#so damaged the way that i interact with the world and i can see it at every step of my academic career. i dont even kno what to say abt the | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

divinehedons · 8 months

Text

godless promethean, elektran rage.

navigation: masterlist

pairing: pirate!joel miller x siren!reader

word count: ~8.4k words (I KNOW I'M SO SORRY)

summary: when the wrath of poseidon brings in something not quite human, a hardened pirate with the harshness of a soldier at war faces a bright-eyed siren with the delusion of a dreamer.

warnings: this is a DARK, EXPLICIT fic. MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT or i will BLOCK you. so much plot, pirate!au, siren!au, joel is a violent motherfucker, reader is a metamorphic creature that turns human-like when not submerged in water, graphic depiction of violence and injury, mentions of abduction and implications of abuse, explicit p-in-v sex, oral (f!receiving), squirting, creampie, soooo much murder. it's like a greek tragedy without the incest.

note: THANK YOU FOR 600 FOLLOWERS!!! much of this work was inspired by me rereading the odyssey by homer, but the trope of joel x siren!reader is not of my own making! thank you so much for reading, and as always, comments and reblogs are much apprciated!

Be strong, saith my heart. A wave crests over the hull of the ship. Then another. And another. I have seen worse things than this. Synchronized hands haul the rope for the sails, a last attempt to regain control of their vessel. The Balkan sea stretches before weary sailors, endless and unforgiving, with one foot in their watery grave and the other clawing to live.

In the midst of this carnage is The Flounder, harbinger of chaos, populated by a crew of men who pillage, murder, and destroy anything that gets in their way. Joel once thought of him and his men as indestructible. The Wrath of Poseidon makes him reconsider otherwise.

“Goddamnit, Bonnie, we’re never gettin’ out of this mess!” Joel yells over the deluge of rain, tightening his grip and growling as the rope digs in to the skin of his palms. He sees another wave crest over them, sturdy as a wall, coming down upon their shivering backs, leaving them spluttering out seawater. He coughs momentarily, heaving in air as he digs his feet into the deck.

When he regains his breath, he hears his name being called. He looks, their Captain bellowing from where he steered. His new orders came through in the middle of the crack of thunder and the whistle of an unending storm. Check beneath the deck for damages. Fix anything that could sink them. He calls for someone to replace his hold and he runs for it.

In his head, he had begun to pen a letter back to his waiting daughter under the care of his brother. Dear Sarah, he thinks, climbing down the ladder and finding himself in knee-deep, ice-cold water. I promised you that this will be my last expedition. That after this, we shall live out however you want us to. I only hope that I can live up to that promise. He cusses under his breath when he finds a growing leak in the hull, crossing himself as he immediately went about to fix it temporarily with what materials he could find. You’re safer with your uncle Tommy than here in this misery. And should anything happen to me, know that I love you and I trust you to be good to him, too. He crosses the threshold to see if there was anything else, moving across floating bottles, bobbing up and down with remnants of booze. With a sigh, isolated from the chaos above deck, he leans against a column, grabbing a drifting bottle and swallowing down the booze to settle his nerves.

I grow old, I grow old. He mouths the words under his breath. I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

The muffled sounds of the world melts away as he tries to catch his breath, gritting his teeth from the ache in his hips. Getting too old for this. He tries to think of a way that rest can be comfortable in this mess. Sleep, he thinks, delicious and profound. The very counterfeit of death. It is only when his nerves settle that he hears it.

A splash in the common room. Too loud to be some drifting object. Something that continues to move against the motion of the ship between the waves. He stills himself, the empty bottle slipping between his fingers. Slowly, he moves closer to the source of the sound, like a predator stalking his prey in the darkness. He retrieves a drifting harpoon, peeking through the threshold of the room to inspect. In the semi-darkness, interrupted by the flickering of lanterns and dying candelight, he catches the shimmer of something alive. He raises his weapon, looks through his good eye, his brows crinkling at the effort to focus.

Too old and too goddamn blind for this shit.

He blinks a few times more before he finally sees. And what he sees is you.

Your lithe arms reaching against the walls of the ship, trying to find a weak link that could let you escape. Were you brought in by the waves? Were you the very thing responsible for the leak he just had to fix? Initially, Joel made the movement to speak, to ask how you had ended up here—the sea is no place for a maiden like you. But his breath hitches when he looks closer to see… well, you. The incandescent flickering of a scaled tail, blending with inhuman yet somewhat human skin around your hips, and your upper body, glorious, unmarked, and completely fucking naked.

Perhaps it was the months at sea, conversing with no one but the same crew of men who, despite their intelligentsia and capabilities, do not exactly have the looks capable of producing in him the flustering exhilaration of some teenager. But he, of all people, know of the stories, too. The whispers shared in the saloons in the darkness. The shared thrill and excitement of such beauty and danger lurking beneath the temptresses’ skins. He has heard of claws coming for his companions’ throats, have heard of the trickery they can cause with the power of the ocean entirely at their disposal. He thinks of Odysseus again— tethered to the mast of his ship, The only one of his men to hear the voice of the sirens and have survived. Odysseus, who would have laid his life down just to come close to the very presence of something so divine.

Another thing he knows is that the price of one siren is half the bounty they had planned for. Months of work cut out for himself. Months closer to seeing his daughter again. It’s enough to give him the taste of freedom. His own little piece of heaven that, ironically, is someone else’s hell. The funny thing was, he does not feel guilt about it.

Perhaps he was not Odysseus. He was not as noble. Nor did he ever want to be. A noble character would never provide a good life for his Sarah, waiting for him oceans away.

That was the decision that sealed the creature’s fate before him. Without a second thought, he fires his harpoon, the sharp head piercing through the creature’s shoulder as an angelic wail emanates from her precious throat. With her pinned down, he had begun yelling, calling for the presence of men to see what they’ve caught in their vessel. Their ticket to riches. The honeypot herself.

The blade itself incites to deeds of violence.

He swallows down the guilt as the thunder of heavy steps descend upon their victim, her screams only growing louder and louder amidst the exhilarated, disbelieving laughter of his companions. He does not dare to look. Does not dare to see those doe eyes of yours begging for respite, pulling him into your charms.

An eye of an eye. A good life for Sarah in exchange for hers.

Fair enough.

—-

When The Flounder has escaped the barrages of the storm, the sea is quiet. Some would even say peaceful. Joel wouldn't exactly use that word. Not when he hears your wails breaking the silence. That first night, no one understood what needed to be done. No one even bothered to try and treat your wound. The very wound he had caused. Everyone had something more important to do. Clear the seawater beneath the hull, secure the sails, have a quick meal, get a few winks of sleep. Naturally, the mythical being, as all other inconsequential things, were tucked away, you dealt with the usual brusque nature of men.

So when he had been called to watch you before dawn broke, that's what he set his mind to. Stepping down beneath the deck, with spare scraps of cloth and booze in hand. They've cleared out the flooding. But the wood hadn't dried completely. Mick, who he had passed beforehand, gave him a questioning look. "Aren't ya scared she'd rip your throat out?"

He scoffs, tilting his head to the side as he speaks. "I'm more scared of the stench she'll make if she starts dyin' on us, Micky."

What he did not expect when he opens the closet you've been locked in is the metamorphic cross between a tail and legs you kick out at him. What he hears next is the snarl, your body knocking him over, small, webbed hands slipping around his throat. “You asshole!” That same heavenly voice, filled with so much malice that does not fit with the angelic features towering over him. You speak in a language he does not understand, a torrent of words driven by so much emotion that he sees a glance of what Homer was so distasteful about. You could kill him, devour him bones and all and you wouldn’t even flinch.

However, he sees how your rage blinds you, too. Blinds you to his precise movements, making you think you’ve subdued him, only to suddenly flip your positions, pinning you down by your wrists, trying to look into your eyes.

What you see, staring up at him as your last yells escape you, is the strands of silver in his hair. What follows next is his tired eyes. A sea of stories that you feel as if you can almost hear them if the world is quiet enough. However, you cannot deny the warmth to them. The fire that you failed to see in the other men that shoved you in the closet you have been suffocating in. It’s what makes you stop in your struggle as you finally hear his voice.

“Damnit, let me help you, honey, c’mon…”

It’s then that Joel finally comprehends what he sees. You, a mythical being that shifts from merfolk in one instance, to a walking goddess in the next. Perhaps it was what helped your kind survive; camouflaging yourself and disappearing amidst throes of people. “You turn when ya… when…?”

You swallow, breathless and trembling as you grit your teeth. He sees the panic in your eyes, the idea that he can just betray you if he wanted to. If it would benefit him.

“Let me help you, darlin’.”

“W-when I’m…” You breathe in sharply. “When I’m not in water.”

He nods, slowly, watching the lithe legs and your bare body, spotless and perfect in every way. “I see.” He removes himself from you, moving away from your periphery. You gather your breath, turning over to see him, kneeling over an upturned washtub, somewhat filled with some form of water or another. “Those men up there? They can’t see you like this, otherwise…” he trails off, preferring not to picture what they’d do. What they’ve all once done before at sea. “Ya hear me?” He looks back at you, watching the way your hands gripped your bleeding shoulder wound, evidence of what he had already done to you. “You don’t know what else they can do to a pretty girl like ya.”

So, gently, he kneels beside you with a pained groan from the ache in his knees. You flinch under his touch and he gives you a stern look. “Why did you do this?”

