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gay-dorito-dust · 2 days

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hi, i love your works❤

can i request hurt comfort hcs with reader that have been down and empty for a long time with gallagher, blade, jing yuan and dan heng? ty!

Gallagher:

‘It’s okay to feel like down every now and then. No one is expecting you to constantly be happy and smiles all the time, that’s just not healthy.’ Gallagher would say as he sat himself next to you in bed. ‘So don’t blame yourself for feeling sad or feeling as though you’re running on empty because you shouldn’t, you’ll get back up in due time but until then let ol’ Gallagher pamper you a little bit. Okay?’

He knows how difficult it was for you during these times and so he would do anything and everything in his power to make things a lot more easier for you.

Making you food, help you in shower, making sure you’re hydrated, adjusting the blankets, anything Gallagher could possibly think of that could make your day better, he would do it in a heart beat.

He loves spoiling you rotten anyway he could and if you only needed him to cuddle you until you fell asleep, then he’ll take his job as your personal pillow with the upmost seriousness.

He may even playfully bite you but that depends on whether or not that was okay with you because if it was, then he’d nibble anywhere he could reach until he got you to let out a little chuckle, all the while keeping a strong grip on you as not to let you leave his embrace.

He just wants you to feel loved even if you were sad or feeling particularly empty because that’s what you deserve and be reminded of your worth as Gallagher would be damned if you forgot the person you were in the midst of everything else.

Dan heng:

‘I’ve found a book that you might like, mind if I read it to you?’

Dan Heng would do anything to make you feel comfortable in your current situation.

And one of the things he would do was read to you a book that he thought that you might like as you’d lay on him.

Sure he was a tad flustered but he reminded himself that he was doing this for you and would ease into it by having an arm pressed to your lower back as he read each passage of the book with ease.

He’d make sure you were well fed, hydrated and just cared for in general as he presses kisses into your face.

‘You’re going to be okay.’ He presses a kiss to your forehead.

‘You’re not a burden.’ He says as he presses a kiss against your nose.

‘You’ll get back up in your own time, no one else’s.’ He then presses a kiss to your chin.

He’d even reach out to the likes of Welt and March 7th on what else he could do to better help you during these times and use them in practice.

Dan heng would do anything to ensure that you were going to be okay.

He doesn’t want you to feel alone during these times that he’d decline going anywhere if he knew you were going to be left behind. For he’d rather be with you doing absolutely nothing than get into heap loads of trouble through no fault of his own.

Dan Heng prioritises you and your well-being above all else and will do everything in his power to make sure that you’d be okay.

Jing yuan:

He understands wholeheartedly of what you’re going through and will try his best in being whatever you may need during that time.

Whether it’d be a shoulder to cry on, a reassuring presence or just someone for you to open up to in due time. Jing Yuan was more than willing despite his hectic schedule as General.

However it didn’t matter how hectic his schedule may get because he’d always make time for you, or make up for the lack of time spent with you, regardless of whichever it was Jing Yuan was dedicated to put in time out of his day just so you knew he was thinking of you.

He also impeaches a bit of wisdom into you in hopes that it would help you navigate your emotions and understand them better as he takes you on small journeys.

‘Don’t feel ashamed for how you feel, for it’ll pass in due time whether that be today, next week, next month, it’ll pass regardless.’ Jing yuan would say softly as he cradles you against his chest. ‘So please don’t feel as though you are on some nonsensical timer to feel better and push all your ailments to one side because you’re not. I don’t know where you get this notion that you have to be okay all of the time because it’s just not inherently true.’ He adds as he rubs your back reassuringly and pressing a few simple kisses against your forehead and face.

‘I would much rather you feel your emotions and become acquainted with them rather then disregard them in general. As I believe all emotions have stories to tell for you to learn from as to prevent yourself from perpetuating your own hurt, pain and suffering.’ Jing yuan tells you as he walks with you through the bustling streets, making sure to keep you close to him when kids ran past without a care.

He would take you to special spots where it would be just the two of you enjoying everything and anything in its natural state.

Jing yuan would go above and beyond if it meant knowing that you were going to be okay.

Blade:

He would sit by your side in solidarity in hopes that his presence would bring you at least some form of comfort, knowing that someone would be ready and waiting for you no matter what.

Blade knew sympathy wasn’t what you were looking for as it would surely only make you feel worse than before. So he forgoes that straight away as more often the not Blade believes that sympathy does more harm then many people think, depending on the situation of course, but still it’s a statement he firmly stands by.

Words of comfort aren’t his forte but he makes an attempt just for you.

‘You’re not weak for wanting respite.’ He would say as he holds your hand.

‘You’re not weak for feeling upset or empty, it’s natural for you to feel negative emotions as well as the positive ones, otherwise it becomes unbalanced.’ He would say as his fingertips traced your features with unnatural gentleness. ‘For example you’re meant to be happy, but you’re also meant to feel sad. You’re meant to be excited, but you’re also meant to feel scared.’ He adds as he lets you play with his long silky hair however you pleased.

Do whatever you want to him, Blade didn’t care if it meant making you feel even remotely better.

Play with his fingers, toy with his clothes, boop him on the nose, it didn’t matter as he’d sit there and take it with the patience of a saint.

Anyone who dare took the piss out of you when you’re most vulnerable better be ready to run as Blade was more then ready to withdraw his sword within a moments notice.

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fanwarriorfictions · 14 hours

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Not Again - Part Ten

Summary: Azriel and Y/n both are left reeling from the fight and revelations that morning.

Warnings: ANGST!!!! Shes a little spicey, Smut (oral, f receiving), this is probably the longest chapter yet

Series Masterlist

-Part Ten-

Azriel was gone until well after dinner, she’d eaten alone in the dining room when the house had seemed sick of her wallowing and forced a plate of food in front of her. Y/n was half tempted to refuse but she felt the scolding presence and decided arguing wasn’t worth it.

The fight had drained from her in the hours she’d spent in that seat, staring at the wall. She didn’t have it in her, the fire from her argument with Azriel dying out, turning to ice in her chest until she felt nothing at all.

Once she finished every last bite of the meal, the house whisked away the plates and she was left with nothing again, just that cold empty silence. She felt the fire tugging on her, felt it like a faint echo of what she’d felt this morning, begging to be rekindled, to keep fighting until she won, that was her mother’s temper, her father’s resilience. But she wasn’t them, she wasn’t strong enough to be them, her parents had taken on the world and won, fighting for a dream that they got to achieve. Y/n? Y/n had lived through nothing but peace. She was trained as a warrior, she could fight and win, but what was there to fight for? To get home, to fight some faceless god that wanted her dead for a sin that wasn’t her own, to die anyway? What was the damned point of it all.

Alone, she was so fucking alone, and it was eating her alive.

“You’re still up.”

Her heart lurches in her chest, “Gods be damned, don’t do that.”

Azriel glides across the room, in that deadly silent way, spymaster indeed. She hadn’t even felt his approach like she usually did, that heavy feeling of being under his gaze, that feeling in her heart that whispered, he’s close. It was like it was suppressed, submerged under water, still there, but so so faint.

“I’m sorry.” He gives her a small grin that says quite the opposite, “Did I startle you?”

“Not at all,” she says, frowning up at him, “Where have you been? Babysitting not fun enough for you anymore?”

It’s easy to throw on that mask of sarcasm and arrogance, anything to hide the crushing weight on her shoulders.

“It was never fun to begin with.” He shrugs, taking a seat across from her, a glass of deep red wine appearing on the table before him, “I was dealing with court matters.”

She leans across the table and plucks the glass into her own hands, “Sounds riveting.”

The wine is sweet on her tongue as she drinks deeply, her eyes closed and her head tilted back. It soothes some of the rough edges of her, chips away at that ice.

She sighs as she finishes the glass, her eyes finding the male in front of her, who’s hazel gaze is firmly planted on her sighing lips. There’s a darkness in his gaze, different than the usual shadows, it’s deeper, it kindles that fire in her, a singular spark that could turn into a blaze. Maybe, it would be enough to burn away the thoughts that threaten to drag her down, down, down.

“That was mine,” he says quietly.

She smiles sweetly, “Was it? I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.”

His eyes don’t move from her lips, “I’ve had a long day, Princess.”

“Oh do tell.” The glass in her hand fills on its own, a gift from the house, she sips slowly. “I do hope you weren’t sulking all day.”

Azriel leans forward, arms resting on the table between them. Earlier it had felt like the only barrier keeping them from tearing into each other, now, it felt much the same.

“Sulking over what, exactly?” His head tilts to the side, examining her, “Over a stubborn female who’s ready to run head first into her death?”

And just like that the fire turns from a gentle heat to a roaring in her blood, and not in the way she wanted it to. There was something about the way he looked at her, the infuriating way he’d looked all morning during their fight, that has her fire burning again. Fight, fight, fight. She wanted to fight and burn and take all of this storming emotion inside of her out on him, and it would seem he was finally ready to do the same.

“I see you’ve still got your panties in a twist over this,” she grins, showing off her canines, “Did you think you could just kiss me and I’d fall at your feet and let you go over protective fae male on me?”

His eyes drop to her lips, “I’d think you’d have wanted to actually survive long enough to make it home to your family.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do,” she snaps, “But you and your busybody court won’t get out of my way.”

“So you can get yourself killed?” His gaze is darker, filled with that rage and something more, “So you can throw yourself in front of a vengeful god that wants you dead, leaving the portal open to it, get all of us killed in your reckless, idiotic, selfish attempt.”

He’s right, she knows that, whatever god has it out for her won’t stop until she’s dead, and after that, who knows what it will do with the lock. She sees his reasoning, she understands it, but she’s geared for a fight and that fire fuels her.

“If you’d let me try,” she snarls, “give me the damned book and figure out how to open the right gate-“

“No.” His voice is soft, a simmering heat lacing it, “You are not going anywhere near that book, you are not trying that fucking gate again, you are not leaving-“

“Leaving what, who? Leaving you?” There’s a raging fire in her eyes, in her blood, in the pit of her stomach, it begs for her to burn with it, she chases the feeling so she doesn’t feel the emptiness from before. “Was my mouth so good that you can’t stand to let me go?”

That narrow focus on her mouth sends a thrill through her, “Is it so shocking that I actually care about your wellbeing, you absolute fucking brat.”

Her grin is feline, “I have a feeling you like brats, shadowsinger.”

Azriel is standing, leaning over the table, wings flared in the perfect picture of a wrathful god. Her eyes skate over him, down those sculpted arms to the hands that look ready to wring her neck. He could easily wrap one of his large hands around her throat and squeeze the life out of her, could make her see stars.

When her eyes travel back up to his, she could melt with the heat in them. This is exactly what she wanted, rile him up, get him to either punch her or fuck her, she didn’t quite care which, only that he made her feel something other than nothing.

“Listen, Princess.” Gods his voice was gravely, laced with anger and something that made her toes curl in her boots. “I see what you’re doing, and it’s not going to work.”

“And what exactly am I doing, Azriel” she lets her voice drop low when she says his name, lifting that glass of wine to her mouth.

His hand snaps out, practically ripping the glass from her hand, “You think you can get under my skin, make me angry enough, make me want to put you in your damned place.”

She was on fire, burning and burning. A noise almost slips off her tongue as he turns the glass, placing his mouth directly on the spot hers had been, and throws the whole thing back, the strong column of his throat on perfect display to her. A primal part of her wants to sink her teeth into the flesh and leave her mark on him.

Azriel slams the glass down on the table, a crack forming in its stem, “You want me to make you feel something, you want to act like a brat to hide how fucking scared and lonely you feel.”

The heat stops, everything stops as he continues, “You want me to be your gods damned distraction from that fucking void in your chest.

“Fuck you,” she snarls, standing to copy his stance, leaning across that table like she’d jump it and tear his throat out instead of laying her claim, “you’re a piece of shit, shadowsinger.”

He leans in closer, close enough she can smell the wine on his breath, “I’ll take you when you’re done being a coward, Princess.”

And like it meant nothing, that soul baring sentence, he turns and stalks out of the room, shadows trailing behind him like they were trying to stay.

The glass is flying through the air, shattering on the arch of the doorway, and those lingering shadows scatter.

