmy takes a deep breath. Hand settling on his cock, he begins stroking it slowly; experimentally. The pleasure feels incredible, euphoric even, as his mind drifts to the intriguing woman he had met just an hour ago. Her image is seared into his mind, and every touch she had given him felt like a wildfire licking at his skin. His groans match the speed of his hand as he speeds up, gripping the tiled wall for support.

The scent of her perfume, something floral, unplaceable, lingered in his nose, and he wishes to see her again. To have that scent invade all of his senses, again. Jimmy’s whimpers, quiet, yet keening, echo off the walls, as he reaches his peak. He imagines her there with him, raking a hand roughly through his hair, her hands roaming every inch of skin they could reach.

His muscles twitch as warmth spills over his hand, a soft grunt slipping past his gritted teeth. He’s in ecstasy, something better than any drug. Something he doesn’t ever want to come down from.

As he recovers from the high he had just experienced, his gasping breaths fill the space. Knees trembling from exertion, he grips onto the slippery shower wall, and whispers into the steam that fills the room.

“Y/N…”

------

(the french sentence: you want a date? you have to work for that, darling)

taglist: @jimmys-zeppelin @salixfragilis @timetraveller4 @earthfire-75 @thatiloveyouso @jonesyjonesyjonesy @jimmypages (let me know if you want to be added!)

#jimmy page #led zeppelin #jimmy page fanfiction #jimmy page fanfic #jimmy page x reader #led zeppelin fanfic #classic rock fanfic #reader insert

[bored-storyteller]

Second part of the request for @amevinil239

25- Twisted Wonderland- Kalim, Azul, Leona, Riddle x Reader

Anger and home pt. 2

Kalim Al-Asim

-I'm not sure what can get Kalim into arguing, but I'm pretty sure if you're stressed out, his behavior can be irritating sometimes.

-Mostly, Kalim will be blind to your problems. It's not that he doesn't want to see them, but he simply can't.

-And he doesn't listen. Trying to tell him with good manners that you really would need his support and not having to satisfy his whims is difficult.

-Furthermore, Kalim is a good person, perhaps a little childish, but he is not stupid or submissive. If there is a misunderstanding and he feels he is right, he is stubborn on his arguments.

-In any case, he would never intend to hurt you, ever.

-After a fight he will be the most wounded in the soul of the two, and if you run away from him the world will collapse on him.

"That's enough!"

Your voice is so high that it burns your throat as if it were sandpaper.

You never thought you would reach this level of anger and desolation, not with Kalim.

He's angry too, you've never seen him angry. His expression is serious, almost adult.

By now you are tired of making him think. He has never experienced what the suffering of people like you means. It is not his fault.

Yet you can't forgive him, you can't stop being mad at him.

"I just want to go home! Where all this doesn't exist!"

It's not so true, and you know it. You miss home, so badly. But you could never pretend again that this world doesn't exist.

You don't want to look at him again, partly for your badness, partly for shame.

You turn around and run away, hoping he won't hear your sobs. You don't see how much those words hurt him, all the realization you suddenly threw in him.

Curled up in the most hidden corner of the garden, you know he will come to you. Because Kalim is a good person, really good, and he doesn't want to make people suffer.

He knows that because of him many can suffer, you, Jamil... and he hates himself for not knowing how to protect you from this, even if he could.

Sitting next to you he is silent for a while, letting himself be hurt by your sobs.

"I know ..." he murmurs sadly "But ... I'd miss you so much ..."

Those words increase your sobs, but they push you to untie yourself from your knot and push yourself towards him. By placing your head on his lap, you let yourself be caressed by his sweet hands. He is probably crying too, but both of you have finally come close. Because you know that if you are with him, you are a little bit at home anyway.

Azul Ashengrotto

-It is not difficult for Azul to hurt people, nor is he usually too sorry about it. He has suffered so many wounds that he can no longer empathize.

-If something about you doesn't suit him, he will tell you. Usually, however, he will maintain a gentlemanlike air that will soften his criticisms and make them look like advice.

-But there may be that time he says that extra thing without even looking at you, assuming you will listen to it.

-It will probably not even be a discussion, you will lose the desire to stay in his presence before he understands how seriously you are angry.

-If the Leach twins are there, they will be the first to understand how serious the situation is and they will exchange puzzled looks, hoping that Azul will look up from his documents and look at you before it is too late.

-When Azul also realizes it will be like a bucket of ice water on his head. He can't say how bad you looked to him, but it's too late to fix it.

-He won't lose its composure, but it won't let you go anyway.

"I want to go home away from all this!"

Azul can't stop you while you rush out the door.

He just looks at the door from where you're gone out with a surprised face. He hadn't noticed that you were crying.

Jade looks at him with the worried expression of someone who knows how serious the problem is now.

"Do you want me to bring them back?"

Azul shakes his head, and clearing his throat returns to do his job.

You, locked in your room, you don't know how irritable the Octavinelle leader remains for the rest of the day.

You feel alone and abandoned. An apology would have sufficed, but not even the threat of leaving seemed to scratch his heart.

If you can't count on Azul you know that a void will open inside you that will make you feel even more out of place in that world of magic.

You are about to give in to tiredness and sadness. Now all you want to do is disappear between your sheets, but before you can go to bed someone knocks on your door.

Slowly you go to open it. Azul is in front of you, his expression is serious and composed, but in his hand he holds a small paper bag. From the good scent that comes out you know it's your favorite dessert.

"Can I come in?"

His voice is calm and diplomatic, yet it is softer than usual.

You step aside even if you try to stay hard on him. You are still angry, and he realizes it.

He doesn't know how to behave, you know, you see him as he enters your room.

"I know you want to go home."

His voice resounds after a few minutes in silence.

"But until then, please stand by me, even if I'm just a good-for-nothing octopus."

You know how much those words cost him. You don't know if you'll ever hear them again, but you know they are worth more than a million apologies.

You approach him, and slowly taking the bag he brought and you open it.

"Do we eat it together?"

