#i'm gonna write i promise | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

naffeclipse · 3 months

Note

What if Eclipse from AP was a naga? And this took place in the deep jungle of the amazon, where photographer y/n is trying to take pictures of the wildlife?

I'm vibrating at the speed of sound over this ask while also nudging my naga au

Naga Eclipse from AP would have the tail of a Green Anaconda, with an olive green scaly color dotted with black, framed by burning-like flares of orange along the length of his slithery body. He's also decorated with orange-yellow striping on either side of his long, slipper form. His upper half is scaley with a lithe deadliness to his musculature and decorated by frills surrounding his head with brighter orange-yellow colors, almost hypnotic in their gradient hues. One eye is deep emerald green, and one is midnight blue.

Lucky you—you're out on a once-in-a-lifetime expedition to explore a jungle closed off to the public, funded by Fazco, and occupied by two researchers who will be your bunkmates for the next few weeks. You're itching to take photos of the large river, including swamps, marshes and streams, and whatever wildlife is out there.

The few locals you did meet before you left to hike the rest of the way to what would be your new, isolated home warned you of a dangerous snake—a large, mythical beast. You take note of the local folklore. You understand the truth is hidden in there somewhere, and you are well aware of the dangers and diseases you could be met with in such a harsh environment, but you're determined.

It doesn't take long for you to feel eyes watching you when you first venture out by yourself. You take beautiful pictures of freshwater fish, big and beautiful, unlike any you have ever seen. Of course, you have hundreds of snapshots of the local flora, the trees, the floating meadows, the thick vines that drape each branch and hang thickly about the ground. You almost forget that you eerily don't feel alone.

But you swear something moves in the water—the ripples stop as soon as you look. The stillness is suddenly stiff, lifeless. Even the birds have stopped chirping.

You lower your camera and carefully put it away. A trickle of fear slips into your heart. You turn away from the river's edge only to be met by a low hiss and a creature, unlike anything you witnessed in your travels, spooling itself neatly out of the water, blocking your path to the base. An incredible creature with long arms and a great, serpentine tail that seems to stretch for yards and yards. You can hardly breathe in his presence—he's otherworldly with his frills and scales and fangs.

His eyes contain a mesmerizing shine as if staring into a fire as it burns or watching the ocean as it laps up against the beach, drawing your attention, demanding you don't look away. You couldn't anyway. Half-frozen, you struggle to keep from collapsing. He beckons with a sharp talon. He hisses softly for you to come closer, mouse. He wants to see you. You try to beg no without revealing how terribly you tremble. He doesn't let you go. He insists. His eyes flash with an allure. You almost step close when he murmurs that you need to be good.

But then your sense of survival kicks adrenaline into your heart, and you turn to run—

He strikes faster than your eyes can follow. Two loops of his green and orange tail surrounded you in an instant. You're dragged to the ground, your arms pinned under his mass, and the back of your head cradled by his large palm as powerful muscles squeeze you in the slightest—a gentle rebuke for thinking you could get away. You're hyper-aware of the terrifying bulk of muscles as you lie trapped in his coils. One strong twist and your eyes could pop out of your skull, and every bone protecting your heart and lungs would crumble to shards. You gasp. An urge to kick your legs and struggle erupts in your panic; a sinking feeling tells you it would only make things worse.

He coos over you, hissing and humming in an ancient song of the jungle you have no name for. When you whimper, he shushes you and strokes your cheek. He tells you how lovely you'll be. When you talk back to him, somehow finding your tongue amid your horror, you find out his name. Eclipse. He moves you more upright, resting you on his tail so you're not petrified by how vulnerable you feel lying down, but he never loosens his scaly bindings. He hovers over you. You gaze into his stunning frills of yellow-orange and wonder how a being like him came to exist. He studies you as you study him. He grins at how you shiver when he traces your collarbone with a sharp fingertip.

You remind yourself that you can still breathe. He hasn't crushed you—yet—but you don't like how wide his smile is. Sometimes, his jaw stretches a little too long as if dislocating from his skull, ready to devour you. His eyes gleam with a ravenousness as scales twist around you, holding you close enough to smell the slick green water he had been in and deep musk.

He tells you that he'll see you again very soon—away from other humans, lest you bring him a fine gift for a meal. You can only flex your fingers, silently pleading in your heart that he won't unhook his jaw and eat you alive.

Then, he unravels himself from your limbs. But before he lets you go entirely, he leans in close, his serpentine tongue flickering close to your neck and by your hair, tasting the air around you as you muster all your strength to not scream. He inhales deeply, pleased, before he murmurs, "Sweet mouse. You are mine. Say it."

You don't understand, but you echo his command, and when he taps your chin once in what might have been a loving gesture, you force your jelly legs to solidify before you run and run, all the way back to base. You slam the door to your room behind you. You touch your ribs, your arms, still caught in the heavy sensation of his loops as if he were upon you right now.

The stories are true—there is a giant snake in this jungle, and he wants you. You're afraid to discover if Eclipse's intrigue with you is only an exotic way to satisfy his hunger.

#i'm not normal about nagas #this is great because in the naga au with sun and moon #eclipse isn't a naga so this gives me my fix of naga eclipse #just augh #love these monsters #anyways he's gonna squeeze you and love you and you are just so lucky he finds you adorable he could just eat you up (not really but ya kno #he has plans for lovely little you #he's going to show you so many cool creatures like pink river dolphins and big big BIG floating meadows and the best brightest birds!#he's also gonna try to get you to eat vermits and promise that he'll protect you when you get sluggish after eating #and you have to explain that your metabolism is very different from his but then you get to see him sluggish and sleepy after he eats #(whoops that means extra long cuddles for you and boy does he like to take long naps and wrap you up tight so you don't go anywhere)#apex polarity #<<< just tagging for the same characterization of Orclipse and photographer y/n #but i am calling this:#blackwater lure #naga!eclipse #photographer!reader #naff writing #the serpent den

327 notes · View notes

a2zillustration · 3 months

Text

I carried this thing for MONTHS with the EXPRESS PURPOSE of putting Raphael in it (knowing full well Larian wouldn't let me do that, mechanically) and I had one major miscalculation.