He felt like he was that glass, exploding into a million pieces. It took every ounce of self control to keep walking, to keep dampening that bond he could so strongly feel now that he was aware of it. He could feel her on the other side of that tendril of shadow, raging, desperate, scared, and lonely. So gods damned lonely.

Azriel understood the feeling, he’d felt it all day since the moment Rhys has spoken those words, his mate. He’d collapsed, no longer able to support himself and he’d spent those agonizing hours crying, letting Cassian and Rhys bear his weight. How cruel was fate to bring her to him, this female of pine and snow and fire that reminded him of home, this female that would eventually have to leave him.

His mate, a storm of ice, wind, and fire on the other side of that tendril of shadow that connected them. His mate, the warrior who’d handed him his ass on more than one occasion, who could get beneath his skin more than anyone he’d ever known. His mate, the most beautiful female he’d ever seen.

He’d felt her from the River house, the way her thoughts had spiraled out of control, the rage draining into nothingness, it scared the shit out of him, enough that he’d started to pull himself together, using his brothers to haul himself off the floor. It had taken longer than he would’ve liked to make himself presentable, to force his wings to work to take him to her, to dampen that bond so she wouldn’t feel the agony he was in.

When he’d seen her there, broken and lost, he needed to get her back, desperately needed her to come back from that edge. He was willing to shove his own agony into a box and put on a mask. He tugged once on that bond, begging her to fight it. And when she'd started to come back, when she started to play with him, he kept going, stoking that fire anyway he could, he brought back the rage from that morning, the desire in his blood, and they fought and pushed at each other.

He felt that primal urge to claim her right then and there, but he couldn't. He could feel her on the other side, feel the lust and fire, feel the despair hidden beneath. She wanted a distraction, not him, she wanted to hide from everything she was feeling and Azriel desperately wanted to do it, to take her over that table, over and over, to scream that she was his mate, to claim her as his. Instead he’d called her a coward, he really meant it about himself.

Azriel was terrified, to bare his soul only to have it ripped away through a gate across the stars. He would fall at her feet and she would still leave him, he wasn’t enough to make her stay, he knew that. She had a destiny, she would be a Queen in a far away land, and she would one day find a consort who would be able to stay by her side, love her, cherish her.

He felt sick. Barely making it to his room and into the bathroom before he heaved the contents of his stomach into the bowl. Azriel couldn’t breathe, couldn’t stop the spasms in his abdomen, couldn’t stop the tears streaming down his face.

The mother was cruel, so very cruel.

Y/n couldn’t go back to her room, couldn’t be that close to him, she wasn’t sure what she would do if she was. Would she take her dagger to his throat, would she take all the rage in her blood and kill him, or would she cave into the desperate need to kiss him, to turn that anger into passion. Both options were bad ideas, enough that she begged the house to show her to a room as far away as possible.

When she woke with the sunrise, the unfamiliar room nearly sent her into a panic before the night before crashed back into her. All the pain and longing, the fire and rage, the numbness and loneliness. It was to much, these feelings, she felt like she was drowning in them, she needed to get out, get as far away as possible.

She was dressed and out the door, practically running down the halls to the closest balcony. The door was already open for her, the breeze welcoming her as she shifted and leapt of the edge, flying into the sunrise beyond.

She didn’t turn back, didn’t look to see the male who’s gaze she could feel like a brand across her back.

Two days had passed since Azriel watched her take off from the balcony across the house. He’d nearly flown after her, with how fast she was he wasn’t sure he’d even be able to catch her. But instead he just watched, watched as his mate flew as fast and as far away from him as she possibly could.

He’d waited for hours, scanning the skies for that majestic hawk form, but she didn’t come back. The bond grew fainter and fainter as she drifted farther and farther away. That was when the panic had set in. She didn’t know these lands, the creatures within, the fae who lurked in the shadows. Y/n was a warrior, a talented one at that, yet Azriel couldn’t help the fear that she would be hurt.

Cassian had found him on that ledge, had forced him inside, had forced him to eat, to sit down and gods damned breathe for a minute. And he’d stayed with him the rest of the day, through the night and the day after. The only thing that kept Azriel from losing control completely was that thread, no matter how faint, he could still feel her on the other side.

She was alive, burning, those swirling emotions screaming down the bond. Anger, despair, loneliness, longing, fear, so many emotions that mirrored everything Azriel felt. He wondered how much of it was her and how much of it was him.

By the end of the second day, sheer exhaustion had him falling into bed, his brother closing the door behind him to go find his own bed, his mate in it. Azriel was to tired to say anything, even the thank you Cassian deserved for staying with him, for holding him together.

Sleep took him, and he welcomed the blissful darkness.

Wake up, wake, she’s back, wake up, she’s here, outside, back. His body jolts, startled awake by the whispering shadows around his head. Even without them telling him, he knew she was back, could feel her close on the other side of that tether. Closer and closer she grew, coming down the hall towards him. He didn’t think, didn’t stop, just ran to the door, hauling it open to see her standing there, her back turned to him, hand resting on her own door.

“Where the fuck have you been?”

His voice is gravely, still heavy with sleep and lingering emotions that comes to the forefront as soon as her scent hits him.

“None of your business.” It lacks her usual snark, no heat behind it, “It’s late, I’m tired.”

His hand moves on its own, fingers wrapping around her bicep and pulling, rougher than he meant to be but in that moment he didn’t have it in him to care. He’d spent the last two days worrying, scared shitless over where she could be, he couldn’t control the fierce heat that rose in his blood.

She looks up at him, eyes ice cold, “What do you want?”

“Where have you been?” He repeats, each word sharp and short, “You can’t just disappear for two days and expect me to just-“

“Oh fuck off,” she snarls, “I don’t owe you shit, shadowsinger.”

He can feel the spark of anger in her, and it mirrors his own. She’d ran away, flown off to who knows where, and left him. She left him.

“It’s a simple question, Princess.” He pulls her closer to him, looking down at her, “Why do you have to make everything so difficult.”

She gives him one of those sweet little smiles that makes him see red, makes the reins on his control snap. His hand shoots up, wrapping behind her neck and gripping a handful of her hair, pulling so she’s looking up at him. Her mouth opens, most likely to yell at him, to snarl and snap those lethal teeth at his throat, but he doesn’t give her the chance.

Their lips crash together, viciously devouring each other. Azriel pours every emotion he had felt in the past few days into it, the heat and anger, the despair and loneliness, the desire. He decided then that he didn’t care, he would take what she would give him, would be her distraction, would lay his soul bear for her, would let her rip his heart from his chest to bring it with her when she left him behind. He didn’t care that it would kill him to let her leave, to let her leave and never know that he was her mate, he didn’t care, he needed her, needed to feel her, to worship her.

He holds her to him, wrapping one arm around her waist, the other gripping her hair to keep her exactly where he wants her. Her hand grips his arm, nails digging into the flesh, her other grabs the collar of his shirt and pulls him impossibly closer.

There was no softness, no gentle touch and soft passion, it was hard and painful. Her teeth drawing blood from his lip where she bites him, his hand bruising her sides where he holds her.

“You’re a fucking prick,” she snarls against him, pulling away just enough that he can still feel her lips against his.

The hand in her hair roughly pulls, forcing her back so that he can look her in the eyes, he notes the small moan that she tries to hold back, “You’re infuriating, Princess.”

She presses closer to him and he almost hisses at the contact, “I can feel just how infuriated you are, shadowsinger.”

He lets go of her hair, reaching down to her thighs to hoist her up. Her legs wrap around his hips as he presses her body into the door behind her. The sound she makes almost brings him to his knees. He can feel her pressed against him, his cock straining in his leathers.

“I can’t stand you.” Her head falls back against the door, letting him trail his lips and tongue down her throat, “You insufferable male."

He finds her pulse and nips at the sensitive spot. It draws a heady sigh from her lips, he does it again just so he can hear that sweet sound. She claws at his back as he wraps is lips around that spot, writhing against him as he leaves a deep purple mark. Azriel has to grip her thighs even harder to keep her still, or he’d lose his mind completely and take her against the wall.

“Gods,” she pants, “Azriel please.”

He kisses that claiming mark, “Please what, Princess?”

She lets out a soft growl, pushing his face away from her neck. Her lips find his again, her nails digging painfully into his cheek. He groans into it and holds her up with one arm, using the other to unlatch the door. It swings open and he takes them inside, slamming it shut behind him. Only the soft moon light illuminates the space, Azriel doesn’t need it to find her bed.

He practically throws her onto the center of it, grinning at the feral hiss she lets out, “I’m not a damned rag doll, you bastard.”

Y/n props herself up on her elbows, looking up at him with those eyes on fire. She looks delicious in the soft light, hair a mess, lips swollen, that mark on her neck a deep dark purple. A sick sense of purely male pride overwhelms him, she would walk around with that bruise for days, and everyone would know she belonged to him.

“No of course not,” he smirks, slowly crawling onto the bed, over her, caging her in, “A rag doll wouldn’t talk back this much.”

“I hate you,” she sighs, glaring up at him.

“That’s fine.” It wasn’t, it was the opposite of fine. “You can hate me all you want.”

He doesn’t let her respond, doesn’t let her wield that poison tipped tongue to open the wound in his heart anymore. Instead, his scarred hands grip the soft material of her shirt and rips.

Azriel groans at the sight, and Y/n gasps as the chilled air drifts across her exposed chest. Soft and perfect, large and heavy, Azriel takes her in, the valley between that leads down to her belly, the curve of her waist, he devours her with his eyes. Her arms lift to cover herself but his fingers wrap around her wrists and pins them roughly above her head. He wouldn’t let her hide from him.

“Beautiful, so gods damned perfect,” he growls, leaning down to capture one of the peaks in his mouth.

Her back arches off the bed, pressing closer to his tongue, to his teeth that pinch the little bud, drawing a sharp gasp from her. He keeps her wrists in one hand, the other trailing down to her chest, gripping the soft flesh in his palm and squeezing. He groans against her, keeping his hold on her wrist despite the way she writhes and pulls against him. The most devastatingly melodic sounds fall from her lips, moans and pleading sighs.

“What do you want, Princess?” He asks, trailing kisses across her soft skin, leaving those claiming bruises as he goes, “Tell me what you want.”

“More,” she groans, hissing when he takes a nipple between his fingers, squeezing and rolling it without mercy, “More, I need more, I need to touch you.”

He grins, “Don’t be greedy, Princess.”

She growls and pulls against the hold on her wrists, desperately trying to break free of his iron grip. Of course she’d fight him, even now when he was ready to lay the world at her feet, she would fight him. He lets her win, lets her rip her hands from his, lets her use those claws to rip at his shirt, tearing it from his body like he’d done to her.

“Did that make you feel better?” He taunts, smirking at the way her eyes take him in.

“Shut up.”

Her hands trace the tattoos across his chest, nails dragging across him with just enough pressure to draw a hiss from his lips. Violent, wicked, beautiful. She was perfect, so damned perfect.

He drops his lips to the valley between her breasts, kissing down the plane of her stomach while his fingers deftly work at the ties of her leathers. Her hands drag through his hair, tugging at the strands as she gasps and moans at every touch.

Azriel makes quick work of her leathers, roughly tugging them down her thighs, throwing them behind them without care. Her scent washes over him, sweet arousal that has him growling low in his chest. The delicate black fabric covering her center is easy to tear off her body, revealing all of her to him.

“Look at you,” he groans, sitting back on his heels so he could see all of her, “Perfect, absolutely perfect.”

“I told you I was your type,” she breathes, that saccharine on her lips.

Azriel shifts, placing himself directly between her legs, his scarred hands pushing apart her thighs so he could see her dripping for him. His fingers dig into her strong thighs, more bruises for her to wear.

“Az,” she whines, glaring through her heavy lidded eyes, “don’t just stare, do some-“

Her pleas turn into desperate moans as he drops his head to her, laying down between her thighs so he can properly worship her. He runs is tongue directly over her center, tasting her like she was his last meal to savor. So impossibly sweet, her taste has him growling against her.

“Fuck, Az,” Y/n practically screams, rolling her hips as his tongue circles the bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs.

He could do this for hours, flattening his tongue against her, sucking, biting, bringing out those noises that sound like music to his ears. The hands in his hair pull and push like she can’t tell if she needs him closer or to stop, he has to pin her to the bed with his arm to stop her from writhing away.