Leona Kingscholar

-Arguing is tiring, it must be serious for Leona to really engage in it.

-Leona listens to the complaints by puffing, he will answer every now and then but she will drop the whole discussion, yawning and maybe giving you reason.

-If it gets serious and he gets really angry, though, you'll see his animal side. If there is an incomprehension between you two that hurts him, he will struggle to restrain himself.

-He could really say things that can hurt you.

-Leona is used to people who are afraid of him. From an early age he was considered "frightening" because of his power. He never really felt appreciated despite his efforts. If you run away from him he will feel really bad.

You exploded at his last growl.

"You know what ?! I hate this place! I want to go back to my house!"

You threw up those words on him and ran away, giving birth to your tears that fell from your cheeks.

Those words hurt you too. You missed home, it is difficult to be divided between two worlds (which you perhaps love both).

You leave a broken Leona behind. His green eyes stare at the spot where you are gone. The prince's mind is good at digging under the surface more than he wants to believe. Did you just tell him you hate him? What do you want to run away from him?

He is not stupid, he knows that you miss your home, but the malice and pain with which you spoke to him displaced him. Maybe he really went overboard with you this time.

Leona doesn't often feel the urge to do something, yet now he wants to talk to you right away. But he doesn't follow you. You would probably chase him away and it would make him and you feel worse.

He only looks for you later hoping that you have calmed down, but he finds you curled up in the greenhouse, with your face hidden in your knees tight against your chest, crying.

Carefully sit next to you, not too close or too far. He knows you know he's there, and you're not sending him away. Good.

"Do you ... really want to get away from me?"

As if he had stung you with a pin you look at him. You are certain you have not said those words but Leona's surprisingly serious (and sad) gaze stops you for a second.

"I won't stop you if that's what you want ... but ... I ..."

Even if he doesn't want to, you feel the knot in his throat from the crack in his voice that prevents him from completing the sentence. You didn't want to hurt him like that, you didn't want to leave him.

Cautiously you approach him, and silently snuggle against his shoulder.

The prince lets you act, while his tail surrounds you widely and his cheek rests on your head.

"I know you miss home ... but I'm here."

Riddle Rosehearts

-Riddle is a demanding person, you know. He is a good boy, but he can easily throw your mood under your shoes.

-For him everything he says is important, so it is often dangerous to challenge him. When it happens it's because he really hits you.

-Yet he won't understand it. He will support his views in anger without realizing how deeply he is digging inside you.

- A stupid argument can get really heavy with him if you don't give in, and sometimes you know it's okay not to give in.

-Riddle knows he has to improve himself, but only realizes it when he's done the damage. And most of the time he doesn't know how to fix it.

Riddle feels a failure when he sees you running away.

He still hears your last words inside himself: "I want to go back to my house!"

He knows everything they mean. All your pain, and all the pain he causes you.

He sighs heavily, bringing a hand to his face and hiding it against his palm.

"I did it again, didn't I?"

Trey only looks at him sympathetically, without replying. All eyes are on the leader, but he doesn't care.

He swallows that wave of impotence that overwhelms him and straightens himself, parading among the students with a determined step, to look for you.

This is no time to be a capricious child, Riddle. It must find you and support you. This is what a leader must do.

You, sitting on a bench, clasp your arms around yourself, seeking comfort in yourself, as you try to silence the tears.

Again Riddle swallows his anguish and approaches you. He's afraid of your reaction, but still he gives you a tissue to wipe away the tears, because that's how a leader behaves, right? He wants you to trust him. He wants to be responsible for you.

"I know you miss home ... and how difficult it is for you to settle here ..."

He begins with a gentler voice. You are not pushing him away, so he dares to sit next to you. hoping to do the right thing.

"But until ... when you can return to your world let me help you."

He doesn't see you reacting, but he feels that your sobs have stopped, maybe he is on track.

"Can you forgive me?"

Finally your hands move, and with a slight thanks you grab what he gives you, cleaning your face.

Riddle feels relieved, it would have been difficult to lose you.

You look at him, and smiling shyly you nod, sure that you forgive him. How can you not forgive such a lovable boy?

#twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twst #leona kingscholar #riddle rosehearts #azul ashengrotto #kalim al asim #kalim al asim x reader #twst kalim #twisted wonderland kalim #leona kingscholar x reader #twst leona #twisted wonderland leona #riddle rosehearts x reader #twst riddle #azul ashengrotto x reader #twst azul

[crimsonrae]

Across the Road, At the Brothel

Chapter Eight

Summary: Jaskier fell in love any day that the sun rose in the East. It was a trifling, pleasurable experience for him. Even when he was jumping out a window to avoid cuckolded husbands. So what happens when his trifles start to become more significant? Jaskier/OC. Some Yennefer/Geralt

A/N: Jaskier is just too adorable not to write about. This is a relationship development story with an OC. There will be smut in later chapters and plenty of angst.

Rating: Mature

Small Avoidances

"Is there a reason why we're traipsing through the woods?" Jaskier questioned for the thousandth time, "I thought you killed whatever was tracking us."

"I did." Geralt grunted as he retraced his path to the fleder's corpses.

The bard frowned as he barely sidestepped a mess of brambles, "Then why are we out here?"

"You didn't have to come." The witcher rumbled in response as he eyed the ground. His steps were still very much present in the dirt, even after almost a week and it made him wonder just how out of it, he had been from the attack. He knew better than to leave a trail.

"Yeah, I'm sure that would go over well." Jaskier drawled as he narrowly dodged a branch swinging back in his face, "All I need is for you to suddenly be attacked out here and try and crawl your way back. It was a debacle getting you into the cottage the first time and you were merely down the lane then. Can only imagine what carting your heavy ass from the woods would be like."

Geralt glared wearily at him over his shoulder, "And here I thought you were going to pester me about your girlfriend."

The bard went unusually silent as he stared at Geralt's back before uttering a faint, "She's not my girlfriend."

The look of disbelief he received in return was almost galling, "She's not... she's... I don't know what she is."