[[ All Croissant Adventures (chronological, desktop) ]]

[[ All Croissant Adventures (app) ]]

#Ok I'm gonna ramble in the tags about all this get ready:#I KNEW Larian wouldn't let me actually pull this off but I PROMISE you that stupid flask sat in my inventory since the moment I grabbed it #WAITING for when I could write this little bit about putting Raphael in it #I even threw it at him in the fight with a 30% hit chance and it succeeded so I considered that Larian giving me permission to say it workd #But as I was reading up on it again when I was sketching this I saw the bit about native planes and I cried LMAO. But it's dnd-#so I rewrote is as it would've happened in a game. U kno.#Also I have been waiting to use that fox line for SO LONG bc of Croissant's dad being a fox-like fey creature #So much backstory that's slotted in PERFECTLY with the BG3 narrative #Anyway absolutely wild that we managed to take out this ancient powerful devil - and on the first try!#Lae'zel with a potion of speed did WORK. Gale came in clutch with hold monster. Astarion gave Raph stage fright. Croissant made him dance #(I'm pretty sure he just doesn't have a dance animation in ascended form lol)#Hope didn't even need to use divine intervention - this party is terrifying #Croissant hated him but in the end I loved Raphael I see why all you people like him #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 spoilers #act III spoilers #house of hope #croissant adventures #tav #raphael #lae'zel #iron flask #comics #ALSO shoutouts to you if you both noticed and knew which worthikids animation I borrowed the expression in panel 5 from

333 notes · View notes

2truehearts · 9 months

Text

✦ — BUT DARLING, YOU ARE THE ONLY EXCEPTION.

✦ CHARACTER/S︰ijekiel alpheus & lucas from wmmap (who made me a princess).

✦ SYNOPSIS︰love can bloom and burn in any heart at the first sunlit-brindled brief—whether it be bounded by duty, ice, or disbelief; as long as that epitome of affection is you, they suppose they can make an exception and make some space—or in which they fall in-love with you first glance and sight.

✦ CONTENT WARNING/S︰nothing other than one swear word (fuck), & the general fluff and infatuation (from the character/s) + everything is proofread with the wc 200 - 300 each.

✦ A/N︰making my debut as a manhwa writer on main is not the ideal move but idk where to post it okay (side eyes the 2367838 sideblogs under this one/silly (also the title is inspired by "the only exception" by paramore <3 it's bleeping awesome go and give it a listen!!))

IJEKIEL IS NOT ONE TO FALL IN LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT, to have his world still for a few seconds while his heart overrides and blood races to the forefront of his cheeks—but dear heavens, were you the only exception to that rule bound by duty and a planned future in his chest. you surely weren’t the epitome of grace or as enchanting as the gods, but to him you were enough—more, than enough, truly.

he first met you in an arrangement of his father and your parents from your vague childhood—but oh, how he remembers every second of that first meeting. when the doors opened to you bowing in front of him with a barely-hidden smile of excitement curving the tips of your mouth to look at him with big, bright eyes of wonder staring directly at the copy of the sun—not once backing down to blink or burn away from awe and fluster. so ijekiel does that instead. his skin flares with the color of blooming carnations, sunlight-prickled hues wide from childish panic at the sudden increased beating of his heart. was something wrong with him? he felt light-headed and dizzy, stomach twisting, tossing and turning as if he was about to faint from merely seeing you presented before him like the finest muse of a pristine piece of art, incomparable to anything else other than itself. what should he do? should he compliment you? should he act indifferent and use a practiced smile? his mind is trying to adjust to the drastic changes of his swayed heart, but the boy just can’t seem to do just that when he’s faced with a fairytale protagonist right in front of him—and he blinks, catching something from the corner of his eye—and is brought back down to earth when he sees his father’s questioning gaze. then, bows with a smile, greeting you further in to sit down and perhaps enjoy a cup of tea with him? you said yes out of common courtesy, but that only made his smile grow wider.

LUCAS FIRMLY DOES NOT BELIEVE IN LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT, like come on—who believes in love like that these days? naive little kids? newly adolescent noble ladies? men of high and poor status? it’s simply too . . . unlikely to actually happen in his eyes. the butterflies when you meet “the love of your life’s” eyes? could be the early signs of constipation. the flush in your cheeks when there’s too much prolonged eye contact with them and the dizziness of your heart and mind? could be an oncoming migraine, headache, or a sign you're being possessed by some evil spirit, y’know? anyways, enough joking aside—the point is, he finds the subject some far-fetched fairytale that is highly impossible even with the magic he has—that is, until, you waltz into his life. the things he feels when he's around you is something that could be described as a contradiction. the first gazing into your eyes turns the world upside and back again, the first brush against your fingertips suck all the air out of his chest, the first chuckle that he manages to rouse from deep within your giddy joy paints him a shade darker than his eyes from head to toe—holy fuck were there a lot of firsts that made him experience everything and anything all at once; with most he can't even explain properly without sounding so . . lovesick. god do you make him sick to the last bone with whatever sorcery you possess. in short; when in love, lucas is everything that correlates to being stupidly infatuated and is constantly reeling himself in by a hair’s breadth back to the surface when you smile, laugh, or simply exist next to him—like, can you imagine how utterly moronic it is to see how degenerate he’s become from before you?! . . . but, if it makes you happy, he’ll gladly be idiotic for the rest of his life (though, that depends if you're gonna annoy him or not).

✦ — @khasmies 2023.