He can feel her on the other side of the bond no matter how hard he tries to dampen in, can feel the intense pleasure, it ripples through him, making him strain against his leathers uncomfortably. He has to press his hips into the bed to relieve some of the pain of it.

“Gods damnit,” she gasps, “Az, I- fuck.”

He’s half tempted to taunt her for the way she stumbles over the words, but to do that he’d have to take his mouth off of her and he wasn’t willing to do that. Instead, he takes is free hand, softly tracing it up her thigh, until it’s posed at her entrance. He uses a single scarred finger, dragging it through her wetness. Her hips desperately try to chase the digit and he laughs against her, sending a shiver through her at the vibration.

“Please,” she begs, and it’s the sweetest sound he’d ever heard, “Az, please.”

Azriel doesn’t hesitate to plunge into her, groaning at the feeling, grinding his cock into the bed. She’s moaning and cursing as he curls his finger to find that spot inside that would make her see stars, that would have her coming undone on his tongue. When she screams his name, he knows he’s found it and he keeps brushing the spot over and over as his mouth devours her clit. He adds a second finger, the tight stretch around them nearly enough to send him over the edge.

“Az, don’t stop,” Y/n gasps, head thrown back in pleasure, “please I-“

There on the other side of that tendril of shadow he feels the band in the pit of her stomach tighten and tighten. His tongue flattens against her, his fingers curl, and that band snaps.

He doesn’t stop, keeps rolling his tongue over her, keeps moving his fingers as the shocks run through her, his arm pinning her down as she writhes beneath him. Wave after wave after wave until she’s pulling away from him, trying to escape the pleasure that slowly turns into delicious pain.

“Az, please,” Y/n sobs, “I can’t, fuck, please.”

It takes more effort than he’s willing to admit to pry himself away, the way she gasps as his fingers pull out of her makes him want to go right back in. Addictive, she is absolutely addictive.

Y/n goes limp beneath him, panting like she’d ran a marathon, he’s half tempted to tease her for that too if she didn’t look so tired. Eyes heavy like she was fighting to stay awake.

It only hits him then that she had been out, Mother knows where, for days, flying far enough away that he could barely feel her through the bond. She had to be exhausted, and Azriel had throughly worn out any energy she might have had left.

He pulls away, tugging down the rumpled sheets. She doesn’t acknowledge what he’s doing, not until he’s carefully wrapping his arms around her, one behind her back the other below her legs. She’s almost limp in his arm as he gently lays her at the head of the bed.

“What are you doing?” She asks, voice hoarse, “What about you?”

His cock was begging for attention, begging for her hand, for her mouth, for her cunt. He’d need to take care of himself to get rid of the aching need.

Azriel brings the duvet up to her chin, “I’m fine, Princess. You need to sleep.”

“But-“

He grins down at her, leaning down to brush his lips across her cheek, “Don’t worry, I’m not done with you yet. I have a whole list of ways to ravish you. You’ll be begging me to let you sleep.”

A soft whine, “Az, I want-“

“Sleep, Princess.” He stands, moving towards the door, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Azriel has to force himself to take each step away from her when everything in him is screaming for him to turn around and take everything she had to offer. His shadows plead with him to stop, to do just that, pulling back towards her against the tight reins he keeps on them.

“Az.” The softest whisper, he almost doesn’t hear it, “Stay, please.”

Y/n looks at him, those eyes still heavy with sleep and an emotion so raw, so open, that he can’t help it when he says, “Of course, Princess.”

Tag list

@inloveallthetime , @microwaveallthedemons , @nayaniasworld , @thecraziestcrayon , @fightmedraco , @blackgirlmagicforever , @nikt-wazny-y , @fangirlloza010 , @thisiskaylin , @wolfgirl624 , @khaleesihavilliard , @fluffy-bnny , @mariahoedt , @durgenyx , @glitterypirateduck , @byyalady , @amberlynn98 , @ferrarisbitch , @a-cup-of-nightshade , @breella , @hnnybee0 , @superspideyparker , @that-one-little-soybean , @thebeautifulmysteriesoflife , @websterss , @sassybluebird , @fakesocialmediaa , @balsalmic-vinegar , @lees-chaotic-brain , @yashiw , @a-mexican-waffle , @thefairlyaveragegatsby , @tele86 , @emidpsandia , @nickishadow139 , @basicwhiterat

#these two have zero idea how to properly communicate #gone is that soft early morning talk #we’re here for the pure horniness #also I have written smut like once before so let me know if this is trash or not #acotar #azriel x reader #acotar x reader #azriel #rowaelin daughter #rowaelin #not again

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scoonsalicious · 3 days

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Unwanted: Chapter 22, Untold - Pt. 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, alcohol consumption, strippers,

Word Count: 1.5k

Previously On...: Tony expressed his concerns about you going on this mission.

A/N: When Tony Met Pocket!

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Sadly, tag list is closed; Tumblr will not let me add anyone new. If you want to be notified when I update, please Follow me for Notifications!) @jmeelee @cazellen @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @blackhawkfanatic @buckybarnessimpp @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @vicmc624 @j23r23 @wintercrows @crist1216 @cjand10 @pattiemac1@les-sel @dottirose @winterslove1917 @harperkenobi @ivet4 @casey1-2007 @mrsevans90 @steeph-aniie @bean-bean2000 @beanbagbitch @peachiestevie @wintrsoldrluvr @shadowzena43

Tumblr will not let me directly tag the following: @marcswife21 @erelierraceala @jupiter-107 @doublejeon @hiqhkey @unaxv @brookeleclerc

Boston, 2002

The bass inside the club was pounding, reverberating through the air and your skull as you made your way onto the floor. The day had already been unbearably long, and after your shift tonight, you still had a mountain of reading to do for your Introduction to Data Structures and Algorithms class. But, MIT courses didn’t come cheap, even at two classes a semester, and you needed every penny you could make from your shifts at Beantown Burlesque. It would make more sense, financially, to work a club closer to the college, but the idea of running into any of your classmates or, god forbid, your professors, made the extra time and money you spent commuting from Cambridge to inner Boston completely worth it.

Not that you expected a lot of tips tonight. It would have been better if you’d been scheduled to work the stage before they sent you to the floor; you were always requested for more lap dances after the patrons had seen you work the pole. You’d just have to work your ass off to entice a couple of lonely men into the VIP booth. But that always came with the additional task of fighting off requests for additional “services.” You may have been desperate for cash, but you were quite done with having your body sold for money, thank you.

You made your way over to the bar, hoping to get some intel on tonight’s patrons so you could shoot your best shot.

“How’s it goin’ tonight, Cherry Pie?” the bartender, Mac, asked, using the pseudonym you’d chosen for your stage name when you started at the club a year ago.

“No complaints yet, Mac,” you said, gratefully accepting the glass of water he offered you– it was important to stay hydrated, after all, “but then again, the night is very young.”

Mac let out a gruff laugh as he wiped down a glass. “You’re too young to be so cynical, Cherr,” he said.

You shrugged. That was an understatement. “Any good prospects tonight?” you asked, leaning your elbows on the bartop.

Mac nodded his chin toward a group of young men sitting close to the stage. “That group over there’s racked up a pretty big tab so far. Think they’re from the MIT alumni conference.” That piqued your interest. Beantown Burlesque might not be the ideal place to network, but you’d honestly take whatever you could get.

“They seem decent enough?” you asked Mac.

“About as decent as any group of blokes that come here,” he offered. “But they’ve been pretty respectful so far; no one’s tried to put hands anywhere they shouldn’t.”

“Good enough for me,” you told him. With a parting wave, you sauntered over to the group, making sure to put some extra sway in your hips. As you approached, you surveyed the collection of men. They all seemed to be centering their focus on one man in particular– he was dark haired with a goatee and wearing a pair of tinted glasses and looked vaguely familiar, though you couldn’t place where you might have seen him before. You clocked his expensive loafers and custom Armani suit, and the way the others around him laughed a little too loudly at what he was saying.

That’s the one, you thought to yourself. He had the money. If you were going to make your rent on time this month, he was the one you’d need to impress.

“You boys fancy some company tonight?” you asked once you approached the group. The man with the goatee leaned forward, a sure sign of interest, and looked at you over the lens of his glasses.

“Well, gorgeous,” he said with a smirk, “we're not ones to turn down an offer for good companionship, especially from someone as captivating as you. But let's be real, the question is whether you can keep up with us. Think you're ready for the challenge?”

Oh, this one was cocky. You could work with that. You trailed your fingertips along the tops of his shoulders as you made your way around to the table in front of him. Without breaking eye contact, you picked up the double shot of whiskey sitting there and downed the entire thing in one swig without flinching.

The other men in the group whooped and hollered at your display, but the man with the goatee just studied you with a peculiar look on his face. “What’s your name, sweetheart?” he asked.

“You can call me Cherry Pie,” you said as you began swaying your hips to the rhythm of the music coming through the speakers.

“I didn’t ask what they call you here,” he said, leaning back as you put your hands on his shoulder and began swaying in between his legs. “I asked for your name.”

“You haven’t spent nearly enough to earn that, honey,” you said as you gyrated.

The man laughed at that, then, reaching for his wallet, pulled out a handful of crisp, one hundred dollar bills. He gently tucked them into the waistband of your bottoms. “How’s that?”

You looked at the bills tucked into your underwear. By your guess, there was about eight hundred dollars there. You just might make rent, after all. “It’s a start,” you shrugged, beginning your tried and true lap dance routine.

One of the other men in the group let out a loud laugh. “She’s sure got your number, Stark!”

At the name, your eyes shot to the man with the goatee’s face, and it suddenly clicked for you. “Holy shit,” you breathed. “You’re Tony Stark.”

Stark smiled. “Guilty as charged, sweetheart.”

“Your company’s network security sucks ass,” you told him, the words coming out of your mouth before you could stop them.

He quirked an eyebrow at that. “Excuse me?”

Fuck. “Uh, nothing, sorry. Forget I said anything.” You put a renewed vigor back into your dance.

“Um, no.” Stark said, grasping your wrist firmly enough to encourage you to stop dancing, but gently enough to let you know he posed you no threat. “I want to hear how a stripper knows the faults of my network security.”

You blushed at that. “I, uh, may have broken in the back door and temporarily held your system hostage for ten minutes last May,” you confessed.

“That was you?” Stark exclaimed. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he sounded… impressed. “You paralyzed our entire operation!”

“Yeah… sorry about that.” Well, you could kiss any further tips goodbye, that was for sure.

“Why’d you relinquish control back to us?” he asked. “You could have held it for ransom; we would have paid whatever you asked for.”

Huh. You had never even considered doing that. “Well, um, actually, I did it as part of a final project? For my Engineering Ethics and Professionalism course at MIT?”

Stark cocked his head at you. “With Erickson?” You nodded, and Stark actually laughed. “He still a narcissistic son of a bitch?”

You chuckled and nodded. “Sexist, too. He nearly shat a brick when he had to watch a mere girl bring a Fortune 500 company to its knees.”

Stark laughed, heartily. “I’ll bet he did! What I wouldn’t have given to see his face!”

“I set up a camera to record it,” you told him. “I can make you a copy of the VHS, if you want. I needed to capture the moment for posterity.”

From there, the atmosphere and your position in the group shifted. You were no longer the entertainment. Tony (he insisted you call him that) invited you to join him as his equal, and for the next several hours, he picked your brain, testing your knowledge and asking you questions about yourself, much to the displeasure of the rest of his group. One by one, they departed, until it was just the two of you. You were having the time of your life. You figured you’d never again have the opportunity to sit back and just hang out with such an icon of the tech community, and you were going to make the most of it. Now, here you were playing a game of Never Have I Ever.

“Never have I ever sheared a sheep,” Tony said with a grin.

“Why, Mr. Stark,” you said, bringing your glass to your lips (you failed to mention that, technically, you weren’t legally old enough to drink), “you haven’t truly lived until you’ve shorn the raw wool from an unwilling ewe.”

“You’re shitting me,” Tony said, laughing.

You took the glass from your lips without drinking. “You got me,” you told him. I grew up in Dayton. Not a whole lotta opportunities for sheep shearing there.”

A mischievous glint came into Tony’s eyes. “Your shift’s got to be almost over,” he said. “What do you say, Cherry Pie? Wanna go shear a sheep?”