Geralt snorted as he listened to the bard flounder. He'd have to be blind not to see the way the couple danced around each other, not to mention the air grew heavy with the scents of their attraction whenever they spent more than a few minutes talking to each other. It was getting annoying.

"She's been avoiding me." Jaskier murmured woefully.

That made Geralt pause as he sent the younger man an incredulous stare. Avoiding? They hadn't been more than a handful of steps away from each other since he had returned to consciousness. Hell, he had been surprised when Jaskier had decided to come with him instead of staying back with Lyrra. What the fuck was the bard talking about?

Jaskier sighed under that look, "Lyrra has this smile. It's the one she gives to the tavern's patrons she doesn't particularly know. Polite enough, but doesn't invite for more. She's been giving it to me the past couple days... It feels like she's building a wall - I don't know what I've done wrong."

Geralt rolled his eyes and turned to continue his trek. He didn't have time for this nonsense. The brush grew thicker, but a few paces ahead a small clearing lay. The bodies of the two fleders resided within if they hadn't been dragged off by the wildlife. By the faint smell of rot in the warm summer air, the witcher knew he would still find the corpses.

"Perhaps I've been too clingy." Jaskier continued thoughtfully, "I just... I like being near her. I thought she liked it too."

Geralt refrained from sighing, he knew Jaskier could go on like this for hours if he let him. Instead, he tunneled through the rest of the brush as he commented, "She does."

The bard perked up curiously at this, a hopeful tinge in his voice as he cautiously asked, "Really?"

It was such an insecure question that Geralt nearly scoffed at his companion. It wasn't like Jaskier to be so...well insecure. The bard exuded optimistic confidence no matter the situation he found himself in, uncertainty usually didn't set in until after he barreled into trouble... or in this case, he had broken things off with his lover. The witcher glanced back at Jaskier to see a nervous edge tightening his visage. It was then that Geralt remembered how young Jaskier really was, barely a man of twenty, "You're not the reason she's being distant."

He stepped abruptly into the clearing and the sight of dark mangled flesh met his gaze, behind him Jaskier audibly heaved as the smell and sight finally hit his senses.

"Gods that's disgusting." The bard moaned piteously, "Please tell me, we didn't come out here to bring those back with us."

"No." Geralt growled as he knelt next to one of the corpses, "It's unusual to find a fleder so far away from civilization. They like crypts and sewers, not woods and vineyards."

"Which means what exactly?"

He reached for the clawed hand of one of the fleders, uncertain of what he was looking for, as several bugs flew into the air. Jaskier choked in disgust and backed himself toward the edge of the clearing. Geralt paid him no mind as he looked over the wounds he'd made – his strikes had been clean to the bodies. Their size, Geralt realized now, was smaller than the fleders he had encountered in the past, but not by much. These were the same height as him, most towered another foot above. The claws were long thick tapers, but otherwise ordinary. He scowled as he continued to scan the hairless, warted body. Already muscle and skin had shriveled, the summer heat had done little to preserve the remains. It was then he smelled it.

A sickly-sweet scent. Like rotting roses, coming from the creature's mouth. His golden gaze zeroed in on the creature's fangs as he stuck a finger along the back edge of the sharp canine.

"Oh Geralt, no!" Jaskier groaned as a black seeping liquid sledged down Geralt's arm, "I should've stayed with Lyrra."

Poison.

Geralt eyed the substance curiously as he sniffed deeply at his hand. The sweetness was worse, but he recognized a few of the underlying scents. He now understood why he had been so fatigued; the toxin would act as an anesthetic on a normal human in small doses, but what the fleder secreted would kill its prey. Geralt wasn't normal by any means and he was suddenly thankful his mutated anatomy had allowed him to make it a few miles away before succumbing. However, fleder's typically weren't poisonous either, "Fuck."

Jaskier raised an eyebrow as he dryly stated, "Good news I take it."

Geralt glanced at him with a frown as he wiped his hand in the grass, "They've been altered – purposefully mutated."

The bard's brow furrowed in confusion, "Why? What would be the point?"

"I don't know." Geralt murmured lowly as he gave the corpses a leery glance. He would leave the remains here and check back in a few more days. If he were lucky whoever had made these beasts would be looking for them. It wouldn't do to have someone running around creating new monsters for the world, "We should get back."

»»————-　　————-««

The sharp shink of metal was the only sound that disturbed the quiet air of the cottage yard and how Lyrra was able to find one of her guests as she came back from the markets.

"You know I've had my little panic problem for a while now." Lyrra stated softly as she stopped before Geralt sharpening his swords, "I don't think it's something that will go away from a few training drills."

Geralt barely paused in his actions as he settled a firm glance on her, "I don't intend to make it go away."

It wasn't just the panic she went into when she was touched, but the coil of anticipatory tension that began to wind whenever someone was behind her. She had been trained to expect an attack from behind, trained to feel vulnerable and helpless in the wake of that attack. Her reactions were enough to tell Geralt that her abuse had gone on for longer than he wanted to imagine and the lessons that her abuser had taught her would never be forgotten.

She seemed only mildly surprised at his words as she quirked a brow at him, "And what do you intend to do?"

"I intend to make you use it." He grumbled as he slid a rag over his blade and began to polish, "Acknowledge it, control it, use it, and then put it away."

Lyrra smothered a sigh as she looked almost bemused at him, "I don't understand. Why are you going through all this trouble?"

"I repay my debts."

She stared at him for a long moment, "And what debt could you possibly owe me that would incur this sort of payment?"

Geralt barely stifled a sigh as he set his sword and cloth to the side and met her stare head-on. Neither he nor Jaskier had mentioned what they had discovered in the woods to her. He didn't feel comfortable leaving her alone until he had more answers. Yet, even this was only a small reason to stay and he wasn't about to elaborate further. He didn't have to – she could very well make the connections on her own.

"It wouldn't be for playing nursemaid. This is all too much trouble for a simple act of kindness." She smirked bitterly and he saw shades of her sister shine through, "Renfri, then. I find it particularly curious that a woman you met briefly years ago has this much impact. Granted, yes, you did kill her, but you've killed plenty. Monsters and men. What made my sister so special?"