425 notes · View notes

aimbutmiss · 2 months

Text

Buggy gently held the face in front of him, fingers wrapping around the jaw to keep it still. He was supposed to go in for the eyeliner next, but the man in front of him flinched as soon as Buggy's fingers brushed his face, the reaction barely visible to the untrained eye. But Buggy knew Mihawk, or he thought he did, at least to a certain extent. He liked to think he improved a lot when it came to reading the hawk eyed man, especially compared to when they first formed Cross Guild. And what all that improvement entailed now, was the fact that the swordsman was uncomfortable. He let go of his face just as gently as he had held it.

"What's wrong?"

"..."

Buggy frowned and slumped his shoulders at the lack of response. "I let you do that horrifying gothic clown makeup on me, remember? Because I trusted you. But I'm not planning on turning you into a clown or anything, it's just your usual black eyeliner. So, trust me?"

"I do trust you." Mihawk sighed heavily, uncrossing his arms. "It's not about that. It's just... I'm not really used to- to this." He motioned between the two of them, trying his best to convey his feelings. He clearly needed more practice in that department, but Buggy took it in stride. They could work on it later, and frankly even this was an improvement.

Buggy retreated a bit, putting some more distance between them. "We don't have to do... this." He motioned between them just as the other had. "I just thought it would be fun, like last time. Even though I ended up looking straight out of a horror story, at least the process was enjoyable. Relaxing even."

Mihawk gave a small smile at that. "I thought you looked rather dashing in black."

Buggy rolled his eyes. "Of course you did. But I think I'll leave that to you. Wouldn't want to steal your schtick."

Mihawk's eyes squinted in amusement. "You couldn't if you tried."

"Nice try, but you can't provoke me like that. I'm not even going near black face paint for the unforeseeable future."

It was Mihawk's turn to roll his eyes, but he didn't say anything. They had fallen into a comfortable silence when Mihawk slowly reached for Buggy's hand, delicately caressing it with his thumb as Buggy held his breath.

"I'm sorry, I'm being difficult. This was supposed to be fun... But I'm okay now, you can continue."

Buggy shook his head, squeezing the hand holding his. "It should be fun for us both, I can't enjoy it if you're not enjoying it as well. You don't have to force yourself."

"I'm not." Mihawk looked Buggy in his big, round eyes that looked like they were portals leading straight to the ocean, his stare as unwavering as his voice as he spoke. "I'm not usually comfortable with people at this proximity... but I've come to find that I really don't mind it with you. I like it, in fact."

Buggy gulped, unable to break the intense eye contact. He didn't really know what he did to get into the swordsman's good graces, but he wasn't gonna mess it up no matter what. He gently reached for his face once again, getting in position to finally draw on the eyeliner.

"Don't move or I'll smudge it." He said, almost in a whisper.

Mihawk simply hummed in understanding, staying still as the waters of the Calm Belt. Buggy's breath was tickling his cheeks, and his hands were warm. He did his best to watch him do his work without moving, carving every inch of his focused face into memory.

"You're beautiful."

The words came out of his mouth without thinking, flowing as naturally as his haki through Yoru, and they made the clown still in his movements.

"What?"

Mihawk gave a breathy chuckle as Buggy's face grew redder by the second. "You heard me, beautiful."

Buggy moved back a bit, staring at the man as if he grew a second head. "What's gotten into you?"

Of course, Mihawk completely ignored him. "You look cute when you blush."

"Oh my God, can you stop?!" Buggy's face was now matching his nose, and Mihawk could swear he could see some steam coming out of his ears.

"You're not very good at taking compliments, are you?"

"I take them all the time! From my crew and my fans... It's just, unexpected from you."

That made something inside Mihawk twinge, but it didn't show on his face. "Then I'll have to compliment you more until you get used to it."

Buggy seemed to be struggling to put his thoughts into words, confused out of his mind at the other man's words. Did he eat something off? Was it a devil fruit user? Because something had to be wrong. But in the mess going inside his head, only one word was able to make its way to his tongue:

"Why?"

"Because I love to have your attention, your eyes on me, your hands on me... and your kindness. But I need to be kind to you as well to deserve it. This, right now... I don't deserve this, as things stand."

Buggy stared at the man in front of him for a moment, before slowly reaching out to cradle his face. "You are kind to me."

"Not kind enough to make up for the things I did before."

So, that's what this was about. Buggy sighed in understanding. "You apologised. I accepted your apology, and Crocodile's. Neither of you have any need to feel bad for your past mistakes."

Mihawk opened his mouth to speak but Buggy shushed him, pressing a finger on his lips. "I forgive you. Just take my word for it, idiot."

"... Alright."

Buggy smiled wide. "See? That wasn't so hard."

Later that evening, Crocodile walked into the tent to find a sleeping Buggy, drooling on a sleeping Mihawk. The swordsman's face was smudged with eyeliner, and the evening breeze was washing over them from the open window flap.

But neither of them were cold when they woke up, covered by a blanket they didn't remember getting.

#i was struggling big time with this one #I keep saying I'm gonna try to write more Crocodile but then end up with bughawk #sorry not sorry #I'm just obsessed with them #it's okay croco baby I love you and your time will come. promise #one piece #buggy the clown #dracule mihawk #sir crocodile #cross guild #bughawk #buggy x mihawk #my writing

103 notes · View notes

blindmagdalena · 2 months

Note

if homelander was a woman i would be 10x worse

you and me both

#SHE MAKES ME INSANE!!!#also that one fanart... The fanart... the crazytom fanart... if you know you know...#i promise i'm gonna write her someday #idk who made these btw i've tried to track them down many times but #i keep all ladylander edits/art i come across near and dear to my heart lmao #homelander #darling anon #ask and you shall receive

67 notes · View notes

cee-grice · 7 months

Text

OK GUYS, so sorry for disappearing for a while, but I was working very very hard on finishing this first draft before October and I am very pleased to say

