#like two ships in the night passing each other by. except they keep trying to seek the other out. and so end up going in circles | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

babyblue711 · 9 months

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Temptation

Ettore (High Life) x Reader - Part 1 Summary: Tired of the monotony of everyday life aboard the spaceship, you decide to start a little game to taunt Ettore. But your plan backfires and now you must deal with the consequences of temptation. This fic was heavily inspired by these two songs. I recommend giving them a listen before continuing: "Fill the Void" by Lily-Rose Depp & The Weeknd and "Little Girl Gone" by CHINCHILLA Words: 6.3K

Warnings: PLEASE READ! NSFW, Smut, Mature Themes 18+, Sexual Content 18+, Noncon, Dubcon, Rough Sex, Physical Violence, Mention of Suicide, Mention of Physical Abuse, Language, Degradation A/N: Consider Part 1 to be "just getting warmed up". I hope you all enjoy! Thank you to @arcielee for beta reading and @myfandomprompts for providing most of the pics and gifs! Dividers by @firefly-graphic

Every day was the same.

Trapped on this doomed spaceship that was destined for hell, every day felt like a relentless loop of monotony and misery. Same work, same people, same experiments, same old bullshit every fucking day.

The utilitarian living quarters of the spacecraft make you feel like you are in a mental hospital, cold and uninviting. Every facet of the interior is minimalistic; a mix of sterile clinical spaces and dimly lit, shadowy corridors. Blue light shines at night that’s supposed to help the inhabitants sleep. The bland functionality and oppressive “sameness” just makes you want to scream.

Some days it all becomes too much to bear and you feel a small part of you snap. You despise feeling helpless and not in control of your life anymore; with each beat of your heart, white hot fire courses through your veins. At times, you yearn to unleash your fury on someone, anyone, to let out the pent-up frustration that has been building within you for far too long. But then the storm inside of you passes and you settle back into your repetitive routine once more.

Your fellow shipmates are a bunch of criminals and weirdos. You try to make due with what you have, except for Dr. Dibs, whom you hate with your whole heart. Her cold demeanor and cruel experiments are a constant source of dread. She seems to derive pleasure from the suffering she inflicts upon you and the other girls aboard the ship.

Although you aren’t really sure you could call them friends, there are a few people you were “ok” with, mainly the other girls that also had to suffer through Dr. Dib’s sick experiments. A few of the guys are alright too; Monte is a loner that mainly keeps to himself and you’ve never heard him say an unkind word. Tcherny’s favorite place on the ship is the makeshift garden and you couldn’t blame him since it reminds everyone of Earth, of home.

Ettore is…unusual. He has a certain aura that just feels…off. Your hair stands up on the back of your neck whenever you catch him staring or whenever he passes too close in the corridor, as if an electric current surrounds him, radiating off of his body. He’s a man of few words; you’ve rarely ever heard him speak.

Amongst the girls, it’s well known that he doesn’t give a fuck if he is caught staring or leering, which he often is. Boyse especially dislikes him because he gives her the creeps. She normally has trouble sleeping at night because she says she can feel her skin crawl when he looks at her. You try your best to just ignore him most of the time.

Until one day, during lunch in the cafeteria, you are sitting with the girls, mingling and talking quietly, when you feel a tingle go down your spine. You glance up and immediately make eye contact with him.

His eyes lock onto yours, and you find yourself momentarily captivated by the intensity behind his gaze.

You were already having a bad day and you can feel the beginnings of another storm brewing inside. You’re sick of Ettore’s shit so you stare right back, issuing him a challenge in a silent duel to look away first. The air seems to sizzle with tension as you watch his glare harden when you don’t look away, like most of the girls normally do; he looks positively predatory with his sharp angular face and dark blue eyes.

You refuse to let him intimidate you. Your eyes are watering but you’re too involved in this stupid little battle of wills to concede to him now by blinking. Thankfully, a welcome interruption arrives in the form of Monte. Having not noticed the little contest between you and Ettore, he walks right in front, breaking the spell between you two. You blink rapidly and take a deep breath, watching as Ettore leans around Monte to look back at you, an unspoken promise in his stare that seems to say, I’m not done with you yet. You roll your eyes and look away.

“What are you looking at, Y/N?” Boyse asks from beside you, snapping you to attention.

“Uh...nothing,” you mumble back, not really wanting to engage with her.

“That fucking creep. He sits across from us to stare at us on purpose, have you noticed?” Boyse says, noticing the trail of your gaze.

“Yeah, I know but don’t let it bother you, Boyse, just ignore him,” you try to diffuse the situation. You don’t want to be involved in yet another incident where Ettore made a girl feel uncomfortable. Boyse goes back to picking at her food silently and you do the same.

You ignore him now; he isn’t worth your time or attention. Even though you get a bad vibe from him, you can’t help but notice a certain attractiveness about Ettore. He is tall and lean, with corded muscles on his arms, toned chest, and abs. He has a very angular face, strong jaw and chin with a sharp nose and luscious lips. You have to admit that you had never seen a man with as beautiful lips as his.

Lost for a moment thinking about his body, you bring yourself back to the present. You scold yourself; perhaps the monotony of this ship really was driving you insane, lusting after someone who gave off such ominous vibes. You swore to hate men for all eternity after what you had endured. That’s how you ended up in this hell hole to begin with….

After years of torment and physical violence of both you and your mother, you finally snapped and murdered your abusive stepfather in his sleep after he was passed out from another drunken rage.

But, despite arguing in court that your actions should be considered self defense after years of abuse, the jury found you guilty and sentenced you to life in prison...or join this sick experiment in space. You aren’t remorseful that you had killed your step-father. He got what he deserved and no other woman would have to deal with his violence ever again. However, when your mother learned that you had chosen to accept this mission in space, she couldn’t bear the pain of losing her only daughter. She took a bunch of pills and never woke up.

Now, you are an unloved, unwanted murderer and no one cared if you lived or died. This mission is perfect for people like you.

You’re standing in line for the shower that evening, towel in hand, when Ettore walks by; his hair is still wet from his shower and he’s wearing a fresh set of scrubs, towel slung over his shoulder. You see him coming and avert your eyes so as not to attract his attention. He saunters over anyway and you know he’s trying to annoy you on purpose.

He stops right beside your left shoulder and you reluctantly bring your eyes up to meet his gaze. His presence is imposing and you can't help but notice how much taller he is compared to you, making you feel small and vulnerable in his shadow. He leers, invading your personal space and it takes everything in you to not step back from him as he looks down his nose at you. Your eyes lock in a tense standoff, each daring the other to back down.

Despite your inner resolve, you feel a knot of tension in your stomach, and your hand instinctively tightens around the towel you're holding. It takes all your strength to hold your ground, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing you flinch.

“I know what you’re doing,” he sneers in a low voice.

You realize that he is trying to intimidate you with some stupid alpha-male shit, but you are not afraid of him. Fire burns hot in your blood and you are ready for a fight.

“I’m not doin’ shit, Ettore, now fuck off,” you say back aggressively, letting him know you won’t be an easy meal with your tone.

“The fuck you aren’t,” he growls lowly, deep in his chest. He steps closer to you, suddenly trailing a finger from your eyebrow down the side of your face. The gesture is so unexpected that you flinch and freeze, staring up at him with wide eyes mixed with confusion and defiance.

“C’mon, love, I know you’re just playing hard to get,” he whispers as his eyes look you up and down suggestively. Finally, he turns and walks away.

As he exits the bathroom, you let out a breath that you didn’t realize you were holding and think, What the fuck was that? You curse internally; you knew you shouldn’t have started anything back in the cafeteria. Now he thinks you’re interested or some shit. But…maybe you were, in a way? You feel conflicted, knowing that he thinks of you as an easy target.

Finally, it’s your turn for the shower. You undress quickly and start to relax as the hot water streams over your shoulders. As you’re washing your hair, an idea comes to you and butterflies flutter in your chest at your wicked thoughts, the most excitement you’ve felt in a long time. Because of your abusive past, you refuse to let anyone ever make you feel small and insignificant ever again and decide on the spot that Ettore is going to become your next target of torture. You knew his weakness; you’d exploit his obvious sexual deviousness, which was probably fueled by the rules on the ship that the inmates couldn’t engage in any sexual behavior with each other.

A dark chuckle escapes your lips. You’d show him who’s boss. Given the lack of privacy on the spacecraft, you’d never fear his retribution; you could tease him mercilessly and always be able to evade any potential advances if he thought he would take things further…or so you hoped.

A tiny alarm bell rings in the back of your mind. You knew that what you were planning was the equivalent to waking a sleeping dragon but you didn’t care. You are so beyond sick of the monotony of everyday life that you convince yourself that you needed this little extra bit of spice as an escape from the mundane reality of your circumstances.

So, you allow this little game to proceed between you and Ettore, a cocktail of emotions swirling within you: boredom, lust, anger, hatred, desire—all of them fuel this strange dance.

As the days pass by, you continue to provoke him with stolen glances and lingering eye contact that says more than words ever could. He responds eagerly to your meager attention, just as you knew he would. His advances quickly became more pronounced as simple stares turn into physical contact: brushing your shoulder on purpose as he walks by, daring you to react. Anytime you are in the same vicinity as him, you feel a magnetic energy pulling the two of you together. You have created this friction on purpose to drive him mad, but you can’t help but feel like you are getting caught up in it too…

Something had awoken in you that night when he touched your face in the bathroom. A wild, feral animal rattles at the bars of this proverbial cage that you had locked away deep inside a long time ago. Women aren’t supposed to be sexual creatures in the same way men are. It was a part of yourself that you have spent years hiding because you are afraid you’d just be labeled a whore or a slut. But what did it matter anymore on this dreaded spaceship? You can’t deny that you, too, feel a deep void, an ache in your chest, a need for something more.

Upon arriving back at your bunk one evening, you hear a deep breath from behind you. You whirl and see Ettore across the hallway, standing in another doorway, watching you. It’s the most provocative he’s looked thus far since he’s shirtless, wearing only a pair of black sweatpants. You hesitate, then decide to make a show of looking him up and down, biting your bottom lip, secretly admiring his toned chest and abs. When your eyes flick back up to his face, his gaze locks onto yours as he reaches into his pants and starts pleasuring himself right in front of you, not caring if anyone saw.

Your eyeballs pop in shock at this brazen display of desire. Your heartbeat picks up and a million thoughts start to race through your mind. Should you tease him in return? What if he decides to come into your bunk? Red flags wave a warning in the back of your mind and you knew you were walking on a razor’s edge. You think he’s about to take a step towards you when, thankfully, a door slams nearby and Ettore vanishes into the shadows. You let out a deep breath, doubting your stupid plan to taunt him that was working way too easily. A ripple of unease flows through you. You could feel that he was like a volcano waiting to explode. What would you do when he did?

You decide to ignore him from now on to try to diffuse the tension you had built between you both. He needs to get a grip and, honestly, so did you. So, as much as you despise it, you release your frustration within “The Box” when it all becomes too much to bear.

A few nights later, you are walking back to your bunk after visiting The Box. Still unsatisfied, you turn the corner and see Ettore scrubbing the floor in front of you, his back to you. He is shirtless again, dressed only in orange cargo pants. He doesn’t look around and you don’t think he’s heard your approach. You pause behind him, admiring the way his shoulder and back muscles ripple as he scrubs the floor. He has three tattoos, all black triangles; one on his right forearm, another on his left bicep, and finally, one on the right side of his neck. You assume they are symbolism for some type of gang. You’re staring, openly, almost hypnotized by the movement of his muscles.

“I know you’re there,” he says suddenly and you jump out of your revere, heart leaping into your throat. He continues to mop the floor, not even bothering to turn around.

You feign nonchalance and start to walk by him, glancing down just as he is looking up at you.

“I can do you better than that box, you know,” he purrs at you with a cocky smirk.

He doesn’t miss the way your eyes widen at his words. Your heart pounds and you know you can’t give him any encouragement, so you give a noncommittal grunt before hurrying back to your bunk. When you lay in bed that night, you know, deep down, that if you stood there and watched him any longer, half naked on the floor, you might just be tempted to find out for yourself.

The next day starts like any other. You’ve been assigned to organize the storage room; a redundant and mundane task, located in the bottom level of the ship. You’ve been at it for a couple of hours, in the middle of inventorying the stockpile of supplies, when you feel a presence from behind. You don’t know what tipped you off exactly because he hasn’t made a sound, but you turn to see him silently shutting the door behind him and locking it, staring at you with a predatory gaze.

“The fuck do you want?” you ask aggressively, firing up at once. Anger is your first line of defense as your heartbeat picks up, but the smallest thrill of fear laces up your spine. An alarm bell goes off in the back of your mind, a small voice is screaming a warning to get out of that room. You are quite alone down here in this part of the ship and you doubt anyone would hear you if you try to scream. This was it…you had pushed him too far and now the consequence was right in front of you, looking at you mercilessly.

“I think you know what I want,” he almost growls, voice deep. “You have a choice, we can do this the easy way….or we can do this the hard way,” his gaze hardens as he stares at you.

“Fuck off,” you say defiantly back. Inside, you are cursing fluently. You knew this day would come, knew he wouldn’t be able to resist temptation. He chuckles as he steps closer until he’s right in front of you, looking down.

“You wanna know what I think?” he says, and you really don’t care what he thinks but you know he’s about to tell you anyway so you don’t even bother responding. “I don’t know what you did to land here on this cursed spaceship, but I think, deep down, you’re just a good little girl, pretending to be bad, aren’t you?” He says this as if hoping to corrupt your innocence; you smirk to yourself, thinking he has no idea who he’s messing with.

You raise your chin, looking him straight in the eyes and you just can’t help the words that escape from your mouth. “Well…this good little girl is only a bad girl for the right man,” you say with fire in your gaze, taunting him on purpose even though you know it’s a stupid thing to do. “And that sure as hell isn’t you.”

You could feel the heat radiate off of him from the proximity of his body so close to yours. He smirks and his eyes darken dangerously as he takes the bait.

“Is that so?” he says easily. “You’ve been provoking me for weeks. You think I didn’t know exactly what you were doing all along? I saw you staring at me too. I think you want me as much as I want you.” His eyes seem to burn into you with desire, lust blowing out his pupil.

“It was just a stupid little game, Ettore. It didn’t mean anything, it’s not that serious,” you know you’re babbling as you try to remain calm by playing it off like you don’t know what he’s talking about. His nostrils flare as he sniffs out your lie and you suddenly feel like a mouse that has just wandered into the lion's den. “Besides, you know we can’t,” you say sternly, referring to the rules, trying to get him to see reason.

“That’s bullshit and you know it. And I don’t give a fuck about Dibs’ rules,” he says menacingly.

Rage starts to come to your rescue as you realize he’s not going to listen to a word you say.

You level him with a hard glare. “I don’t fucking want you, Ettore,” you growl back at him.