Geralt frowned disapprovingly at her words, but he recognized the provocation for what it was, wounded pride and desperate defense, "Why? Afraid you don't measure up to her?"

"I know I don't." Lyrra answered wearily, "She was strong. She took her pain and let it fuel her – she thrived from it... I'm not her, Sir Witcher. You've been looking for her since you woke."

That was true... to an extent. There was no denying the resemblance, but Lyrra's temperament was much different from her sister. Renfri, he understood. He understood her pain, her rage, and her desire for justice. He even understood her need to demolish all who stood in her path, even if he didn't agree with it. Lyrra was quieter than her sister however, he sensed that her pain went deeper. Her fear and rage simmered below a well-crafted surface, waiting for the opportunity to overwhelm. He had seen glimpses as she sparred with him. Had watched as she expended more of her energy battling herself and her instincts than she had him.

"I know you're not Renfri, Lyrra." Geralt uttered softly, "And she's only a small part of why I'm doing this. Though I do wonder, why you've indulged me so far."

Lyrra seemed to falter at his words, a faint sadness lined her stormy eyes before she grimaced and looked away, "Because... when I look at you, I see her too."

He cocked a brow and waited.

"Most people remember my sister as a monster." Lyrra explained softly, "You remember a person. I can see it in your eyes when I mention her name or I do something similar to her. You reinforce her memory and it's hard to walk away from that."

"I killed her, why aren't you angry with me?"Geralt finally demanded, "The memories I evoked cannot be pleasant. I took her from you."

"Aridea took her from me." Lyrra whispered, her eyes glazed as she fell into distant memories, "As did the mage. My Renfri died long before you ever arrived."

He didn't know how to respond to that, so he didn't. He sighed heavily and he waited for her attention to come back to him, "I will stay only as long as it takes for my wounds to finish healing." He stood and Lyrra watched after him curiously as he moved for the cottage, "You shouldn't underestimate simple acts of kindness. You help heal me, I help heal you. It's that simple, Lyrra."

"How?"

Geralt didn't look back, "Come and find out.”

»»————-　　————-««

Jaskier hated this.

To her credit, Lyrra was doing an admirable job at being brave, aside from the tense set to her jaw, her mien remained expressionless. However, there were still signs that she wasn't handling the current situation well. She had turned that stark white color again and it was only very faint, but he could make out the tremor spilling through her hands. He itched to go to her, but her recent reticence with him weighed heavily on his mind. Geralt had said her reserve had nothing to do with him, but still, he was uncertain.

The witcher stood behind her, hovering just inside her personal space and not touching, merely observing, but she seemed to be anticipating some action from the larger man. What though, Jaskier wasn't sure. He knew that sometimes Geralt would press a hand to her shoulder or hip, but never in the same area. He also knew that he wanted this exercise to be over. This was the third day of them playing some variation of this little game after going through defensive stances and he was tired of it. Despite the impassivity on both Lyrra's and Geralt's face, he could sense her distress and it was making him anxious.

Logically, he knew that Geralt would never hurt her, but logic was hard to hold onto when all he wanted to do was to step in between them. When he knew that when they finally finished for the day, she would disappear for an hour and come back with tear tracks staining her cheeks.

He fidgeted uncomfortably, "Is there a point to this? I didn't think defense had anything to do with standing like statues."

A small smile quirked at Lyrra's lips at his words, but no further reaction or explanation came forth from either of his companions. Instead, Geralt tilted his head in thought as his studious gaze suddenly landed on Jaskier. He always found it rather dangerous when Geralt looked at him like that – it usually meant he was about to be used as bait for some horrific creature.

He gave the witcher a leery look and nearly missed the amused glint that entered Lyrra's grey orbs as she watched him.

"Jaskier, come here."

The bard jerked his attention back to his friend and tried not to frown as Lyrra tensed again. He hated this. Geralt stared at him expectantly and Jaskier sighed as he slipped from his perch on the woodpile. His journal and quill laid forgotten on the ground as he approached, writing was something of a chore currently anyway. Lyrra's eyes followed him curiously as he neared and he couldn't help but send her a flirtatious smile as he stood next to her. He did so love when she blushed from that grin and as expected a faint coral red rose to her cheeks, "How can I be of service?"

Geralt rolled his eyes as he watched the bard's antics, but backed up a few steps as he ordered, "Stand where I am."

Jaskier huffed and stepped into the space that had been vacated, "So, am I just supposed to stand here? What is this accomplishing anyway? Is this some secret witcher technique to make people aware of their surroundings?"

The last bit was more of a taunt than an actual question. He wasn't a complete idiot – he had seen the way Lyrra tensed whenever someone stood behind her and he knew that Geralt was trying to stop that tension from turning into something more... dramatic. He bit back a smirk as he heard Lyrra and Geralt sigh at the same time.

Geralt moved to stand in front of them both, making sure that Lyrra kept her gaze forward as he gave his next set of instructions. There was almost a look of forewarning that the witcher sent to their hostess and by the way, she suddenly stilled, Jaskier was hesitant to do anything he was asked. As if he could hear his thoughts, Geralt levied a heavy glare in his direction, "Jask, place your hand on the small of her back."

He didn't move, a sense of foreboding filling his being as he stared at his friend, "Wh -"

Lyrra sighed again and rolled her shoulders, "It's okay, Jaskier...go on."

Her assurances weren't good enough and Jaskier found himself scowling as he asked, "Can one of you please fill me in on the importance of this exercise?"

"No." Geralt answered soundly and lifted a brow at him, "The small of her back."

Stubbornly, he crossed his arms, not in the least intimidated by the witcher's glare. He was going to get a bloody answer out of one of them for this continued nonsense. Lyrra was the one to break as she kept her gaze forward and her voice unreasonably light as she said, "He's trying to keep me from falling into some bad memories. I was hurt repeatedly as a child and when someone touches my back, I remember that pain. It makes me rather useless when being attacked, apparently."