I HAVE SUCCEEDED

at 144k.... I have finished the first draft of When White Crows Cry.....I'm gonna cry myself LMAO

no but actually, this is huge for me, and I am genuinely really really proud of myself 🥹🥹🥹 I know there's still a LONG way ahead of me, but this is a big step completed, and I'm super happy about it :'))

because I'm feeling nice today, here's the last line >:))

hehe

#writeblr #wwcc wip #OK I'M GONNA BE MORE ACTIVE NOW I PROMISE #especially since i am not gonna be writing for. a while hghghh #setting this aside until nanowrimo #omg that's gonna be hard to wait out aaaaaa

124 notes · View notes

itsjaywalkers · 4 months

Text

making ghosts, ch 9

#WHAT DID I SAY #I PROMISED . AND HERE IT IS #even tho it actually almost killed me #anyways it's near 5am #im exhausted #im falling asleep as im writing these tags #so i'm just gonna shut up and go to bed #really hope u guys like it #despite being the longest one yet..#happy new year again!!#love u all very much #fic: making ghosts #jegulus #james potter #regulus black #sirius black #jegulus fanfiction #marauders

90 notes · View notes

crystalflygeo · 1 year

Text

Marks of a warrior ft. Zhongli + gn!reader

cw/tags: hurt/comfort, self-harm mention (reader), scars, pretty suggestive but not full blown smut for once PLEASE these are delicate topics DO NOT READ IF IT MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE.

notes: Listen, as usual this is very self-indulgent, but also very personal, not everyone may feel like this of course and I hope not to make anyone feel insulted or uncomfortable, I try not to "romanticize" just... some comfort for the depression hours ok?

The satin sheets pool around your waist as you sigh, soft and nervous.

This was… the first time you got this far, and it made your heart skip a beat.

It was very intimate… and intimidating.

And despite that, there was a certain rush of excitement as Zhongli pulled off your clothes. You helped shake them off, a bit clumsily, and blushed as he stares at you.

And now here you are. Clad in just your underwear, shy and sitting on his lap, faces mere inches apart.

Those golden eyes travel over your skin, committing every curve, every mole, every strand of hair, to memory. Zhongli does not only look, he evaluates, he appraises that which he likes or finds fascinating. Studying it and, if enticed enough, the ex-archon’s gaze would turn covetous. Like a dragon wanting to claim and possess a new treasure.

Like how he stares at your right now.

There’s a certain hunger in his eyes and you almost shiver at the intensity of it, averting your eyes and subconsciously bringing up an arm to cover yourself. “D-Don’t just stare, I’m-”

“Beautiful.” He cuts off in a husky low voice that has you shivering for real now. He leans in to plant a kiss at your shoulder, your hands shoot up to his bare chest, curling there and feeling the smooth muscles.

Zhongli trails kisses up your neck, to you jaw, your cheek, your nose and you squeak when you feel his hands explore your body. Large and warm, trey trace your ribcage and brush at your nipples, you sigh.

“All this… just for me.”

You still cannot comprehend how can he look at you like that, with so much love, so much longing. How are you so lucky to have caught the eye and heart of someone so kind, so perfect. A deity, no less.

“Zhongli…”

His hands dip lower, circling your waist and there he finds something. You tense.

His thumb brushes along the scars on your hip and you flinch not-so-subtly.

This is the first time he's seen them.

The first time anyone has seen them.

Dark ugly slashes that you wish you could forget, you could undo.

"Please don't." You mumble urgently, nervous. "I..." Your lips purse together and you frown, conflicted. "I-I'm uncomfortable."

"Alright." Zhongli replies simply, his hands slide up your sides and he leans in to kiss a spot in your chest instead. A bashful smile returns to your face.

His lips meet yours in a slow but heated kiss, you can’t help but want more, be a little demanding. You arms drape around his shoulders and you pull yourself closer. The skin-on-skin contact is electrifying and you moan low.

Breathing each other’s air, pressed so close, so intimately entwined. You lose yourselves in lips and tongue and teeth, in soft hums and small noises and silent smiles.

It's nice, you think, to be so... wanted.

“You act as if you were ashamed. Warriors would often pride themselves on scars.” He says suddenly. “They are a symbol of victory. Another day to live after having faced danger and endured hardship.”

You huff a little, averting your gaze. “I’m h-hardly a warrior… those scars…” You gulp. Surely, he understood…? “They’re not from battle I… I did them myself.” You feel cold creep up your body. Dread. You feel painfully aware of them now, and the pain they bring… the memories.

He hums against your skin, nuzzling there softly. “Ah but that is where you’re wrong, my dear. Those are proof you have faced one of life’s strongest and most difficult enemies, your own dark thoughts. That which cannot be seen, cannot be easily fought, cannot be understood but for the one facing them alone.”

Your breath hitches a little.

“I, for one, I’m glad you’re here today. With me. Glad that you won that battle.” He punctuates every comment with a fleeting kiss, tickling your collarbone. One of his hands rubs at your shoulder, the other is warm on your thigh.

You blink rapidly and press your forehead into his chest, hiding the tears that wet your eyelashes.

How can he be so…

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

You stay silent in his embrace a little longer, as he rubs circles on your back.

“T-Thank you… Zhongli. One day I’ll tell you about it, but… now…”

He shushes you and leans back to lie down on the bed, bringing you along and still staring at you with that same reverence. Your pelvis brush together and you gasp. The warmth is back and growing to a full flame.

And this god, this perfect being splayed here below you…

“It’s fine if you don’t. Don’t feel forced to… you deserve to feel comfortable in your own body, and your scars do not take from who you are, nor they define you.” He cups your cheek, eyes half-lidded. “Don’t think about it now…”

You lean down with a smile and kiss him again.

#genshin x reader #zhongli x reader #zhongli x you #genshin x you #genshin imagines #genshin impact imagines #crys writes #gn reader #I'm fine I'm ok I promise #just needed this wanted to let this out #I love soft Zhongli he's so <3 #there was gonna be more to this but I'll make it a separate thing it doesn't fit here really #nsfw-ish?