Panic seizes you for a moment when he reaches for you suddenly and cups your face with his hand. His thumb runs over your cheek in an unexpected gentle caress before moving over your lips, pulling your bottom lip down. His eyes flick up to yours as lust surges through your core at his touch.

“Such a smart little mouth you have,” he says quietly as he takes a deep breath. “I won’t have a problem fucking the brat outta you.”

He moves so fast you don’t even have time to blink as he lunges for you, spinning you around and smashing you against some cardboard boxes stacked against the wall nearby. His fingers have a tight grip on your hair as he pushes your face into the box, using his knees to kick your legs apart, unbalancing you, one hand grabs your left arm and twists it behind your back. He moves at such a lightning pace that it momentarily takes your breath away.

He pulls your head back from the box by your hair and bends your neck to the side so he can run his nose from your ear to your shoulder, groaning like an animal in heat as he savors your smell. Your heart hammers in your chest. Shockwaves roll over you at the speed of his assault and you can’t even form words yet, only whimper slightly from the pain of having your hair pulled. At the same time, wetness pools at your center.

“I gave you an opportunity, didn’t I?” he whispers darkly in your ear. “It didn’t have to be like this, you stupid little cunt,” he grunts as you try to struggle with all your might to get away from him, but he’s just too big, too heavy, too strong to break free of his grasp.

Rage boils in your blood as you realize just how well and truly trapped you are. Deep down, you knew this would happen. You realize he saw an opportunity to get you alone and he took it. You know what’s about to happen and you know you can’t stop it, but you aren’t going down without a fight.

Your breathing is fast as he starts kissing your neck, biting down on your pulsepoint, feeling your heart race.

“Fuck you, Ettore,” you say through gritted teeth.

Provocatively, he grinds his hard cock against your ass through your clothes. “Oh, you will,” he growls as he lets go of your hair to effectively pin your arms behind your back with one hand. With the other free hand, he starts exploring your body, running his hand over your breasts and squeezing until he trails down lower, dipping his fingers under the band of your pants.

You truly lose it at this moment as you feel him reach for your core. You struggle and fight for all your worth and he's forced to stop his path to your center and hold onto you tighter to keep you from getting away. His fingers latch around your throat and he squeezes hard, immobilizing you easily as you struggle to take a breath. His body pushes you further into the boxes, leaning his weight on you.

“Stop fighting me,” he loudly growls into your ear aggressively. “You stupid little bitch, I know I do things to you too, just the same as you do me,” he breathes harshly. “Look how your body responds to me,” your nipples are pebbled against your shirt and he could clearly feel them when he assaulted your front a moment ago.

“And I bet, if I touched you right now, you’d be wet, wouldn’t you, love?” he licks the outer rim of your ear and releases his grip on your throat. As you gasp and suck in air, as his fingers reach below your panties and his fingers find your slippery core. You whimper and draw shallow breaths as he groans into your ear when he feels how wet your cunt is.

He dips down to your opening and gathers some slick, bringing it up to circle your bud and you feel the fight slowly leave your body. It has been so long since a man touched you, you feel like a switch has been flipped, lust now running rampant through your veins, like a shot of ecstasy to your system. He feels you relax under his hand and loosens his hold on your wrists that are still pinned behind your back. You moan softly and lean into him.

“That’s what I thought, you little slut,” he whispers in your ear. You allow yourself to enjoy this moment, but you’ve already formulated a secondary plan and intend to make him pay for this too. You’re simply lulling him into a false sense of security right now. By loosening his hold, he’s actually done exactly what you wanted. You let him circle your bud for a few more times, before you tense, spinning around and shoving him away from you as hard as you can. You aren’t the only one who’s going to feel pain today as renewed rage pounds in your chest.

You leap at him and the fight for dominance ensues as you grapple with each other, falling onto the floor. Physically, you know you are no match for him, but taking your anger and frustration out on him just feels so good. You kick and punch and scratch and scream. He’s doing everything he can to block and contain your flurry of blows but he’s not hit back yet either. Even if he does, that’s nothing new to you; you still have plenty of scars from your step-father.

You’re on top at first, but you’re under no illusion that you’re “winning”, just simply letting the frustration out as you claw at his chest. He quickly decides he’s tired of being your punching bag and he flips you over and lays his full weight on top of you, pinning you to the floor.

You wrap him in a bear hug on the floor, thinking that if he can’t lean away from you to punch you, you’re safe from any strong direct hits from him. You’re both breathing heavily, Ettore trapped between your legs and you try to kick him from your position but he grabs your hip and pinches harshly, causing you to yelp in pain.

He wiggles free of your arms, pinning your hands above your head with one of his as he looks down at you, fury in his gaze.

“Are you fuckin’ done yet?” he taunts you, knowing you’re pinned now.

You literally growl back at him like a rabid, wild animal and show him your teeth; maybe he’ll think you’re insane and he won’t want to continue this anymore. It doesn’t work...

He smirks instead. “There she is…you weren’t lying earlier about the bad girl thing were you? I got myself a right little she-devil, haven’t I?” He chuckles darkly, a menacing sound causing fear to tingle at the base of your spine. “Don’t worry, I’ll have you tamed by the end.”

You don’t respond, distracted by his other hand that has traveled up your shirt, roving over your breasts. You try to buck him off but he’s just too heavy and you barely get him to budge. In alarm, you realize you’ve missed your chance to escape. He watches your face as he touches you and you glare back up into his eyes, hating feeling helpless like this. His touch is surprisingly gentle as he squeezes your breasts and then runs his warm hand down your ribs.

Hatred and fury pound in your chest, but you’re caught off guard that he isn’t beating you to a pulp. It’s what you had come to expect from men, especially after the physical altercation you just had with him. Involuntarily, you feel yourself relax a little at his touch and your breathing becomes a little more steady. After a few more moments, he notices the tension leave you and suddenly his lips find yours in a violent kiss that’s all teeth and tongue. He starts grinding his pelvis into your aching cunt and you moan into his kiss, hating yourself for liking this but you succumb to his attentions, unable to resist more. Animalistic lust and desire blooms from deep within, your head swirls from his kiss, your body aches for his touch.

You surrender the fight. “Take your shirt off,” you say when you both come up for air from your kiss; he knows he has to let go of your hands in order to remove his clothes.

“Are you going to stop fighting me?” he asks and you nod. He smirks, “so you gonna be a good girl now?”

“Shut up, Ettore, it's your dick I want, not you,” you growl back at him and his grin widens.

He lets go of your hands and quickly pulls his shirt over his head. You notice the red marks on his chest from where you clawed him earlier. You watch his abs contract with each panting breath, noticing his defined chest and lean muscles of his arms. You feel more wetness pool in your core as your eyes appreciate his body.

You reach for the bottom of your shirt and surprise him by removing it yourself, your breasts pebbling in the cool air; you barely bothered wearing a bra anymore. He looks down hungrily at them, running his hands softly over your nipples. You arch your back and he immediately takes one in his mouth, the other rolling your nipples between his fingers. Your hands are in his hair as you grind your hips into his hard length. He bites down on the skin of your left breast, sucking a bruise onto the skin while massaging the other one firmly with his other hand. He moves upwards, kissing along your collarbone until he reaches your neck, biting, licking and sucking at all of your exposed skin. You rake your fingernails down his back, becoming impatient for more.

He pulls away from your neck and sits up, reaching for your pants. You lift your hips so he can remove them completely. He admires your naked body, laying bare on the floor beneath him, the swell of your breasts, the curve of your hips, your wet cunt open for him. From his position kneeling between your legs, he takes your knees and spreads them apart, opening your pussy more for his view, groaning deep in his chest as his eyes feast upon your body. Deciding to tease him a little, you reach down and start playing with your bud and he stares shamelessly.

“Fuck,” he murmurs and watches you for a few moments. “Such a needy little slut aren’t you?”

You moan and grind into your own hand, fingers dipping down to your entrance to gather some slick onto your fingers. You bring them up to your mouth to taste yourself, knowing that you’re about to drive him absolutely wild. Since he’s seen your “feral animal” wild-side, now you want to see his too.

His mouth hangs open, his chest rising and falling rapidly with his breathing as he watches your lips close around your fingers as you taste yourself and moan. His restraint snaps in an instant.

He pulls down his pants, freeing his large, veiny cock and gives it a couple pumps, watching your face. Your eyes widened at the sight; his cock is bigger than you expected, long and thick, a pearl of his spend visible on the tip. Your eyes meet and you’re sure he can see the slight trepidation in yours as he smirks.

“You can fuckin’ take it,” Ettore says confidently, as if this is supposed to reassure you. He doesn’t waste any more time as he lines himself up with your entrance.

You were wet and willing and ready for him but you cry aloud as he sheathes himself fully in one thrust, not caring to take things slow with you. You pant and arch your back as his large cock fills you so completely full, eyes popping a little at the intensity of the intrusion. The stretch burns more than you anticipated and you focus on breathing through the pain.

He gives you a few shallow thrusts before mumbling, “Fuckin’ hell, your pussy is so fuckin’ tight - sorry if that hurt a little after all,” he says in a voice that doesn’t sound sorry at all.

He pauses for a moment as he watches your face wince at the pain. He doesn’t give you long though, knowing that he’s hurting you but can’t seem to control himself as his hips start to snap into yours at a steady pace.

After a few thrusts, you’ve adjusted to his size and pleasure starts to course through your core. You begin to meet his thrusts with your hips. He seems to take that as a sign to speed up as he suddenly pounds into you, much harder, causing you to cry aloud not from pain, but from pleasure.

His hips snap into yours as he fucks you hard, brutally, wickedly, deliciously, and you groan as lightning races from your cunt into your chest. Pleasure starts to build deep inside as his thick cock continually rubs your g-spot. He grabs one leg and puts it over his shoulder and leans over you, changing the angle, driving you wild and your walls start to clench around him.

“Gonna cum for me already?” he pants, an amused smirk on his luscious lips.

“Fuck, Ettore,” you mewl as the pleasure starts to overwhelm your senses. It had been so long since you felt this good. “Harder,” you challenge him, as if he isn’t already fucking you hard enough.

He glances up at your face before withdrawing completely and you feel momentary emptiness at the void left behind as he pulls out from your aching pussy. Flipping you over on your stomach, bringing your ass back in the air as he kneels behind you. You prop yourself up on your elbows as your knees dig into the cold, hard floor; you know you’ll have bruises on your knees from this position. He thrusts back into your aching core with a guttural groan and you feel a stinging slap to your rear end. You cry aloud and mewl pathetically, then feel him yank on your hair from behind. He pulls you up so that your palms are now resting on the floor, your neck pulled back, held by his grip in your hair; he fucks you ruthlessly as he rides you from behind. His other hand grips your hip so hard you know you’ll have more bruises tomorrow.

You both are panting heavily as he lands another blow to your ass, harder this time, you’re positive a red handprint remains and you may even form yet another bruise with the strength of his slap. He doesn’t even bother to run his hand along the tender skin to soothe it, he just keeps thrusting with single-minded intensity. The slaps sting but in a pleasurable way as you feel your core become impossibly wetter each time he hits you.

You reach a hand down to play with your pearl, your walls clenching around his thick cock as pleasure coils low in your belly.

The bites, the bruises, the ache around your throat from being choked, the pull of your hair on your scalp, the sore spot on your ass cheek from his repeated slaps, the drag of his thick cock inside your wet, tight pussy causes your mind to go blissfully blank, all of the sensations overwhelming you. Your eyes roll in your head and you idly wonder how much pain and how much pleasure your body could handle until it snaps.

Ettore can feel your orgasm approach as your walls start to spasm around him.

“Little slut, gonna cum all over my cock, aren’t you?” he growls, increasing his tempo.

You have the wherewithal to get out one request before it’s too late. You try to speak in between his brutal thrusts. “Please…Ettore,” you pant. “When you cum, pull out.” All of the women who had gotten pregnant through Dibs’ sick experiment ended up dying. You didn’t want that fate just yet.

He doesn’t respond, continuing his pace and your breathing becomes harsh as you approach the precipice of your orgasm. The coil snaps and your release rips through you, obliterating everything else, your vision goes white. You cry out his name as he continues to fuck you through your high.

“Fuckin’ shit,” he grunts as he feels your cunt clench down on him. Your orgasm is still rolling through you but he can’t hold back any longer, he pulls out and paints your ass with his spend.

He finally lets your hair go and you collapse onto the floor and he falls next to you. You both pant and breath harshly for a few minutes, not saying anything. As you come down from your high from your intense orgasm, reality sets in: part of you feels satisfied for the first time in a long while, the other part of you feels like you can’t believe you just let that happen to you. You wanted it but you didn’t want it; you didn’t know how to feel. You feel relief that he at least listened and pulled out.

Finally, he sits up and starts looking for his clothes. You take one last deep breath and are about to do the same when you unexpectedly feel him clean his spend off of you with his shirt, making you jump a little. He’s a little rough with the wiping but the gesture is almost nice for Ettore. He throws your shirt and pants over to you and you both get dressed in silence.

He helps you up off the floor and lifts your chin with his finger.

“Don’t tell anyone about this,” he warns, looking deep into your eyes. You nod in acquiescence, there is no way you’d ever tell anyone, but you give him the reassurance that he needs.

A smug smile plays on his lips. “So compliant now, I see. I told you I would fuck the brat outta you.” You scowl and try to pull away from him but he’s trapped your chin between his thumb and forefinger. He leans in closer and you think he’s about to kiss you, but he doesn’t.

“You’re mine now, mine to use whenever I want, my own little slut, you fuckin’ belong to me. Don’t forget it,” he squeezes your chin and gives you one last dark glare before opening the door and exiting the storage room, leaving you stunned.

You watch him go and feel a little paralyzed. You feel as though you just opened Pandora’s box.

What monster have you just unleashed?

>>> Part 2

Tags: @peonamay @quinnquinn317 @pandemonium105 @aemondsscar @cyeco13 @multyfangirl @chainsawsangel @boundlessfantasy @bellaisasleep @sylas-the-grim @megatardisbaby

#ewan mitchell #ettore high life #ettore x reader #ewan nation #ettore fanfiction #aemond targaryen #ettore smut #ettore crackfic

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seastarconstellation · 11 months

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I feel like Snape/Quirrell is a severely underrated ship. Not in a traditional sense, mind you, but in an anti-ship way. These two have great bitter exes potential.

Professor Sprout sets them up together because they’re in the same age range and they both look... like they could use a date. Somehow this turns into a relationship. They spend two years exuding such potent awkwardness and anti-charisma as a couple that it’s difficult not to look away.

The only thing keeping them together is a vague fear of dying alone and an interest in theoretical magic.

Quirrell has the unfortunate habit of chuckling whenever he’s nervous, and Snape has a viscerally bad reaction every time.

Snape swears that he’s not staying up until four in the morning because Quirrell retires at seven and he’s avoiding him, he’s just a night owl.