"You're not useless." While her words were unsurprising, the dark twist through his gut was as he tried to quell the urge to demand further explanation. Despite, what Lyrra may think he had ascertained some form of abuse to her person from their night at the inn. She had spoken during her nightmare, quietly whispered pleas that had fair broken his heart – he couldn't bring himself to ask after those cries when her gaze had alighted on him that night, he was beginning to wish he had. Fuck, he didn't want to cause her pain, "Lyrra, we don't need to do this."

She peeked at him over her shoulder and smiled gently as if he were the one who was being tested, "It's fine."

It really wasn't.

She turned back before he had a chance to protest.

"You've both lost your damn minds." He scoffed quietly and glared almost petulantly at Geralt as the witcher merely crossed his arms and patiently waited. He had a feeling if he didn't do it then his friend would and somehow that seemed much worse.

Nervously, he shook his hand out before hesitantly reaching up and pressing his fingers into the hollow of her back. She went positively rigid, but as he moved to yank his hand back Geralt froze him with a look.

An expectant look.

It was as if he were expecting the bard to suddenly know what to do to make this all better. He wasn't a bloody mind healer for Melitele's sake, "Tell me to stop, Lyrra."

"It's fine." Her voice was tight as if she were gritting her teeth.

Jaskier swore, he fucking hated this – desperately, he fell back into the one tool he knew how to use better than anything, "Close your eyes, Lyrra and listen to my voice."

She must have sent Geralt a look as the witcher nodded at her to follow his directions. She crossed her arms and Jaskier bit back a sigh as Geralt sent him another expectant glance. He kept his touch light as he asked softly "When you blew that dandelion into my face, what did you wish for?"

"What?" Lyrra asked somewhat bewildered.

"I know it's been a few days, but after we decided we were unfit to marry. I handed you a dandelion and you blew it into my face." He ignored the raised eyebrow from Geralt at his words and pushed on, "What did you wish for?"

"Um... nothing. I just wanted to see your reaction." Lyrra murmured.

"Oh?" Instead of pulling away as his instincts were screaming at him to do, he slid his hand around to grab her hip. A touch of humor and curiosity entered his voice as he asked, "And did I give you the reaction you wanted?"

She snorted quietly, "You were surprised... but delighted, like I had just given you a grand gift instead of a face full of seedlings."

Jaskier felt a small grin tug at his lips and he gradually began to press his body closer to her, "You did give me a gift. You trusted me to be your friend." She began to stiffen again as his warmth started to settle against her back, "Trust me now, Lyrra. Trust that it's me behind you. Trust that I will never hurt you... What happens when someone touches your back?"

"I panic." She whispered tightly.

Jaskier grimaced, "No, start smaller. What's the first thing you feel?"

There was a long drawn out pause and for a horrible minute, the bard was sure he had made a mistake, had drawn her further into her fears instead of away. Then a shuddering breath stole through her as she answered, "Ice. It feels like ice has been poured into my veins. I hate the cold."

"What else?"

She swallowed, "My heart beats so hard that I'm sure it will pound through my chest. My throat tightens and I can't seem to scream, no matter how hard I try... and I feel weak as a babe, my arms heavy and my feet slow...and I can feel him. I can feel his hands and his breath."

A nauseous roil climbed Jaskier's stomach as he began to work out just how exactly she had been hurt. Her reserve around him suddenly made more sense... By the Gods, how he hated this. He clamped down on the need to rebuke both his friend and Lyrra for making her relive these horrific memories day after day. His grip on her tightened ever so slightly as if he could drag those memories from her skin, "You're not weak. You're still here. Still breathing, still speaking, and warm, and kind. I have watched you. You take the time to chat with every customer, you take the handsy ones away from the other barmaid."

"I don't-"

"– don't deny it, I've seen you do it." He rubbed faint circles into her hips as his chest met her back, "You always greet the barkeep with a smile. You help that man – Nigel – find safe shelter when he's too deep in his cups. You speak only kindly of Madam Hatchet."

"Madam Tyssa."

He smiled at her exasperated correction, "You gave Geralt your bed and your home. You listen to me ramble. You let us try to help."

Her hands slipped down to meet his. He could feel a faint tremor through her chilled fingers and gently trapped them under his on her hips. It was an odd reverse hug they stood in, but Jaskier didn't dare move now. Instead, he buried his face into her hair and continued to whisper to her, gentle questions and even kinder observations.

The couple had forgotten Geralt as he watched her trembling subside and her pallor lessened, "Lyrra."

Her grey eyes wearily lifted for the first time since Jaskier had begun speaking and the witcher found himself softening under her wary look. He silently asked her if she would be okay to try the next part of their exercise. The part they hadn't been able to get to before. She sighed inaudibly and nodded as she unconsciously tensed in Jaskier's arms.

The bard turned an irate stare on his friend, already sure he didn't want to hear the next set of instructions, "No. Whatever you're about to say, Geralt, just no. We've done enough for today."

There must have been something in his gaze that gave Geralt pause as normally the witcher had no compunctions about overruling him. Hesitantly, he nodded in agreement, "We'll try again tomorrow."

A faint murmur of protest left Lyrra's lips and it was all Jaskier could do not to shake the woman. Was she so intent on torturing herself? His lips brushed the rim of her ear, "Tomorrow Lyrrana. I will touch you until your heart's content tomorrow."

"How do you make everything sound like an innuendo?" Lyrra asked quietly as she tilted her head back to meet his stare. A faint twinkle of amusement shined in her grey orbs and he nearly smiled in relief.

He basked in that look, in her nearness as she leaned willing against him. For what felt like the first time in millennia, though it had only been a couple of days, she wasn't staying just out of his reach, wasn't presenting her mask of polite tolerance at him. He brushed a light kiss to her brow, "Just talented that way."

Her faint blush returned under his scrutiny and he bit back the urge to taste her lips when she didn't pull away. Slowly, he linked his fingers with hers and tugged her around to face him, "You don't have to hide from me, you know? I may talk utter nonsense, but I do make a rather good listener too, my lovely Lyrra."