312 notes · View notes

artfulacrostic · 2 months

Text

memes for The Bad Batch 3x05, "The Return" PT 2

told y'all i'd be back here's ur second delivery

*SPOILERS*

41 notes · View notes

imtrashraccoon · 9 days

Text

Consider this... The Nightmare of Apathy but Dreamswap

I'm kinda experiencing brainrot over Helios and Eos at the moment...

Dream is the one who rules over a world that is permanently day where everyone is happy and adores him. I imagine there would be sun worship but it's morphed into worshipping the deity that literally glows and makes everyone's life better.

Plant life flourishes and the climate is always comfortably warm. I don't think animal life would be much different with permanent sunlight but I'm not going to be putting thought into this right now lol.

Somehow, MC (probably named something vaguely related to the sun to have a nice parallel) meets Dream. Not sure how or why but it would either be transactional or a coincidence. Or maybe they have a "dark opposite" soul and Dream wants to "fix" them.

Dream and Nightmare still quarrel over the multiverse, although Dream has more influence thanks to time and positivity being easier to spread. Nightmare is gaining ground though which is rather concerning to Dream.

Nightmare forms his own team, not sure if it'd be the usual rabble or others. Without spoiling possible future plot points for TNA, there is a conflict between the brothers that leads Dream to forming his team. Again, possibly the usual rabble but it could be interesting if he "converts" bad guys to his cause.

I could go on but I will end up spoiling the finale to my fic... ಠ⁠_⁠ಠ

Or maybe it's like how Swapfell and Fellswap are similar but different? (Swapdream?)

Same premise as above, but Aylin is on Nightmare's side the whole time. ("Dark opposite" soul again?) I think this would be more like a desperate rebellion against a vast empire, except the rebels are technically the bad guys. So lots of angst and action scenes where they barely get out alive?

Aylin would meet Nightmare on more normal terms. He isn't a domineering lord but a pathetic outcast, hated by everyone because he only brings negativity when he's around. Or maybe his world is the one place his brother can't "taint" and while he's not loved by the populace, they understand all would be lost if he wasn't trying to maintain the balance. Maybe the economy is hyper focused on production for war efforts?

They'd get into a relationship much more quickly, especially after saving each other's lives a couple of times. Nightmare teaches her to fight, use magic, and possibly other skills he learned too. In turn, she teaches him what she knows as a herbalist and creates many valuable tonics and potions for conflict.

They pick up friends along the desperate, uphill, in the rain battle that is trying to re-establish emotional balance in the multiverse. Could be the usual rabble, although they'd probably have to rescue them from Dream's clutches first. Not sure if the boys would be more or less insane, especially if Dream was forcing them to be positive through magic.

The duo aren't loved by the majority of the multiverse and would likely run into many powerful players. Or maybe Dream hires bounty hunters to go after them. (Fresh might make sense here as he isn't a good guy and probably wouldn't appreciate Dream.)

The potential for a "happy" ending is very low and something drastic would have to occur for that to even happen. I would explain what but again, I'd literally spoil everything for TNA...

I think I like this idea much more than the previous one... (⁠-⁠_⁠-⁠;⁠)

#raccoons rambles #no i'm not writing this anytime soon if ever #i got too many wips #tempted to write a oneshot for the second idea though #gonna have to ask if i can use helios and eos though #they're so cool!#or maybe i'll just use my own bois #no promises!#i just took a small break to stretch my writing muscles #on a roll at the moment with chapter 4 #it's got like two sections left?#the nightmare of apathy #dreamswap

38 notes · View notes

rotisseries · 3 months

Text

rick riordan dickriders on here will be like "why are you complaining about the pjo tv show, go watch the movies and see what a bad adaptation really looks like" ok well listen to the musical watch it on youtube and see what a good adaptation looks like bitch. it can be done. as a fucking stage musical. what did that 15 million per episode do for disney that chris mccarell couldn't

#this is such a mean post from someone who does genuinely like the show I'm sorry #like there are aspects I really love!! and aspects I really don't!! which makes it mid for me #but I do genuinely like it overall. at least enough to continue watching #it's just that I see sooooo many people who seem to have this attitude like you can't critique it at all??#and their arguments are usually just. “movies were worse” (so we'll take anything now as long as it's not that?)#or “rick was involved in the writing” (<- NOTTT guaranteed to be a good thing lmao)#anyway it's pissing me off. I'm gonna bitch. “if you like the books so much read the books” I WAS PROMISED A BOOK ADAPTATION #AM I WRONG FOR COMPLAINING WHEN I DON'T GET WHAT I WAS PROMISED #“oh but changes are okay as long as it preserves the spirit of the books” since when was the *spirit* of the books a FUCKING BORE🤨#also the cast doesn't deserve this. stick leah and aryan and walker in a better show #pjo #pjo tv show #pjo disney+#percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #the lightning thief musical #anyway all this to say some of the changes and choices are Actually Bad and it won't kill you to admit that I think #rereading this post in the drafts and editing before posting when I was handwringing about how mean it was bitch this is mild

50 notes · View notes

flownwrong · 1 year

Text

#this is what's going on I promise I still remember fandom for fictional stories exists #bear with me I'm gonna write some mash fic or something #i still love shit i blogged about before and I'm gonna blog about it again don't leave #i have ALWAYS been like that about music i just hide it well #ende neu #einstürzende neubauten

202 notes · View notes

sophiethewitch1 · 1 month

Note

UwU any spoilers for the next chapter,,

I have meant to do this multiple times but keep forgetting so here's an extra long snippet in apology! It's basically the entire start of the next chapter ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Damn. Your indulgent TV stalking of the Wayne’s really doesn’t hit the same once you technically knew them. And you were hiding inside one of their bedrooms, inside one of their clothes, using their TV subscription. It just didn’t feel right. Morally, of course, but that wasn’t what you were talking about. No, you were just pissy your favourite passtime was basically ruined. You shovel another spoonful of cookie dough ice cream into your mouth, glaring through tired eyes at the screen.