“(Y/N),” you told him. “My name’s (Y/N), and I would fucking love to.”

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

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chibieggplant · 15 hours

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Trafalgar Law ~ Doodles ~ Part 3

Trafalgar Law soulmate au | Imagine a magical connection between you and your soulmate, where everything you write on your arm appears on your soulmate's arm, too.

Part 3/3 | Part One | Part Two

“I…” You could only manage one word at this point; any more words were too hard to get out as you stared at the spot on his arm where the bear doodle previously was. The thought of your soulmate existing was already absurd, and you had long given up on trying to believe. However, this…this was proof. The bear doodle, exact, no room for misinterpretation. You were so shocked you could barely even speak at all as you remained still. All you could do was stare forward as your eyes moved to meet his.

Law looked at you, and as soon as he spotted your shock, he instantly understood what you were feeling. After all, his reaction was the same. Law was practically dumbfounded as the realisation hit him. Yet he also felt like the most idiotic person in the entire world. He never wrote back. Not once. Now that his soulmate was right in front of him, he felt both delighted and upset at himself as he continued to stare at you. He was feeling all kinds of emotions all at once. Joy, shock, fear, and so much more that he couldn’t even think of a name for. He felt so happy, yet so stupid; so relieved yet so scared.

Law couldn’t take his eyes off you despite part of him wanting to run away. He could see you trying to process everything as it came flooding in after years of silence. He felt terrible, awful. At this moment, he felt like an idiot for not writing back to you. His feelings were just as chaotic as yours right now. He could barely believe this was real. He had spent an entire decade telling himself he had no time for his soulmate. That he would only bring you trouble; after all that time, it felt surreal to be standing before you, knowing that fate had bound you together.

Law tried to muster up something to say, but it seemed just as challenging for him to speak as it appeared for you. Yet he needed to say something. There was this entire decade’s worth of conversation he needed to make up for. He tried to move his arms, perhaps to hug or touch you in some way, as he felt the need to show you some physical affection after so long, but it was as if they were frozen in place. The next thing he noticed was a tear started to roll down your cheek. His heart froze in his chest at the sight of the tear running down your face. This was what made him break. He could deal with you looking shocked. He could deal with you staring at him blankly. But seeing your tear just sent a spear through him. His vision was becoming blurrier as tears slowly began to fall from his eyes, too. He was a mess, and he suddenly felt so lucky to meet his soulmate finally. He realised he had wasted an entire decade’s opportunity to talk to you. To spend time with you. As this realisation set in, he wanted nothing more than for you to forgive him.

“W-why didn’t you write back?” your voice was full of emotion, and it was hard for you to manage it enough to get the words out. But it had to be said. Your tears quickly turned into a steady stream flowing down your cheeks as you began to break down in your senses. The floodgates had opened, and all the hurt you had felt, all the sadness you had felt and all the pent-up feelings had just been released. Law couldn’t hold it back anymore. He let out a muffled cry as he rushed forward and hugged you as tightly as he could. Law kept his hold tight around you as he buried his head into your shoulder. Your words hurt him. They really hurt him. He didn't want to give you some lame excuse, but the harder he tried to come up with something, the more he realised that his reason was just plain stupid.

“I’m sorry...I’m so sorry…” he said it again and again, his voice slowly becoming even more muffled as he became even more emotional. His heart raced as he remembered all of his own emotions. He was scared. He was scared that you would hate him. Scared that you would never forgive him. Scared to hear your response to his apology. He was scared of…well, a lot of things. He wanted to speak, though; he wanted to explain his stupid behaviour.

Law still couldn’t get the words out, though, as a few more tears streamed down his face. All he could do right now was cling to you as he continued to mutter his apologies. He was scared that you were going to reject him. After a decade of no response, you must despise him. His mind was in a frenzy. It was filled with an ungodly amount of fears and regrets. He hated himself. He should have written back all that time ago. He should have talked to you. He shouldn’t have made you feel so alone. For someone that everyone regarded as intelligent, he felt so stupid. Stupid for not writing back. Stupid for ignoring you. He was foolish for thinking he didn’t have time. Everything just felt so silly and pointless. He was probably the worst soulmate in the entire world. He couldn’t even imagine how much you must hate him for his actions. What a horrible person he was. This is why he never wrote back. He didn't deserve you. He didn't deserve anyone.

Your words sounded broken through muffled sobs as you clung to him and buried your head in his shoulder. “I-i thought you didn’t exist, I-i thought I didn't have anyone…”

Law froze at your words as they hit him like another spear to the heart. The years of silence, the years of false hope. All that wasted time. He was fully aware that he had been thoughtless by disregarding your emotions. But hearing you say it just broke his heart even more. He squeezed you tightly as he tried to suppress his pain. “I’m so sorry…I-”

He was an idiot. He shouldn’t have let this go on so long. He shouldn’t have been so stupid. He should have just listened to his heart and written back. He didn’t want to admit it, but he loved your silly doodles. But he was afraid. He was scared of rejection and convinced that no one could love him. “Please forgive me…I…I…” Law could barely finish. He prayed to every possible god that you could forgive him for his stupidity. He continued to sob into your shoulder, squeezing you as tightly as he could as he repeated his apology. He hoped to god that there was still a chance at forgiveness. He prayed that you could forgive him. Because right now, he could barely stand for how much of an idiot he had been. All this time, he had thought you would be better off without him, so he never wrote back, but all he had done was sabotage himself. He had deprived himself of years' worth of conversations. Years worth of love.

“…I was so afraid you’d hate me, t-that I was…” Law choked out as the last words left his mouth. All the guilt all of the regret came crashing down over him. He felt weak. He felt so damn…stupid. This whole time, he had convinced himself that he was okay with being apart from you. That all of this didn’t matter to him. But at this moment, his whole world came crashing down. You were real. You were his soulmate. And he had made a fool out of himself by avoiding you all these years. He felt sick. He had lost an entire decade of potential happiness all because he was an idiotic, scared little brat. But now, you were real. You were real and in his arms.

“I thought…that I was too broken. I thought that there was no way that you could ever love someone like me. And I was so…” Law broke down again, finally saying the words he had been dying to say all this time. Words he had been denying for a very long time. “I just thought you would deserve someone so much…better…I’d bring you trouble” Law’s grip loosened up slightly, but his arms still wrapped tightly around you as he continued to bury his face into your shoulder. “I…I thought that I didn’t deserve you. I…I‘m not a good person. So, I thought I was doing both of us a favour by not…not writing back. I was going to protect you from myself” He could barely manage to get the words out as fresh tears streamed down his face. It might have seemed like a weak excuse, but it was the truth.

“I-I know I've been the world's biggest idiot, but…the longer I avoided it, the harder it was to write anything. I didn’t even know how I could face you after…after all of this time. I was scared of what you’d say. I thought you’d probably hate-“ His breath hitched. He hated that he had been so afraid. He regretted that he had not given you a chance. He was now aware that as a consequence of this, he might end up losing something he never got the opportunity even to experience.

“It’s okay…” you suddenly said as you held back any more tears, interrupting the torrent of words about to erupt from Law’s mouth. You paused momentarily and leaned back to meet his gaze as you spoke. “It’s okay…you’re here now.”

Law froze as you interrupted him, and those two simple words hit him like a brick to the head. He had been so scared and so worried but...it was okay? You didn’t hate him-no you forgave him. You had found it in you to forgive him even though he had kept away from you for years. Even though he was the one who refused to write you even a single word, you had forgiven him? It was unbelievable. You were still standing there, holding onto him as tightly as he was holding onto you. Law didn't understand. He held onto you with the same intensity, trying to take in the weight of your forgiveness. He was utterly flabbergasted, he shouldn’t have been this surprised. You were just that type of person, you just forgave, and you just accepted. You were a genuine, good person to the very core. It was too much for Law though. He was used to harsh words, not forgiveness. He was used to being hated by most people and not being accepted. He found it difficult to cope with the situation.

Law’s grip loosened slightly, and he began to sob harder. He felt weak, and this was the most weak he had felt in a long time. He was supposed to be strong, but now he was breaking down. He was supposed to be able to take on all of this stress, but he couldn’t. He had no control, and he despised it. “H-how can you?…”Law’s lips were trembling as he tried to get a proper grasp on himself. He couldn’t believe you had forgiven him. Law was supposed to be some irredeemable, evil bastard, yet here he was, having the kindest, most gentle person he had ever known forgive him. He felt his entire body go limp. Tears were pouring down his face at the sudden onslaught of forgiveness. It just all became too much for him. He had been expecting to be hated, hated for the past decade of silence. But it was forgiveness instead. He felt his heart beat rapidly in his chest as he suddenly tightened his grip on you as hard as he could. “W-why are you being so nice to me? I mean, I don't even deserve your kindness…”

“Shhh…” you whispered as your arms wrapped around him as tight as they could. You weren’t going to let him self-deprecate. He’d spent the last decade hating himself and living in regret. You were going to fix that right here, right now. You were going to make sure that he knew what he deserved. And you were going to start by not letting him say any more bad things about himself.

“H-how can you forgive me…after everything? It’s not fair to you…” Law struggled to hold back his emotions as he attempted to protest.

“Because I have spent years believing that I didn't have a soulmate, and now, you're finally here, and it all feels worth it” You gave him a gentle smile as you pulled away slightly and wiped away the last of your tears. You felt like this moment was surreal, and the thought of rejecting him had never even crossed your mind. He was your soulmate, after all.

Law pulled back slightly too, his gaze fixed on you. And when he saw your smile, he felt warmth wash over him. His heartbeat slowed, and he finally felt he could breathe properly again. So this was it. He had finally found what he had been missing all this time - a person whom he could honestly care for and who reciprocated that same level of care. It was more than just a soulmate; it was a connection that had been absent from his life until now. He never even imagined this feeling. It was truly something else. And yet…he spent a decade afraid of this. He spent over a decade avoiding this feeling. He spent so much time, a decade's worth of time, just avoiding something that he always wanted despite telling himself the very concept was absurd. It was unbelievable, and it was downright moronic. But now here he was, with his soulmate. He was so happy, but at the same time, just so full of regret. But he didn’t want to focus on the past anymore. He spent enough time being alone. All that mattered was now.

Law slowly loosened up as his grip on you also loosened. He let out a deep, long sigh. he felt tired, but in the best way possible. It had been so long since he had felt this calm, this…serenity. His heart rate was finally stabilising, and though his breathing was still heavy, he was finally recovering. He took a gentle hold of your hand. He looked into your eyes and smiled. Law was finally done with it; he was finally done with letting the past rule him. He was finally done with letting his insecurities control him, and he was finally done letting the fear of others influence his every action. With this realisation came an entirely genuine smile. He had never really given much thought to his expression, but now it was the most genuine smile he had ever worn. It wasn't fake or forced. It was his natural smile, and he was finally free to let that be. The wave of relief and catharsis he had felt washed over him. It was the best feeling in the entire world...

Law continued to stare into your eyes as he lightly squeezed her hand. He felt at peace. At peace with himself, and at peace with life. Life didn't seem so cruel anymore, and neither did he. He was ready for anything life threw at him now. He just needed to know that you would stick around with him through all of it. Law gently squeezed your hand one more time before he spoke. He was never usually the talkative or the emotional type, but this whole interaction had brought those qualities straight to the surface. Now, he didn't mind talking just a bit more. He wanted to. “y/n…I…I have to ask…”

You smiled and nodded your head reassuringly. There was nothing he could say that would be off-limits. Law could ask you anything he wanted to ask. You had to know his heart before you went any further, right?

He looked you in the eyes as he took a deep breath before continuing. “y/n, could…could you really learn to love me despite all of this? Despite all of the stupid, idiotic actions I've made?” Law was almost afraid of the answer you might give. Would you still care about him if you knew even half the horrible things he had done? And what about everything else about him? What about his past? His personality? His actions? Everything about him was a mess. But…you were his soulmate, weren't you? So, if anyone had the potential to love him for who he was, it would be you.