Quirrell applies to the DADA job relying exclusively on what he learned listening to Snape infodump for two years. Dumbledore hires him and for the rest of the year, Snape only communicates with death stares.

Quirrell breaks up with him over owl while he’s away on his sabbatical. The letter is filled with melodramatic schlock such as ‘I’ve enjoyed the season of my life I spent with you.’ and metaphors about two ships passing each other in the night. Snape reads it aloud in the staff room because McGonnagal thinks it’s hilarious.

When Quirrell comes back, sporting a flashy new turban, he halfheartedly tries to apologise to Snape for the way things ended, and Snape casually informs him that he pawned all of the belongings Quirrell left in his quarters.

Voldemort doesn’t allow Quirrell to visit the pawnshop in Hogsmeade, so that is where his family heirlooms stay.

Snape spends the rest of the year harassing Quirrell like he does in the books, except all the older students and the professors think he’s doing it because he has gone full crazy ex-boyfriend. Quite a few teachers try to get Dumbledore to talk to Snape, not yet aware that this is all according to Dumbledore’s orders.

Quirrell bites it whilst trying to get the philosopher’s stone, and everyone realises who’s been living on the back of his head. McGonnagal takes Snape out for drinks to apologise for the time she tried to organise an intervention with the rest of the house heads.

Snape has to grapple with the fact that Voldemort probably co-authored that breakup letter.

#severus snape #quirinus quirrell #harry potter headconon #Do these two have a shipname?#Snuirrell #Oh god it even sounds awful

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someplace-darker · 2 years

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Kinktober Day 3: Glove Kink | Din Djarin

Pairing: Din Djarin x reader (no y/n)

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: 18+, PWP, public sex, fingering, glove kink, is finger sucking a warning? it is now, reader is afab but no pronouns are used

Summary: Maybe you should be a little bit more subtle about how much you want Din.

A/N: hi this is the late day 3! I thought i was gonna do 3 and 4 tonight but stuff came up so 4 and 5 should be out tomorrow! Also i think this is the first Din thing i've ever written.

Din knows that your eyes linger on him when he works, whether it’s catching bounties or cleaning his blasters, your gaze tracks him with blatant yearning. He was glad that even if his helmet restricted many things in life, at least his emotions were concealed beneath the impenetrable beskar and cold vocoder. It’s not any different this time. You’re sitting in the back of some outer-rim cantina sitting across from Din as he surveys the room, eyes glued to the way the yellow lights reflect and bounce on every surface of his armor.

Of course Din doesn’t tell you that he can see you, that his head may be turned but he’s noting each clench of your thighs, each pass of your tongue over your lips. It’s amusing to say the least, he finds it almost pathetic how you can’t seem to keep ahold of yourself in his presence. Although you’ve run out of things around you to look at and busy yourself with. You’re skilled in combat and handy with a weapon when needed, but Din does the rest, such as waiting in shadows and silence for the right moment to pounce on a target.

Which is exactly why you’re in the rundown cantina in the first place. A tip had come in from a reliable source that the man whose puck you currently carried in your pocket frequented this place in particular. Obviously not that reliable, seeing as the two of you have been sitting here for hours without a sign of him. The light from the dual suns is dwindling, the orange glow from outside the windows turning to purples and blues. The room is starting to empty itself, everyone collectively deciding to turn in for the night and laying down their credits for the bartender before seeing themselves out.

Except for you and the Mandalorian.

“Are we leaving yet?” you question, acutely aware of how you sound like a petulant child. In reality, you’re just massively turned on and need the (semi)privacy of the razor crest.

“No. This place doesn’t close for another hour, he could still show up,” Din replies, voice hoarse and dipped in molten heat. The same heat that occupies your body as you listen to him speak. You’re not exactly sure when it became this bad, turned into biting your hand as you fucked yourself in his bunk, watching a little closer at how his back twitches under your touch while you stitch a blade wound.

Focusing on how his hands toss assailants around like it’s nothing.

“Okay, can I at least head back to the ship? We’ll meet there,” you try to negotiate as he tilts his head in your direction, something like a sigh leaving him. His fingers tap on the table between you, gloves flexing around his hand as it moves.

He doesn’t answer immediately this time, his fingers stopping the rhythmic movement to instead clench into a fist, your stare still locked on his hands. Hands that you’ve thought about so many times before. Din clearing his throat snaps you out of your trance, looking up to see him leaning back against the booth, legs spread wide.

“Tell me mesh’la,” you’re not exactly sure how, but his voice is lower now “how often do you think about my fingers wrapping around your throat?”

Shock riddles your brain following his bluntly delivered question, the rest of your body shivering at his tone and how it drips with hunger. You glance out of the darkened corner booth you're seated in, the only people remaining are the bartender and passed out straggler on the other side. Slowly, you turn back to him. His visor reveals nothing and you wonder for a second if you imagined him saying it. Still, you lick your lips and murmur a soft “what?”

Din regards you as you squirm in your seat, turning to jerk his head to the left and pat the spot next to him. It feels as if you’re moving through the thickest water in the galaxy when you start to shift and push yourself around to his side, not looking away from him even when your knee bumps into his as you settle. The cool leather of his glove brushes against your cheek, curving down to cradle the line of your jaw. “I want you to tell me how much you think about me when you’re two fingers deep into your own cunt,” he speaks again, this time slower.

He watches the realization dawn over your pretty face, gloved thumb pressing gently against the plush cushions of your lips. “You can hear me?” you whisper, clenching your thighs once more, except this time he’s close enough to feel it. “Usually you think I’m sleeping,” he confirms, watching your spit coat the tip of his thumb when your mouth parts just the slightest.

How long has he known?

Lifting his arm, Din moves it to rest on the back of the booth, turning his body to keep his other hand on your face. Your tongue darts out to brush against the tip of his glove, moaning quietly when he allows you to lower your head and suck on the digit. “Do you want me to make you feel good, honey?” Din sounds like he’s teetering on the edge of restraint, voice more strained than before.

You shouldn’t, you know there’s still people in the building, but all your brain can focus on is the ragged rise and fall of the mandalorian’s chest.

And fuck, you really are tired of not knowing what it’s like.

Pulling your head back and off his finger, you nod frantically “yes, Din, please.” Almost instantly he’s pushing his index and middle fingers past your lips once more, grunting when you circle them with your tongue. Once they’re covered in your spit he pulls them out with a soft pop, dragging them down your cloth covered torso before pushing past the waistband of your trousers and curling them into you. The back of your head blooms with a sharp pain when you throw it back against his beskar covered arm, pleasure quickly covering the pain when he pumps them once, then twice.

Fuck, he didn’t even bother taking the gloves off, yet somehow it makes it better. The mere acknowledgment that he’s finger fucking you with his gloves still on is enough to make your cunt flutter around him. “Come on, I know you’re close. You practically rode the booth for the last few hours,” his voice is strained, a lilting tease playing at the tip of his tongue and it makes you laugh breathily. The laugh quickly morphs into a whine, brows furrowing as you turn your face against his arm, condensation forming on the cold metal.

He curls his fingers inside you repeatedly, adjusting his wrist so his thumb can find your clit and press circles into it. “Feels so good, wanted you for so long, fuck Din,” he hushes you gently, still aware of your location and missing bartender. Hips pressing down into his hand you start a rhythm, rocking into his hand like you’ve been hit with the strongest aphrodisiac in the galaxy.

Din’s silent now, entirely honed in on you now, watching as your back arches and you come with a shuddering cry. He presses the head of his helmet to your temple, slowing the movement of his fingers until you stop shaking. “Good, cyare,” he pulls his hand from your bottoms and taps your cheek, cock throbbing in his pants when your jaw relaxes and allows his fingers in. You pull back and grin, eyes hooded and pupils blown.

“That was much better than anything I thought of,” you say, voice wavering.

Din is about to answer but stops when the hiss of a door sounds out. “What’s wrong?” you whisper, head clearing enough to reach down for your blaster.

“I think we have company.”

#kinktober #my writing #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x y/n #mando x reader #mando x you #the mandalorian smut #din djarin smut #din djarin #star wars fic

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blueberrypancakesworld · 2 months

Text

Love is eternal even in sin

warning : angst, hurt/comfort, minor blood, imprisonment, no use of Y/n

Summary : Only one man has returned from Demeter, a man the first mat with a corpse in his arms. But what if she is not dead, that this cruel curse had gotten her. Was it possible that even in this madness they could still find each other in love?

Info : So another work for Wojchek this man is full of angst but that is what I'm here for so hope you like it ;)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Night had fallen over London. The people of the city slept soundly in their beds, snuggled together to keep warm when the fire in the fireplace threatened to go out. The ships in the harbor were all docked, the captains slept in their bunks and the crew enjoyed beers in the bars while still partying a little.

Everything except the Demeter, the beautiful risky familiar ship that had already made hundreds of trips. But no one came from this ship except for one man, a man who had a look of death in his eyes. He had looked to the edge of the water and saw only hell.

The hell that manifested itself in his arms as he carried what appeared to be a corpse from the ground wrapped in cloth and varnish so as not to show it. But as soon as he disembarked, the coins of the ship, now a ghost ship, had been holed up in the dark narrow alleys of the basement apartment for years, but it didn't matter.

What did matter was that there was a lockable room in the cellar, a former cold room with an iron door to keep the food that was once stored there fresh. Something he needed and had to have otherwise he would unleash the horror on the inhabitants and lose them his heart forever.

A bond ima had formed over the death of the vampire became a love for another life that he could not and would not give up after death. But that was the reason why he was hurrying through the dark streets of the city, two baskets moving under his cloak, something moving inside.

The merchants and black marketeers always had something they had to get rid of at the end of the day, even the damned children could get him what he needed for her.

Unlocking the door to his small apartment with the old key, the wood creaked under his feet, ,,I'm back darling," he murmured, knowing she was always waiting for him stronger than he could ever be as he closed the door behind him, drew the thin old curtains in front of the small window and dimmed the light from the oil lamps.

Taking off his coat and cloak and throwing them on the small wooden table, he made his way down to the cellar. Down the stairs it got darker and only the light from above helped him to find his way.

But he managed to do so since they had docked and he had disembarked, several months had passed and she was still there. ,,Please...get away from the door," he called out in agreement as her footsteps moved away from the door and she retreated into the darker part of the room. He used the key to open the door before looking into the darkness.

Saw that she had left the only light of the oil lamp on dimly while the candles and the rest were extinguished. ,,It must have been too bright outside today, huh?" he asked softly, trying to swallow the pain as he always did and try to make it better.

,,Yes," she replied curtly and rose from the bed slowly and weakly, the day had been more exhausting than usual, even though there was no daylight coming in, the noise, the blood and the light shining on the apartment weakened her.

,,I'm always here...I brought you something...your favorite things," he said, a smile flitting across her pale lips, once a beautiful shade of pink, as she came to him slowly, as if she barely had any strength, he handed her the basket.

Saw gratitude flash in her increasingly milky eyes but at the same time sadness. ,,What's wrong pearl...I can go too" he called her by her nickname she was his beautiful special pearl his beautiful mermaid his one and only.

He had seen her eat and seen what she had done to the room and even though they had cleaned up together, it was still a bloody mess. But when her ice-cold hand gripped his and a ,,No, stay!" came from her lips, he knew that she was afraid for him and herself, as she was every day and every night.

Afraid that one day she would lose herself and kill him. ,,Please Wojchek don't leave me alone...all this I need you" she admitted seeing the tears in her changed eyes as she slowly pulled him into the room casting the light like a holy glow on them both.

She gave him a grateful smile her cold dead hands caressing his cheek. He leaned towards her touch, he missed the warmth she had given him but he was grateful, indeed he was grateful to this Satan, the Count, that she was still alive.

That she was still with him. As he sat down on the wooden chair and she moved a little further away from him, he saw her turn a little away from him, as she did every night.

She pulled out one animal and vial after another and opened the cork to drink the fresh, still warm blood. Wojchek himself tried to distract himself with his pipe to get the nicotine into his body as he imagined what it would be like when she was first back in order. But he knew.

Since the doctor's death and the late addition of fresh blood to her infected body, he knew it was too late, that it was a futile race against time with his love. That one day when he went down here she would kill him out of hunger, madness and at the command of the vampire Dracula.

His wife knew that one day she would belong to him, the night to the creatures and would forget herself. Forget her lovely Wojchek. ,,I'm done," she said in a whisper and gave him back the empty baskets, trying to wipe the blood from her hands and mouth with her handkerchief before she needed a moment.

As he gently placed his hand on hers, she saw that the color had returned to her cheeks, her lips had regained their lovely pink and her eyes no longer looked blind. ,,Darling, you look so beautiful," he praised her, always complimenting her when she ate, always giving her hope to overcome his own hopelessness.

She stood up and came to him, he got up from the chair himself and took her in his arms, ignoring the blood that was still slightly visible in the light as he slid down the wall with her, leaving them both sitting on the floor.

She turned to him he gave her a gentle kiss tasted her warmth and sweetness ignored the blood always did. He held her, his fingers tracing soothing circles over her slowly warming body. As she laid her head against his chest, they both heard his heartbeat, knowing that it soothed her even before the tragedy happened.

He kissed her on the head, held her and began to talk about his day, pretending that she had been waiting for him upstairs as always. He talked until the sun rose again and the city was bathed in warmth and he felt her getting tired and he held her a little longer until she fell asleep in his arms.

He carefully picked her up in his arms and laid her on the bed, brushing a strand of hair from her face. ,,Sleep well my love," he whispered, giving her one last goodbye kiss before he went out again, closed the door and went upstairs into the now already well-lit room.

He knew it was going to be a sleepless day, a day of searching the libraries and newspapers for ways to reverse this curse, this disease. Because he knew he would go to hell himself to this lord if it meant that his wife was freed to see him again and sail with him again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@oceansrose2002 , @magmabayvi , @minilev , @ebiemidnightlibrarian , @mask-knife-is-buggys-girl , @arson1893

#the last voyage of the demeter #the last voyage of the demeter wojchek #tlvotd wojchek #wojchek x reader #david dastmalchian

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hymn-of-muse · 5 months

Text

A Haunted Mind 6 | Breaking Silence

[a haunted mind 6 | breaking silence]

chapters 1(link), 2(link), 3(link), 4(link) and 5(link)

books on quotev(link) and wattpat(link)

"anything?" Bow glanced over entrapta's shoulder at the scanner to see if she had picked up anything within range. Another ship, a planet, something.

"No" the purple haired princess grumbled, frown almost turning to a pout as she looked up at the large window and out at the starry nothingness in front of them outside the ship.

"We've been out here going for three days." Bow whined, sounding bored out of his mind. "There has to be something"

"We have enough fuel to last us a good while, we're not in any rush to find a place to land" Hordak pointed out.

"Bow just gets antsy, besides I'm sure we'll find something soon. In the meantime let's um...think of a game to pass the time? Something to keep us occupied for a while." Glimmer offered, placing a hand on the archers shoulder with a soft smile.