He shakes his head, opening the bottle he brought down with him to pour it over the gaping flesh. Your soft fingers grip on to his arm, the softest whine escaping your lips as you squeeze your eyes shut. “You’re not the only one fightin’ to survive in this world, honey.” He shushes you gently, moving to wrap what pieces of cloth he could find, using them to bandage your wound as you finally soften in his hold. He helps you into the tub, and he tries not to look into your eyes again.

You spoke again when he turned away, giving you the privacy he assumed you needed. “Just because you need to survive doesn’t mean I need it any less.” He stops in his tracks, looking down for a moment before clearing his throat. “Are men always this wretched? That one must tear down the innocent to survive?” He moves to answer, turning back momentarily, before sighing, turning back to continue cleaning up the mess. “Thank you, though. For… this.”

You know exactly how to describe it. You just don’t want him to hear it. The gentleness that comes, not in the absence of violence, but despite the abundance of it.

Joel hears the noise in his head, clouding his thoughts and drowning them out as he moves from one place to another.as he tries not to think about you, quiet in a tub of water, pretending to ignore him. Men are so quick to blame the gods…

He hands you a plate of scraps. The trimmings from a loaf of bread. A slice of some meat, and the last pieces of cheese he could find. “Eat,” he orders gruffly, moving to sit by the side of your tub, while he seats himself with a slice of bread. “Can’t have ya dyin’ of starvation either.”

You obey, weakened by the struggles of the evening, disheartened by your imprisonment, so close to freedom and at the same time so far away from it. You eat slowly, as if considering each little fragment you were handed, as if the world is unfamiliar in the presence of someone else.

Joel couldn’t help it. Perhaps it was your charm. Whatever it was, he started to tell you things.

He tells you of his life, so far away from the ocean, landlocked. He tells you how they make a living with animals. But he also tells you about Sarah. Sarah who dreamt of the world. Sarah who he was doing all this for. Sarah who asked him as a child to read to her every night. Sarah who was growing more and more with each passing day, the gap between the two of them becoming wider than he could ever comprehend.

“My survival may not mean much,” he says, “but hers is the most vital thing in my life, doll.”

He feels your gaze on him, becoming easier and easier to see as the sun slowly grows higher in the sky. In thirty minutes, his watch will end, and you do not know how the next man will treat you next. Will he be kind? Will he have Joel’s eyes?

He turns to leave, taking the plates with him as he stands up with a pained groan. “Don’t cause too much trouble, girl.” He only stops when you say his name, his gaze catching the blurry image of you, your tail sinking beneath you in the tub. “Yeah?”

“Will you read to me when you return?” you whispered, afraid to show fragility in your own internment.

He nods after a moment of thought, clambering up on deck to report back to the Captain.

Men are so quick to blame the gods.

—

For a while, a week or so, you believed things could be nice with Joel somewhat in your corner. Everyone else seemed to care less or cower in fear of you. Maybe because you do try to scare them away. At least, if you were going to be betrayed, it was Joel doing the betraying.

He returned at the same time just as he did the night before. And slowly, a routine emerges. He cleans your wounds, he feeds you whatever he finds. Then he reads to you. His eyes are too weak to read without you holding the lantern. So you learned that second night to emerge from your tub and to hold the lantern for him. He reads to you with the skilled words of a bard. He reads to you as if he’d read this tale before. Perhaps to Sarah? Perhaps to someone else?

You feel your stomach curdle at the thought of there being someone else in his life. You swallow down the bile and listen more closely.

When he leaves at dawn, you lie in the tub, dreaming of the words he had read to you, turning your back to the man that comes next. They do not bother you. You do not bother them. You become a ghost until he brings you to life.

Sing to me, Muse, of the Man of many wiles.

By the third night, he brings with him a blanket for you to wrap yourself in as you sit closer beside him, trying to follow the words he read, only to surrender because the letters are too rigid, too unnatural. You began shutting your eyes as he reads to you, learning of Odysseus, a once too familiar name you have heard in others of your kind before…

Sing to me, Muse, of these matters. Daughter of Zeus,My starting point is any point you choose.

You begin to talk to him too by the fourth night, observing your transformed toes as he hammered little areas he figured needed repairs. You tell him of the world beneath the waves, the languid distances you’ve traveled, never truly feeling as if you have found a home. You tell him, too, of wonders big and small.

You spoke of all these things, pretending to be unaware of the way he listens with such interest. It’s like you wanted him to be interested. How could you not, when night by night his eyes become warmer and warmer whenever they fell upon you? How could you not when he’s the only one that cared?

You try to read his thoughts, sometimes, when it’s quiet and he prefers to sit by himself, finding a few winks of sleep while you ate your food. He’s rather good at hiding them. You wonder if it makes his life easier. You wonder if any of it is easy for him.

Then he asks you something on his fifth watch.

“Is the whole singin’ thing somethin’ you actually do?”

You turn your head over your shoulder, setting down the snowglobe you’ve taken an interest in the last couple of hours. You saw it on a shelf this afternoon. And you had been impatient for Joel to arrive ever since. You consider the question, Then you smile and nod meekly.

“Do…” you pause, moving to face him instead. “Do you want to hear?”

He smirks, moving the chair closer to your seated frame, seating with the backing pressed to his front, legs straddling the seat, arms atop, covering that sliver of chest you had been sneaking glances from all evening. He had that thin linen shirt on again— the one that swoops down his chest. The one you see in your dreams.

“Only if it won’t kill me, sweet cheeks.”

You like that. Sweet cheeks. You barely understand what it means. You nod slowly, moving to lay on your back as you stare at the ceiling, monotonous and unchanged since you last looked. As you sing, you try not to look him in the eye. As if you cannot bear the sight of him seeing your capabilities and forever changing his perception of you. The hymn is warm, almost homely. A relentless Odyssey that means to take you home. A song that’s said to bring forth memories of home. You know Joel does not understand the language. Nor do you want him to. You won’t admit it, but you’re still terrified of what he could do if you remind him of how much he misses his home.

But what is even more surprising is this: instead of reminiscing about the tropics from which you have loved so deeply, all you can think about is him. All you can picture is his face. All you can see is possibilities of how he’s looking at you now.

When you finish, dawn is already breaking over the horizon. He has to go.

Quietly, you rose and slowly return to the tub with your snowglobe, watching as your body metamorphosizes— your last line of defense for survival. The shine of your scales so familiar, but never this clear under the water. The light is always so diffused— as distant as a foreign planet. Joel, on the other hand, stays there for a few minutes more, looking at the spot where you just were—at the plank of wood bearing the wet shape of your body. You started to think maybe he won’t leave when he swallows, rising from where he sat, and approaching you to hand the cheese he couldn’t eat from his portion of the meal.

“I quite enjoyed that,” he confesses, tucking the food into your palm. Just then, he encloses your hand in both of his, taking a moment to savor the feeling of your cool, changed skin against his. He wonders momentarily if you’ll feel different without your tail. “Thank you.”

He leans down, bringing your hand up to his waiting mouth, his lips pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. A shiver runs down your spine as you comprehend the sensation. His lips. How warm he is… the scruff of his beard against smooth skin. You feel him smirk against your hand, pulling away as he makes his way above deck.

And on your hand is the reddened skin that evidenced the smidgen of affection you were giving. And for now, it’s enough.

You turn your back to the world once more and into your own dream world, staring at your hand as you dream of Joel all morning long.

—

You suppose everything that goes around does eventually come around. You wonder why you're so optimistic. But, you supposed, just as things were getting better, the fates had other plans in store for you.

The call came just as you were coming of the stupor of sleep. From what you can tell, it was barely midday, and someone was yelling above where you resided. All hands on deck.

The thunderous noise of heavy feet trundle above head. The man watching you grumbled, muttering something along the lines of, "don't you dare think about running, li'l bitch."

You watch him slam the door, and curiosity gets the better of you. You rise slowly from the tub, slinking along the floor, struggling to lift yourself enough to peer out from one of the windows. But when you do, you've come to realize the gravest sin of your naivety.

There is a ship to be plundered. Slowly, the masks worn by the men where you are melt away. You see familiar men with their swords drawn, laughing maniacally, screaming and terrifying the ship they've found to appease their hunger.

You feel your body changing, and you begin to turn away from the window when you catch sight of silver hair and scruff. A visage that you finally see in broad daylight.

Joel is one of the men who almost seem to dance to the song of violence. Perhaps the stories were true. Perhaps the secrets of the shadows are laid bare in the light. Even Joel's secrets cannot escape the midday sun. When you see him, he is in battle with some toughened fisherman, their duel witnessed by cowering passengers and well-dressed women. For a moment, you think Joel will come to his senses, see how senseless all this violence is.

But then he takes the man by his hair, holding his head and facing him to the sun. His sword arches across the expanse of his victim's neck, rivulets of blood bursting forth in gush, an unstoppable stream. A squeal escapes you, the violent image burnt into the recesses of your brain, forcing you away from the window.

You run on shaky legs, screaming and yelling, reaching the doorway and attempting to push the door open, only to find resistance. Your fists pound the hard wood, your body pushing and shoving, unable to accept the fact that you can't call to him— show him that you saw and you demand an answer why.

For the first time, ever since Joel shot you with a harpoon, you truly understood something you tried so hard to ignore.

You sleep under the shelter of murderers. You think you felt affection from the hands of a man who just as easily took someone's life away. You are only loved because you're something else. Something not human.

You are only loved because you'll ensure their survival.

—

The blade itself incites the deeds of violence.