You already knew the answer to his question, but you took a moment to consider the most effective way to express it. Eventually, you just decided to answer with complete honesty. “…I’ve been waiting years to speak to you. Years to find out who you are…wondering what you look like, what kind of person you are, what your favourite foods are, if you prefer morning or night…” you softly chuckled. “And I would love nothing more than to get to know every little thing about you….” Gently, you whispered your final words, and a faint rosy hue appeared on your cheeks “to fall in love with you…”

Your answer made him smile, and his grip on your hand tightened just the slightest bit. Your words were reassuring, but at the same time, he expected nothing else coming from you. It was a comforting feeling, knowing that someone accepted him. Someone who would even go as far as spending time with him to get to know him. To even consider the possibility of loving him. His cheeks blushed as he felt the warmth wash over his face after hearing your words. “…I-I like onigiri…and I’m more of a night owl than a morning person.” Law softly chuckled; he felt silly, and his cheeks were now a light shade of red. This was all so foreign to him, this light...affection...he could almost get used to it. Law's lips slowly began to form a warm smile. He clasped your hand and softly ran his thumb over your skin. He wasn't sure if you could tell, but this was the happiest he had felt in years.

#one piece #one piece x reader #trafalgar law #trafalgar law x reader #soulmate au

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anistarrose · 2 days

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I think when a lot of queer people who aspire to marriage, and remember (rightly) fighting for the right to marriage, see queer people who don't want marriage, talking about not entering or even reforming or abolishing marriage, there's an assumption I can't fault anyone for having — because it's an assumption borne of trauma — that queers who aren't big on marriage are inadvertently or purposefully going to either foolishly deprive themselves of rights, or dangerously deprive everyone of the rights associated with marriage. But that's markedly untrue. We only want rights to stop being locked behind marriages. We want an end to discrimination against the unmarried.

We want a multitude of rights for polyamorous relationships. We want ways to fully recognize and extend rights to non-romantic and/or non-sexual unions, including but not limited to QPRs, in a setting distinct from the one that (modern) history has spent so long conflating with romance and sex in a way that makes many of us so deeply uncomfortable. And many of us are also disabled queers who are furious about marriage stripping the disabled of all benefits.

We want options to co-parent, and retain legal rights to see children, that extends to more than two people, and by necessity, to non-biological parents (which, by the way, hasn't always automatically followed from same-gender marriage equality even in places where said equality nominally exists. Our struggles are not as different as you think). We would like for (found or biological) family members and siblings to co-habitate as equal members of a household, perhaps even with pooled finances or engaging in aforementioned co-parenting, without anyone trying to fit the dynamic into a "marriage-shaped box" and assume it's incestuous. We want options to leave either marriages, or alternative agreements, that are less onerous than divorce proceedings have historically been.

I can't speak for every person who does not want to marry, but on average, spurning marriage is not a choice we make lightly. We are deeply, deeply aware of the benefits that only marriage can currently provide. And we do not take that information lightly. We demand better.

Now, talking about the benefits of marriage in respective countries' current legal frameworks, so that all people can make choices from an informed place, is all well and good — but is not an appropriate response to someone saying they are uncomfortable with marriage. There are people for whom entering a marriage, with all its associated norms, expectations, and baggage, would feel like a betrayal of one's self and authenticity that would shake them to their core — and every day, I struggle to unpack if I'm one of them or not. If I want to marry for tax benefits, or not. If that's worth the risk of losing disability benefits, in the (very plausible) possibility that I have to apply for them later in life. If that's worth the emotional burden of having to explain over and over, to both well-meaning and deeply conservative family members, that this relationship is not one of romance or sex. (Because, god, trying just to explain aromanticism or asexuality in a world that broadly thinks they're "fake" is emotional labor enough.)

Marriage is a fundamental alteration to who I am, to what rights an ableist government grants me, and to how I am perceived. I don't criticize the institution just because I enjoy a "free spirit" aesthetic or think the wedding industry is annoying, or whatever.

#to claim “gay marriage is assimilationist” is of course bullshit and ahistorical #but to claim “gay marriage is the last marriage reform we need” is even more bullshit. in the vein of “fuck you; i got mine”#amatonormativity #marriage #there's also something idk if i'm that qualified to articulate as a culturally christian person (even if nonreligious)#but concepts of marriage (or lack thereof) vary across the globe and across cultures #yet legal marriage - which crosses borders via presence in immigration law (in addition to obvious colonialism)#can impose extremely eurocentric norms onto countless people #which is a strong argument for separating spiritual/religious marriage from legal benefits tbh #they're *supposedly* separated in the US but you know obergerfell wouldn't have taken until 2015 if that was fully true

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callipraxia · 1 day

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Further Interview Analysis: the "Ford Plan," and Bill's Blind Spot

I didn’t sleep again the night after the “musical Weirdmageddon” post, and wrote a lot of loopy stuff the next day, and posted none of it. But then I slept, so yay, time for an attempt at some actual analysis! Original interview is, as before, here, with credit and thanks to @fordtato and @hkthatgffan.

"I think that Bill was trying to find Ford, but I think- I always think of Bill as like, this guy who has, like - you know, he’s stirring the pot of soup that is the Ford plan, and he’s got like 900 pots of soup across the universe of different things he’s working on, and at any given moment, he’s so cocksure that it’s all gonna work his way eventually."

Bill’s a trillion years old, so it’s like, Ford disappearing for thirty years is like- [snaps fingers] is like somebody saying they’re ghosting you and then texting you the next weekend, you know what I mean? He’s like- he’s like [handwave] “Ford’s gonna- Ford’s gonna be back. Ohh, [air quotes] we had such a big fight, Ford’s sooo mad at me,” oh, you know, “our will-they-won’t-they-take-over-the-universe relationship, like, he’s gonna- he’s gonna march off in a huff, and he’ll be back, ‘cause we’re- is Ford gonna find anyone else in the multiverse that strokes his ego as well as me?” Is there anybody else in the universe that’s gonna make Ford feel as important as Bill? No, of course not, Ford needs validation, and so Bill knows Ford’s gonna be back eventually.

...so, Bill still had a "Ford plan," did he? Like, some active plan that involved using Ford in some way to escape the Nightmare Dimension? Interesting.

I always interpreted his cliche-villain-gloating routine when Ford confronts him about being a liar as the point where Bill was ready to discard Ford altogether. If he had wanted to - if he could have been bothered - after all, he probably would have had a very high chance of somehow manipulating Ford out of the realization that he'd been played: Ford had been literally worshiping Bill a few days earlier. He was basically a cultist, and he was not only someone who'd spent way too long talking to Bill, he was also someone who could only confront Bill on Bill's turf, so to speak. But Bill didn't even try to turn it all around, because (ran my reasoning) he'd gotten what he really needed: the Portal existed, and you can't close Pandora's box. The technology was there. It would not, from Bill's trillions-of-years perspective, have taken very long to find some way to manipulate someone else into rebuilding the Portal once it existed even given Ford's attempts to hide the plans. Bill was scribbling on the Journal in invisible ink after Ford's last entry, before he buried it but after he wrote all about his plans in some detail, even drawing a map to J2. The Journal separation plan would have been laughably easy for Bill to work around. So at that point, I assumed that the only reason Bill didn't arrange for Ford to - if I may be blunt - kill himself the first time he blacked out was because Bill was basically getting off on the psychological torture and wanted to see how long he could keep it going/enjoy himself until Ford literally died of exhaustion. Ford certainly seems to think he'd have been killed if he had lost the game of 'hide and seek' in the asteroid field. I thought the idea that "Bill used Ford until he used him up, and now he was done with him" was basically canon, and that Bill paid no more attention to him from that point onward than you would pay to a broken Solo cup in the trash until Ford did something unexpected - ie, survived the Multiverse, came back with a death ray, apparently took out a few Henchmaniacs, almost shot Bill himself, and then survived the experience.

But here we have what I suppose amounts of authorial commentary which seems to directly contradict the idea that Bill didn't even regard Ford was worth finding and/or killing. Bill was looking for Ford, all those years - not all that intently, apparently, or really very long from Bill's point of view, of course, but still - and Bill still had a plan for Ford. Bill also, if I'm reading that right, seems to have really just expected Ford to come back, of his own free will, to join him eventually, not to kill him.

Of course, it's possible I'm reading that wrong, and Bill just knew that killing him would also give Ford a massive ego boost and that Ford would have to eventually reenter his orbit in order to attempt to do so. It's also true that Bill just not being able to accept rejection in no way, by itself, implies he wasn't planning to go "hahahaha, no" and kill Ford fifteen seconds after he finished begging Bill for forgiveness. But the 'Ford plan' bit seems to undermine that. Let's assume the hesitations and half-sentences are Hirsch improvising, not Bill actually cutting off a thought he might not like the end of. So was Bill genuinely never planning to kill Ford after he bumbled into the Nightmare Realm back in '82? And if not - what in the world was he planning to do to him once one of the Henchmaniacs caught him, then? And why do I have the feeling that whatever it was would have made murder seem both a) kind and b) not at all disturbing by comparison?

Also gives us, in a way, some insight into Bill. Kinda. We've always known that there's this...level, this very deep, seldom-relevant but very important level, on which Bill doesn't quite understand how people work. We see it primarily in the mistakes that Bill makes with Stan and Mabel. Maybe there was nothing he could have said or done in the situation with Stan to save himself, Stan had reached the point of literally suicidal determination and there's really not much you can do to budge someone at that point and especially not once their consciousness has already caught fire, but with Mabel - in Sock Opera, all Bill needed to do to win was keep his mouth shut for three more seconds. He was clever enough to see how Dipper and Mabel's relationship could be exploited to get Dipper to do what he wanted, but he did the exact opposite of what he should have done to get Mabel to do what he wanted, because for one thing he underestimates Mabel and for another...it comes back to that elusive Thing that Bill can't or won't understand about the deeper levels of humans. Or maybe it's Things, plural, and a distinct one for each person, but there's something there at the bottom of the personality that Bill apparently can't jive with.

With Ford, for instance, he clearly underestimates the power of genuine self-hatred and remorse. Bill may feel bad in some way about what he did to his homeworld, but look at the actual words of the Axolotl's prophecy: he feels that way not because he has realized at some point that what he did was fundamentally wrong, but because he wants to go home and can't. Essentially, his regret is for his own inconvenience. And in a lot of ways, I can see how that could have translated into him feeling he did, in fact, know all he needed to know to push Ford's buttons, because while it's never spelled out for us, it seems, based on his habit of carrying around family photographs on his person apparently since college despite not getting on well at all with his family, that there was maybe some tiny part of Ford that also wanted to "go home," and not just to flip off the town. Ford was also someone who deeply feared the consequences of his actions, if you read between the lines in the Journal - his worries about a 'Close Encounter' with the government, his scrawling that he must not lose his nerve on some early Portal notes, his talking more and more about Fiddleford losing his nerve in a way that starts seeming kind of projection-y - and Bill could certainly understand that fear perfectly well: we see Bill panic outright in the finale when he realizes he's out of options he's going to remotely like. In the unlikely event Stan would or even could save him, Stan obviously wouldn’t have done so so on Bill's own terms: Bill would have been stuck making an honest deal for once, or else left with the options of "die" and "take a one-in-a-million shot and do his invocation of the 'Ancient Power,' possibly putting himself squarely into the hands of an enemy whose full aims he probably does not know." But then, that's Bill's flaw - the things that drove him to become what he did were revenge and the fear of Death, of the ultimate loss of control. His arrogance makes him think he can take most any situation, no matter how disadvantageous it might seem, and twist it around sooner or later, but Death - well, that's it, ain't it? Or, as Horace might say in a really old translation:

When life is o'er, and Minos has rehearsed The grand last doom, Not birth, nor eloquence, nor worth, shall burst Torquatus' tomb.

(Horace, Ode 4.7. The Odes and Carmen Saeculare of Horace. John Conington. trans. London. George Bell and Sons. 1882.)

Bit different from most translations I've read, but close enough and in the public domain I believe, so we'll go with that. It's possible that Bill's...unique...state of existence may actually make dying an even more terrifying prospect for him than it for the rest of us. He became what he was to escape limitations, including mortality - but after all that killing and burning and transformation, he found out that he might not ever die, but that he could still be destroyed. And even when he found his own 'territory', it started decaying around him, which proved that dimensions, too, can die even if nobody is apparently actively trying to destroy them. What happens to him then? That's what he's afraid of, and he cannot quite grasp that others might be able to overcome that fear in service of either another principle or another fear. That's where he keeps running into trouble in the series timeline, too. It never occurred to him that Gideon might have enough humanity to want Mabel to actually care about him, instead of just about possessing her - much less that Gideon could want that enough to risk death for it. It was inconceivable to him that Dipper and Mabel could voluntarily turn their backs on even a blatantly false paradise to willingly walk into a living hell, just because it was the right thing to do. And as for Ford and Stan....