"Ohh games are fun! What kinda game?" Entrapta asked, glancing over with an enthusiastic grin. Ever the energetic one.

"As long as it isn't eye-spy, there's not much to spy on the first place" adora grumbled from her seat in the chair, shoulders slumped as she leaned back. She looked just about as bored as bow.

"Okay, cross that off the idea list" glimmer sighed, very likely about to suggest just that.

"Oh! We could spar!" Adora sat up with a brighter expression.

"No, no fighting on the ship, we established that the last time after the incident" Hordak protests, glimmer nodding her head in agreement.

"We could...play a couple rounds of tap-out?" Bow suggested with a shrug.

"What's tap-out?" Adora asked, tilting her head to the side in curiousity.

"It's like truth or dare, except you keep 'raising the stakes' until someone taps out, the last person to tap out wins" glimmer explained. "We haven't played it since we were kids"

"Oh, we used to have something like that in the horde, except there wasn't any questions just stupid risky dares" adora shrugged.

"Why am I not surprised?" Glimmer chuckled.

"What do we get if we win?" Entrapta asked

"Um...we didn't really do prizes, but maybe if you win you can ask for something?" Glimmer offered.

"Good enough! I'm in!" Entrapta smiled.

"Okay...catra...? What do you think? ....do you want to play too?" Glimmer gave an awkward look towards the other, asking in a bit of a lower tone.

Catra felt her hair raise as she leaned against the wall, her silent presence among the conversation finally acknowledged. The pit in her stomach returned.

"N...no I'm good, sparkles, You guys mess around all you want" she responded, eyes avoiding glimmers.

There's another awkward pause. Catra could feel the stares again but she didn't want to think about it. Glimmers presumably either accusatory or pitiful and guilt-ridden look, adoras worried glance...instead of meeting anyone's gaze, she pushed herself off the wall and knelt down to pet melog.

"Okay I can't take this" bow spoke up. "We all see it, this isn't good, this needs to get worked out"

"Bow, it's okay" glimmer put her hands up as if to try and defuse things.

"No, glimmer, it's not. It's been like this since last night, you and catra-" bow was quickly cut off by catra's protest

"She said it's fine, and it is." She insisted, narrowed eyes directed at him. She didn't want to lash out in anger but her defensive nature was starting to get the best of her again.

"No. You two are working this out. I'm not letting tension linger, this is the best friend squad and we talk things out" he insisted further.

"There's nothing to talk about!" Glimmer shot back, getting defensive.

"You snapped at each other in the middle of the night! That's not nothing! There's clearly something to talk about!" Bow stressed before taking a breath and placing his hands on glimmers shoulders to get her to relax as well.

"Please. Things aren't going to get better if you guys don't work through whatevers going on. We're supposed to be friends not acting like one another's a bomb that could be set off at any moment" he glanced from glimmer over to catra as he spoke.

Catra failed to find anything to respond with, instead looking over at adora as if asking her girlfriend to back her up.

"Bow's kinda got a point...it's been like this almost the whole trip, and we're not sure how long we'll be just floating in space so maybe it's not a bad idea to get it out of the way..?" Adora tried to reason.

Catra groaned in response.

"If catra doesn't want to talk about it, then we're fine. There's nothing to talk about. Right catra?" Glimmer huffed, looking over at the other.

"Guys" Entrapta spoke up with a slight rise in her tone.

"Yeah. Just peachy." Catra practically seethed. "Nothing to talk about, so let's just drop it, 'kay?"

"Guys?!" Entrapta tried again, attention on the scanner.

"You can't keep trying to dodge this, you're going to have to talk about it sooner or later" bow stated with his hands on his hips.

"Guys!!" Entrapta shouted.

"Will you all shut up and listen!?" Hordak yelled on entrapta's behalf, finally earning everyone's attention with a loud "WHAT?!" in unison.

"WE GOT SOMETHING!!" Entrapta squealed excitedly, pointing to some new coordinates on the monitors of the ships controls.

They all looked through the wide window in front. At some distance sure enough, they were approaching something.

"What is that?" Adora squinted.

Finally, catra relaxed, a change of topic and a chance to get off the ship.

"Well it's hard to tell right now...buuuut it could be either a small planet or a ship. Like a big ship." Entrapta added some emphasis to a few of her words when she spoke, trying to estimate the size of whatever they'd just found out in space.

A distraction from all the tension and arguments. Another reason to avoid breaking the silence between her and glimmer.

reblogs are appreciated!

feel free to request more angst, fluff or whatever comes to mind!

be sure to check my pinned post!

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victimized-martyr · 2 years

Note

21, 22, &29 for the ship ask game?😭💖

thanks for the ask!

Soooo my headcanons ended up being super long, so everything’s under the keep reading bc I be talking and for what lololol

21. Which of their friends/family pokes fun at them for them getting flustered/affectionate?

oh my god are you kidding me? Stan and Kenny never. EVER. Let them live it down. Kyle and Cartman could literally be standing 2 inches apart at the bus stop, nothing’s even happening, and they start making gaging noises and poking fun at them. When they get affectionate, Stan mockingly “awww”s and Kenny almost dies laughing. It’s a defense mechanism tho. it’s how they’re processing the latest evolution in their group dynamic bc wtf.

When Cartman lets a pet name slip thru one day, ohhh it’s over. Their friends (like clyde, butters, etc) immediately say in gross pitched voices “hEy sUgArPiE~” when Kyle walks in a room. Even decent, neutral friends like Jimmy wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to make jokes at their expense.

Ike’s teasing is the most mild out of everyone. Waggling his brows, throwing a shit eating grin, telling Kyle to “Have Fun” in *that* voice whenever he announces he’s gonna hang with Cartman.

22. How do they apologize after arguments?

Kyle and Cartman go through a Whole Thing when they realize they can’t fight their way out of arguments like when they were kids.

Cartman's apologies are stacked in tiers based on how pissed off Kyle was when he left the room.

Kyle grunting and walking off is a category one: Cartman tidies himself up, puts on an outfit he knows Kyle’s likes and hopes for the best.

Kyle thrashing and screaming, punching the air, breaking something, is a category two: Cartman dresses up AND gets him something. Maybe cookies. Makes sure whenever he talks with Kyle, his voice is extra sugary.

A deathly quiet Kyle, rare as it is, is a category three: Kyle is highly likely to kill Cartman. Eric does every thing previously mentioned as well as convince strangers off the street to be backup dancers for a “take the stick out your ass (I’m Sorry I guess)” song he hastily wrote the night before. He believes the extra dazzle in his sorry is enough to keep Kyle from killing him….because ha! there’s witnesses. Kyle can’t do shit. But of course, this only pisses off Kyle more.

Kyle, in absences of pummeling the shit outta Cartman, criticizes him on all the things that he did wrong both in the argument and in his attempt at apologizing, without ever resolving the issue or addressing his own missteps. It leaves Kyle feeling more pent up and stressed than ever.

Kenny and Stan decide to step in and drag them away from each other for some space. and to talk their (ugh) feelings out with their respective best friends, bc they’re more in tune with emotions. And while in their company, they come to the realization where they fucked up and start plotting how to resolve it immediately bc god, it rly sucks to be without each other even for even a short period of time. Cartman’s overinflated ego and Kyle’ pride isn’t enough to overcome that deep, unexplainable need for each other. Despite themselves, they’re willing to try. Sensei Kenny and Stan send them off with approving grins. Though, not without first calling them gaywads for those sentimental words.

Doing anything moral has always been physically taxing for Cartman, taking accountability is no exception. He braces himself against Kyle and buries his face into his neck to keep himself from passing out as he admits his mistakes and what he should do to fix things.

Nothing on earth soothes Kyle’s fiery heart like a Cartman displaying humility. The cloud of his anger dispels and he’s able to see clearly how they can tackle the issue together. It doesn't take a lot to solve it though. Because usually, these huge arguments snowball from the smallest shit. This long winded answer to this ask stemmed from Cartman farting in Kyle’s face one too many times and thinking it was hilarious.

29. What is something they can never agree on? How do they meet in the middle?

Family Guy. Kyle likes watching it and, hey, he’s not gonna stop streaming it from Hulu when Cartman invites himself over. Cartman writhes and moans and his complaints drowns Peter Griffin’s nasally voice, even when Kyle turns up the volume to 100.

It’s more than Kyle watching the show in Cartman’s presence. It’s the fact that Kyle still compares the show’s humor to Cartman’s. He finds it deeply insulting, and his paranoia flares up. If Kyle is unable to distinguish Cartman’s sensibilities from Peter fucking Griffin, could Kyle also be severely misunderstanding Cartman in general? Is their entire relationship still operated on miscommunication, misunderstanding, as it was when they were younger?? His fragile heart can’t take it. He refuses to believe Kyle doesn’t know him as much as he thought he did.

So he tears a gate into imaginationland (sans song) and tries inserting himself into an episode in an attempt to one up its characters and make Kyle laugh harder. Kyle follows behind to stop him just in time, of course.

He’s fucking pissed that Cartman was, once again, acting out because he was insecure. He notices though, Cartman never once threatened anybody, nor operated on ultimatums. He was as civil as Cartman could be. Kyle asks why he didn’t simply try to kill Peter Griffin and Cartman rolls his eyes. Cause, duh, he’ll never understand it but the show matters to Kyle. Killing its main character would be a dick move and he doesn't want Kyle after his ass. The next best thing was to try and be a part of what he loved and make him laugh. And that mindless comment sends Kyle over the moon.

Kyle agrees to never bring up Family Guy, or compare it to Eric. and Eric in turn, stabilizes the space time continuum just in time for dinner. and stops making snide comments about Family Guy around Kyle too, or whatever.

#kyman #south park #eric cartman #kyle broflovski #asks #i’m. so sorry fjfjfjjffj these asks are obnoxiously long #these are basically ficlets I. gjfdgfdjlkfd #did Cel truly answer these questions or turn them into prompts more at 11

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the-kittens-of-vol-tron · 2 years

Text

Prompt: Coran being a fatherly figure to Lance? Mahaps?

*Slams my hands on the table* YES

I love this idea sm :’)

-----

On contrary to popular belief, Lance was a papas child all the way. Being the youngest of five, everyone expected him to gravitate towards his mama...he didn’t.

He didn’t hate his mama, he loved her dearly and they had a lovely relationship but him and his papa clicked together slightly more. He was a spitting image of his father when he was a kid.

Lance loved Sundays, he didn’t have school, his mama always made a huge breakfast for everyone, and he got to spend the day with his dad.

They would do different things every week. Sometimes Lance would be in charge of holding a flashlight and passing tools as his father worked on a vehicle or built something.

Sometimes they would go hiking, do some errands, sometimes he would take Lance to the beach just the two of them. Lance’s dad would tell him all about his parents and Lance’s ancestors and extended family and what life was like for him growing up.

When Lance moved to the Garrison, Sundays became a day for them to sit on the phone for hours talking.

Lance loved Sundays.

Something shook him awake and he lifted his head quickly, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He looked around the room, he was on the bridge, sitting in his chair.

“Sorry Number 3, but that didn’t look like a comfortable place to take a rest.” Coran twirled his moustache between his pointer finger and thumb.

Lance stretched out his back, “how long was I out?”

“Just past a varga, the team headed to their rooms for the night.”

Lance gave a sleepy nod, “okay.” He stood and began heading towards the exit. “Night Coran!”

“Night my boy!”

Lance considered everyone on the ship to be his family of some sort or to some degree. He didn’t label them into categories, except Coran.

Coran couldn’t replace his actual father but Lance slowly found him stepping in for him. While Earth calendars didn’t exist on the ship Lance found himself with Coran at least once a week.

Sometimes they would clean the pods, other times fix the food goo machine that broke yet again. Lance’s favorite thing to do together is work on the lions with him.

He would spend all day buffing out dents and scraps, washing the dirt off the metal, keeping them up to date. Lance loved these days of the week, and maybe they were a Sunday too.

“Coran?”

“Yes my boy?” He swung down from where he was on top of the Black lion.

“Did you have a family? On Altea?” Lance kept his eyes trained on the lion, polishing it till he could see his reflection.

“Yes I did! A lovely partner and a son believe it or not,” He swung back up, keeping his voice loud as he worked. “He was around your age. If I converted it to Earth years that is.”

Lance looked up at him, not able to see him from the angle they each were at. “Can you tell me about them?”

Coran did. For hours he told Lance stories of his family, how he met his partner, how weddings worked on Altea, everything and anything. Neither of them knew how much time had passed until Shiro came in telling them it was dinner time.

Lance found comfort in Coran. Back on Earth he would go to his papa for anything. If he got a bad grade on a test, if he had a crush on someone, a bad dream, or he needed help for math homework. His dad was the first person he told about his sexuality.

“Coran!!!” Lance ran down the hallways of the castle, nearly tripping over himself when he saw Coran siting in the lounge reading something. He ran back and stopped in the doorway, trying to catch his breath. “Coran!”

Coran looked up at him, a smile on his face. “Lance! What can I do for you?”

Lance walked into the room, shoving his hands in his jacket pocket. “I need an outside perspective.”

Coran turned his tablet off, placing on his lap. “I’m all ears.”

Lance immediately went into his spiel, his lips moving a mile a minuet. Coran nodded along, his hand going under his jaw as he nodded his head in thought.

“So? What do you think?!”

“Well...” Coran explained his thoughts, tying in a new insight Lance wouldn’t have ever thought of. “I hope that helps.”

“It does!” Lance turned to exit the dorm, “thanks papa!” He ran out of the room, unaware of the look of joy Coran wore on his face.

-----

I hope you like it, idk if it’s my best work :’)

Thank you <333333333

#sorry for the weird format this was a draft that tumblr ruined #coran vld #coran voltron #coran #coran coran the gorgeous man #lance vld #lance voltron #lance voltron legendary defender #lance mcclain #lance #found family #long post #no beta #my writing #thank you <3 #i hope you like it

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sins-of-the-sea · 1 year

Text

1710, Guangzhou, China

On the night of the Razing of Guangzhou...

“So you remember the fruit stand lady? Miss Ju?”

“The big bosomed bird Father Fu-Lam and Mrs. Cheung kept trying to engage you with? How can I forget? No one would stop talking about you two being together, even though she has no interest in you either, I think.”

“Indeed, Father Fu-Lam was trying to get me and Miss Ju to marry. Though I got to know Miss Ju a bit more. Well, we got to talking, and this time around…

“We mutually agreed to marry! Want to know why?”

“W-What?!!? Wh-”

“Miss Ju is also homosexual! She has a girlfriend she’s been seeing for years! Foreign too! From Portugal! And they’re trying to keep this relationship a secret too!”

“You’re kidding me!!”

“Why would I? So while no one was looking and Miss Ju and I were alone, we talked about our secret relationships. We decided that, to get Father Fu-Lam and Mrs. Cheung and everyone else off our backs about marriage, Ju and I marry each other–but have you as our real lovers! That way I can still love you and Ju can still love Miss Ana! My marriage to Miss Ju will just be a front!”