When the carnage ended, Joel raised his head to see the sky beginning to paint itself in bolder strokes of colors. He stretches his arms, only to feel the sticky plasma of drying blood sticking to his arms, his torso, spotting the expanse of his face. He is the last to leave their conquered ship, and he takes his time. He walks along the scattered piles of bodies, putting whoever hasn't perished out of their misery with the very same blade he wielded in battle. He's alive. He can go home. He watches the revelry on their vessel: men roasting the spoils from the kitchen, barrels upon barrels of ale and mead slowly being chewed through.

The stage is set. All they need is a little shock of entertainment.

But what he worries about is you. You who probably cowered from fear at the sudden influx of noise. You who definitely saw the things they are capable of doing. You with the wound on your shoulder, healing at a snail's pace with your imprisonment. So, he takes the time to find supplies to help you. He finds antiseptic. He finds needle and thread. It will have to do.

When he returns to his ship, He has spread oil across the deck where the bodies lay. With one bloody hand, he strikes a match to burn away the evidence of their carnage. The burning ship drifts further and further into the horizon, drowned out by the sounds of cheering. Joel is handed a mug of better than average mead.

As he watches the lights flicker and consume the rest of the ship, one question remains at the forefront of his thoughts, echoed and repeated by every voice in his head.

Do I dare?

Clarity comes when he's two mugs in, everyone else fucking off to see how much treasure piled up. He looks at the door that leads directly where you are and the question becomes clearer. It is in the iambic beat of his heart. I am, I am, I am.

It's in the excitement at the thought of seeing you tonight and having a good meal to offer. He begins to smirk, taking two plates and finding food he thinks you'll like.

Do I dare disturb the universe?

—

You do not look at him when he enters. You cannot, knowing the things you’ve seen today. Especially when you hear he’s happy, humming as he sinks down the stairs from the deck. The jump on his step was not there before. And instead of finding that itching curiosity to see if he was smiling or if you were responsible for this joy, you feel your stomach sour at one thought.

Perhaps the slaughtering of others brought glee to his bones.

“You must be hungry,” he says softly, placing a hand on your shoulder. You feel a strange stickiness to his touch. So strange that you finally look, only to be horrified by the sight of his bloodsoaked hand. You yelp helplessly, shrinking away from his touch. You shed tears, luminescent in the semi-darkness, as precious as pearls that only he can see. “Darlin’...” His hand comes to cup your face gently, trying to make you look him in the eye. In this form, your skin is cold, the warmth of his hands turning your skin red.

“Y-you killed them,” you finally manage, the iron smell filling your senses. Seeing you panicked, Joel reaches down into the tub to slowly bring you out of your tub and into his willing arms, slow shushes escaping him. “Are you going to kill me, too?”

So that was what you were so scared of.

You bury your face into his chest, his shirt smelling of him— of sandalwood and musk, tobacco smoke, and underneath it all, a few specks of blood. Meanwhile, he lets you, cradling you in his arms as you continue to shed your tears. He lets you, knowing you wouldn’t listen to him with so much emotion in that pretty little head of yours.

But when you do eventually calm down, he doesn’t miss a moment. He couldn’t.

“I can never harm you, honey.” He breathes in through his nose, finally close enough to smell you. The sea air in your hair, sunshine and honeysuckles from lands he can only dream of. “I can’t even if I tried.”

Slowly, he lays you down where he had dropped his sheet—the sheet you’ve been wrapping yourself around. The sheet that smells like the both of you; that way he could imagine waking up to you the past few times he had gotten sleep. Slowly, he straddles your changed form, naked and so fucking divine it has his head spinning. “Can I take care of ya, darlin’?” He waits for you. Even when everything is pushing him to kiss you— he has to know you want this.

He has to know you’re not miserable.

Seeing this, you take a deep breath. You hold his face. Your skin, smooth and not exactly human, bright against his, earth-marred, bloody, and burnt from days in the sun. And yet, you do not see those flaws. All you see are his warm eyes, so desperate to tell you he wants you, and yet so willing to walk away if you asked. So you grip him by his shirt, pulling him against you in a wanton, desperate kiss.

It is the first kiss you share. The first of the hundreds you’ll share that night. But you will always remember that first.

Because it’s burning against your cool skin. Because the scratch of his scruff is a sensation you have not felt in the long life you have lived. He holds your face, bringing your head closer to him, pressing against the front of his skull, making you whine from want as he deepens the kiss. You’ll always remember it because you know this kiss.

You can already see the ending before the two of you ever began.

His hand slips into your hair, his mouth pulling away from yours, only to drift down your cheek, your jaw… He chuckles against your skin when you gasp so meekly, melting like butter in his arms.

“Let me take care of you, sweetheart,” he whispers, marking the crook of your neck with his mouth. “Let me show you how ya have me wrapped around your pretty li’l finger.”

Already, you can see him in your memories, tangled up in him. His kisses on your neck, his spit drying against your skin. His fingers reaching and tearing you apart. In the eternity you’ll be facing alone… he’s there. Just there, a willing invitation to a dream.

He’s pushing your legs up, now fully transformed, and he comprehends everything. Without words, it seems, things simply come naturally to him. He cups your cheek with one hand, folding your body in half as your legs drape over his broad shoulders. His thumb brushes your lips, and you part them for him. You let him fuck his thumb into your wet mouth, groaning at the way you suck on him. “Good girl…”

Just then, his other hand reaches down, a warm sensation cupping your cunt as you whine softly against him, looking him in the eye. “Good God, are you always this soakin’?”

You slowly pull back, shivering softly from the sensation of him parting your folds. Only you, Joel. No one else can do this to me. He comprehends, and he groans again, leaning down to kiss you. His cock aches in the confines of his pants. Just like that, everything dulls out and he can only comprehend this: to have you. You, you, and just you.

“Guess I have some makin’ up to do to ya, huh?”

Just then, his head disappears between the valley of your breasts, marking a trail of blood-red hickeys down to your stomach, one hand pinching a nipple harshly enough to make you squeal, to which he shushes you again. Gonna get us caught, doll. He continues his way, finally finding your sweet cunt. He shifts his hands so he can slowly part your folds. He kisses the inside of your thighs just as you clamp one hand over your whining mouth. And, with nothing left to do, he takes a deep breath, looking at your face as he sinks his tongue down between your folds, tasting you with a longing groan of delight.

Even his griefs are a joy long after to one that remembers all that he wrought and endured.

All you can feel is the flurry of rhythm Joel sets. His trembling jaw, as if whispering prayers to whatever powers may be. His tongue splitting you open and fucking you raw in a way so obscene, you think it’s unbecoming. Perhaps it is. Perhaps by letting him have you this way, you have turned your back on your world. But he fucks one finger into your surprisingly warm cunt and everything else fades away into the silence.

“Fuck, baby…” It’s so easy, you whining urging him on, calling for him and begging to just keep going, dear God. One finger becomes two, then three. Then he raises himself so he can see your face better. So he can see the way your features contort into a heavenly amalgamation of beauty and pleasure and wonder in one full spectrum. But there is nothing more beautiful when his fingers brush against something that made you keen closer to his touch, eyes wide open with your mouth trembling.

“That’s it, isn’t it, darlin’? It is, huh?” He chuckles, the rumble of it vibrating from his chest, echoing to the backs of your thighs, and finally, straight to your wanting cunt. He smirks, his upper body shifting so his arm was much more free— just so he can keep aiming for that one spot that made you keen so beautiful he gets a glance of your otherworldly beauty.

A long forgotten poem comes up from the back of his head, just as he was pulling your orgasm from your willing frame, his other hand covering your mouth before you get too loud just so you wouldn’t be interrupted, caught, and possibly separated.

I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each. “Good fuckin’ girl. Such a good girl, honey…” I did not think they’ll sing for me.

You shut your eyes, grinding your hips into his touch, chasing a sensation you can’t even dare put into words. You whine into the palm of his hand, feeling as if your skin, normally so cool, set on fire with the desire you have for Joel. You peer through your damp lashes, making out the silhouette of his smirk, his warm eyes somewhat swelling with pride.

“Joel… there’s… there–” you barely get the words out when you feel it. Your vision going white, the electricity flowing through your body, and coming out of you in warm bursts.

Heaven, you think, from how Joel so lovingly described it.

When you come to, he’s pulling his fingers away, and a spurt of fluids follow in the wake of his absence. He chuckles, the sound of it emanating the very depths of your consciousness. “Didn’t know ya could do that, pretty girl.”

It leaves you warm, slightly sleepy. Slightly drifting in and out—the way the ocean climbs and recedes from the shore.

You don’t notice the way Joel watches you. The way blood smeared your perfect face. You do not notice his hand tracing down your torso, coloring it a faded, rusty red. Marked by him, and for him.

And yet if some god shall wreck me in the wine-dark deep, even so will I endure. For already have I suffered so much, and much have I toiled in perils of waves and wars. Let she be added to the tales of those.

“Please eat,” he finally says as he kisses your forehead. “I saved a plate for you.”

So you do. You sit up, trembling, the cool porcelain pressed against your thigh as you feasted. Grapes, expensive nuts, and meats you could only dream of. You try not to think of the price he paid to lavish you with such an offering. Because now, instead of the guilt, you feel the rumblings of power in your veins. You have become his very god, the one he’d slay men for. The very god to which he offers a plate paid for by carnage. And if you’ve become god, what can you offer him?

Heaven was not fit to house a creature such as I.

—-

He makes love to you after dinner. Slow, careful. He doesn’t want to terrify you. He doesn’t want to get caught, either. He has you on his lap, your cool hands cupping his heated face, spineless from pleasure as he fucks up into you, giving you a moment to accommodate him and get used to the feeling of his cock stretching you wide open. Every vein, his very length, arching and filling you up in the best way there is to be filled.