She stilled in surprise and a sheepish smile quirked at her lips as she realized her attempt at distance hadn't gone unnoticed, "Jaskier..."

He didn't particularly want to hear her excuses or apologies just then. He shook his head at her with an amused huff before gesturing for the cottage, "Come on. We'll talk later."

Lyrra said nothing as she let him guide her inside.

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#jaskier #jaskier fanfiction #jaskier x oc #the witcher #witcher fanfiction #Geralt #yennefer #fanfiction #fanfic

[dunkshotdreaming]

Masterlist || World at a Glance

➵ Na Jaemin

↳ A young wolf from the Redfur clan, very playful but very dependent. Is known for his kind heart and flirty ways. Would offer the clothes off his back to help someone in need without hesitation. Best friends with fellow wolf Jeno, as they grew up together, and very protective of their youngest member, Jisung. Acts almost like a parental figure to his subunit of younger members along with Renjun, who try their hardest to keep the troublesome bunch out of harm's way (or any accidental exposure).

➵ Lee Jeno

↳ A young wolf from the Silveridge clan, shy at first but is an absolute ball of energy. Very athletic yet very lazy; a bundle of dualities that lie beneath a beautiful smile. Best friends with fellow wolf Jaemin, both of whom never cared about territorial rivalries. Also very close to Doyoung and Jaehyun, who like to keep a close eye on this sweet and naive little werewolf. Despite his canine nature, he has a fascination for feline creatures, going so far as to adopt a few of his own to study them. The other wolves are shocked at how well the kittens take to Jeno, rather than running at his scent.

➵ Huang Renjun

↳ A curious vampire with a fascination for their otherworldly members: the aliens Winwin and Yangyang. Likes to put up a snarky front at times, but is the sweetest little biter you'll ever meet. Very close to the younger members of their group, especially the werewolves.  Is a great help to Yuta when he gets unintentionally turned after being bitten, and takes him under his wing until he's sure the fledgling can handle his own. Doesn't have to wear a pendant like Yuta's as he's a full-blood vampire, born and raised. Renjun's artistic side helps him explain himself in ways words can't... even when a good portion of his artwork looks an awful lot like a bloody Rorschach test.

➵ Qian Kun

↳ The new alpha of the Goldensnout clan. Always seems to have trouble handling the young pups of the pack, and often has to put his foot down to intimidate them. Fatefully ends up with fellow pack member Yukhei as bandmates in Wayv. Loves nothing more than to enjoy some good music while he dotes on the others; especially good at cooking, and uses his heightened sense of smell to his advantage.

➵ Wong Yukhei

↳ Luckily for his alpha, fellow wolf Yukhei is great at dealing with the young pups of the pack... whenever he doesn't end up playing into their antics, that is. A lively young wolf who has a nose for causing trouble, usually unintentionally, as he's naturally clumsy. Has a warm heart and soft spot for his bandmates, usually treating them as part of his own little pack. Diligently obeys Kun, and trusts him entirely. Loves to tease the resident vampire, whenever possible.

➵ Jung Jaehyun

↳ A member of the Silveridge clan. Very athletic, prides himself on being one of the strongest members of the pack. Comes off as very confident but is actually very shy; is always terrified someone will find out about his secret. Dotes on the younger and older members alike, and is a great shoulder for them to lean on in tough times. Very close to fellow wolves Taeyong and Jeno, the latter of whom gets babied quite often, despite his displeasure.

➵ Lee Taeyong

↳ Alpha of the Redfur clan, as well as the leader of the musical group all the boys belong to, known as NCT. Has a lot on his plate and often relies on Jaehyun to talk things over with. Has the exterior of a wolf with bared fangs, but the interior of a little pup ready to play. Also close to pack member Jaemin, and taught him a lot of what he knows. Taeyong's life may be incredibly busy, but his great leadership skills always shine through both of his demanding roles.

➵ Dong Sicheng

↳ Most commonly known as Winwin by his newfound earthling friends. Sicheng and Yangyang crash landed on Earth roughly six years ago, not reuniting until they both ended up being recruited for a musical group known as Wayv. Whereas Yangyang is a burst of energy, Sicheng is more calm and philosophical (and still holds himself responsible for getting stuck on Earth); very homesick for his birth planet, Scorlirsus. Gets doted on a lot by his other members; often mistaken for an elf due to his singular pointed ear.

➵ Liu Yangyang

↳ Whereas Sicheng is more often than not the rational one of the two, Yangyang is a chaotic bundle of adventure and joy. His laugh can be heard from miles away, if you listen hard enough. Misses his family and home planet, but is happy to have finally reunited with Sicheng at long last. Loves to race, and used secretly borrow the space pods to do so. Never obtained a nickname as his name was already fairly easy for the others to remember. Misses Scorlirsus, but is also really enjoying his adventures on Earth.

➵ Kim Dongyoung

↳ Most commonly referred to simply as Doyoung, this fallen angel is often the butt of his bandmates' jokes. Tries to set a great example for the younger members, and practically had a hand in raising many of them throughout their time together. Jeno is the only one who really listens though, and earns himself the title of Best Son, at least in Doyoung's eyes. An amazing singer, and isn't afraid to use the powers of his enchanting voice to entice people to do things for him. After all, why work harder when you can work harder?

➵ Ten

↳ This tricky little siren is both alluring and infuriating. Loves to challenge Doyoung at every turn, the sheer power his voice carries overturning any enchantments his bandmate tries to place on others. Lives to tease, and often gets on Kun's nerves, though they secretly enjoy each other's company greatly. Very fluid in his movements, as he's used to swimming in water; this translates to mesmerizing dance moves on land, which eventually earns him a spot in Wayv. Latches onto Hendery when he first joins the surface world as a resident, who helps him learn how to fit in, allowing him to blend almost seamlessly. Must soak in water for an absolute minimum of half an hour a day, or risk losing his breath and drying out. Legend has it he choked on a fruit once and now refuses to go anywhere near them.