“That’s brilliant, San-Gwong! So the gimmel rings are for you and Miss Ju?”

“Actually, no. Miss Ju and I will have a traditional Chinese wedding, and that won’t involve gimmel rings. These rings are specifically-....

“Well… specifically for you and me. For us.”

“Us?!?! How are we going to be married alongside you and Miss Ju?!”

“I hear men get married all the time in Europe, right? It’s just called something else besides actual marriage! And your Captain can marry us! Ship captains can officiate in marrying people too!”

“All right… First of all, you’re thinking of a matelotage. As in ‘seamanship’ in French. It functions similarly like marriage; except this is where two men can share incomes, and if one partner passes, his mate can inherit his passes. It doesn’t have to be romantic–in fact, more often than not it’s purely done for economic reasons. Or abused in other ways like with senior sailors taking advantage of significantly younger subordinates.”

“O-oh…”

“Secondly, San-Gwong… even if you stay true to me and Miss Ju stays true to Ana, you marrying me would have you commit bigamy. Which may be fine for your Chinese emperors and son-less homes, but not so much in a Christian mission.”

“O-oh.. so you- …. You are refusing… my proposal to you?”

“................”

“No, San-Gwong. I do want to marry you.”

“You do?!” San-Gwong looks like he could fly to the moon on the spot.

“Well, have a matelotage with you alongside your legal marriage. To be your matelot. It may not be seen as valid or celebrated as your marriage to Miss Ju, and I’m not even sure if a man can have a matelotage in addition to a traditional marriage. But-....

“...I do want to make something official with you. Something to be recognized out in the open. Though we won’t be needing gimmel rings for that. We would just sign papers and such.”

“Oh…. that is so-.... Simple…

“I-... guess I can sell these rings back…”

“...Maybe it can be a symbolic marriage. So even Europeans will stop harassing you too. And my Crew knows about me so I can tell strangers about having a wife that doesn’t exist. I can just say she died and I’m not marrying again so the ring is for sentimental reasons only.”

“That’s an idea!! So will your Captain marry us?”

“Well…. That will involve you actually being willing to share our secret…”

“I’m ready and willing to share it with them! Captain Josep and Madame Abena are so kind to me, I almost feel like I have a mother and father again! Ruixiong has been the greatest friend in the world! Phoebus and Mr. Rashid are great friends too! And I want to get to know your friend Giovanni more as well! I’m saddened how every time I try to talk to him he seems to walk away, and that’s a shame because he seems to be the only one in your Crew besides Ruixiong who can fluently speak Yue!”

“He… can be shy like that. Which is weird because he otherwise loves making friends. I don’t understand why he avoids everyone here in Guangzhou so much. It might have to do with an argument he had with Captain Josep about a week ago.

“Anyway! How do you want to do this? Do you want to discuss how we can set up a matelotage with Captain Josep? I’m not fully sure how they work either, as in I don’t know if you have to be a sailor too.”

“We can ask him tomorrow. Father Fu-Lam is actually expecting me tonight to discuss my wedding with Miss Ju. I haven’t told Sing-Lung yet, I was so excited to talk to you first…”

“Oh, don’t worry about that! I’ll just tell Sing-Lung that Father Fu-Lam called you first so you may have to eat your baozi at another time.”

“He’s going to get mad…”

“I’ll try it on your behalf. As long as it’s not pork, that is. I’ll see you later, San-Gwong.” Guy then gives San-Gwong a quick peck on the cheek.

San-Gwong returns the kiss. “I’ll see you later, Guy! I can’t wait until tomorrow!”

“I can’t either! Farewell!”

#LET'S FINISH THIS STORY ALREADY GODDAMN LMAO #just a few posts to gooooooo #[Hui San-Gwong]#[Guy Duchamp]#[The Razing of Canton]#[Sinfully Valentining 2]#homophobia tw #religion tw

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cloudbattrolls · 1 year

Text

The Long Way Down

Jikiro Takami | Vernier Station & The Takami Estate | Present Night

Jikiro looked out the viewing screen of the ship, always interested in the stars and planets passing by. He wasn’t interested in joining the fleet yet - too much to do on Alternia - but he couldn’t deny that space was beautiful.

It was a comfortable ship (not like he’d take anything subpar), and he laid back in his seat, stretching out and getting ready to disembark to the space station where he was meeting his signmates.

He’d seen Himari and Akahan a few times in the last sweep, but Izanam hadn’t talked to him in person for at least two.

Not that that bothered him. There was no avoiding her now, though.

The ship’s alert sound dinged a few times, letting them all know to gather their belongings for departure in fifteen minutes as they docked and the air seals were checked.

There were a few other passengers on board, all teal and higher - this wasn’t strictly a business vessel, but the place they were headed was more of a trade hub than anything else. Not many trolls below olive there, except for service workers. Each of them put their various belongings away as he did the same, double checking to make sure he hadn’t left anything.

Not long after, he stood in the station’s sanitization room - a brief scan to check that the passengers’ vital signs matched up with the records from boarding, and a quick-drying disinfectant spray to ensure they weren’t bringing any deadly bacteria along. He yawned a bit, happy to keep moving when it was done - he’d hear about it if he was late, even if it wasn’t his fault.

Luckily, foot traffic moved along speedily on the narrow gray streets, and the businessman knew exactly where he was going.

He walked into the old-fashioned restaurant and was seated with his signmates with a minute to spare, sitting down with relief as he settled into their private booth.

The space was large enough that all four of them could spread out, over six foot as everyone but him was, and had storage for all their personal belongings. The Takamis had rented this place for centuries, and would likely do so for centuries more.

Himari greeted him with a hug, picking him up with a bit of a ‘whoof!’ and grinning before setting him back down.

“Aren’t you as big as ever! Sanata must be doing a good job keeping the kitchen up.” Said the woman with pride - the olive had been one of her own staff before she’d left the planet.

Jikiro snorted.

“You’re just as you as ever.” He retorted dryly, but with amusement.

It was true she hadn’t changed much in the last several perigees; his youngest signmate had always kept her hair short, her beloved rose pearl necklace clasped around her neck, teal eyes bright and inquisitive. She laughed a little at his statement and waved a hand in an ‘oh, you’ gesture as she sat back down.

“Hey, Akahan.” He said quietly and fondly to his middle signmate.

She’d been looking at her phone, but she looked up and nodded at him, a very slight smile on her lips. She too looked much the same - hair a little longer than his, but starting to streak with gray, clothes slightly spotted with paint. Her round glasses reflected the lights of the booth a bit, but he could still see her eyes.

Akahan reached out a hand to him and Jikiro took it, squeezing it gently. She took out a scroll she’d promised to him with another, and he in turn took out some ink he’d had made specially for a mural she was working on back in her colony. Her normally vaguely worried face lit up for a moment as she put it away.

Then - trying to keep his face pleasant - he turned to the last woman in the booth, her posture rigid, her lined hands folded as she waited with an expectant, cool expression, though for some reason her eyebrows raised for a moment upon seeing him before settling. Her long gray hair was in its usual tight braid, tied at the end with a cerulean ribbon as always.

Jikiro bowed to Izanam as he always had, as all Takamis were meant to do to the current eldest, the keeper of the bloodline’s affairs.

She examined him impassively, saying nothing until he had settled down next to Himari, across from her and Akahan.

“We can order lunch in a few minutes.” Izanam said. “First, tell us why we are here.”

Jikiro took a breath, then grinned.

“Okay, good news to start off - I have a kismesis!”

Himari grinned and Akahan looked up a few moments later and nodded her approval. Izanam’s eyebrows raised.

“Who?” The oldest Takami asked.

“Jamie.” He answered with a grin. “I know - who’d have thought it, right? All this time I thought he wasn’t interested, turns out I was wrong. I mean, maybe he - ”

Jikiro’s voice died as he saw the looks on Himari and Izanam’s faces; shock on the former, disgust and disappointment on the latter.

“Hey.” He said slowly. “What’s wrong? I mean sure, Jamie’s cobalt, but we’ve quadded cobalts before, it’s not like he’s a seadweller. Plus his business is successful, nothing wrong with having more connections to fleet, right?”

That sentence was directed at Izanam in particular.

Her eyes narrowed.

“He is a liability.” She said dismissively. “I never thought it was proper that the drones let him live after what happened. They’re getting quite lax these nights.”

Baffled and infuriated, the tanuki troll opened his mouth, but Himari cut in.

“Plus, Ji, you know, he’s…” she tilted her hand back and forth. “…not exactly well established. Isn’t he the first of his line, or something? Aren’t there other trolls you could have a spade with, just a little more suitable?”

She emphasized ‘little’ by pinching her fingers together, expression concerned.

Not trusting himself to speak, Jikiro looked at Akahan, praying for support.

The painter looked up, and noticed the others were looking at her too. Her expression turned uncomfortable, cornered.

“Isn’t it Jikiro’s business?” She said quietly, then looked down again.

“It is the bloodline’s business.” Stated Izanam firmly. “What will people say if our heir quadrants such a weak boy? Although…” A thoughtful, analytic light entered the older midblood’s eyes.

Jikiro didn’t like that one bit.

Izanam looked at Himari, and then Akahan. “Girls. We have all had to do unsavory things, at times, to keep what we have, and to maintain our reputation. Distasteful as it is, sometimes necessity forces our hand, does it not? We cannot shy from securing the future. It is always about more than just us.”

Himari nodded. Akahan looked even more uncomfortable, slumping back in her chair, but she didn’t object.

The youngest Takami fumed, trying not to grind his teeth together. He knew exactly what she was doing, and he could only wait for her to deliver whatever hellish ultimatum she was about to make.

Izanam looked at him and said in the most vile of pleasant tones: “Jikiro, we could arrange an accident for you. We don’t expect you to harm your own kismesis, so we would of course take care of such unpleasant business on your behalf.”

The older woman clasped her hands and continued calmly, as if she couldn’t feel her youngest signmate actively resisting the urge to rip her head off.

“I know it would be hard, but think of the future, or rather lack of one, that you would have with this boy. We could also ensure his company found a good successor who would maintain decent business relations with us.”

Jikiro slammed his fist on the table, making the silverware do flips as it scattered all across the napkins and placemats.

Izanam looked at him with anger, Himari and Akahan with fear, but he spoke over all of them, louder than any of the other tealbloods had heard from him before.

“Don’t you ever. Ever. Touch Jamie.” He said, baring his fangs, and his younger signmates shrank back further. A small part of him felt ashamed - terrified - that he was producing such a reaction, but he was too enraged to care.

“You have no fucking idea what he means to me.” Jikiro spat. “But you sure as hell will find out if you lay a fucking finger on - “

“Enough.”

Izanam cut in, deathly stern, and Jikiro fell silent, still fuming.

A brief, terribly tense silence filled the booth, and Izanam took a few deep breaths, putting a hand to her forehead briefly before lowering it.

“Himari. Akahan. Leave us.”

Both of them rose in sync, bowed to the oldest Takami, and walked out of the booth together.

As the door clicked shut behind them, Jikiro looked away, trying to curb his violent impulses. His fists clenched tightly, claws digging into his palms.

“So you are an inscribed.”

His volcanic rage plummeted to ice cold shock as he whipped his head back to look at Izanam.

“Yeah, I’m an ink zombie. What of it?” He said stiffly, then irritation and disbelief spread across his face.

“Hey, what the hell - Hanabi said none of you knew about that!”

“Hanabi doesn’t know everything.” Retorted Izanam curtly. “Certainly Himari and Akahan have no idea what you are, but I suspected as soon as I saw your eyes, and your little display now confirmed it.”

Confusion entered Jikiro’s already mixed cocktail of emotions.

“My what.”

“Your eyes went fully black and leaked ink, and your teeth grew sharper and black-tipped.” She said coolly.

The tanuki troll’s hand went to his face and came away with smears of black. He sucked in a breath. Great. Just what he needed.

“Yeah, well, I was going to tell you all anyway, but hey! I got a little distracted for some reason.”

“This is of greater priority.” Dismissed Izanam. “Forget Jameth for now. This will pose a much more significant problem.”

The tanuki troll rolled his eyes.

“I forgave your deviance and slovenly appearance since you seem to do well with the company.” She continued. “But you see how this can’t stand, Jikiro. You cannot keep running things in this state.”

The youngest Takami gave his signmate a very pointed look, rage fading into sheer annoyance.

“What are you going to do, kill me again? Have fun trying. Aside from that you’re stuck waiting until the next one hatches.”

“I can encourage the caverns to speed along their work.” She said coolly. “When there is a replacement of age, you will abdicate.”

He laughed, sitting back in his chair.

“God, if I didn’t know you were the world’s biggest control freak I’d ask why you even cared! Billions of miles between us and you can’t stop trying to make what’s on Alternia your business no matter how long it’s been.”

“It is my business.” She said, voice hard. “It was mine centuries before it was yours.”

“Then it was Akahan’s, then Himari’s, and now it’s mine.” He retorted, voice hard with irritation. “That’s how it works.”

“There were others. Takamis who died before their time, or in their prime. Women who behaved as they should and passed when they were meant to.”

“Good for them.” Said Jikiro, unruffled. “I’m built different.”

Izanam’s lip curled. “You should be more concerned with how you are built. Do you still have your other bad habit?”

Jikiro winked at her and pulled out a cigarette, rolling it between his fingers tauntingly.

His signmate looked at it in pure disgust, the lines of her face etched as if the tobacco had committed a personal offense against her.

“Perhaps I should let your own vices kill you again.” She said. “It would be a fitting death.”

“My arteries may be sad, but your life is sadder.” He said sagely.

Her eyes narrowed.

“Do not push your luck.”

“I think my luck’s pretty healthy.” He retorted. He grinned and made the sign of the beckoning paw, and Izanam sighed deeply.

“We must eat.” She muttered. “But this isn’t over. Call your signmates back in.”

The younger troll gave a sarcastic salute, and went to do so, putting the cigarette away.

Lunch was, in the mildest possible terms, awkward.

Jikiro had never been so glad to get back to the privacy and comfort of his hotel room, and to return to Alternia the following evening.

—

Jamie took the news better than Jikiro had, as the two met up in the Takami estate.

He lounged in a chair with a footrest, leaning back with his head on a pillow as his two-tone eyes gleamed and his slightly smirking mouth displayed a complete lack of surprise. Jikiro sat across from him on a wide couch that he was pretty sure had been here since before Himari’s time, but it was still comfortable.

“Oh no, the traditionalist old hag thinks it’s best to kill your crippled kismesis.” The blueblood said with amusement. “I would have never seen that coming.”

The ink maker flushed teal with discomfort. “Jamie, don’t call yourself -“

“I’ll call myself what I like, it’s different than other people saying it.” He retorted briskly. “I see no point in being delicate about what I am. More importantly, what’s your plan?”

Right. He needed a plan.