“Tell me you want this,” he asks, and you oblige him. You whine for him, calling, biting your lip and throwing your head back. You lead his hand to your chest, heaving with slow, shaky breaths. He knows what you want without ever asking it of you. And that is why he squeezes the curve of your breast, sitting up to press his mouth to your collarbone. The kisses set your skin aflame, his fingers pinching and pulling the pleasure from your willing body.

So he gives you everything. You cum once again with you on top of him. You cum again after he bends you over the nearest table with his rough fingers rubbing circles on your needy clit. And on the third time, somewhere when it’s quiet, you both lie on the blanket, your back to his chest, his cock unmoving inside of you.

It’s a moment of respite. A lull. A moment to catch breaths.

“How much did you see earlier?”

His arm is around your waist, his mustache brushing against the back of your ear. It’s nice. It’s almost domestic, a word so foreign to you. Perhaps domesticity is something innately human. But he makes you have a taste of it. And it tastes so sweet. You hum softly, tilting your head so he can kiss more of your neck.

“I saw the first man you killed,” you tell him, to which he groans, pulling you closer. “I couldn’t watch any more after that. It was… too much.” You feel his teeth brushing against the curve of your ear. Then he bites gently just to hear you squirm.

“I don’t want you lookin’ anymore, sweetheart,” he whispers, “not if it’s going to upset you this much.” He leans up, peering over your peaceful face, with your eyes shut and your body languid. “But… I suppose I’ll try.” You open one eye, peering up at him. “Less murders, my queen, yes ma’am.”

You giggle, pressing your palm to his mouth as he continues to tease you with such pet names. He speaks behind your palm. Angel baby, cutie pie… Other pet names you don’t comprehend because the sounds disappear into your cool skin.

And then he’s fucking you again, with you on your side and him above you, caging you in his arms. You catch your lip between your teeth, gritting out half-choked moans. Already, the pleasure has begun to border the line between pleasure and pain. Already, you feel your legs quaking, but you feel the tremble in his spine as well.

He’s close. He’s so fucking close.

That’s when you notice how sporadic his bursts of movement are becoming. Fewer and shorter in between. So, you begin to give back, maneuvering your bodies so you’re laying on top of him once more, digging your blunt nails down against his biceps. You feel his hands on your waist. Bloody hands that have taken an infinite number of lives before you. Bloody hands that will take who knows how many lives after. Bloody hands, that, despite their track record, hold you as if you are so fragile in his grasp.

Gentleness incomprehensible. The best of the world in the palms of his hands.

The both of you, flying into deep, empty space. Alone with Joel in the aether.

Watching his orgasm wash over him just as yours does for the fourth and last time. He pulls you into his chest, letting you moan into his chest. The only thing that betrays his release is the stuttered breaths, the shaky fingers. That is all. And then you feel the warmth of his seed, buried deep within you, treasured and tucked away. It’s so much, you feel it reach places you didn’t expect it to be.

Even when he’s ending things, he’s giving you everything he’s got.

In the afterglow, he takes care of you. Already, the sun is rising Once again, you won’t see him until it’s dark again. You’ll be turning away from the world and dreaming of those eyes and his smile. But for now, he wipes you clean, kissing your forehead as he brings you back to your tub. For now, you hold his hand for another minute.

“Y’know… Sarah loved playing siren as a fuckin’ kid,” he finally says, cleaning up the plates in silence. “She loves the sea.”

You peer over the lip of the tub, smiling up at him dreamily. “She must be so beautiful. With your smile?” You sigh, leaning back as you look up at the ceiling. “You must miss her much.”

He brushes your cheek with a sigh, shrugging. “Every fuckin’ day, baby.”

He walks away from you, and you wait for him to look back. He does, with a shit-eating smirk at your dazed eyes, neck marked up by his own doing. “Don’t kill anybody today, Joel.”

He nods slowly. “Get some sleep, squirt.” As you turn away, the smile drops. He cannot show that vulnerability out there, amongst the men he’s shared blood, sweat, and tears with. Men he killed from and men he killed with. Men who’d want to tear you apart and swallow you whole. Men who’d kill him if they knew what the two of you did all night.

Then how should I begin to spit out the butt-ends of my days and ways? How should I presume?

He doesn’t have to presume for long. Not when he emerges on deck and he sees the dark shadow of land specking the endless sea of blue he had grown accustomed to. There stands the rise and fall of a mountain, a jagged line breaking the skyline.

The Captain speaks, and the shock burns through him so rapidly that he tries to hide it by leaning against the starboard side.

We hit land midday tomorrow. Our li’l baggage ‘bout to finally bring in some fuckin’ money.

The clock is ticking, what else can he do? Go, go, go.

—

When Joel returns, he’s waking you from a long, languid sleep. You turn to smile at him, but there’s a different look in his eyes. An urgency, a finger pressed to your lips to ensure silence. He carries you from the water and you’re brought up close to see the crease on his forehead. When he wraps you in the sheet, that’s when he speaks.

“Need t’get ya out of here, baby.”

The great escape. The prison break.

Now you feel the tension.

He waits for you to turn, to become inconspicuous. Meanwhile, he’s hot on his heels. He’s gripping a rucksack in his hands, heavy with some inconceivable baggage, muttering to himself. You start to understand the madness. You start to wonder if there’s two versions of Joel waiting behind every door. One of them is the lover— the man who’d kiss you as he introduces you to a world of pleasure. Then there was the monster— the man who sliced open the throat of the person he was robbing blind, the man who fired the harpoon that caused your imprisonment.

“So the monster has come to set me free of my bonds.”

You rise, shaky on your legs and clothed in that sheet that kept you modest. It’s when he stops in his tracks, looking you in the eye before sighing, tearing the cloth away from you to introduce a linen shirt of his. It smells of him; perhaps it even reeks of him.

“They’re going to butcher you if I don’t try, sweetheart.”

You do what you promised to yourself you’ll do when he asks you something. You put your blind faith into his hands and take a leap.

He leads you through a maze of rooms you cannot comprehend. You stop at the crosshairs. You duck under tables when he asks you to. And you know why. Because the men who thirst for your blood can be found on every corner. Because you’re running out of time. Because he’d rather lose you to the waves than those who shed blood like he does.

In a matter of minutes, you find yourselves in the cool evening air. It’s a blind spot, and it’s far enough that he helps you to the raft while it’s almost silent. The sounds of men beginning to have dinner so distant and far away, it’s like an entirely different world. Skillfully, Joel lowers you both into the ocean, the distant beating of the waves masking the sound of him cutting the rope that tethered you to the ship.

He keeps one hand on the behemoth you’ve escaped, and he audibly counts. Quiet enough for you to hear. Tens. Hundreds. Then, a thousand seconds passes.

He pauses, straining to hear. In the flickering light of the lanterns, you see the silver in his hair and his beard. You wonder, momentarily, if it’s the last you’ll see of him. That’s when you hear it.

Yells. But not of alarm. Not of you, their treasured prisoner, missing from her cage. It’s the yells of panic. Of suffering. Of pain.

Upon seeing your features, Joel finally reveals the hidden card up his sleeve.

“I poisoned them. I poisoned them and robbed them blind so they’ll never come after you.”

You look to him, waiting for another shoe to drop. But there is none. This is who he is, laid bare for you to see. Your devotee, giving you the ultimate sacrifice. This is not the monster nor the lover. This is Joel. All masks have fallen to their knees and prostrated themselves before you. Every post abandoned and conquered, only for you.

“Go.”

You blink, and his trembling fingers hold your cheeks, his shaky lips kissing the crown of our head.

“No one’s coming for you as long as I’m there to stop them.”

When you don’t move, he grits his teeth, as if caught between a rock and a hard place. A second passes, then his arms take you, throwing you overboard and into the familiar depths of an ocean below.

The waves welcome you with a surge of power, relentless and enduring. More immortal than you. More divine than you can ever hope to be. The moment you are released from Joel’s hold, the saltwater licks clean the wound on your shoulder. It washes away the scent of Joel’s shirt.

He’s already being erased from you.

From beneath the depths, everything comes back to you. The kiss on your hand, the scraps of food. His sticky, bloodmarked fingers marking you. All of it, slipping through your fingers like sand. In the cool darkness of the open sea, all you can see is a flame starting from the base where you last saw Joel. A fire spreading amongst the ship which you once hailed your prison.

You can see Joel’s boat, smaller in comparison, already racing away towards the shore.

All you can do now, with the power of Poseidon surging and bubbling beneath your veins, is to sing. To sing a hymn that begs before the very gods themselves. But it’s a song that begs Joel, too. Begs him to remember you.

Don’t forget me. You do not know if he hears you. Don’t forget me.

You attempt to follow him beneath the waves.

Don’t forget me.

—-

Against all odds, Joel Miller disembarks from the train to find himself in a farmland so familiar to him. Against all odds, it is three weeks later, and he’s followed all the roads and finds himself home.

He breathes in the smell of wheat under the scorching summer heat. He embraces it. He puts one foot ahead of the other, sea legs no longer present. The ground is too still that it still sometimes unnerves him.

A few meters away, he catches sight of the house. The windows wide open, the breeze making the curtains dance within. And on his porch is a familiar figure that had lowered her book and peered in his direction. He sees her face, and relief encompasses his bones. Sarah.