There’s an up close shot of Dick Grayson’s abs. The presenter ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ over his physical form, and you have to agree. You wish you had abs like that. Unfortunately you did respond to most unwanted experiences with stress eating. As always with these celebrity figures, you can’t really tell if you want to be Dick or be with Dick. Your butt is nowhere near the level his is at.

While you hadn’t really set out today looking for shirtless pictures of the Waynes, it wasn’t like you were going to say no to them. So, when the gossip channel had switched from the reactions of the Waynes to last night’s fiasco to… this… you’d just kept watching.

You wonder if you should stop doing this. It’s definitely kind of creepy, and now you’d technically once been his… step sister. What a mind fuck. You’ve been crushing on these dudes for a while, and now they were your ex-step siblings. This was like the start of a bad porno, but you knew you were not that lucky. And it wasn’t like you were going to start thinking of him as a brother any time soon. You hadn’t even met the guy. No, he was still firmly in the ‘celebrity crush’ section of your mind. Pretty and untouchable. The way things are supposed to be.

Which was also bad because you would probably have to meet and interact with him at some point. Probably in the near future. God knows you’d absolutely humiliated yourself in front of the fucking Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne,. Twice, in fact. You didn’t even want to think about the display you’d shown for Bruce Wayne or Damian Wayne.

You didn’t really know what to do with your slightly obsessive crushes. And you could see it definitely being a problem in the near future.

…You decide that what you do in your private time is absolutely nobody but yours business, and keep watching. It’s a mix of bitter spite and geniune mental breakdown levels of desperation that leads you to that decision. You feel like you’re a child with their toy being taken away, and it’s making you mad. And sad too. Even if you shouldn’t do this anymore, you still wanted to keep the habit. You’d mentioned before your creature comforts were one of the few things that kept you going. And while you were mostly very good at not being the jealous, heinous creature you really are, you knew you wouldn’t be giving this up.

They’d have to tear your gossip channels from your cold dead palms. You weren’t giving them up, not without a fight at least. Unfortunately for you, the universe seemed determined to wrestle away literally everything you loved.

Guilt’s for tomorrow. Today is for ice cream and purposefully ignoring everything. Speaking of which, you can not remember the last time you had a good Ben & Jerry’s. They were so expensive these days, as all groceries were. You simply couldn’t afford it. The Waynes, of course, had multiple tubs in multiple different options. Alfred had seemed delighted that you’d taken the ice cream, for which reasons you could not perceive.

Oh, yeah! His name was Alfred. Very butler-y. You’d remember it this time, he was a very nice man. And he called you ‘young miss’ which earned him points. He also didn’t seem to hate you on sight, or treat you like a two-headed freak, like some of the other people in this household. Not naming names. Yeah, fuck that noise, Damian Wayne obviously has issues and it’s much less attractive in real life.

The woman drones on, and your eyes flick to your phone. Yup, she’s still yapping. It’s not like you don’t appreciate Dick’s abs or anything, it’s just that you think she might’ve been talking about this one specific photo for over half an hour now. Lady should get a hobby. Wait, wait, this is her job. Maybe you should start a podcast where you rant about the Wayne’s excercise regimes. It seems to be quite a lucrative field.

You shriek when the door slams open, nearly tumbling backwards off the bed. Hands manage to grip the bedcovers before you tip over, not making a complete fool of yourself. As it goes, you lose your spoon to the carpet. Bits of cookie dough spread over the floor in a divine sacrifice. And you lose your sanity to the man standing in the doorway. To be fair, he looks just as confused as you feel.

You blink at the physically perfect form of Dick Grayson, and then turn your head to the TV to look at the other physically perfect form of Dick Grayson.

…You really wish you had a good explanation for this.

He mutters out your name, lips parted. Dick Grayson seems absolutely shocked to find you here. His eyes flick around the room, and eventually land on the TV. Said baby blues widen to the size of saucers when the reporter makes a really, really unneccesary comment.

“And in news that broke the hearts of both ladies and gentlemen everywhere in Bludhaven, Dick Grayson has announced he will be returning to Gotham to assist his family in this difficult time. My cousin in the Blud is probably crying right now. There’s no ass out there quite like his, and there’s no replacement for Bludhaven’s favourite young rich bachelor,” she winks at the camera, and then the shot of his tone stomach phases forward to take up the entire screen.

Well, there’s a lot to say about that. First of all, fuck. Second of all, shit. Third of all, she really couldn’t have said that part about Dick coming back to Gotham sooner? Per chance, before you’d found yourself in this situation?

You said you weren’t that lucky, you meant it.

“But still, ain’t that lucky for us Gothamites? I myself have spent a lot of time on Dick’s Tiktok and Instagram, and his thirst traps have been used in a lot of my personal-”

You snatch the remote from the sheets and pause it right there. The silence is tense.

#sophie speaks #sophie answers #series:www #www spoilers #i am. EMBARASSED #look i put a warning on my blog that id regularly forget things and i meant it #im sorry :/#i really wish i could fix it but like i... can not #dissociative disorder + fibro fog = never getting any shit done #but also i think im on the rise again!! i feel motivated and want to write so I'm gonna get doing that #this chapter will probably be a bit shorter but I'm uncertain #just trying to get it out really #i promise i really havent given up on www I'm too invested at this point lmao #if i do not see these bitches fucking i will be upset

41 notes · View notes

prince-liest · 2 months

Text

ALRIGHT, first draft of ch 3 of the bodyswap fic is done!! Now I need to meal prep so that I have things to eat for my next several shifts. +^+

5.6k words, so a bit longer than the previous chapters! And chapter count is definitely up to 4 now, haha. I always do this to myself.