➵ Moon Taeil

↳ An actual angel, quite literally. Whereas Doyoung had his fall from grace, Taeil has miraculously managed to stay in the good graces of the divine. Has a healing like quality to his voice, and anyone who listens to it becomes wrapped with its calmness, almost like a blanket. The eldest of his bandmates, but gets along pretty well with both younger and older members due to his playful nature. Exceptionally skilled when it comes to music, and can play a wide range of instruments; loves to play his harp on nights off, which always helps the others sleep.

➵ Park Jisung

↳ The youngest of all his bandmates to date, and one of the most energetic. This sneaky little shapeshifter is incredibly talented. His shifty powers translate into the ability to rap and sing, as well as dance, making him a triple threat within the group. Is ironically allergic to animals, though he can turn into them without much trouble. Loves to turn into any one of the other members and cause widespread confusion, a true mischievous spirit you can't help but love. Babied endlessly by the others, and pretends he has to deal with Jaemin's over-affectionate nature as if he hates it.

➵ Mark Lee

↳ The one, lone human of NCT. Used to have Yuta to relate to, until the poor man was bitten and turned one night. Was initially terrified at being surrounded by so many supernatural beings, but grew accustomed; loves being able to use their talents to his advantage. Constantly the butt of their superpowered jokes, but always mesmerized by what the others are capable of. Feels left out sometimes, but Johnny is always quick to reassure him of his extraordinary human talents.

➵ Johnny Seo

↳ A powerful sorcered who moved across the world in search of a precious gem with powers unheard of.. ends up joining a band to allow him to stay in the country, and instead finds a precious bond within NCT. Can often be seen building or brewing, and casts minor spells at his convenience. Casts protective spells on his clumsier and unluckier bandmates, disguising his affection for his newfound little brother Mark behind an army of jokes (that everyone can see through anyway).

➵ Lee Donghyuck

↳ Goes by the name of Haechan, but loves to refer to himself in the third person as Fullsun. As his father is Apollo, Haechan is a demigod with the blinding power of the sun (as do many of his scattered half-siblings). Very affectionate, the embodiment of warmth and light, paired with the heat of his temper and constant teasing. Nearly made an enemy out of Doyoung once with his pranks, and adores teasing poor human Mark for his priceless reactions.

➵ Nakamoto Yuta

↳ Was a human until just the other day, was turned into a vampire and is now learning to deal with his life flipped upside down. Never wanted to become part of the supernatural realm that nearly all of his bandmates are from, and yet finds himself joining anyway. Was accidentally bitten while away on tour and must now live with the consequences. Has to have his pendant on at all times when in the sun, or else he'll slowly burn and turn to ash. A rather moody bandmate as of late, but given his circumstances, no one can really blame him. Bandmate Renjun, a full-blood vampire since birth, helps teach Yuta everything from how to feed and self control to the ways of the sun and his new strengths. Was forced to take a brief break from his unit known as NCT 127 as a result, but manages to successfully rejoin once he's adapted to his new life. Yuta is often found teasing their last remaining human, Mark.

➵ Zhong Chenle

↳ Though formerly teased for his dolphin-like laugh, it's no surprise that Chenle actually grew up by the ocean. Unlike Ten, Chenle did not live in the water, but has great control over it. He can control the rain, the seas, and even people's own bodies if he so desired. Best friends with Jisung, and they love to get into all sorts of trouble together. Is also very close with Kun (though he and Yangyang are both banes in the elder's existence at times), as well as Jaehyun.

➵ Xiao Dejun

↳ Also known as Xiaojun, for short. Laughs every time Winwin gets mistaken for an elf, when in fact, he's the member of elvish nature. Conceals his ears well, but allows his magic to seep through his beautiful voice. Cautious around animals, but absolutely adores plants and nature in general. Dislikes when Chenle plays with the weather, claiming it could cause an imbalance. Gets along well with all of his Wayv bandmates, but especially with Hendery, as they grew up together.

➵ Wong Kunhang

↳ Ironically enough, Kunhang is the complete opposite of his childhood friend, Xiaojun. Hendery, as he now goes by, is the son of a demon and a human. Typically good-natured and easygoing, his temper and vengeance know no bounds if someone he cares about gets hurt. Will stop at nothing to make things "fair" as he sees fit. Powers include but are not limited to: manipulation of fire, control of air currents, and destruction of physical properties. Has a real soft spot for Yangyang, and are often seen goofing off together. This half-demon is very close to a certain mischievous siren, and taught him almost everything he knows about fitting in with the human world.

OC’s

➵ Sayuri & Kaoru

↳ Two siblings, both members of the Blackwolf clan; childhood friends of the Alpha (reader) and trusted board members of the pack. Form almost a little council when the three unite. Sayuri's mate is a Silveridge, which had caused tension in the past; though that, now the clans are allied, is no longer a problem. Sayuri’s mate just so happens to be the related to the clan’s leader, as his elder sister is the alpha.

#nyctophilia masterlist #fantasy/supernatural series #nct scenarios #nct aus #nct fanfiction #nct fanfics #nct imagines #n.ph m.list #berry's m.lists #character overview #character list #nct ot21 #+ my oc's #wayv fanfics #wayv fanfiction #wayv scenarios #wayv imagines #nct 127 #nct u #nct dream #wayv #nct #kpop #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #fantasy au

[itspileofgoodthings]

I *loved* your marriage meta--it's one of those story elements that would make a perfect resolution for Rey and Ben's individual character arcs, but which I'd guess would be completely misunderstood by a large subset of the audience (viewers and critics who would knee-jerk think "main female Jedi gets married to the evil man at the end who doesn't deserve her, how unfeminist and reductive.") Do you have any thoughts about Finnrose or Finn and Rose's separate character journeys in IX as well?

This is super, super, super late but thank you! I’m so glad you liked it! I’m really proud of that meta in particular.  

I’m sure there will be backlash to any storyline they choose to go with in IX but I don’t necessarily think there will be universal backlash if things unfold the way I hope they will. Especially if it’s well done. I’m really interested to see what the reaction will be if it happens because my optimistic self doesn’t think it would be that negative.