Well, on one level, he's right about Ford. When he met Ford, they did have certain things in common: frustration, ambition, deep and secret regrets, loneliness, and fear of facing the consequences. Ford's desire for respectability and honor from those who had rejected him his whole life may have extended this even further for him than it went for Bill in some ways: he couldn't even admit to himself that what he was doing was totally self-interested, whereas Bill, like Stan, has long since come to terms with his own selfishness. And like Bill, Ford probably didn't even have the ability to see that no matter what he did, it would never be enough, and would never really satisfy him. But death? Ford doesn't fear death. Never really has, as far as I can tell, but he certainly doesn't now. The way he lives his life, the man might as well be courting death - sending it roses every week and buying all its drinks at the bar, so to speak. He and Bill both fear the consequences of their actions, but 'consequences' are a category, and it's just as possible to be afraid to live as it is to be afraid to die. And Stan...Stan is harder to be sure of. Certainly Stan's priority is always for self-preservation. He's probably depressed to some degree, and he will risk life and limb without hesitation when he perceives a threat to that which he loves, but that's something that usually happens in a crisis. He doesn't hesitate because he doesn't think about what he's doing, which is what makes the Final Deal such an incredible gesture for me - he not only had plenty of time to think about what was going to happen, but he had to actively take steps himself to enable it to happen. To me, at least, that seems the hardest thing...but then, the whole situation in the Fearamid is one that brings to mind some of my worst fears, to the point that I find the scene difficult to watch and I almost scrapped an entire 22,000-word story once just because it required me to write about a small part of it. I'm sure Bill risked death, in some fashion, to become what he is, and I'm sure he was afraid of failure every time - but he was less afraid of a bad outcome that might come from leaping at the chance for some semblance of life, any semblance of life, no matter what that might look like or how long the odds might be, than he was of doing what he knew would lead to...wherever even destructible gods go, when they go. This is why the Stans were the thing he couldn't account for, really. He couldn't conceive of having a priority higher than self-preservation, of overcoming his worst fear - and that was what destroyed him. Maybe, anyway.

It's sort of funny, actually - I started writing a completely different post yesterday about how to develop a new character based on some of Hirsch's remarks, and in the course of it, I made the remark that I found it hard to fathom how you could write any of Gravity Falls, at all, without knowing ahead of time that it is the story of (if I can make so bold as to quote my own story's dialogue) "the Faustus of New Jersey and His Knucklehead Brother and the Hazard Sign From Hell," and without at least a fairly good understanding of who those three people are and how they got there. If one looks at the story that way, I suppose you could say the events after their starting situation are also the story of these three being thrown up against the places where their real deepest fears lie, and seeing who has something he really, really will not compromise on...or at least, it did at the start of this paragraph. But did any of them, really? Bill blatantly fails that test, of course - Bill runs, just like he's been, in a way, running for his entire miserable existence. Ford comes close to what might have been a couple of breaking experiences for him - either surrendering to Bill or, had the memory wipe worked the way he thought it would, with living with whatever the fallout of essentially killing his brother would have been - but the universe was kind and stacked the deck just enough to let him cheat his way out of that one, at least for the most part. But what about Stan? He didn't want to die, but we already knew that he'd risk it for the kids, because we've seen him do that before. The way he went about it this time arguably took more courage than the others, when he just went in swinging at an immediate and obvious threat, but it was still an escalation on an established thing. Stan's real worst fear isn’t death - it’s of being alone again, of losing his family. That's the principle that overrides self-preservation for him. What would have happened if he'd been in Ford's shoes - required to take up the role not of the sacrifice, but of the one who performed it, giving up one member of the family to save the others? Could he have done that?

...though that is wandering from the topic I was originally talking about, isn't it. Which was that yeah, Bill is, in his way, as fallible as anyone else despite his immense resources - which is gonna be a fun topic to get into when I get around to the post in this series about writing higher intelligences, but that's also not the point, which was that Ford was never going to go back to Bill the way Bill thought he was, because Bill's inability to understand other people's ability to do things that he can't is a serious blind spot for him. It's the thoughts he can't have that doom him (probably...hopefully, anyway...), fortunately for the rest of us.

#gravity falls #gravity falls characters #ford pines #stan pines #bill cipher #gravity falls analysis #inspired by the Hirsch interview #rambling happened #my ramblings

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nicksbestie · 2 days

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hi hi i hope you’re having a great day/night i was wondering if you could do a comfort nick x masc autistic reader where the reader is super interested in sea creatures and they go to the aquarium and the reader gets overwhelmed please

also love your work even though i just found it

Jellyfish - N. Sturniolo

Summary : A special date out with your boyfriend <3

Warnings : mentions of overwhelm but not negatively!

Word Count : 1215

Pairing : Nick Sturniolo/Reader (romantic)

A/N : This is written with a male and neurodivergent reader!

You absolutely adored the ocean.

It was your biggest passion, and everything that it contained were things you loved. Being autistic, your special interests could sometimes get overwhelming, but most of the time, you really enjoyed all the things you read about. You had always dreamed of cute little aquarium dates with a partner, shared sea creature stuffed animals, decorating things ocean themed. Your childhood bedroom wallpaper was covered in jellyfish, as that had always been your favorite of the animals that lived under the water. You had moved in with Nick recently, and you had your own room, due to the fact that sometimes you both just needed personal space, but Nick had helped you decorate it.

It had taken days, but Nick had never complained, and had patiently listened to all of your infodumping with a smile on his face, enjoying how happy you looked. He helped you paint, put up wallpaper, hang things from the ceiling, and hang up blue fairy lights around your window. When you were both done, your room truly looked like something out of a Pinterest board, and you were both absolutely obsessed with it. Nick spent a lot more time in your room than his, and you would eventually help him redecorate his own when he decided he needed a change of pace. What you didn’t know was that Nick had a surprise planned for your anniversary date in just a couple of hours, and he was so excited to see your reaction.

He had bought tickets to the aquarium just a town over, and had made sure to pay for the dolphin encounter as well. They weren’t your favorite, of course, but he knew that you would still be so excited about it. There was a jellyfish portion as well, and he had pored over every brochure to make sure that it was absolutely perfect. So, as you were getting ready to change into clothes to go out that night, he told you to dress comfortably over dressing fancy, because he knew you weren’t going out to dinner at some high end place. You seemed confused but trusted him, being happy you didn’t have to get too dressed up.

You had been on aquarium dates before, but this one was arguably the biggest one in the state, and you hadn’t been there yet. It had been too much of a drive, or you didn’t have the time to experience all of it, and you didn’t want to go and only be able to see half, or even less than that, so you had always put it off. Nick knew this, so he thought that it would be a perfect fit for your first anniversary, and he could argue that he was almost as excited as you were. A giant smile stayed on his face the whole time, and he held your hand the entire way there, thumb caressing the back of your hand, smiling at the light blue polish on your fingernails, a compliment to his own white ones.

He avoided telling you where you were going, telling you that it was a surprise that you would love. You really weren’t big on surprises, but you trusted him, and you knew that if he wasn’t telling you, it was something really good. He had put in the address on his phone, but split screened it over to his music application so that you couldn’t see the final address. The look on your face when he pulled into the parking lot and you registered what the large building in front of you was, was completely worth the struggle of keeping himself from telling you during the long drive. The smile that spread from ear to ear and the genuine happiness in your eyes made him smile just as wide, putting the car in park and unbuckling his seatbelt in favor of leaning over the center console to gently kiss you.

“So, are you gonna sit here in shock, or are we going in?”

You felt like you couldn’t even speak, returning the kiss before immediately getting out of the car, grabbing Nick’s hand as he made it around to walk next to you.

“I love you.”

He smiled, the joy on your face spreading into his own, squeezing your hand.

“I love you too.”

As he scanned the tickets on his phone to go in, you both grabbed a map. You didn’t think that you would wander off from each other at all, but just in case one of you lost one, you had two. You pored over it for a bit before Nick started to speak.

“Just so you know, I have something booked here in about an hour and a half, and we can’t be late to it, but if we’re looking at something when we have to go over there, we can absolutely come back. And no, I’m not telling you what it is.”

You closed your mouth, having been about to ask what he had planned. Smiling but shaking your head, you pointed to a spot on the map, locating the jellyfish.

“Can we go there first?”

Nick grabbed your hand again, putting his map back in his pocket.

“Of course we can.”

About an hour and fifteen minutes later, you had wandered around half of the aquarium, and you had been non-stop talking about your favorite animals. Nick had listened to all of it, asking questions so you knew that he was listening, and had even comforted you when the overwhelm of seeing all of your favorite things had gotten to be a bit too much and you had cried a little. He had offered for you to go home, but you had of course adamantly refused, and you both had continued through the aquarium. You had gotten to pet a stingray, which Nick was a little worried about doing himself, but he did it with you anyways, and the smile on your face was worth the fear.

When you got to the dolphin section of the aquarium, you lit up, them being your second favorite sea creature. Third place went to the octopus, and you had already gotten to see those, as they were near the stingrays. At this point, you had seen almost everything that you wanted to see, and were now really enjoying your time with Nick, feeling so grateful for everything he had done for you tonight. As you entered the area of the dolphin encounter, you stared at Nick with shock in your eyes, as he just kept pulling things out of his pockets, surprising you in the best ways.

“You’re kidding. I get to pet a dolphin?!”

Nick laughed, kissing the top of your head.

“You’re adorable. Yes, you do. Come on, our group starts in about ten minutes.”

The rest of the date went so perfectly, and you were so in love with your partner. You had no idea how you were going to repay this to him, and it seemed like he could read your mind, as he looked right at you on the drive home, a soft smile on his face.

“Your happiness tonight was worth every single penny spent. I hope you had fun.”

“I had the best night of my life.”

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gwenllian-in-the-abbey · 23 hours

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I don’t know if I’m reaching here or not but when people say “Oh team black won because they’re bloodline continued” I can’t help but think of the fact that because of all the incest technically the greens blood did continue because Rhaenyra and the green siblings came from the same father and the king after Aegon was his nephew/cousin?? Like yeah they didn’t directly descend from them but this family is all about keeping it in the family so…

I think the discourse over who truly won the Dance is kind of silly, and the bloodlines argument is the silliest part of all.

No one "won" the Dance. Sure Rhaenyra and Daemon's bloodline continued but that's a pyrrhic victory at best. Aegon III spent the rest of his childhood isolated and miserable, his wishes disregarded by a power-hungry regency, and as king he was known forever as "Dragonsbane," because dragons-- which he hated-- died out during his reign. He did his best as king, but he was a deeply troubled man. Viserys II was raised in exile, married to a much older woman as a twelve year old, became a father at thirteen, and his children were absolute disasters, throwing the realm into decades of war. Neither of them make any attempt to rehabilitate Rhaenyra's legacy and she does not go down in history as Rhaenyra I, something they could have done for her posthumously, but didn't. If you asked Aegon III whether it was all worth it or not, I think there's a good chance he would rather have had his family alive and whole with his mother having accepted terms granting her Dragonstone, than this "victory" that put him on a throne he never asked for in the first place.

As for the long term, by the time the main series rolls around the Targaryens have been deposed and there's almost zero chance of a dynastic restoration. Daenerys is the last confirmed trueborn Targaryen alive, and while she has hatched her three dragons, it was only necessary to bring the dragons back because the Dance killed off all the dragons in the first place. The Targaryens doomed themselves trying to bring about a "prince that was promised," a prince that would not have been needed if they hadn't doomed themselves in the first place. That's the irony, the self-fulfilling prophesy of it all.

Overall, I think "who won" discourse really misses the point of the Dance. Wars of succession are ultimately terrible for the realm. My opinion about which side was "justified" is ultimately based which side I believe could have backed down with fewer long and short term repercussions, but regardless, a war over who sits the throne is unnecessary, and this one in particular was a disaster for both sides.