Jikiro dragged a hand down his face.

“Ugh. First off, I need to keep the staff on my side, and I need to make sure the others don’t get spies in here to tattle on me - magical, troll, or tech.”

“Well done, you have managed the first step of not being a complete moron.” The cobalt remarked condescendingly, but with mild approval. “Next?”

The tealblood blew air out of his mouth, thinking. “Speaking of magic. I might as well seal the grounds. It won’t cover everything, but having a tighter security perimeter will help. More cost effective and stealthy than getting a ton of new tech in; less setup time too. Hanabi can help me.”

“You’re sure she’s on your side for this one?” Queried the kookaburra troll. “Won’t sell you out to the others?”

Jikiro laughed, if a bit wearily.

“She doesn’t love the situation, but I’m her current charge. I’m the one on Alternia, running the business, and until the next Takami comes along she sticks with me, that’s our law.”

“Mmm.” Said Jamie, skeptical and a touch critical. “I hope you’re right. Your signmates are trying to break the rules, after all.”

The tanuki troll shook his head. “Remember, Hanabi’s way older than even Izanam, she helped the Inkblade write most of the laws we have. She’s disappointed in them for what they’re trying to do.”

Jamie snorted. “Maybe she should have raised them better.”

The tealblood scowled.

“Hey, Akahan didn’t really agree with Izanam and Himari. She just felt uncomfortable speaking up. I don’t blame her…well, not completely. Those two are a lot, especially Izanam.”

Jamie sighed. “Jiji, I mean this without any malice, so be a good lad and realize what that costs me: please wake up. Just because Akahan doesn’t want my corpse on a culling fork doesn’t mean she’s going to be of any use. She’d still sit by while the others did it, or while they sabotaged you.”

The tanuki troll held his face in his hands. Jamie was right and he hated it. He hated that he couldn’t count on his favorite signmate because she didn’t want to bring any heat her way.

If he was really honest with himself, he couldn’t believe she’d just…looked awkwardly away, like it wasn’t her problem. As if Izanam hadn’t casually discussed culling his kismesis.

The Takamis did not interfere with each other’s quadrants; that was one of their rules. Once they’d chosen their own or been paired, that was it. The rest was their personal business unless they wanted to share.

God, he hadn’t even told them he was going to refuse to have his flushed quad arranged for him too. After all the fuss, he’d just wanted to eat lunch without getting into another argument. He’d managed, though all following conversation had been so stilted and wooden he could’ve carved an ink pot out of it.

“Yeah.” He finally muttered in reply, dropping his hands back down with a dejected slump. “Guess so.”

“Oh, it brings me such joy that you finally see the light.” Commented the blueblood, singsong, before his voice became cutting again.

“You’ve forgotten something important - they are not going to be happy when they find out about Viltau. Especially Izanam.”

“Who said I was going to tell them anything?” He muttered. “My friends are none of their business, especially after that.”

Jamie sighed delicately. “You know what? I’m not even going to go there, I love myself too much to wade through the morass of your denial right now.”

The tanuki troll ignored his spade, staring at the ceiling as he turned around ideas in his head.

“I have some time, at least. They can’t do anything until there’s a new heir, and even with Izanam pressuring the cavern that’ll be at least another sweep. Even then, it’d look pretty suspicious to get rid of me right after they got here.”

Jamie looked up from the book he was reading, expression once more skeptical.

“Mmm…you have such unfounded faith that the hag is going to play fair. Who’s to say she won’t try to cut deals with other caverns too? It could be sooner than that.”

Jikiro gritted his teeth.

“Fine, whatever. Either way, I’m not harming the new Takami.”

The cobalt made an annoyed hooting noise, just as his lusus might’ve.

“Why not? Save us all a lot of trouble. One quick snap to the neck and you’re in the pink.”

“Because I’m not killing a wriggler over some stupid lineage bullshit.” He growled. “I’m better than that, and besides, do you really think they wouldn’t bring down hell on me for it? I’d automatically be prime suspect number one.”

“Oh, Jiji.” Sighed Jamie theatrically. “As if I wouldn’t do it for you. What else are spades for? Especially if you’re going to be such a weak-kneed sentimentalist about it.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Said Jikiro sharply. “That’s not how I do things and that’s not how you’re going to do things, so shove it. I’m finding another way.”

Jamie looked at his kismesis evenly through his rectangular glasses.

“And how did that work out for you last time? Ah yes - you died.”

The tealblood stood up and walked over to the kookaburra troll, slowly and deliberately.

He folded his arms and glared down at the freckled man, who assumed a look of completely hollow innocence.

“I don’t appreciate it when my signmates try to make me act like they think I should.” He said, deathly serious. “I’m not taking it from you either. Yeah, I died - and I’m stronger than ever.”

This time Jikiro could feel his eyes go black, the ink start to run, his teeth grow sharper, and this time he didn’t mind at all.

Jamie, meanwhile, looked a mixture of shocked and flustered, going somewhat blue under his freckles.

“Well.” He said, with a cough. “If that’s how you feel! Have fun with that, laddie, can’t wait to see what your solution is.”

Jikiro nodded, feeling his demonic traits recede. He’d made his point, and he turned around, mind back on the future.

As always, he had work to do.

#this bitch LONG #cloud writes #jikiro takami #jameth abnale #I'm not tagging all his signmates bc I don't care

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fufukunaga · 1 year

Text

Immortal Kiyoomi who always runs into Atsumu every lifetime except they always hate each other.

Kiyoomi can't stand him. Every time they meet for the first time, Kiyoomi always finds him annoying.

They first meet as rivaling princes vying for the same princess. Atsumu won that time with his endearing smile and charming ways. Kiyoomi didn't care. He wedded a different bride from a different noble family. He didn't love either woman anyway.

They met again at sea. Kiyoomi had just gotten a promotion as captain when Atsumu showed up as a pirate and overtook his ship. When a storm hit them, Kiyoomi woke up alone on an island. No sign of Atsumu.

The third time they met, Kiyoomi thought maybe he wasn't that bad at all. Maybe all those past lives, they were just unfortunate and they just never had enough time to get to know each other properly. Serving as soldiers together really made them close and Kiyoomi could even consider Atsumu his friend.

Until it was discovered that Atsumu had been a spy for the enemy.

Heartbroken and betrayed, every time he encountered Atsumu, Kiyoomi just kept his distance. Started acting cold and even snobbish.

But every time, Atsumu would force his way in. And every time, Kiyoomi finds another reason to hate him, to stay away.

But fate had other plans.

This time, they were volleyball players. And Atsumu had a twin. He has an accent. And he's much goofier than his previous reincarnations. But there was still that fiery passion. A competitive spark in his eyes that blares off all the warning signals in Kiyoomi's brain.

This time, Kiyoomi was able to keep his distance. Somewhat. They were in different teams. They lived in different cities. Only occasionally passing by each other during Nationals.

Then they were both invited to that training camp.

Kiyoomi shouldn't have gone. He knew Atsumu was going to be there. But he'd been enjoying playing volleyball more than he'd like to admit. And he knew he was good. So he went.

It was the first time in centuries the two of them were in the most nonthreatening environment.

It was also the first time the two of them played on the same side without the risk of the other being a spy. Still, Kiyoomi ignored Atsumu.

It wasn't until that night when Kiyoomi decided to get a drink of water while everyone was asleep that he ran into Atsumu.

Kiyoomi froze. Atsumu was looking at him almost sadly, like he wanted to cry. He was just about to tease him for being homesick when Atsumu spoke up.

"Why are you avoiding me?" Atsumu asks.

"We're not that close." Kiyoomi says. It was true.

He hasn't interacted much with this Atsumu. And that's what Kiyoomi had wanted- to not be close to Atsumu. But as soon as Kiyoomi said it, he felt guilty like he had done something wrong. Which was ridiculous. Atsumu was the bad guy here. For centuries and in every reiteration.

"Don't lie." Atsumu's features hardens, as if he was hurt. "I've been trying to get close to you since the beginning."

"We just officially met this morning," Kiyoomi defends. "And I'm not interested in making friends with you."

Atsumu shakes his head. "No. You're wrong."

"I know you know me," Atsumu insists. "I remember."

"What?" Kiyoomi asks, confused. "What are you-"

"We've met before." Atsumu looks into Kiyoomi's eyes. "Haven't we?"

And right then, Kiyoomi sees recognition in Atsumu's eyes.

"I don't exactly get it but I've seen you in my dreams, Omi-kun. Before I even saw you at nationals. Dreams that don't make sense except that you were always there. And this feeling that I wanted to be with you-"

"I think-" Atsumu takes a step forward, trying to close the distance between them. "I think I've always been yearning for you. In my past lives. And in this one."

#sakuatsu #haikyuu #sakusa kiyoomi #miya atsumu #bre's thread fics

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theentireratchetandclankfandom · 2 years

Text

Survive the Night...(Ratchet/Alister Version)

"And I'll be back tomorrow. I promise."

(You've found the Ratchet/Alister version! Or perhaps you haven't seen the gen version of this fic and you have no idea what I'm talking about. Either way, keep on reading and please enjoy! Also I'm so sorry if the editing is weird, this new post editor is kinda confusing.)

Hello hello, I have returned to the RaC tag with more fics for your soul and no one's gonna stop me.

This one is a sick fic that I wrote an au prompt for six (6!) years ago and I've always just wanted to see it become a fanfic. So I did it! And I made two versions of it! A gen one (here!) and a shippy, Ratchet/Alister version (this one!) You're welcome to read one or the other or both! Or you can read it on AO3 here!

Reblogs are appreciated and helps get this fic out there for everyone to enjoy!

(-[-]- is a page break)

(~~ is the start and finish of a dream sequence)

“Come on Ratchet, how many times has Alister shown you already? It shouldn’t be this hard to find Lunaris by yourself...”

Ratchet shifted the star map in his lap once again and sighed in frustration. He was never one for stargazing, he left that behind when he was finally able to leave Veldin. For Ratchet, stargazing was looking to the night sky and dreaming about finally getting off his home planet after eighteen long years and speeding across the Solana Galaxy in his own ship, finally free to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. Not looking at one spot for the past half hour, unblinking, trying desperately to find a constellation Alister Azimuth could point out in his sleep. Which said Lombax was sorely lacking. But here he was, doing just that, hoping to learn a fraction of the celestial mapping the general knew.

Maybe the stars were just located somewhere else on Lumos. This wasn’t Torren IV after all. Bodies of stars looked different on each planet, their location moving as they moved. Where one constellation could be located ninety degrees left of Torren IV’s moon, on Lumos...well Ratchet didn’t exactly know. Or maybe he was just exhausted and all the tiny little balls of dust and gas just looked like balls of dust and gas and nothing more. It was slightly frustrating.

But Ratchet couldn’t deny that he was hooked learning about the different constellations in Lombax lore. And Azimuth was all too happy to prattle on to his audience of one of the stories behind each one of them and always put a special emphasis on his favourite, Lunaris. He never left anything out for her story, every detail was important, even the smallest one.

And Ratchet was all too happy to listen to the same tale every night. Watching Azimuth’s animated movements, the brightest smile on his face that could rival the very stars he talked about, and the way his red eyes shown brighter.

He just seemed more...alive. Happier. Younger. Breathtaking. And Ratchet wanted to drink in every minute of it.

Except this night.

This night, Azimuth was off helping the Vullards with a particularly nasty infestation of Tyhrranoids in one of their factories; only at the behest of Ratchet. And he made sure to let everyone know he was not doing this out of his own good will.

No Azimuth meant no star mapping tonight. Which meant Ratchet was on his own. It was no problem, Ratchet wanted Azimuth to help with clearing out the infestation. It would tire the older Lombax out and maybe he could finally get some sleep instead of dealing with yet another bought of insomnia.

Can’t go to sleep without him though. He wouldn’t be able to make his way into Aphelion without Ratchet. And...

Ratchet blushed. Losing himself in the stars thinking of the rare nights Azimuth sought out affection from Ratchet. Chaste kisses and fingers dancing through pale chest fur...

He shook his head, trying to clear away the thoughts. Now wasn’t the time for that.

“Just...a little longer. Let’s try and find Sigma instead.”

-[-]-

When Ratchet had landed on Torren IV and made his way through Volgrom Pass, the Vullards felt that the “Dangerous Rebel” of the Molonoth Fields was reigned in and pacified, and so felt it safe to approach the older Lombax with various requests and grievances. At first, Azimuth would frighten off anyone who tried to reach Volgrom Pass to ask anything of him before they could even get the chance to be shot down. And every time Ratchet would ask why the other Lombax didn’t stop to lend an ear. “I don’t owe anyone anything apart from you. I keep Nefarious’ troops away from this planet and that’s enough.” Azimuth would always reply.

It just never sat right with Ratchet.

The Vullards had let him stay on their planet after he was exiled and take up a sizable portion of land. It was only right to pay them back in any small way.

The younger Lombax spent an entire month trying to coax Azimuth into not scaring away those who came to ask for his help. The general had a stubborn streak as wide as mile, but Ratchet had an overabundance of patience (thanks to Qwark.)

He figured looking a little of his father helped too.

He rode out the quarrels, aggressive training, and days long silent treatments to Azimuth finally giving in and agreeing to help the Vullards on the condition that Ratchet learned how to read and map out the stars.

“Every Lombax is taught from a young age, and if you’re making me work for these Vullards, I’m going to make you learn every night to earn your supper.” And that was fine with Ratchet (anything to stop feeling awkward about mooching off the Vullards.)

And so, every night Ratchet studied. The nights where Azimuth wasn’t busy helping the Vullards, he gleaned every bit of information he could about star mapping and Lombax lore from the other. It was hard work, but the things he learned about Lombax history and Azimuth himself were absolutely worth it.

Just seeing the man light up. It was so attractive.

And getting Azimuth to earn his keep was worth the strenuous and extra aggressive training Ratchet was put through during the daylight hours. It ensured the older Lombax was knocked out after a mapping lesson. Too many nights of insomnia made the man cranky, and a cranky Azimuth was not a joy to be around.

Some days were worth a little bit of a cranky Azimuth. Because when night fell, it was one of those rare nights he wanted attention.

From Ratchet or from Kaden? The younger Lombax didn’t have an answer to that.

And he didn’t know if he particularly wanted one.

-[-]-

Ratchet gripped the wall behind him and rubbed his aching sternum, victim of a particularly hard jab from the other’s Praetorian wrench. Today was one of the days Azimuth seemed particularly upset. At what? Ratchet couldn’t tell. He couldn’t read the other man’s face at all today, and he was usually an open book (to Ratchet anyway.) He got up anyway, ready to face whatever aggression Azimuth wanted to get out. Imagine his surprise when the other Lombax heaved a heavy sigh, dropping his offensive stance.

Ratchet took that as his signal to approach Azimuth. He looked hard at the other as he drove his Praetorian wrench into the ground. Now that they weren’t sparing, Ratchet noticed the general’s face looked exhausted, the dark circles under his eyes looked more pronounced, if that was even possible.