She’s running to him, yelling, loud and youthful and her face is like the sun. He feels himself smiling, too. The first time in weeks. Miles of walking and sleepless nights fade away with each step you take closer together. Then she’s running to his arms squealing as he embraces her.

Tell me. Is this really then Ithaca?

Finally, the years that separate the little family are slowly bridged. He rebuilds. He tells her stories. He tells her about you. When the sun sets, he tucks Sarah in and kisses her forehead.

Now, here he is. A couple of months that feels like decades have passed him by. He dreamt of you every night for the past three weeks. He sits in his bath, wondering if this was ever how you felt in those long, terrifying days. Did you feel peace, too?

We have lingered in the chambers of the sea, by sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown.

His eyes fall shut. His breath slows.

A moment of peace as he sees your face, smiling at him, languid hands reaching and asking him to follow you.

He hears your voice, singing into his ear as he chuckles.

Until human voices wake us, and we drown.

taglist: @tuquoquebrute @boofy1998 @persephone-girl @lunxramour @none-of-this-makes-any-sense

#joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #pirate!joel miller x siren!reader #pirate!joel miller #pirate!au #siren!au #mermaid!au

420 notes · View notes

403tarot · 9 months

Text

⫬ ⫬ ⊹ . . . SPECIAL MESSAGE FROM YOUR SPIRIT GUIDE — WHAT DO YOU NEED NOW?

hello! today i offer a post about a very important subject: spirituality. take what resonates with you and leave the rest. close your eyes and take a deep breath to choose the pic that calls you the most. feedbacks make duckie really happy <3

PICK A POCHACCO!

IF YOU CHOSE POCHACCO 1 ...

Your personality today is the result of a mix of unique experiences. Life hasn't always been kind to you, and that has directly influenced how you perceive the world and interact with people around you, which may have caused some important aspects of your character to retreat. Nevertheless, lately, you've been actively seeking to rediscover yourself and recover from the damages of your past.

Ah, the past. When you were going through such a delicate moment and felt your heart burdened with sadness, perhaps no one extended a hand to help you stand up. Although it was painful, you can't let those wounds keep bleeding and staining your path going forward. It's time to put a stop to that.

Your subconscious is actively working to help you find emotional balance in your life again. Problems, fears, and anxieties can't prevent the blessings destined for you from coming your way. You have a strong spiritual protection that never leaves you alone, and it calls for your success and peace.

Prioritizing yourself is essential in this new stage of your life. Know that not everyone will understand your actions — they might call you selfish, distance themselves from you, or say that you've changed. But you must stay strong; taking care of yourself is not a selfish act, but an altruistic one: by tending to your needs and reaching your goals, you become a better person and an inspiration for others to pursue their own happiness.

DIRECT MESSAGE FROM YOUR SPIRIT GUIDE:

ROSEMARY — PURITY, HEAL, REMEMBER

When rosemary comes into your reading, it's time to cleanse and purify. Don't hold onto things or people that aren't beneficial to you or your path. Let go and rid yourself of unnecessary energies. Be wise and take note of what you are purifying and why. This insight can help you continue to grow. Repeat to yourself:

" I remember, I cleanse and I heal"

cards pulled: the high priestess & the empress | ace of cups & 5 of pents | 6 of pents & knight of swords | 5 of wands, the moon & queen of swords | rosemary

IF YOU CHOSE POCHACCO 2 ...

What is draining your energy and willingness to move forward? The burden on your shoulders has always been heavy, but still, you persisted and remained strong. The stones on your path, no matter how heavy they may seem, cannot gain enough strength to prevent you from reaching what you desire. It's time to look back, see the entire journey you've already traveled, and allow yourself to be proud of things you achieved til now.

Your peace has been disturbed. It seems you can never stay stable for long, and just when you think things will improve, something appears to trap you in anxieties again. You wonder, "If there really is something or someone divine regulating all things, why does the scale of justice never seem to tip in my favor?"

I know you've been trying hard and would like an immediate return, but unfortunately, that's not how things work. Your heart needs to calm down and accept that not everything will always be rosy because life is built on ups and downs. It's necessary to see things from another angle and distance yourself from negative energies as soon as possible, as they will only drag you down further.

Everything you want and desire will be within your reach because nothing beneath the sky is impossible. You have everything to achieve happiness, even though you often forget that. Confront your negative emotions and free yourself from what troubles you. Scream into your pillow, cry, release it all. You are always so kind and understanding with other people's problems... why aren't you the same with your own problems too?

DIRECT MESSAGE FROM YOUR SPIRIT GUIDE:

SPILLED SALT — RELEASE, CONFRONT

If spilled salt shows up in your reading, it's telling you to be aware of the evils that maybe trying to creep in your life. Take time to confront this issue or person. Don't allow yourself to be held down to people or things that are not beneficial to you. Take control, confront and release these energies from your life. Make a wise wish and repeat to yourself:

"Blessed be"

cards pulled: strength, 10 of swords & knight of wands | 2 of wands, 4 of wands & justice | the hanged man, 10 of cups & 6 of wands | the devil, the magician & queen of cups | spilled salt

IF YOU CHOSE POCHACCO 3 ...

You are insatiable with your goals. Your desire to grow, evolve, and achieve shows that you have been striving to present a better version of yourself. However, excessive self-demand and perfectionism may be disturbing your mind too much and, worse, hindering your climb to the top.

You often lament, "I could have done things differently," "I didn't do enough," "I wish I could go back in time to start over and try harder," ignoring the fact that everything you've achieved today is the result of your own merit. You did exactly what you should have done and undoubtedly gave your best within what was possible at that moment. Keep moving forward. Strive to make the future better. Don't wait until next Monday... start taking action now.

Accept and understand that you are the one responsible for the good things in your life. Treat yourself and what you have with more kindness! Instead of always thinking about what you can achieve in the future, look at what you have now. Don't become obsessed with what the next days, months, or years hold for you. Live in the present. What is meant for you will never escape you and will come at the right time.

You have been dedicated to being on the right path, and that way, you have a bright future. Nevertheless, it's necessary for you to still celebrate the little things happening in your life today. They might not be as grand as what you aspire for your future, but they are still important and part of who you are. When was the last time you took some time for yourself? When was the last time you wore your favorite pajamas, ate popcorn, and watched your favorite series without worrying about the anxiety that thinking about the future brings? Reconnect with your inner child who was delighted with a simple bag of candies (even if they were mostly bad). Sometimes, all we need is a bit of simplicity.

DIRECT MESSAGE FROM YOUR SPIRIT GUIDE

EARTH ELEMENT — GROUNDING, SURVIVAL

The element of earth invites you to slow down. With earth comes bring stability and growth. Earth can also bring light to your current work and money energy. When this card shows up in a reading, ground yourself, connect with Mother Nature and take into consideration the material aspects of your life. Connect with her nurturing energy. Earth is here to support you in all that you do. It's time to grow. Repeat to yourself:

"I grow with the earth"

cards pulled: 8 of wands, 9 of cups & knight of swords | 10 of pents, 3 of swords & temperance | 4 of cups, knight of cups & the devil | king of wands, 3 of wands & page of cups | earth element

deck used: rider waite-smith & inner witch oracle

you can book a reading with me!

• twin flame / soulmate - $18 • future spouse (+18) - $25

• spiritual advice - $15 • one question - $3.50

dm me if you're interested or want to know more of my methods <3

check my pinned to find out more of my free PAC readings!

#tarot reading #pick a card #pick a pile #free readings #tarotblr #spirit guide reading #tarot community #— duckie notes ⪩♡⪨

498 notes · View notes

makapatag · 4 months

Text

Tactical Combat, Violence Dice and Missing Your Attacks in Gubat Banwa

In this post I talk about game feel and decision points when it comes to the "To-Hit Roll" and the "Damage Roll" in relation to Gubat Banwa's design, the Violence Die.

Let's lay down some groundwork: this post assumes that the reader is familiar and has played with the D&D style of wargame combat common nowadays in TTRPGs, brought about no doubt by the market dominance of a game like D&D. It situates its arguments within that context, because much of new-school design makes these things mostly non-problems. (See: the paradigmatic shift required to play a Powered by the Apocalypse game, that completely changes how combat mechanics are interpreted).

With that done, let's specify even more: D&D 5e and 4e are the forerunners of this kind of game--the tactical grid game that prefers a battlemat. 5e's absolute dominance means that there's a 90% chance that you have played the kind of combat I'll be referring to in this post. The one where you roll a d20, add the relevant modifiers, and try to roll equal to or higher than a Target Number to actually hit. Then when you do hit, you roll dice to deal damage. This has been the way of things since OD&D, and has been a staple of many TTRPG combat systems. It's easy to grasp, and has behemoth cultural momentum. Each 1 on a d20 is a 5% chance, so you can essentially do a d100 with smaller increments and thus easier math (smaller numbers are easier to math than larger numbers, generally).

This is how LANCER works, this is how ICON works, this is how SHADOW OF THE DEMON LORD works, this is how TRESPASSER works, this is how WYRDWOOD WAND works, this is how VALIANT QUEST works, etc. etc. It's a tried and true formula, every D&D player has a d20, it's emblematic of the hobby.

There's been a lot more critical discussion lately on D&D's conventions, especially due to the OGL. Many past D&D only people are branching out of the bubble and into the rest of the TTRPG hobby. It's not a new phenomenon--it's happened before. Back in the 2010s, when Apocalypse World came out while D&D was in its 4th Edition, grappling with Pathfinder. Grappling with its stringent GSL License (funny how circular this all is).