I really like Finnrose a lot. They have a lot of potential because of the growth that they inspire in each other. I love that Rose is here to challenge Finn, to remind him to look beyond himself and Rey and understand that more is at stake here, that running away is not the answer. I love that she’s a challenge to him to be less selfish and I love that he rises to meet it. 

Finn’s arc unfolds over the course of both of these movies in a way where you understand he’s regaining “his humanity one piece at a time” (someone, not me, said this but I can’t remember who so I can’t credit them!!) from the different relationships he makes for himself. And while I love the humanity that his relationships with both Rey and Poe bring to the surface, I think that it’s from Rose that he learns the most important thing- that fighting and violence and war is pointless if it’s not directly inspired by love and a desire to protect. 

She does this in two ways: 1) by stripping away the glamour and glitz of Canto Bight to show him the rot at its core. This is how she reminds him of the reason the Resistance is fighting in the first place (or at least why they should be). Taking a stand against this kind of oppression should always be the Resistance’s goal in order for their cause to be just. If they’re just fighting to win or beat the other side, then DJ’s right. They’re no better. (Poe’s arc is about learning this too, because Poe’s hot blood does make him very personally invested in winning and not as interested in survival if it means doing something that looks like surrendering. But he gets there too!) 

And 2) by showing him that brute force- something which is deeply ingrained in him due to his time in the First Order as a storm trooper- is not always the answer or the best way. She knocks him off course (literally!) to show him that fighting evil is about more than attacking or matching violence with violence. It can be about running if necessary and appropriate, it can just be about survival. It’s not about futile self-sacrifice or blind rage; it is always about love. Her message about how they’re going to win “not fighting what we hate but saving what we love” really resonated with me and is, as others have pointed out before me, the heart of this movie. 

So a love story that comes out of this kind of growth between two characters strikes me as very true and right- even if right now its romance side hasn’t been developed yet. TLJ wasn’t about them falling in love but it was about them working together and helping each other grow and I think that the potential for them to be a good couple is there. (A slight aside: yes, Rose helped Finn grow more than the other way around, but Finn still challenges and shatters her naivety about him and serves as the character who draws her deeper into the story thus helping her fulfill her own potential.) The chemistry is also sweet, direct, and light. No they’re not sweepingly romantic or brimming over with romantic or sexual tension but there is more than one kind of love story in the world. They’re both good hearted and brave; they’re both verbally quick and charming. They care about each other and they LITERALLY finish each other’s sentences. That’s a good foundation and with good development could be an awesome love story. I ship it yo.

As for their individual arcs, I can’t pretend to have an incredibly clear vision of where I think they’ll go or even where I want them to go in IX the way I do with Rey and Ben. There are a couple of different routes they could take with them and have it work (though I do feel fairly confident that any arcs they have will involve the two of them together romantically or at least getting to that point. I could be wrong but I don’t think so.) 

I imagine that Finn’s arc will have to revolve around finding a particular place in the resistance. The Last Jedi ends with him fully committed to the cause (willing to die for it actually!!) whereas before he was a runner who was like “y’all are stupid for trying to fight the first order seeeeee ya” and that was a great journey. But now it has to go farther. The question is no longer is he committed to it but how does he fit into it. What skills can he use in the service of the Resistance? What’s his place? It’s hard for me to say exactly what that is but I’m leaning more towards NOT just being a soldier. I’m sure he will fight in the next one because star wars, but being a soldier is the past he’s leaving behind and making peace with and brute force and violence are things he’s slowly learning to grow away from. I hope that where IX takes him as an end goal is something like a politican/diplomat’s role within the resistance- someone who actively seeks to establish good things as opposed to just fighting evil things. (If that makes sense?)

As for Rose’s arc, that’s even harder. Rose doesn’t have a lot to learn. Of the new guard, she’s the most mature and the most complete as a person. She’s got it figured out for the most part, not in that she’s perfect or has no room to grow but in that her moral character is fixed and stable. I think she’s going to kind of take Leia’s place in the Resistance. (I said this tonight to my sister and she wanted to fight me but hear me out.) The Resistance is going to need somebody who is their moral heart and their encouragement, someone they can trust to guide them to do the right thing (not just the winning-y thing) and I think Rose naturally fits that role better than anyone. Rey is too damaged at the moment and has a lot further to go in her own personal journey before she’d be ready to take that on. Not to mention, Rey is the force sensitive one, the last Jedi, and the Jedi have always been a little bit removed from the direct action of the Resistance/The Rebellion. They’re involved obviously but not directly. (Think Luke vs Leia. Rey fills a place in the story that’s closer to Luke than Leia.) Rose fills the hole left by Leia- because IX will involve Leia’s passing in some way. She’ll fill it not because they’re alike- I don’t know that they are- but because they care very deeply about the same things. Leia is far more fiery and bull-headed than Rose. She’s a fighter while Rose is a fixer, filled with patience and common sense, but deep down they’re on the same page in a way that not too many other characters in this trilogy are. I kind of see Poe and Rose together kind of taking Leia’s place- Poe being the more military leader-y side of Leia? Together they’d be a good balance for each other, or they could be at least.

I also really, really think that Rose will end up (or at least should end up) being a friend to Rey. Rey needs a girl friend in her life (Leia doesn’t count) and it would make sense for her to turn to Rose. I really hope this happens and this isn’t just a fanfiction “they would be cute friends” way; I really think that would be a great narrative decision for both of them!! Give me this JJ!!

(I also really really really want Rose and Kylo to share a scene because I NEED to see how they try to fit them in the same frame but now we are moving in to fanfiction territory. hehe you guys he’s just so TALL and she’s so SMALL i would dieeeeeeeee) 

I think this covers most of my thoughts! I hope you find them interesting or thought-provoking, and I’m sorry again for taking so long to respond! I got overwhelmed and then couldn’t write for a while.

#asks #anon #finn #rose tico #finnrose #star wars: the last jedi #sw meta