I'm gonna need to write some adorably shitfaced platonic radiodust shenanigans after this to cope, haaaa—

#personal #my writing #no snippet because aside from the bit I've already posted they're kinda all massive spoilers #it's my one day off this week but I'm gonna be going to bed at like 8pm bc I'm swapping to 6am shifts which means I gotta wake up at 4:30am #hopefully I will have time to answer some asks before I go to bed! <3 #(THIS IS Y'ALL'S SIGN TO PLEASE FEEL FREE TO DUMP ADORABLE SHITFACED RADIODUST SHENANIGAN IDEAS INTO MY INBOX IF YOU HAVE ANY U WANNA SHARE #(I make no promises but I am OPEN to ideas)

27 notes · View notes

avvail-whumps · 9 months

Text

‘guns for hire’ — forty-eight hours #37

previous · masterlist · next

content warnings: whumpee referred to as “kid” but they’re an adult, conditioned whumpee, interrogations, stockholm syndrome, mentioned past character death

Sharpe was expecting Summers to lay into him the moment the door was closed, and he was already preparing a cigerette for him to drag between her harsh words.

He hadn’t been expecting her hand to slap them from his fingers harshly, causing them to clatter to the ground. His brows furrowed instantly, arms coming up in mock surrender.

“Jesus, Summers,” he grunted, but the woman’s fiery eyes were burning too brightly for her to even care about his visible discontent.

“This whole thing is a fucking mess,” she snarled, face twisted in anger. “He should be in a hospital. He shouldn’t be locked in some interogation room while you grill the poor kid until he’s in tears.”

“I’m not grilling him,” Sharpe argued, but he was promptly cut off.

“No, Steven,” she snapped. “Be quiet for two seconds. You arrested Roy under ridiculous assumptions and for what? Because you think it was his uncle that killed Mikhail Wilson?”

“I know it was his uncle that killed Mikhail Wilson,” the detective corrected with a scoff, his brows furrowing in discontent. “Kidnapping Leo was sloppy. So naturally his uncle is going to be the one to clean up loose ends.”

“On what grounds, Steven?” Summers snapped, throwing her arms up in disbelief. There was a fiery, but exasperated tone to her sharp voice. “On what grounds would any of this hold up as viable evidence? It doesn’t. It’s all speculation, and speculation isn’t going to get Roy convicted.”

“You really believe the bullshit about stumbling onto his house is true? That there happened to conveniently be someplace else that kidnapping victims are kept?”

“Those forests are fucking huge,” Summers frowned, shaking her head. The anger was slowly leaving her voice, finding it was useless to argue against Sharpe. “People go missing in them and never found all the time, and you know this. If his kidnappers wanted to keep him someplace concealed, we might never find it, even if we had hundreds of officers searching every square acre.”

Sharpe shook his head, running a desperate hand through his hair. His eyes snapped towards the door where Leo was, and all it took was the reminder of him in the car to get him fired up once again. There were too many little discrepancies popping up that couldn’t be sheerly down to coincidence.

“The kid is confused,” Summers spoke once more, drawing him out of his boiling rage. “He’s scared. He’s likely traumatised, and you think he’d be able to retell some fake, elaborate story in the state he’s in right now?”

“Summers—”

“Forensics are doing a sweep of Roy’s house,” she interrupted coldly. “If anything detrimental comes up, we’ll know. They’ll have Roy’s trip to Morocco checked, as well as his phone and laptop.”

The detective decided to keep mouth shut for now. There was no use arguing against her when the evidence was stacked up against him so highly, which he saw and understood completely. Although his words were being seen as sheer speculation, which in reality, it was, it was speculation that Sharpe believed to be the truth, and he was going to fight tooth and nail to save Leo from the man’s clutches.

“Summers, you know I’m a good detective,” he started, and the woman turned away from him with a sharp groan.

“Don’t start this, Steven,” she snapped. “I know you’re a good detective. But this is a mess and you know it, even if you are right.”

“We’d hit a dead end. His case had been closed. The captain was even willing to bet his career on this case, and look what happened. We found him.”

“And haven’t they given a valid enough reason to explain that?”

Sharpe grit his teeth, a sharp scoff rising in his throat. He almost couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “What, so you believe Roy’s bullshit about not wanting to call the police?”

“You saw the kid in there,” she fired back swiftly, without missing a beat. “He genuinely believes that he was responsible for Michael’s death. You’re a detective, Steven. Like you said, a good one. Can’t you tell that he’s scared out of his mind?”

“He’s scared enough to do what he’s told,” he grumbled dryly under his breath, stifling a grunt when Summers elbowed him a little too hard in the rib. He could tell she was angry and frustrated, and so was he. They’d found the kid safe and sound, but they both knew that he wouldn’t ever be the same. Just looking at all of the horrible scars on his body from the photos, and the sickening guilt in their stomachs for not saving him quicker. It was enough to shake the both of them, including Sharpe, despite his tough exterior.

“What kind of twenty-four year old lives in the middle of nowhere anyway?” Sharpe grumbled under his breath, ignoring Summers’ eyes when she turned to glance at him. She leaned against the wall, running a hand through her hair and gathering it up into a ponytail. She pressed the bobble between her teeth as she did, before scraping it all back successfully.

“I had a word with him while you were talking with Leo,” she sighed, folding her arms over her chest. “I already asked him. His explanation was reasonable enough.”

The detective scoffed. “And what was that?”

“His uncle,” she shrugged wearily. “It’s safer for him than if he was in the city. Wouldn’t be hard for that man to find him if he decided he didn’t want his dear old nephew running around by himself anymore.”

Sharpe had a lot to say about that, but for the sake of not having his cigerate and lighter slapped out of his hands for a second time, he decided to keep it to himself. He bent down and scooped the two objects up, tossing the cigerette in the bin, and pulling out another from the depths of his trouser pockets. He leaned against the opposite side of the wall, beside the water dispenser. He wasn’t allowed to smoke at the station, but he didn’t care.

“How is the Commissioner taking this?”