#asks #dance of the dragons #aegon iii targaryen #anti targaryen #anti team black #not really but people can' t be normal about bloodlines arguments

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barrenclan · 2 hours

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i forgor if anyone’s requested this yet but andy you’re a star is a very deepprowl coded song

Yeah... yeah... yeah.

Leave your number on the locker and I'll give you a call Hey, shut up, hey, shut up, yeah Leave your legacy in gold on the plaques that line the hall Hey, shut up, hey, shut up, yeah

Andy, you're a star In nobody's eyes In nobody's eyes but mine

youtube

I love the Footloose dedication, it's definitely got big Pinecorm energy to me.

I feel your heart It's beating time with mine You thought love, love Love was on the line

Break down the walls Well, you've got to cut the ties Well, there's pain Pain burning in your eyes

It's time to fight Well, it's time for tearing free Well, come Come running straight to me

youtube

AWH yeah, she really does have big Pearl energy. Oh the yearning...

I was fine with the men Who would come into her life now and again I was fine 'cause I knew That they didn't really matter until you <- yeah. Egrettail

Who am I now in this world without her? Petty and dull, with the nerve to doubt her What does it matter? It's already done Now I've got to be there for her son <- SCREAMING. EGRETTAIL

youtube

The name sounds familiar so I probably have gotten recommendations for them before, but not for these particular songs. For Spiracle, I would say it's DarkProwl to me.

Our bitter hearts are made out of sand Let me give you all the love that I have Before it slips right through my hands

So many days You've spent giving all your bullets my name If you can't shake the thrill of this game I'll let you shoot me all the same

Why do you let them eat away at your mind? Now you're waking like a dog in the night But you look like an angel in the light

youtube

I want the parts of you you only show To the corner of your bathroom mirror I want the parts of your hand-grenade heart That beat slowly with anger and fear

I want your quiet, your screaming and thrashing The salt on your lips and the hands that God gave you And I want your violence, your silent sedation Your moon eyes, your telescope, morbid fixation

I want you, butterfly, I want you, sailor I am your lover and I am your jailor <- normal boss/lieutenant dynamic

Ouuugh yeah, that is definitely Thrasher. The apathy in how he destroys other people, along with the anger and righteousness for his own pain.

I am done pretending You have failed to find what's left I will suck you dry again Some are not worth saving You are such a pretty mess I will choke the life within

After the lights go out on you After your worthless life is through I will remember how you scream I can't afford to care

youtube

BLACK FRIDAY MENTIONED!! My favorite Starkid musical...

What if tomorrow comes to break the dawn And take the night away What if tomorrow- What if tomorrow comes to break the dawn And there's no one to stay

Tomorrow will come Tomorrow won't come Tomorrow come today

youtube

That's so real... they'd be so perfect for edgy PMVs.

youtube

Waiter waiter! Another darkprowl!!

The bitter breeze from the wounds and melodies I've been fooled, I was never one to question Now you're here like a ride to take me anywhere I need to be

I wanna watch you wreck all the paintings in my house As you run down my wall (Holes of my life) Wash away these things I never needed

youtube

I can see it being Slugpelt for sure! Rainhaze would be the magical clam, if this were animated or something.

The daughter of the ram and the fish Always had one secret wish That someone would love her Someday

The clam in his wisdom replied "It's the person you are inside That's the problem My dear"

"Sadly, you were doomed from the start There's an incurable longing in your heart And not even magic Can fix that"

#ask #anon #music #deepdark #prowl #rainhaze #pinepaw #cormorantpaw #thrasher #egrettail

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saiiboat · 3 days

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behold. the poly fuga au relationship chart that i have spent way too long on. transcription under the cut because wow thats a lot of small text

cell and felps' background and dynamic inspired by @wsdanon's hcs!

from left to right,

Pac and Mike: soulmates. childhood friends. mike has to look after pac and pac trusts mike to look after him. pac takes cues from Mike in most situations; this was true in their childhoods and carries on into their dynamic in the prison and their relationship with cell. pac trusts mike 100% to stop either him or cell if they decide to like. stab each other or something. they've been through it all together and their experience in prison has only brought them closer. When they escape and find a place to call home, it doesn't take long (a week maybe) for the small kitchen counter to be made into a lab in the kitchen table to be made into a workbench. they work in tandem and are never far apart. while there is a lot of mutual guilt (mike getting pac into this mess and pac attempting to sell mike out), felps helps them work through it and they come out stronger on the other side with not only more faith in themselves as a duo, but also in themselves as individuals. they tend to blast music way too loud as they work often forgetting less pressing or time sensitive projects in favor of bad dancing and even worth singing. It's this that evolves into karaoke night.

Mike and Felps: at first, in alcatraz, mike only knows felps as the guard that cell keeps in his pocket and has blackmail on. after the escape any theyre settled down and felps finds them and sticks around, mike is mainly curious why felps came back after he was used by them and cell. it doesn't take much prodding for felps to reveal how he knows cell and why he became a guard in the first place. while mike doesn't totally understand felps and cell's relationship, he's at least glad to see it heal. they eventually become very comfortable in eachother's space, feeling completely at ease with one another. they're frequent confidants and enjoy casual displays of intimacy with eachother. one of mike's favourite things to do for felps is to stand behind him and guide felps' hands as he teaches him something mechanical. felps originally falls a little-bit a lot-a-bit in love with mike after getting to know him (though pac is what brings them together at first, their mutual enjoyment of eachothers company brings them closer), and while mike doesn't reciprocate romantically, theyre both perfectly happy with their situation. they dont make out or kiss on the lips, but they are both very happy to kiss eachothers faces, hands, or any other exposed skin. they fucking kick ass at karaoke and get very serious about the whole thing together.

Mike and Cell: Acts as a balance for pac and cell. pac will let cell do literally anything to him and they both know that mike will stop them before they do anything they'll actually regret. it takes a while but mike eventually ends up trusting cell implicitly, more so than anyone else does. Mike may think cell is creepy and gross but cell is their creepy and gross. cell on the other hand would kill for Mike like a cat would drop a dead bird on your bed. he's pac and mike's protector. their benefactor. he's the hound that gave Mike the controller to his shock collar. after Alcatraz and they're allowed to be actual people, they have the chance to grow extremely fond of one another, and are often found over an enigma or piece of tech, providing entirely unhelpful comments about whichever the other is trying to complete. worsties. besties. they watch bad movies together and laugh and throw popcorn at the screen

Pac and Felps: while felps and pac dont interact much in alcatraz due to being on opposing sides of cell's favour, felps does start to carry a small flame for pac that doesn't have time to bloom before the other 4 escape and felps is left behind to leave on his own. after felps finds cell again (saintly intuition), his world brightens up even more when he discovers that pac lives here too. while sharing a livingspace and with the other 4 already in an established relationship, it doesn't take much for pac and felps to come together, too. felps' introduction to the polycule is what balances everyone out, pac's infatuation with cell fading to affection and the entire group settling into a new normal around them. felps' willingness to simply share space or tangle their hands together is incredibly healing for pac who bases his worth so much on what he can do for others or what he can let them take. felps thinks that pac is incredible, and is enamored with everything pac says or does. theyre both stupidly in love for the world to see

Pac and Cell: ohhh my goddd they want to see each other covered in blood. in Alcatraz and for a period of time after their escape, their relationship is built on their mutual obsession with each other; cell's possessiveness over pac and pacs infatuation if given the chance, cell would do anything to pack impact would let him, and their ability to coexist rests on cell bearing his throat and allowing mike to be the one to pull him back. after alcatraz and felps gets added to the mix, their dynamic and relationship becomes much healthier and balanced as cell learns to function outside of highly traumatic situations and pac starts to see himself more as an individual. they're both still freaks who both fantasize so about that one time they killed jv together and they dream of doing something like that again. maybe to each other. But with distance from prison they are able to heal together, and eventually become rather domestic. pac makes coffee for cell and does his best to drag him away from late nights solving enigmas and when mike's work table in the kitchen out as many papers there in the kitchen so he and pac can share space as pac messes around in his makeshift lab.

Cell and Felps: though through the duration of their stay in alcatraz cell mostly just wants to make felps suffer a bit, perceiving him becoming a prison guard a personal betrayal (not knowing that felps became a guard to continue seeing him), things between them settle after felps finds him again (saintly intuition) and theyre mostly just elated to have eachother again. they were physically affectionate before prison, and while it takes them a bit to get back to that point, they're both much less awkward about it now as adults. they're extremely comfortable in each other's presence and this only strengthens as they both heal. cell learns to laugh when felps covers his face and kisses and felps relearns the joy of cell being the one to initiate shows of affection. their relationship has already hit rock bottom once, there's very little that could tear them apart. now. The best of friends, there's so much love here

Mike and Guaxinim: mike and guaxinim find common ground and bond over their mutual power over cell. while mike pulls the leash and lets cell know when to back off, guaxinim is the one to stand chest to chest with cell, unfazed as cell lets loose on him. they both handle cell very differently but. well. they still handle him. guaxinim and mike also really are just two blokes who share a hobby. they're in completely different areas of engineering but still talk about it together for hours on end and will sit in the garage or lab or boatyard and work and share ideas. while they originally became somewhat of a unit due to their dynamics with cell, they become people that genuinely enjoy spending time together and wouldn't give up the others company for the world. they have a Words With Friends game that does not break a daily streak for 3 years. the only time it happens is because pac catches the house on fire and they have to worry about not being found out by the authorities

Guaxinim and Felps: guaxinim and felps have a shared history through cell, knowing of eachother for years though never interacting in depth. when felps finds them after they escape, it's guaxinim who discovers him at the door and lets him in. he's seen how felps looks at cell enough times to know that felps isn't here for trouble. having nowhere else to go, felps is only a couch crasher for an hour or so before cell gets home and theyre able to reconnect, felps graduating within the same day to sleeping with them on the two large mattresses they had pressed together. guaxinim works at a local boatyard and as an olive branch, he invites felps to come with him and maybe even learn some things about boats and how to fix them. felps wouldn't call himself particularly good at it, but he enjoys the process of learning and watching guaxinim work. romantic attraction between the two of them is odd, somewhere between strong romantic attraction and none at all, often bouncing between the two poles. typically neither of them feel the particular need to initiate acts of affection or intimacy with eachother unless as part of a group, in which case they will engage happily, whether in public or in the privacy of their own home

Cell and Guaxinim: for cell, guaxinim has been his anchor in prison for years, and he continues to be one for him outside of it; a pillar of familiarity that he can rely on. guaxinim knows cell better than anyone and cell takes comfort in knowing hell never have to explain himself to guaxinim. guaxinim is endlessly fond of cell. he knows what and who cell is and doesnt need or expect him to change, loving him even (and sometimes especially) at his worst. while guaxinim is mildly upset about jv's death for minute, he does not hold this against cell, pac, or mike. happens! when given the chance to heal and exist as people outside of prison, they're very much an old married couple. they nag eachother constantly; after a stretch of time as cellmates they have pretty much shame around eachother and will generally be horrifically embarrassing to the others while having their own fun

Pac and Guaxinim: pac and guaxinim really are the same and that they both think that cell is the hottest thing to ever walk this earth and they wholly bond over this fact. their relationship definitely isn't hurt by guaxinim also having a "dangerous appeal" to pac with his inability to back down even against cell, as well as simply being a muscled guy that likes to wear tank tops while covered in sweat and grease. pac is only so strong. guaxinim doesn't understand much of what pac talks about in their makeshift lab (the kitchen), but he's an attentive listener and pac loves and appreciates his questions. guaxinim is pac's worst enabler and somehow they've only had to evacuate the apartment twice. their relationships to cell, while different in a few ways, allow them to strongly bond. after felps is added to the mix and pac's infatuation for cell settles to affection, pac and guaxinim fully settle into their own relationship and dynamic. they aren't overly showy with affection and are more likely to press their shoulders together slightly or lean against each other than to walk with hands held or to hang off each other throughout the day. they both love cuddling though and are perfectly happy to drape against the other on the couch either on their own or with the whole group

NOTE: transcriptions were done via voice to text because i made this entire thing in ms paint without saving the text. so if you spot any mistakes like bizarre misspellings of guaxinim please let me know LMAO

#saii.writing #courtesy of mike #fuga impossível

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climbthemountain2020 · 3 days

Text

Flame of Autumn - Chapter 12

Part 13/26 | Ao3

Early but shorter update!