Anyway, all of that is just to put in the groundwork. My problem with D&D Violence (particularly, of the 3e, 4e, and 5e version) is that it's a violence that arises from "default fantasy". Default Fantasy is what comes to mind when you say fantasy: dragons, kings, medieval castles, knights, goblins, trolls. It's that fantasy cultivated by people who's played D&D and thus informs D&D. There is much to be said about the majority of this being an American Samsaric Cycle, and it being tied to the greater commodification agenda of Capitalism, but we won't go into that right now. Anyway, D&D Violence is boring. It thinks of fights in HITS and MISSES and DAMAGE PER SECOND.

A Difference Of Paradigm and Philosophies

I believe this is because it stems from D&D still having one foot in the "grungy dungeon crawler" genre it wants to be and the "combat encounter balance MMO" it also wants to be. What ends up happening is that players play it like an immersive sim, finding ways to "cheese" encounters with spells, instead of interacting with the game as the fiction intended. This is exemplified in something like Baldur's Gate 3 for example: a lot of the strats that people love about it includes cheesing, shooting things before they have the chance to react, instead of doing an in-fiction brawl or fight to the death. It's a pragmatist way of approaching the game, and the mechanics of the game kind of reinforce it. People enjoy that approach, so that's good. I don't. Wuxia and Asian Martial Dramas aren't like that, for the most part.

It must be said that this is my paradigm: that the rules and mechanics of the game is what makes the fiction (that shared collective imagination that binds us, penetrates us) arise. A fiction that arises from a set of mechanics is dependent on those mechanics. There is no fiction that arises independently. This is why I commonly say that the mechanics are the narrative. Even if you try to play a game that completely ignores the rules--as is the case in many OSR games where rules elide--your fiction is still arising from shared cultural tropes, shared ideas, shared interests and consumed media.

So for Gubat Banwa, the philosophy was this: when you spend a resource, something happens. This changes the entire battle state--thus changing the mechanics, thus changing the fiction. In a tactical game, very often, the mechanics are the fiction, barring the moments that you or your Umalagad (or both of you!) have honed creativity enough to take advantage of the fiction without mechanical crutches (ie., trying to justify that cold soup on the table can douse the flames on your Kadungganan if he runs across the table).

The other philosophy was this: we're designing fights that feel like kinetic high flying exchanges between fabled heroes and dirty fighters. In these genres, in these fictions, there was no "he attacked thrice, and one of these attacks missed". Every attack was a move forward.

So Gubat Banwa removed itself from the To-Hit/Damage roll dichotomy. It sought to put itself outside of that paradigm, use game conventions and cultural rituals that exist outside of the current West-dominated space. For combat, I looked to Japanese RPGs for mechanical inspiration: in FINAL FANTASY TACTICS and TACTICS OGRE, missing was rare, and when you did miss it was because you didn't take advantage of your battlefield positioning or was using a kind of weapon that didn't work well against the target's armor. It existed as a fail state to encourage positioning and movement. In wuxia and silat films, fighters are constantly running across the environment and battlefield, trying to find good positioning so that they're not overwhelmed or so that they could have a hand up against the target.

The Violence Die: the Visceral Attacking Roll

Gubat Banwa has THE VIOLENCE DIE: this is the initial die or dice that you roll as part of a specific offensive technique.

In the above example, the Inflict Violence that belongs to the HEAVENSPEAR Discipline, the d8 is the Violence Die. When you roll this die, it can be modified by effects that affect the Violence Die specifically. This becomes an accuracy effect: the more accurate your attack, the more damage you deal against your target's Posture. Mas asintado, mas mapinsala.

You compare your Violence Die roll to your target's EVADE [EVD]. If you rolled equal to or lower than the target's EVD, they avoid that attack completely. There: we keep the tacticality of having to make sure your attack doesn't miss, but also EVD values are very low: often they're just 1, or 2. 4 is very often the highest it can go, and that's with significant investment.

If you rolled higher than that? Then you ignore EVD completely. If you rolled a 3 and the target's EVD was 2, then you deal 3 DMG + relevant modifiers to the DMG. When I wrote this, I had no conception of "removing the To-Hit Roll" or "Just rolling Damage Dice". To me this was the ATTACK, and all attacks wore down your target's capacity to defend themselves until they're completely open to a significant wound. In most fights, a single wound is more than enough to spell certain doom and put you out of the fight, which is the most important distinction here.

In the Thundering Spear example, that targets PARRY [PAR], representing it being blocked by physical means of acuity and quickness. Any damage brought about by the attack is directly reduced by the target's PAR. A means for the target to stay in the fight, actively defending.

But if the attack isn't outright EVADED, then they still suffer its effects. So the target of a Thundering Spear might have reduced the damage of an attack to just 1 (1 is minimum damage), they would still be thrown up to 3 tiles away. It matches that sort of, anime combat thing: they strike Goku, but Goku is still flung back. The game keeps going, the fight keeps going.

On Mechanical Weight

When you miss, the mechanical complexity immediately stops--if you miss, you don't do anything else. Move on. To the next Beat, the next Riff, the next Resound, think about where you could go to better your chances next time.

Otherwise, the attack's other parts are a lot more mechanically involved. If you don't miss: roll add your Attacking Prowess, add extra dice from buffs, roll an extra amount of dice representing battlefield positioning or perhaps other attacks you make, apply the effects of your attack, the statuses connected to your attack. It keeps going, and missing is rare, especially once you've learned the systematic intricacies of Gubat Banwa's THUNDERING TACTICS BATTLE SYSTEM.

So there was a lot of setup in the beginning of this post just to sort of contextualize what I was trying to say here. Gubat Banwa inherently arises from those traditions--as a 4e fan, I would be remiss to ignore that. However, the conclusion I wanted to come up to here is the fact that Gubat Banwa tries to step outside of the many conventions of that design due to that design inherently servicing the deliverance of a specific kind of combat fiction, one that isn't 100% conducive to the constantly exchanging attacks that Gubat Banwa tries to make arise in the imagination.

#gubat banwa #ttrpg #filipino #fantasy #gamedev #writing #rpg #dnd #southeast asia #d&d #d&d 5e #d&d 4e #i will say #that part of the decision away from a d20 (because gb alpha used one)#is sheer hater energy on my part #like i just didn't want to #because its used by all these other games by white people and especially because its used by dnd #there is like #4 instances where you use d20s in this game

218 notes · View notes

mskenway97 · 3 months

Text

I had this in mind for some time and some ideas made me think about this story. It takes place during the course of the 'Alpha/Omega' episode of transformers prime after Optimus lost the Star Saber.

Tfp Optimus Prime x Fem!human!reader

I will stay

Words: 1,576

Summary: You haven't heard from your guardian for days, when you got the news from Jack that a new weapon had been discovered. You decided to stop by to see why he wasn't talking to you like before to discover a side of him you didn't know.

Warning: angst, sorrow, g/t content, g/t confort fluff

You knew something wasn't right, ever since he came back with his memory restored. Something was keeping you upset, you felt that he had put up a wall that you couldn't get through. That didn't happen before. You met him by chance bad timing, a detour home several Vehicons and a big robot of almost 30 ft. Since then he had taken care of you, as Ratchet refused to be the guardian, plus you were older than the children on the base to your surprise. You befriended them, but you were always intrigued by Prime, and little by little you were able to talk about various things. Seeing what caught his attention… Apart from the popular culture books of Earth and what I was dedicated to. Partly little by little you began to fall in love with this metallic giant, his kindness, his concern, his dedication to the Earth. To feel safe among his servos, or to sit on his shoulder while he worked, little details that mattered a lot to you. But at the same time they made you feel helpless, helping Miko and Raf was easy. Engaging Ratchet in conversation was a challenge. Understanding Bumblebee was a challenge. But you tried because you wanted to get to know them better. Everything started to change since Unicron showed up, the day Optimus left… Those were the worst days for you, you didn't know how much you needed him… the sound of his voice, the touch of his finger when he stroked your hair…

He came back to you but interactions started to be more limited, he would pick you up from work: Arcee or Bulkhead. Only Ratchet stayed at the base…. That made you feel partly miserable, you knew he had great work, great responsibility but at the same time you wanted to help him. That he just didn't show that stoic side to all the people. But you were only a small human, between a war of enormous titans. You could only stand by and watch, you wished you could do more, could help more. But you were just an ant in comparison…. You wished at least to see him smile, at least just once… If only you could comfort him, do something. You would do anything. This was eating you up more and more. Until the deadline came when Jack started telling you about a new weapon the autobots had found: Star Saber, it seemed they had an advantage to win, at least something that looked like they would win the war once and for all. That day you left work late at night, but you knew Optimus would be at the base, so you called Ratchet for a groundbridge. You watched with all the joy in the world. Until you saw Ratchet's long faces, the others were patrolling. You didn't understand what was going on until you saw a weapon completely destroyed.

-Ratchet, what happened? - you asked as you climbed the stairs. Ratchet sighed as he looked at the command center - Star Saber was destroyed, Megatron found a way to create his own Star Saber with Dark Energon.

-How is this possible? Solus Prime's forge can only be used by one.

-Megatron found a way… Optimus fought against him, with some injury but he will be

-Damage?! - you said as Ratchet tried to calm you down.