“Azimuth, you okay?” Ratchet was sure the other had been getting sleep these past couple of days. He saw Azimuth fall asleep long before he did most nights.

Azimuth looked up at the younger Lombax as he ungracefully sat himself on the ground. “Just a little tired my boy. Come, take a break and sit.” He patted the grass next to him. Ratchet walked over, taking a chance to quickly caress the other’s face, knowing the other wasn’t a fan of physical affection outside of Aphelion. But he felt like Azimuth needed this. He smiled when the Lombax automatically leaned into the touch before batting Ratchet’s hand away.

“I apologize for hitting so hard,” Azimuth sighed, wrapping an arm around Ratchet’s shoulder as soon as the other sat down. “It’s unfortunately a bit too easy to forget myself during these sparring sessions.”

This was a surprise, having the older Lombax initiate affection first. The younger Lombax hummed, feeling the other sag against him, and using the opportunity to peek up at Azimuth’s face.

He had his eyes closed; cheek pressed up against Ratchet’s temple and Ratchet could see the weariness in the other’s face, the shadows under his eyes. The general was decidedly not getting any sleep. Ratchet pulled away from the Lombax peacefully snoozing away on top of him, ignoring the frustrated grunt, and dug in the satchel they brought for some water.

“Here,” Ratchet forced the water bottle into the other’s hand. Azimuth gladly took it, chugging it like it was made of raritanium. “So...what kept you up this time?” He felt Azimuth slowly take his arm from around Ratchet’s shoulder and Ratchet fixed him with a pointed look.

“Ah it's just the usual bought of restlessness.” Ratchet crossed his arms. “How could you even tell?”

“You’re never this...I don’t know what to call it, but I can’t even touch you unless we’re in Aphelion. You only get like this when you’re running on an hour, at most, of sleep. What’s the deal Azimuth? I thought helping out the Vullards was wearing you out?”

“And they are! Gods are they wearing me out...” Azimuth growled. He let out a weary sigh, frustratingly running a hand through the fur on top of his head. “But a restless mind barely knows any sleep...”

Ratchet stared off into the deep blue sky of Lumos as Azimuth continued to drink; the general did have a mind that ran a mile a minute, but he wasn’t aware it was interfering with his sleep so badly. Was it always like this, before Ratchet found him? He was sure he saw the other Lombax sleeping so peacefully the first few days after their encounter.

Maybe the stress of what he wanted and what Ratchet was asking of him was taking its toll.

He looked back at Azimuth. He had sat back, face towards the sun and eyes closed. The soft rise and fall of his shoulders..was he sleeping? Ratchet inched closer to him; Azimuth was definitely sleeping. Finally.

Did Kaden have this much trouble getting Azimuth to relax? What else could he do for the Lombax that his father couldn’t? Or didn’t do already?

He sighed. Getting the other Lombax to just rest was harder than saving the galaxy at this point. It was heartbreaking.

But this moment was a great opportunity to grab lunch at Galaxy Burger. And Azimuth would appreciate a greasy lunch once in a blue moon...right? Well, Ratchet thought he did. And that Betelgeuse Slushie was calling his name.

“Get some rest Alister, I’ll be back before you even know it.”

He scrambled up and grabbed the empty water bottle, making his way to the planet’s landing pad and Aphelion. A quick trip to the Phylax Sector and he’d be back before he was missed.

“You STILL haven’t fixed it Al?! The competition is in two hours!”

“Well, this would certainly go a lot faster if SOMEONE would lend a hand!”

“But you’re better with those tiny little wires than I am! That’s why I left it to you!”

Alister gave his friend a withering look as the other lay there with a self-satisfied grin. They were currently in the Solana galaxy, trying to prepare for the hoverboard races. During one particularly intense training run, Kaden’s board suddenly malfunctioned, throwing the Lombax off a steep incline and into the murky waters of Rilgar. Everyone was thankful the Lurker Sharks swimming along the track were fished out the week before or Alister would’ve had to go back to Fastoon with a damn good explanation as to why his partner was bleeding all over his ship and missing his left leg.

Kaden was currently still wet and laughing about the entire thing, while Alister was stuck fixing his board. Lombax technology was unique, so not a lot of people knew the ins and outs of fixing it, so the Lombaxes were on their own trying to get it up and running again. He just wished Kaden was as good at fixing these little things as he was. This would go so much faster and they’d have more time to get in more practice.

“Hey, Al?”

“What NOW Kaden? Every time you try and start a conversation, we waste time. Do you want this board fixed or not?”

“Sorry sorry! It’s just...don’t you think it's time to wake up?” Kaden asked, starting to rap his fingers on the ground.

The question took Alister by surprise. What in the world was that supposed to mean?

“Kaden what-are you high? I told you that you can’t get into the Praetorian Guard taking those damn poyoball pills. And WHY are you tapping the ground like that its IRRITATING!” Alister growled. Was his friend just determined to piss him off before this race? He had no problem leaving him to flounder in this race if that was the way he was choosing to behave just an hour before they had to work together.

“But Alister...don’t you think it's time to wake up?” Kaden asked again, still tapping the ground. Alister felt a shiver run down his spine as the other Lombax stared at him, but also not? It looked like Kaden was staring straight into his soul. This was getting weird.

“Azimuth. Wake up.”

Still tapping.

“Wha-Kaden what..? Wake up?”

Stop tapping.

“Wake up! It’s time to wake up!”

Stop. Tapping.

“Wake up!”

Alister growled and snatched Kaden off the floor by his shirt. His ears twitched at tapping that STILL continued. This was creepy and irritating.

“Kaden, I have had ENOUGH. KNOCK IT OFF!” He yelled. That infernal tapping! “Why are you trying to drive me up a damn wall?! I thought you loved me?!”

Kaden just smiled, still tapping the floor. “Cause I miss you! It’s time to wake up!”

‘Cause I miss you.’

Wait-

Blue skies. The humidity...it was just a dream.

He took in a shaky breath, felt the grass underneath him, the breeze. Was it a dream?

A shadow loomed over him. Everything in him tensed. Was that...?

“Alister, you’re awake! Do you know how hard it is to wake you up? Your communicator has been going off since I got back.”

‘Got back..’ Azimuth mouthed. He felt something tapping against his side..”K-Ratchet?” What was that tapping? His communicator. That was the infernal tapping that was echoing in his dream. It was vibrating with a message.

“In the flesh! I got us some lunch; I don’t know if you like Galaxy Burger...” Ratchet left Azimuth’s small field of view, shuffling around in what he assumed were bags of food. His tensed muscles slowly relaxed, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. It was a dream, or maybe it was a nightmare.

He sat up, wresting his communicator from his side and silencing it without looking. Whatever it was could wait. His mouth felt drier than the grass he was sat upon. Where was that-

“Water?” Ratchet. The real Ratchet. Not a phantom in a dream. Offering him what he clearly needed right now. Azimuth took it gratefully, giving the other a searching glance.

“Didn’t tell me you could read minds.” Azimuth joked.

Ratchet laughed. It was so light and airy. So unlike Kaden’s deep one. It was nice.

“You just looked like you needed it.” Ratchet answered around a mouth full of fries. “Was it a nightmare?”

Azimuth forgot Ratchet was aware that nightmares plagued him sometimes; one of the causes of his insomnia, robbing him of sleep and disturbing what should be a peaceful night. But..

“Just an old memory. Nothing to worry yourself over.”

Ratchet didn’t need to know it was a memory twisted into a nightmare. The younger Lombax already worried so much about him, adding more to his plate just seemed cruel.

Azimuth dug into Ratchet’s fries, laughing as he tried to swat the elder away and to his own food.

“So, who was trying to contact you?”

Azimuth huffed, angrily tearing into his burger and instantly regretting it. The thing was a greasy disaster. He wouldn’t be surprised if this gave him heartburn in an hour. The general was hoping Ratchet would forget about that.

“No one, just spam calls.”

Ratchet shot Azimuth a look, while the elder made it a point to stare into the blackest soda he’d ever seen.

“Really?” Ratchet drawled, chuckling as a shiver ran up Azimuth’s spine as he tried to drink the sugary sweet drink. “I could’ve sworn you told me people thought you were dead, so you don’t get those kinds of calls.”

“Ugh,” Azimuth sneered at Ratchet’s grin, he could never hide anything from that boy. But he admired that about him. Quick-witted and just as sharp as his wrench.

And that damnable bright smile. Kaden’s couldn’t even compare.

He pulled his communicator back out, checked the message that was left and rolled his eyes. “It was just the Vullards with yet ANOTHER request. They can deal with it themselves.”

The other Lombax rounded his shoulders and Ratchet could tell he was done with the conversation. But Ratchet wasn’t. Azimuth declined many requests for help over the month, and Ratchet had let it slide, enjoying the small reprise with the elder Lombax.

He felt bad for ignoring the responsibilities the two of them had. But the opportunity to get to know another Lombax, learn from him, everything he yearned for...the pull was too great. But while they waited for leads and for armies to get off their backs, they grew too complacent in each other’s company and too comfortable in each other’s arms.

He knew he couldn’t stay in the little world they built forever. Especially Alister.

“I think you should go.”

Azimuth froze mid-bite of his burger and frowned. “No.”

“Why not? We’ve been stuck here for weeks and I can tell you’re getting anxious.” And in danger of going stir-crazy. “Maybe it would do you some good to get off planet and talk to people who aren’t me!” ‘And the ghosts haunting your dreams whenever you manage to get some sleep.’ Some things were better left unsaid.

“No, I do not! I don’t need other people!” Azimuth scoffed. “I have you, and you are enough!” He got up, tossing his burger to the side.

“We are DONE with this conversation, Ratchet. I don’t want to hear-”

“NO, WE’RE NOT.” Ratchet scrambled up too, quickly placing himself in front of the other Lombax. He glared up at Azimuth, throwing the elder off and making him step back.

“It is not enough Azimuth! Before me you had no one and you even told me that wasn’t okay and unhealthy-”

“But that was-”

“But nothing! Alister, you need to go. Now.”

Ratchet didn’t realize what he said until it was too late, but he stood his ground. Azimuth NEEDED this, no matter how much he fought back against it. Ratchet barely registered the other Lombax suddenly growling and baring his fangs. He yelped when Azimuth grabbed him by his collar and pulled him closer. This...was the closet Ratchet had ever been to the older Lombax while they were both awake. For the second time today.

His eyes. They were still so exhausted.

It looked like the bags under his eyes had bags. Frown lines and old battle scars marred his rugged face but the shadows that always seemed to linger under his eyes looked a lot lighter this close up. He was still handsome, despite all of his flaws. He shouldn’t be so attracted to this man, especially with his temper. But yet...

“How dare you? I-”

Well, there was no time like the present to get even closer. “Please...” Ratchet took a chance, reaching out and gently grabbing Azimuth’s face. The most intimate physical contact they’d ever had outside of Aphelion for the third time today. A record. “...Alister...” He didn’t miss the Lombax’s eyes widening at the use of his first name.

Ratchet wasn’t sure Azimuth was aware of how close they were earlier in the day. The man struggled with physical contact on any level other than a friendly spar. Seeing him flinch as if he was struck, it was abnormal.

Ratchet held Azimuth’s gaze. It was a sea of emotion behind his eyes and it looked a little duller. “Just do it for me, okay?” Ratchet wondered if those blood red eyes saw Ratchet or Kaden.

Was it okay, manipulating the other like this, just because Ratchet knew Azimuth would do anything for Kaden?

He felt his hand being squeezed back and his feet touch the earth again. Ratchet stumbled a bit, feeling himself being tugged forward. More physical contact? Ratchet saw the other hesitate, Azimuth’s sleep deprived mind going into overdrive.

Taking advantage of that should be fine. Just this once. Ratchet reached up and caressed the other’s face. He smiled hearing a raspy purr coming from Azimuth. Just this once, he’d use his proximity to a person he didn’t know to get what he wanted.

It felt strange. He’d have to find some way to make that up to him.

“F-fine. I’ll help them. Only because you asked...Ratchet.” Azimuth blushed at the beaming smile the younger Lombax threw his way. He suddenly let go of Ratchet’s hand and backed out of his grasp, swiftly grabbing his wrench and starting up his hover boots.

“But this means we’re up extra early tomorrow morning for training!”

“Yes sir!”

Azimuth nodded, pleased with the response he received and boosted off towards his ship. The smile slipped away from Ratchet’s face once the Lombax was gone.

It felt...surreal, using his uncanny resemblance to his father to manipulate Azimuth. It worked, but Ratchet didn’t like it. He wasn’t sure if Azimuth was doing this for him or Kaden, despite what the other said earlier.

He sighed, going back to his now cold food.

There was no need to dwell on such vexing thoughts.

It was heartbreaking.