Tilly

In Autumn, they were rapidly approaching the equinox, which meant that Autumn’s interpretation of Calanmai was on the horizon. According to Eris, in three weeks’ time, Beron would consume the mulled cider, ceremonially chase Alanna through the woods to assault her, and thus the land would be replenished. It was a garish and horrendous ceremony, as far as Tilly was concerned, and though she’d been raised in Autumn, she’d never attended one. Beron had ordered they be part of it, along with all the brothers, as the magic would affect them too and it was expected. That’s what brought them all together in this tense meeting today, as all the siblings and Tilly stood gathered around Beron on his throne, their heads bowed in deference.

“Surely it couldn’t hurt to have you participate, since you can’t seem to conceive a child on your own.” Tilly could feel Eris’ fury mix with her own, but they remained subservient to the letter. The act would be worth it in the end. She tucked a foot behind the other and curtsied, her submission at the forefront.

“Yes, father.” She heard Eris murmur beside her, hoping that would be the end of it.

“I didn’t buy you for nothing, after all,” he sneered from above them, but despite the wrath within them, they both nodded their agreement. When they were dismissed at long last, Eris and Tilly walked back to their rooms, her trailing steps behind in case anyone was watching. Once they’d arrived and gotten the wards in place, Eris’ mouth was already on her neck. It was still impossible to pull back from each other, impossible to stay away.

“I think I found something that will kill him.” He voice was hoarse, and his kisses abruptly stopped. “We can do it on Calanmai.” He pulled back from her to look into her eyes.

“I’m listening.”

Eris

It turns out that, deep within the forests of Autumn near the eastern territories, a plant existed that very few people knew about, and even less people knew how to find. The Gasping Widow.

Fitting, Eris thought. Gasping in relief, perhaps. When steeped for over a week and then consumed, it mimicked the symptoms of heart failure. It was a kinder death than Beron deserved, but a means to an end was a means to an end. He would take anything at this point.

Eris and Tilly had found that plant–an ugly thing–brown and blue and looking for all the world like a fungus, and brought it back to their rooms. They’d spent the better part of an entire day clomping around the marshy eastern forests looking for its telltale blue and brown petals. It was scentless, blessedly, considering it had been steeping beneath their bed for eight days now. Tomorrow, the concoction would go into a tiny vial dropper, and then hopefully be dripped into the goblet before the ceremonies began. Now, it was night and dark and quiet all around, and Tilly and Eris were tucked tightly together in the bed, laying facing each other, their breaths heavy as their naked chests still heaved together as one.

“Tomorrow will change everything.” She murmured quietly. “One way or another.” He nuzzled his nose into her neck.

“There is still time for you to run, Tilly. You could still go. Or we could back out.”

“No.” She said resolutely. Two days before, Beron had flogged Eris again. This time, for allowing Tilly into the garden with Alanna, which he’d somehow perceived as an inability to rule over her adequately. She softly drew her hands over the now mostly-healed lines on his back, the anger still simmering in her veins. “We will take this chance, and we will take it together. His time has run out.” She pressed a kiss to Eris’ lips in the dark.

“I love you, Matilda. To eternity.”

“I love you, Eris. Regardless of the outcome tomorrow, or any day.”

+++

Calanmai had arrived. Eris was near feral at the state of dress that Tilly had been forced into. He hated the idea of anyone’s eyes on so much of her body–he wanted to be the only one who was ever granted the privilege. Unfortunately, it was part of the twisted tradition of things, and Beron would not budge. Eris was certain that the obscenely small drapery being touted as a dress on his wife was meant to further enrage Eris, but he refused to give him the satisfaction. He had a larger goal tonight.

No one knew of their plan, save Cormac–not even the brothers. Cormac only knew because he was in charge of the guards at the event and could position them close enough that they would pass close to the goblet before the ceremony. They would form a processional into the cave, Beron, then Eris, the remaining brothers, Alanna, then Tilly last. She’d pass by the goblet unimpeded on the way in, and that’s when she would tip the vial into it. Eris would use his magic to glamour her as she did just to smoothe over any hiccups in her movements.

It would take roughly an hour for the plant to hit his heart, so Eris and Tilly would go into the woods as expected after the drums began and make their absence look convincing. Hopefully, by the time they returned looking ravaged, Beron would be dead or dying, and they would have a convincing alibi.

Tilly had been a wreck all night and today, and truly, Eris had not fared much better. They were both a mess of nerves, all of their touches and kisses charged with an energy and lingering questions about whether it would be the last time. But when it came time to proceed to the caves for the ceremony, already filled with the wild bustling of people and the generous roaring of hundreds of bonfires, they were both prepared with the faces of battle. They’d shared a final kiss in their rooms, and now it was time to sink or swim.

Tilly took her place at the end of the line, and he caught her eyes one last time before turning his stony expression forward and following his father ahead. He sent a quick prayer up to any gods that would listen to keep her safe, no matter what happened tonight. They proceeded through the line of caves, the rushing sounds of the fires and the celebratory sounds of the people drowning everything else out. He cast the glamour over Tilly, smoothing her movements out and using magic to entice others to look away or ignore anything amiss. Finally, the procession came to a stop.

He dared not look in Tilly’s direction as his father welcomed everyone and made the same speech he made every year. Then, it was Alanna’s cue to take off into the woods–just a show really. Beron didn’t seem to have noticed anything was amiss–perhaps they’d managed to pull this off. Eris steadied his breathing as the drums began, and he watched closely as Beron took the goblet in his hands and drank deeply. One gulp, two gulps, three. He lowered it, swiping his sleeve across his mouth, and the crowd cheered. Then Beron was off to complete the sick ceremony, dragging his mother even further into the depths of hell, but hopefully for the final time.

He felt Tilly’s hand brush against his as they went to depart the cave, the magic beginning to thrum through them in time with the drums. A show, it was all show, and perhaps, with some luck, it would contain the best finale of all time.

So, with that thought echoing through his mind, Eris grabbed Tilly by the waist and roughly threw her over his shoulder, walking a few steps then winnowing off into the woods as the renewed cheers of the crowd died out behind them.

+++

Both Eris and Tilly had been too nervous to actually do anything in the woods short of sitting with each other. Everything was hanging on a sharp precipice, so Eris winnowed as far as he could within the Autumn woods so the magic wouldn’t ride them as hard, and they found a patch of moonlight to try and relax in together. They planned to spend an hour or so here, make it look convincing, and then return to the ceremony and put on their shocked faces at the chaos ensuing as the High Lord title transferred down to Eris.

He stroked his thumb up back and forth over her arm, holding her close to him and wondering how life might be different for them after tonight. Without the pall of Beron hanging over them, what could they do? What could they change? There was so much potential for them to do more, both within Autumn and for themselves. Eris didn’t dare to let his thoughts get ahead of him, but he could feel that slow, steady bloom of hope that he was getting more familiar with these days begin in his chest.

Could they actually be parents? Could he even do that? Did Tilly even want it?

It was something that they had danced around the topic of instead of actually speaking about candidly. There had been no point–there would be no children willingly brought into this world as long as Beron was in it. Not if they could help it. But the thought of a little child with hair of flame, beautiful wide eyes focused on him as they lifted their arms up to him, made his heart clench in his chest. The thought of Tilly, belly round and lovely with his child, summoned other feelings in him that the magic of Calanmai wasn’t helping with at all as he adjusted himself. Tilly looked up at him, grinning with an eyebrow raised.

“Can I ask you something?” Eris asked her, looking down into her eyes as she cuddled against his chest. She waggled her eyebrows at him suggestively, smiling wickedly.

“Sure.” The glint in her eyes was wicked.

“Do you ever think about having children? With me…I mean. When this is all over?” She immediately sobered her expression, pushing against his chest with her hand and sitting up, her eyes finding his in the dark.

Her voice was quiet as she answered. “All the time.” Eris felt like his heart had taken flight and left his body. He’d expected her to think on it for a while, maybe even say no. He hadn’t expected this.

“Truly?” His voice was shaky, uncertain, but her soft smile pierced straight through his chest, stroking his heart in gentle, soothing waves.

“Every single night before we fall asleep. I think about how kind and wonderful and caring you are, and how lovely a father you would be. I count down the days until it’s something we can realistically consider, and I hoped you would one day feel the same.” The words were a balm to his soul he didn’t know he’d needed. He’d worried for longer than he’d ever admit that he’d be a terrible father, not a single good example to show him what it should look like. He’d worried that Tilly might worry becoming a father would trigger something in him, might be scared that he would turn into the monster that sired him, somehow. But here she was, unflinching and unfailing as always in the face of his doubt.

“Is it something you want, Eris?” He couldn’t stop himself from taking her face in his hands and kissing her deeply as he felt her giggle and smile against him.

“More than anything in the world. The second he’s gone, the second you’re ready.” She smiled.

“I love you, Eris. You’ll be a wonderful father, just like you’re a wonderful husband.” She pressed another kiss to his jaw, then tucked her head beneath his chin as he tightened his hold around her, thinking of all the possibilities laid out in front of them after tonight.

They waited the full hour, then let it drift towards two, before their curiosity got the better of them and they decided to winnow back. They roughed up their clothes, especially Tilly’s, scattering dirt and twigs and leaves in their hair. Eris hadn’t felt anything strange in the way of magic past the normal magic of the ceremony, and he was concerned this meant something had gone horribly wrong. Or, rather, hadn’t.

As they winnowed back to the ceremony, only Callum had returned out of the group of brothers, but Alanna was missing from the ceremonial area. Eris and Tilly both froze the moment they entered, finding Beron drinking wine and eating and generally celebrating at the large table within the crowds of Autumn revelers. He was fine. He was fine. It had all been for nothing. It hadn’t worked.

There would be no discussing it here, no communicating between them past him all but pushing her back towards the Forest House, fingers lingering as long as possible on her back, as Beron waved him over to the table to participate in the revelry.

When Eris returned to their rooms hours later to find Tilly dressed in a nightgown and pacing, he was just as baffled as she was. Beron had been in a fantastic mood–drinking jovially and bragging about the bedding and assault of his mother in the woods to the cheers of many and the pointed encouragement of Aradnus.

“Well, clearly, something went wrong. Maybe I steeped it incorrectly. The directions seemed so straightforward…” Tilly’s brows pinched in distraught confusion. Eris finished removing his clothes, still dirty from the woods.

“It’s okay, Til. Perhaps we grabbed the wrong plant? Maybe it wasn’t concentrated enough. Regardless, he seems to have not noticed the attempt, so that works in our favor. Maybe we can find a way to try again.” He turned down the covers and they got into the bed, finding each other in the middle. They didn’t speak more, but the hopelessness cut through the air around them, allowing the darkness to feel extra suffocating.

So close. They had been so close.

+++

They’d barely had a chance to open their eyes to the dark gray doldrums peeking ominously through the window and the rolling crack of thunder in the distance before a summons appeared, requesting that everyone report to the throne room immediately. The panic rushed through Eris like a roaring river of ice, and the look mirrored in Tilly’s terrified expression made it worse. After a beat of silence they threw themselves at each other, embracing like it was the last time, their mouths meeting in desperation. The tears were already rolling down Tilly’s face, leaving salty tracks smearing into Eris’ mouth.

“I love you. It’s going to be okay. I love you so much.”

“Eris, oh, gods, Eris. He’s caught us. I’ll have killed us both.” She was sobbing. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“It was both of us. It was both. It’s okay, we’ll go together. We’ll be together. In this life and the next.” The breath had fled his chest, too, and the tears burned like acid in his eyes as he gripped her to him.

“I love you, Eris. I am so unbelievably sorry.”

They held each other close, trying to calm their breaths and pounding hearts. It would be suspicious if they took any longer, so they pulled on their clothes quickly and with one last, lingering kiss, they pulled themselves together and walked to the throne room, Tilly trailing him as always, their hearts beating like the drums of war in their chests.

Taglist: @cauldronblssd@queercontrarian@byyalady@thelovelymadone@clockwork-ashes@lovingkelj

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #eris x oc #eris vanserra #eris acotar #vanserra brothers #flame of autumn #arranged marriage #allies to lovers #eris vanserra x oc #acotar smut #Eris smut

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