-He's fine. You should go home… Something in you jumped, you were sick of having to leave, of having to be pulled back - No, not this time. I'm going to talk to him. Don't even think of stopping me - you said seriously as you walked down the hallway without listening to Ratchet's words to reason with you. You moved quickly down the long hallway to get to Optimus' room, you didn't think, you acted on pure instinct and emotion. You wanted to know how he was doing, he didn't care if he tried to kick you out, he wasn't going to back down too. you weren't going to leave him behind, you weren't going to give up anymore. You tried knocking on the huge door to see that it wasn't locked, which surprised you since Optimus was always careful with his room and his secrets. He hadn't let you in either due to various reasons that the autobot leader always made an excuse for. Then you walked in to see around a room that had a huge desk, next to a bed, what appeared to be a pile of datapads on the desk table. You stood admiring the place, as you looked like a little doll or toy as you walked around. The door behind you closed, you jumped in fright. Then you saw Optimus, he seemed to be leaning on his bed. At least you had a fix on him, the problem was how to get to him.

It was not easy for you to get to the bed but with a lot of patience you climbed up one of the bed spreads, you approached carefully so that he would not crush you when he moved, you were in front of his face about to wake him up but you noticed on his face in his optics rather, there was something blue liquid. Biologically, humans and cybetronians were not so different… He was crying… You approached him carefully as you touched his faceplate, it felt cold but at the same time you heard a small engine noise, you saw that he opened the optics slowly to see your face so close to him. You thought he was going to refuse or push you away, you were about to respond but contrary to what you thought, his servo grabbed you to pull you to his chest and place you close to his spark. He was stroking your back with his other servo, feeling a great warmth but you shook your head at what you initially came for. This bot had great skill in reading your mind, he already knew why you were here.

-You were worried about me… I am sorry for my absence these days, little one. Matters have led me into situations to keep you and the rest safe. You clenched your fist, a little clenched your jaw, I was doing it again….

-Don't do it… Optimus was confused to hear you - Pardon?

-Don't you dare hide how you feel in front of me, I know you're trying to protect me…. But what matters to me is how you feel, don't you dare say it's not important, war is important. You are distancing yourself from everyone…

-Little girl, I…

-Don't you dare do this alone… When Unicron arrived you disappeared. I thought you really left - you said trying to keep your tone of voice without tears - You walked away, I don't care if it's for my protection, I don't care how many times you try to push me away, I will stay… I will not leave here - you said determinedly as you looked at the optics. There was a deafening silence between the two of you, you looked at each other with determination that your words, then you felt his arms around you squeezing you a little you felt him leaning you to his chassis. You looked at his optics to see the tears coming back to him.

The burdens of a leader are something I must keep, I stayed away for your protection. I may win some battles others I may lose them with quite a few consequences: the Star Saber, Raf's life was close too…. If it hadn't been Raf… - he said as he lifted me up to look at you better - and if it had been you, I wouldn't have forgiven myself…. The words the giant had said had hit hard in your heart, as he wrapped his servos around you as if to protect you from the world -… I can't lose you like that - he said in a low voice. That made a little more of a dent in you, but you moved closer to his face, leaned gently to his cheek as you saw that his optics were focused on you.

-I know, that's how I've been feeling these days too…. I don't want to lose you like this either.

You gave her a soft kiss on her cheek, which had the effect of sounding her engines a little as she squeezed you a little closer in her servos, you felt her nuzzle to you. You had missed these interactions so much, you had missed her too much.

-Next time, try talking to me. I know I can't share your burden, but I'll listen to you as long as it takes - you said as she put you back closer to her chassis but closer to her spark.

-I will try for you. And I will never leave you alone again - he said as you felt a big pulse of sparkle warm you up a little. That was all you needed to hear, you stayed like that for a while longer as words were not needed at that moment. Maybe when things calmed down you would tell him how you really felt about him. Just feeling his company, though, was all you needed. Maybe one day you would manage to get a smile out of him. But little by little, you felt him close your eyes to fall asleep near his chassis. Feeling at peace at last… Next to him.

192 notes · View notes

kirke-is-my-name · 10 months

Note

Hello! Can i request headcandons of Miguel o'hara with a shy nurse reader who is constantly tired? Being nurse is a physically and mentally demanding job and i love the dynamic of hero who falls over his heels for his nurse or even being protective over her, but if u don't want to make this request i understand

I’m so sorry I just saw this! But of course let’s see what I can think of 😌

A nurse reader who is dating Miguel would honestly have a terrible sleep schedule like him.

Like poor baby is working 24,48 or 72 hour shifts at the hospital. And often times hardly sleeps so when you are home it’s time for rest and relaxation

When working those longer shifts Miguel makes it his job to arrive home at least 90 minutes before you, so he can not only prepare a bath with all your favorite soaks. But also a hot home cooked meal. Because god damn it you deserve something nice

If you need something? He will get it. You need to rant about your shift? Don’t worry he is a good listener. You need to cook dinner? Nonsense sit down and he will cook.

Two sleep deprived lovers whatever will they do!?Sleep…they sleep can only sleep if the other is in bed with them.

If you start nodding off he will carry you to the bed. And if you refuse to sleep he will sit in the bed with you and do some work or also fall asleep.

Has Lyla constantly keep watch at your hospital to alert him if anything is wrong.

Oh you haven’t eaten? You have a DoorDash under you name within the hour. Running out of medical supplies? Nonsense someone just bought some for your entire department . You had to deal with a very hard patient? Woah look at that someone sent you flowers. Someone threatened you? That’s so weird they ended up in the police station brushed and hurt…

He is whipped

Knowing he is spiderman and seeing the damage his villain can do to others really only makes you appreciate him more. Granted if an innocent person is harmed you are chewing him out. He might of gone to your work a few time as both Spider-Man and Miguel asking for your help to patch him up. The one time he tried to fix his injuries himself you scolded him at doing such a bad job that you insist on patching him up every night if you have to.

Honestly? His favorite time watching your hands move to maybe sow together a cut that’s rather deep. Or even wrapping him up, his just looks down fondly at you as patch him up and talk about whatever is on your mind. But if he is being a little shit his wrappings or thread might be pulled a bit too tight.

Both of you acknowledging the other has a difficult job, but Miguel thinks you are stronger then him in every sense. While he saves the multiverse he doesn’t personally interact with the people. You though…you talk to them and get to know the people. He saves the world but you save the people.

It gets hard losing a patient who was a kid or someone you’ve bonded with. Often times you’ve cried at their passing. But you have a job to do and as quickly as you cried, the tears vanish and you continue your job. For that alone Miguel believes you are stronger . To truck on after losing someone and still maintaining a friendly demeanor and positive attitude. Even when you know the situation won’t get better. Is something he knows he couldn’t do but you can. So when you cry and are tired he comforts you in every way he can. Because one person can only strong for a certain amount of time before it gets to them.

One time someone took a picture of Spider-Man with you in his arms. For WEEKS your coworker and patient cornered you asking if you know the masked hero. You stuck with the story “noI just patch him up really?!” Of course a villain saw that picture and though it was a bright idea to kidnap you and use you against Miguel…bad idea. Sure you are a nurse and SHOULD be helping the injured but after seeing the damage Miguel left you turned your head and said “Im off the clock so I can’t help them”

Bonus

You needed new scrubs so Lyla order a spider-man themed scrubs for you. Honestly got a nice laugh out of it and you wear them at least once a week.

Another time your lunch happened to be the Miguel Burger and attached was a small strawberry also designed like Miguel. It cheered you up for sure

#miguel o'hara #miguel o hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o hara x reader #miguel o’hara x y/n #atsv miguel #miguel x reader #miguel x you #miguel o hara x you

459 notes · View notes

whatsk-poppinhomies · 9 months

Text

Pairing : poly!Han Jisung x F!Reader x poly!Lee Minho TW : poly relationship ; obvious angst because ya know ; another famous Nana cliffhanger (but I actually want to write a part 2 for it after making a poll because I want to know what you all think) ; straight to the point angst, no dillydallying here ; Word Count : 4.0k Request : Anonny : Can we have poly minsung plus reader but with angst? I am a sucker for angst. AN : first time writing for poly skz... lemme know how I do... please... I hope you enjoy this, I hope I did this right.

Things had started off fine, and that in itself should have gone to show that things surely wouldn’t stay that way. The relationship in itself wasn’t normal, not to say that it wasn’t perfect, but you knew that if it weren’t for the fact that you had to hide your relationship, fans would be judging you, the entire world would be judging you. Those thoughts used to plague you in the beginning, but you had been so happy… Maybe you should have just listened to your head… Maybe that would have saved you from the ending that you received. To get to the end, we have to start from the beginning… It’ll be short though… It’s not like things had lasted very long anyway.

You were a secretary at the JYPE office, the job in itself was boring, but you also got to see a lot of stars during your walks through the hallways. There was always one that caught your attention, and he had always been so kind to you, giving you a beautiful smile and bowing his head just slightly to say hello. Your heart would throb and you’d get the most wonderful fuzzy feeling in your stomach whenever you saw him, but you were under a contract, much like he was… Those 1 second interactions in passing were all you were ever going to get… Or so you thought.

Roses had been left on your desk one day, a secret admirer, the card had read. You weren’t sure where they came from, but they were gorgeous, and you placed them at the corner of your desk, looking at them every so often, and that warm fuzzy feeling would return. You thought that it was just your hopefulness that had you wishing that it was the man in the hallway that had those flowers delivered to you, the back of your mind telling you that it was foolish to hope for such things when he was famous and you were just a 9-5 office worker.

That is until you were heading out of the office for the day, your bag held close under your arm and your folder of paperwork clutched against your chest. You were the last one out of the office that evening, you had stayed a little past your scheduled time and you assumed that everyone had already gone home for the evening. When you stepped out into the hallway though… There he was.