His words lingered in the foul air for a while, tainting it even further. Summers’ eyes remained glued to part of the ground, her eyebrows raising with a deep sigh.

“As you can imagine, not very well,” she muttered. “He’s absolutely livid. You’ve probably cost the Captain his badge.”

Sharpe sucked in a breath, tasting the familiar tobacco on his tongue. “Yeah, well, we’ve still got over twenty-four hours for Leo to tell us the truth.”

Summers gave another pathetic shrug. The detective didn’t want to believe that she’d given up just yet, but it was becoming increasingly more difficult as the time whirled on by. They’d have to move Roy into a cell for the night, as well as find someplace for the kid to recuperate. By then, their time would be rapidly diminishing.

“And what if Roy walks free, huh, Steven?” She asked softly. “There’ll probably be hefty compensation for the Commissoner to deal with once this is all over. And, Jesus, if his uncle is willing to tie up loose ends for his nephew like you said, what’s the chance he won’t do the same here?”

Something icey made its way into Sharpes chest. His eyes narrowed as he glanced at her from above his cigarette.

“What exactly are you implying?”

Summers tapped a finger on her forearm. “The Commissioner isn’t going to let this slide.”

“Doesn’t this just prove my claim if he does?” He grumbled. “That he currently has connections with his uncle?”

“He’s his legal guardian,” Summers reminded him gently. “So, no. Not really.”

“Fuck,” Sharpe sighed, rubbing the aching crease in his forehead. He took another deep drag, letting the sting fill up his lungs. All he could hope for was that once the house was sweeped and searched, something of value would come up. Something incriminating, while they thoroughly did a search on Bran, Sean and Rafi in the meantime. Sharpe didn’t feel as though Leo would take well to his encouragement to tell him it was Roy, so he found his gaze settling on Summers’ remorseful face again.

“Can you talk to the kid again?” He asked softly. “He might open up to you. Much prettier than me, after all.”

That brought a small smirk to her lips. “Was that a compliment, Steven?”

He tapped the end of the cigerette with a chuckle, watching the dark ash flutter to the ground.

“Never.”

She shook her head, pushing off the wall. “I’ll do my best. They should transfer Roy into a cell for the night.”

“Already on it,” Sharpe called out as his feet carried him swiftly through the corridors of the station, his smile fading as soon as her back was turned.

. . .

Leo must have drifted off for a while, because when he blinked his eyes open, they were crusted and sore against the dry air. His stuffy nose struggled to take a deep breath in, uncurling his head from his arms. His neck felt horribly stiff as he shifted back into the chair, weary hands rubbing at it gently.

He was still in the same, boring room as before, alone as ever.

He wondered where Roy was.

God, he would do anything to see him right now. Was he somewhere in the building? Were they treating him badly? Was he doing a good job? Without Roy here to tell him if he was doing okay with the story, he could feel himself becoming agitated and nervous. If he was here, he would probably be holding him gently, whispering sweet nothings into his ear, and Leo would lap it up like it was the last time he’d ever hear anything nice. It might have been now. What if he got into trouble for killing Michael? What if he slipped up and disappointed Roy?

Even when the door popped open again, Leo didn’t look over. He was chewing on his finger again, staring intently at the surface of the table.

“Leo?”

He jerkily nodded his head, letting the woman know that he was listening. It passed over him in a blur, however. He briefly listened to her soft words, much kinder than the bearded detective from before. He learned that her name was Summers. Heard her repeat the same mantra’s of “you’re safe now” and “no one can hurt you anymore”. He had to endure the difficult, probing questions that Roy had told him about, words flying from her mouth like “do you understand the concept of Stockholm Syndrome?” or “did he coerce you into sexual intercourse?”, and Leo forced himself to keep his head on straight through it all.

Still, like Roy wanted, he didn’t crumble.

He felt like he would. Each question was chipping away at his exhausted resolve, the sinking darkness under his eyes an indication enough about what the stress was doing to him. He was guided carefully to an unlocked cell, where they encouraged him to get some rest. A bunch of pillows, blankets, water, pills, and even a bar of chocolate was handed to him by uniformed police officers.

Their kindness was almost strange.

Respectfully keeping their distance, making sure he was comfortable and ensuring him they would do their best to stay quiet for him. Even when he’d become anxious over the cell door being locked and caging him in like some criminal, a pudgy officer had placed a chair against the door to keep it propped open for him.

Leo barely slept a wink.

He pulled the blankets right up to his nose, but none of them reminded him of home. His stomach ached as sickening thoughts plagued his mind. I need to tell them. I need to tell them the truth. Then another side of them, cruel and hissing in his ear. What about Roy? He’ll be so disappointed in you.

By the time he’d been retrieved by those two detectives again and placed in the same little room, he was more of a coward than he had always been. He sobbed as he told them the same story, over and over again. Even as the timer ticked down, closing in on the forty-eight hours with only minutes left, he gave Sharpe and Summers the same answer to their demands.

“We can only do this with your help,” the man pressed, a slight edge of desperation in his tone. “Tell us it was Roy.”

He didn’t.

And by then, it was too late anyway.

tag list – @unorganisedalienrubbish @d-cs @rabidrabidme @sordayciega @burningkittypoet @whumpawink @mannerofwhump @suspicious-whumping-egg @welcome-to-the-whumpfest @whatwasmyprevioususername @crilex29 @firefly017 @dutifullykrispyland @wibbly-wobbly-whump @there-will-always-be-blood @anonintrovert @justawhumpjunkie @whumptastic-world @ha-ha-one @whatwhumpcomments @whumpterful-beeeeee @anonymous1235 @sonder35 @unforgiven235 @whumpasaurus101 @mj-or-say10 @professional-idiocy @seaweed-is-cool @theelvishcowgirl @atomicsandwichprince @sunshiline-writes @peasandpotatos @pirefyrelight @enigmawritesstuff @reverie1234 @obsessedsplicer505 @mithras-energy @morning-star-whump

70 notes · View notes