#ratchet and clank #ratchet x alister #ratchet x azimuth #alister azimuth #lombax #sick fic #au #ratchet x alister azimuth #these two need a ship name #koopachat #fanfiction #fic #fanfic

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wall-e-gorl · 2 years

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old v new

just want to talk about the differences between these two pieces :] casual essay under the cut

first off, in the nine months between making the first one and redoing it i have a) learned how to make space backgrounds in a way that i am very fond of, b) picked up a textured brush, and c) have gained some more understandings of my layer modes

now. i didnt like make a new piece and start over from scratch. i keep a save of the art with layers and a save of the art i can post. i have a whole system, is why my art always have a 1 at the end if youve ever looked at the file names. the only thing i completely changed is the background. got rid of the stars added my space and readded stars and added the moons. and some glow at the bottom.

other than that i color shifted the ship wall theyre leaning against to be more purple than green, and did some heavy blurring and smudging on the lighting and changed the layer modes. i had left the group layer modes on the wrong setting (pass through vs normal) and it dimmed all the work i did so much. because of that i actually had to go back, after i fixed it, to tone down a lot of the lighting i did, especially on the faces. i took my big textured brush (which i also used for the background. deceptively simple to do that actually) and just set it to eraser mode and did a few taps over the spots that needed it. i used the same method on the moon actually, i just made a white circle and duplicated it and erased it with a tap and it ended up like that.

anyway all of that is to say that the little changes really changed the whole, like effect of the piece. before, everything felt really flat and i was disappointed in how the lighting showed up, but i thought there was nothing i could do. the back lighting was a last minute decision and it looked cool but also a bit out of place. it was a great concept but i didnt have all the technical skills and the right eye for what i wanted. i had actually drawn it before and gone no i need to try harder and do better with this actually. i went hard into the anatomy and lighting, but fell the the side on the background.

which is what i went into this time, and what helped give it the effect it has now. they arent as flat with the improved lighting, the background has depth and actually looks like its a night sky, the moons give context for the back light, and its no longer all the some sort of contrast.

in the before they kind of blended into everything else because it was all given the same emphasis in contrast. if you step back and squint the only things that stand out are fjord's lighter green skin and jesters skin. not the worst things to stand out ofc, thats their faces on the most part. but in the after, its their whole bodies (and the moon) that stand out and thats what i want.

one thing i didnt expect to see, when i set them next to each other, was to think that the newer one seemed smaller than the other. they look smaller, when i didnt resize them at all. i didnt touch the line art, except to put it on a multiply layer and to make it a color other than black (almost black green and almost black blue). that, plus the enhanced lighting, and surprisingly the moon in the back also makes the moment sadder and more lonely? which is the exact mood in the actual scene im portraying, where jester and fjord have a talk and jester sheds her happy mask for a moment to share her sadness and loneliness at leaving her mom. in the new piece they are surrounded by darkness, with the only visible features being themselves lit by the moon and the moon itself. in the older piece the sky is lighter and filled with stark stars that negate that effect completely. With all that starkness consolidated into the single white moon, it feels as though the moon is a third figure in the scene that, since it is addressed and centered, makes it so that any notion of any other audience moot. the moon is the only audience for the moment between them and its indifferent (not a stand in for us, because we are not indifferent). Ruidus is there as well, because of what we know about it now. all the forboding and negitive enegery around it, and having placed it above jester, shows that its a serious, if beautiful, moment of her, again, showing sadness and loneliness, non-positive emotions.

anyway all of this is to just say: look at what i did! isnt it neat how i did it. look at the very cool side effect it caused! wow im so proud of that, isnt it so cool.

i also think itd perhaps be a really cool card for jester and molly's oracle deck, im thinking connection and then upside down is loneliness. idk i havent looked at the cards and their meanings and the specific art yet, i just thought id be cool cause of the connection/loneliness theme of jester that kinda first shows its face to us with this moment

if youve read all of this i love you

#see i DID do ib lit and ib lit 2 and i did learn SOMETHING even if it wasnt as much as they wanted #anyway! back to it #feel free to talk in the replies i just dont want this to spread more than the actual art posts ya know.#my art

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everyglasswebreak · 5 months

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fuck dude. im so horny its disgusting. i want to just fuck some of my guy friends but then i'd be doing what robert did to me to myself. like i don't want to fuck them becuase theyre fine. theyre just there and available. well. except for T*. but idk that can't happen yet. i feel like T* and i are either gonna be like two ships passing in the night or we're going to be a whole saga where we try to date and it doesnt work out and then we circle back to each other later in life. but at the same time the way he's moving right now is bad. and i honeslty shouldn't even keep entertaining him. i think thats my insecurity though. i know he's not doing what he needs to be or what he should be.

i really like him and i want him to be obsessed with me.

when i picture my future self i picture me having toured the world, and dropped a bunch of fire albums, and pregnant with his child in our french chateau. but i don't know. theres another world where im like there's no way he'd be attracted to a girl who looks like me. but then again i can't keep gaslighting myself because he also texts me some crazy stuff like asking to go out of the country togther and saying he wants to come to my apartment. so idk.

i'm ready for someone again. maybe not a full relationship. but just a nice little something that can keep me well fed.

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the-world-of-palara · 5 months

Text

The Black Rose of Tyr Pt. III

Sarai and Nibaan had arrived in Khor Izkirah after several days of travel. It was a hard journey, one that continuously sapped their willpower, but they pushed on. In the last stretch of the journey, Sarai had to support Nibaan as they walked, as the fatigue combined with his injured leg had both caught up with him. They had been taken in when they arrived and given medical treatment for their lingering injuries, and their extreme fatigue. Weeks had passed and the two still hadn't recovered fully, and the entire time Sarai had barely spoken at all to Nibaan or anyone, and absolutely didn't tell Nibaan of her thoughts of suicide. She had become very distant and reserved from anyone except for those who brought her food.

"I am leaving, Nibaan."

"What? You still have to recover fully-"

"I am leaving…" Sarai spoke once more, cutting the scout off from continuing his protest, "I need to be away from this kingdom. I can't stand being here any longer. I just… can't ."

Nibaan let out a sigh. "I suppose you want to be alone?"

"Yes."

"I have no right to stop you, just… try to be safe."

A silence was shared between the two for some time. Sarai had nearly recovered fully, but Nibaan was still bedridden due to the multiple injuries he suffered from the explosion. It was a slow recovery for him, but it was going well enough. It was a blessing that he wasn't feeling anymore severe pains. For Sarai, she hadn't been nearly as roughed up as him and her recovery went much easier, even though she was still very sore and she had pains deep within where she had stabbed herself. It was something she would have taken care of one day, but for now…

"I suppose this is goodbye," Nibaan spoke, "I hope we see each other again one day."

"It is, and I do as well. Farewell, Nibaan."

Sarai left the room without another word, and she left the building. With only a single bag of holding packed with some supplies, gold, and items to sell in the future, she walked through streets of the largest port city of Sabaal. Her new change of clothes would be a style she would keep for a spell. It was a full garb of a leather tunic, a pair of leather pants, boots, and a heavy black cloak for where she would be journeying to. With Zarrakas' great flamberge across her back, Brock's shortsword at her right thigh, and her bastard sword at her left hip, she made her way towards the docks to find a ship traveling to the snowy continent of Vunalis.

She asked around the docks for any passage, normally only speaking shortly and to the point and avoiding idle chatter. Eventually she found a ship named the Silver Wave that was traveling to Chillport. It looked like a sturdy enough galleon, fit to travel the sometimes rough waters around the coast of Sevlrass. The captain was unwilling to have a passenger onboard, but a pouch of one hundred gold to cover passage, food, and silence quickly changed his mind.

And so Sarai boarded the Silver Wave , found where she would be staying, and she sat in silence by herself. It wouldn't be another hour or so before the ship would set sail. As she felt the ship lurching forward through the water, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She had never traveled aboard a seafaring vessel before in her life, so this was an entirely new experience for her to grow accustomed to.

During the trip, she had performed multiple exercises to return her body to proper form, at least she attempted to. She did her best even though her nights were restless either by her own intrusive thoughts plaguing her or the motions of the ship keeping her from sleeping. Many of her exercises included swinging her massive zweihander over and over to train her arms. Those were the times she had to journey to the deck of the ship for proper space, which surprisingly didn't bring many stares her way at all. If the members of the crew kept their distance, then that was perfectly fine by her.

She ate whenever she pleased, which had annoyed a few people but the gold she had paid more than covered for it as the captain told them when the complaints were brought up. She kept to herself and didn't cause any trouble other than that, and she truly hoped it wouldn't cause them to go out of their own ways to make issues for her. It kept her from joining them all during their own meal time as well, which could have very well caused some form of trouble. She exercised constantly by herself and never spoke a word to anyone for the entire trip. Over the month-long voyage, the ship sailed through relatively calm seas for the most part, the roughest weather being along the edge of the Sea of Storms.

After a certain point in the trip, the air grew colder and colder over time and Sarai could tell they were close to Vunalis. It would be another day or so of travel before arriving at their destination though. The falling temperature did nothing to stop Sarai from exercising though. She constantly pushed through any soreness in her arms from swinging her zweihander as she did, and her efforts had been increasing her strength and familiarity with the weapon.

The Silver Wave docked in Chillport a day later in the early hours of the night, and Sarai was notified of the fact by a member of the crew. She stood up from her spot and gathered her things, and she went to walk from the cabin. Before she left, she pushed a bag of gold into the sailor's hand without a word, and she stepped off the ship and onto the freezing docks. She immediately set out to find the tavern, which happened to be very close by to the docks. It was called the Frostblood Tavern , a large but comfortable looking place.

Sarai walked in and found the owner at the bar, a half-orc man, and she gained his attention. "Hello there traveler, welcome to the Frostblood Tavern . Ain't seen you 'round here before."

Sarai grunted a bit in response. "I am not from here."

"Fair enough. Room, food, small talk?"

"Room and food. Top floor preferably."

"Alright then, no pryin' from me. Fifty silver for the room. Dinner is ten, whatever you want from what we got for the most part."

Sarai pulled another bag of coin from her bag of holding and pulled sixty silver out, and she laid it on the bar for the innkeeper to collect. She then went to find an empty table and found one rather conveniently in the corner of the room. She shook her head a small bit and took a seat, propping her zweihander and bastard sword against the wall next to her, and she waited patiently for her food. It took a few minutes for her food to arrive and the maid set the plate and drink down on the table, then placed the key to a room upstairs with the number engraved on it.

The dinner was certainly good, Sarai couldn't deny. It consisted of two thick pieces of well-done steak, a helping of green beans and mashed potatoes with gravy over top, and a mug full of spiced honey mead. She had never had gravy with steak as far as she remembered, but it was a good combination. She washed it all down with the mead, which tasted very nice and it did well in warming her body up from the cold. While she drank, she looked deep into her mug and thought to order something much stronger, but decided harshly against it in her mind. After she ate her meal and drank her mead with a deep frown on her face, she left a tip of fifty silver on the table, gathered her things, and she went upstairs to the room she was given, and it was indeed on the top floor as she requested.

After she arrived at the room, she closed and locked the door, and she propped her two larger weapons up against the wall next to the bed. She then decided to settle in for the night, only taking off her cloak and boots before she lowered herself into the bed. It was comfortable and warm, perfect to lay in after hours out in the cold of Vunalis. The comfort of the bed helped her fall asleep rather quickly, especially after the voyage, the meal, and the mead. It was thankfully a restful sleep now that she was on solid ground and in a good bed, and she awoke the next morning feeling refreshed. She hoped it would last.

She ate a simple breakfast of bacon, eggs, sausage, and a biscuit from the tavern along with a mug of water. After her breakfast, she gathered her things from her room and went to return the key, and she spoke to the innkeeper.

"Where can I have my zweihander enchanted and a new sheath made for my shortsword?"

The innkeeper let out a thoughtful hum. "Well for the sheath, we got a leatherworker down the street to the east and then north for a bit that should be able to do it for ya. For enchantments, we do got an enchanter that can do stuff like that here over at the Blue Moon Tower , you should see it over towards the north part o' the city. I don't know what all they can do so you'll have to ask the lady at the desk."

"Thank you. I may be back. If not, keep the gold." Sarai replied and tossed him a gold coin, and she turned and left the tavern.

She quickly found the leatherworker and spoke with him about what she wanted done, and he told her he could easily have it finished within the day as he had no other orders to fill yet. Measurements were taken of both the blade and her thigh for the sheath and straps, and she was able to keep the blade with her as she journeyed to the Blue Moon Tower . It was a gorgeous structure to the north of the seaside district in the center, one of the tallest buildings in the entire city. She was able to navigate through the streets to the tower easily and found her way inside. She was immediately met with the feeling of magical warmth and the smells of lavender.

The main room of the tower was decorated with numerous exotic plants and flowers as well as benches, reading nooks, and bookshelves lining the walls. The scent of lavender came from the burning incense dotting the room. Sarai looked around for a moment and walked toward the receptionist's desk, which was occupied by a tiny gnome woman who was reading a book. The sounds of Sarai's boots loudly clomping against the cut stone floor echoed through the otherwise quiet room and gained the attention of the gnome woman, who looked up almost in awe of the towering figure in front of her.

"O-o-oh! H-hello!" The woman exclaimed. She seemed to be fairly young for a gnome, and seemed quite flustered, "How may I h-help you?"

"I need my zweihander enchanted. Can someone put an enchantment on it to have it bound to me and stick to my back without a sheath?"

"U-umm, I don't think we can, I'm sorry. The enchanters here only specialize in elemental enchantments for weapons, armor, or clothing."

"Alright then." Came Sarai's brisk reply and she turned to walk away.

"O-oh! But y-you'll f-find what you're looking for in Warshire!" The gnome lady called after her, "The tower there specializes in many more enchantments to aid the dwarves of Khandaral and to adventurers!"

Sarai stopped and processed the information, and she returned to the counter. She then reached into her coin pouch and got a few gold coins, and she laid them on the counter for the gnome to take.

"Thank you." Sarai said, and she turned once more and left the tower, leaving the flustered and blushing gnome woman to her book, and to compose her thoughts.

X x X x X x X x X x X x X

Sarai had spent her time roaming around the Seaside District as she waited for the sheath for her shortsword to be finished. Eventually she returned to the leatherworker and retrieved her order. The straps fit around her thigh snugly and had room to loosen up for any added muscle mass in the future, and the blade fit snugly in the sheath. It was easy to pull out and put back in, but wouldn't easily just fall out on its own.

She paid the man the fifty silver he asked for, and tipped him a gold piece for his timely work. After she had done that, she journeyed back to the tavern and asked the innkeeper for directions to Warshire, and where the general store was so she could purchase provisions for the trip. She was told that Warshire was just over a week's travel to the northeast along the main road. He also mentioned that she may be able to catch a wagon in the morning if she wished to stay the night once more. She decided to do so and the innkeeper handed her back the key to the room she had rented previously, as her gold she gave him in the morning more than paid for it. She ate the same meal she had the previous day with the same drink, and she retired for the night.

A restless sleep came that night. Nightmares of the past plagued her dreams. Memories of the day her village was destroyed and the cries of all the people that were raped, and memories of the day the Shatterblades were massacred and she was raped. The cries of those children from her home began to echo throughout her nightmares, and each nightmare forced her awake after barely any sleep at all. Each time she laid awake, she felt plagued by more thoughts of harming herself to the point of suicide, and tears of pain stung her eyes. She didn't want to, but the thoughts just wouldn't stop. Her spirit was dimming and begged for the pain to stop. It was hell on her.

She barely had three hours of sleep by the time dawn came around. It was then she decided to stay awake and wait for an hour or so for the inn to begin cooking and serving breakfast. If she fell asleep then she would just try to let it happen, but she wasn't going to try to sleep until night came again. When she had breakfast, she returned the room key once more, got directions to where the wagon heading to Warshire would be, and she left. She traveled down the docks to the east towards the warehouses, and she found a caravan of three wagons with people loading goods into them. The wagons were tied to two Frostbourne Shire horses each, and the wagons themselves were rather large as well.

Sarai approached who looked to be the caravan master, a portly Dwarven man, and gained his attention. "Are these wagons traveling to Warshire?"

"Why yes they are, friend. Why'd ya wanna know?" The man replied to her in a gruff voice.

"I need passage. I can pay you or offer services as a guard. Although I won't lie, right now I am still recovering from battle, and a harsh night of sleep."

The man thought about it for a few moments, humming to himself. "Well ya look capable still, but we shouldn't need another guard. We rarely get bandits attackin' us on the roads here 'count o' the cold, but if we need ya then I'll holler. Just wait for us to finish loadin' the carts and we'll get goin'. We can take ya for free, don't matter none to me."

"Very well then." Came Sarai's response, and she began to wait for them to finish preparing.

#fantasy world #the world of palara #fantasy #fantasy character #original character #sarai rose #inspired by dungeons & dragons #inspired by dark souls #inspired by berserk #recovery #revenge #angst #hurt & comfort #dark fantasy #child death

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