“Did you get the flowers?” He asked, leaning against the wall and giving you that beautiful smile that you had so foolishly already fallen in love with. “You’re not going to take them home with you?” He mused, noticing your flowerless hands, and you looked between him and the door to the office that was now shut. You could have gone back in and gotten them, but you were taking the subway home and you didn’t want them to get damaged.

“I like them on my desk… I think they brighten up the room a little bit more.” You explained, and while it wasn’t exactly the real reason… It was still one of the reasons. “Do you know who sent them? I really want to thank them… Seeing the flowers made me so happy.” You mused, and it felt strange to be talking to him so casually… Maybe it was the fact that you were running on little sleep and 3 cans of energy drinks. You were exhausted, and maybe your mind just let it slip who exactly you were talking to.

“Of course I know who sent them.” He pushed himself away from the wall and walked over to you, causing you to stumble back a little as the words that had been printed in the darkest bold letters on your contract flashed in your mind's eye like a bright neon sign. “I sent them… And you don’t know how hard it was to get them to your office without anyone knowing. I’m glad you like them though. Do you… Know who I am?” He quizzed, and you slowly, almost robotically nodded your head.

“Y-You’re… You’re Lee Know… Lee Minho… Best dancer…” You rambled, and with every word that left your mouth you got more and more embarrassed, but you couldn’t stop yourself from going on and on. “I’ve seen you… In the hallway… You’re… I didn’t think… Why did you send me flowers?”

Now his answer is probably quite obvious considering after only a month of the two of you talking he ended up asking you out. That month can be a story for another day though, because right now, this is the story of how your seemingly perfect little world got turned upside down in what felt like a matter of seconds.

You and Minho had been dating for 2 months, and in those months there was no one that you got more close to than Jisung. You had heard about their friendship, how close they were, how they almost did everything together… You heard just about everything… But you didn’t really expect the proposition that would be brought to you one night over dinner.

“Do you want to be my girlfriend?” Jisung had asked, and the question coming from his lips sounded so much softer, so much shier than it had when Minho had asked. Of course, you were thrown for a loop and it took you a couple seconds to fully process what he had asked. The craziest part was that he had asked right in front of Minho… And Minho didn’t seem to mind it, he actually seemed a little bit too calm.

“W-Well… I’m… Me and Minho are together…” You stammered, looking between your boyfriend and the man who had asked you the question. Your expectations were probably a little bit too normal for the situation, considering you expected Jisung to apologize and backtrack and you expected Minho to maybe go off a little bit on Jisung for asking something so silly, but none of those things happened, instead, Jisung looked up at Minho as if asking for help.

That’s when Minho cleared his throat, grabbing his seat across the table from you and holding your gaze with his twinkling eyes that almost seemed a little bit mischievous. “Well you know, Jisung is my friend, my best friend and… He’s been on almost all of our dates with us.” And that was true… It was something that you thought was strange in the beginning, but Jisung had become such a key part of all of your and Minhos dates that it almost felt strange when he wasn’t there. “He really likes you, and I gave him the okay, I wouldn’t mind sharing you with him… But I told him that it was up to you whether you were okay with it.”

It was up to you? It was a strange decision to make, and it almost felt like a test… You were worried that that was what it was. Minho was testing you to see if you’d really take him up on his offer, and you were nervous, you were scared about what his reaction would be, what he’d do if you took him up on the offer. “We can give you time to think about it… I know that it’s not the easiest choice to make…” Jisung mumbled, his thumbs twirling as he sheepishly looked down at the table.

“I just… I need to think about it…” You murmured, and you waited, waited for Minho to call you out for even thinking about potentially saying yes… But he didn’t. He patted Jisung on the shoulder, and then he got up from his chair and walked around the table to stand beside you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Take all the time you need, kitten. We won’t rush you.” He whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. It wasn’t a test… They were both serious about this… And you didn’t know how to feel about that. You had never been in a situation like this, you had never been in a relationship like this before… But would it really be any different from how things already were? You just needed to think.. You needed to think about it…

And think about it you did… You thought about it for quite a while, and, well… It’s quite obvious what you chose.

Being with both of them was something that took a little bit to get used to… But all in all, it was generally simple at first. It was more like the guys having shared custody of you, which, in itself, was a funny way to look at it, but it also made things easier for you. One week was Minhos week to have you, and the next week was Jisungs. It went back and forth like that for a couple months.

Sometimes the two of them would want to take you out together, and that’s really when the weird looks would come from bystanders who didn’t understand the relationship. They’d tell you to ignore it, finding something else to capture your attention so you didn’t think too much about what people might be thinking. To them it didn’t matter, as long as you were happy being with the both of them, they were happy.

You never felt the tension, you never thought there was any. If you even thought for a second that being with the both of them would cause any problems, you wouldn’t have agreed to it, but they both were adamant that things would be okay. It truly felt like things were okay. After your week with either of the guys was over, they would drop you off at the other's house and they always looked so happy. Sometimes they’d even stay for dinner, or have you sit on the middle cushion of the couch as the three of you watched a movie together. Things felt perfect.

There wasn’t any sign that things were going downhill, to be honest, it didn’t even seem like there was a hill. The falling of the relationship was more like a drop tower, you had been shot up so fast that your heart was still hammering in your chest and that adrenaline from excitement was still coursing through your veins, you didn’t even have a second to think before that loud click and then you were falling, your stomach being lurched up into your throat and when you reached the bottom you didn’t really know what to do, it was like your brain was jumbled and you couldn’t think straight and everything was just… It felt off.

“Why are you packing up your bags already?” Minho asked as you walked out of the bedroom. Even though Jisung had made a room for you at his own place, your dresser was filled with clothes that he had bought you and you had all the stuff you needed in the bathroom, you had everything you needed in general… You still liked to take a few things from Minhos with you when you went over to Jisungs and vice versa. “You want to leave?”

For a second you were confused, double checking your calendar to make sure you hadn’t just lost track of the days, but you were right. It was Sunday, and Sundays were when Minho would usually take you over to Jisungs. “It’s Jis day… Remember? Today starts his week.” You reminded your boyfriend who probably had the days mixed up as well considering they were working on a new album.

He rolled his eyes, letting out a noise that sounded a little bit like disgust as he leaned back on the couch. “I already talked to him. I get to have you for another week. I miss you too much and… I just want to spend a little extra time with you.” He explained, and you nodded your head along with his reasoning. He had been in the office a little bit more this week which meant that he couldn’t spend as much time with you as he probably would have liked to, and considering he told you he had already talking to Jisung about it, you were more than happy to cozy up on the couch next to him and enjoy the rest of the evening.

“He’s okay with you keeping me for another week though? He said that?” You asked, just to be sure. Jisung was… Well, you wouldn’t say possessive… But he didn’t really like the idea of missing a week with you. He took great pride in the relationship and making sure you felt loved by him. He loved his weeks with you, and on many occasions, he’d get a little choked up whenever he had to give you back to Minho.

“Of course he’s okay with it. I don’t know why he wouldn’t be.” Minho seemed to brush it off, and you silently thought of a million reasons why Jisung wouldn’t be okay with not seeing you. “You were my girlfriend first. He’s lucky that I even share you with him… I think it’s only fair that I get to spend more time with you anyway.” That was the first sign, although you weren’t exactly sure what that sign entailed, but your gut was telling you that it wouldn’t be good.

You didn’t push it though, you allowed yourself to lean against Minho as he looked through the movies on tv, trying to find one that you could watch together. It was always so cute to you that he took your opinion into consideration when picking a movie considering the fact that you almost always fell asleep before the halfway mark. That’s exactly what happened, the sun beginning to set, and the golden hue that painted the room mixed with the sound of Minhos light breathing as you laid against his chest, it was the perfect setting to rest, you always found it easier to fall asleep next to him.

The rapid knocking against the door stirred you enough to have you slightly conscious, lifting your head from Minhos chest that you found yourself laying across fully now, completely on top of him as you both laid on the couch. “Shh… It’s alright, go back to sleep, honey. I’ll get it.” Minho whispered, brushing his fingers over your hair to lull you back into your slumber before shimmying out from underneath you and running to the door.

Even though you were still out of it, your mind was awake, your ears fully tuned in to what was happening around you. You heard the door being opened, and then the sound of Jisungs voice, just far enough away to know he wasn’t in the house yet, but loud enough for you to know he was irritated. “Why didn’t you drop her off? I was waiting! Do you know how worried I was!? Where is she?” He ranted almost immediately, and you heard Minho shushing him, and it sounded like he was trying to push him out of the house. “No… No, where is she?” Jisung continued, and then Minho sighed heavily, the breath followed by a loud groan.

“She’s sleeping. She’s not feeling well and I just wanted to keep her here to make sure she’s taken care of.” It was a blatant lie, you had been more than ready to go over to Jisungs this evening, and while you wanted to call Minho out on it, a part of you was scared to. You loved Minho… You loved both of them… And you didn’t want either of them to get hurt. “I’ll just spend the rest of this week with her and then I’ll drop her off at your place. Sorry for worrying you.”

You thought that it would end there, that Jisung would believe the lie, but you were sorely mistaken. “The rest of this week?! So you’re saying I don’t get to see her for two weeks straight!?” Jisung screeched, and you could tell from the intermittent cracking of his voice that he was already worked up. “I can take care of her just as well as you can. I’ve taken care of her when she has her period, I’ve helped her when she was sick. I love her and I can take care of her too.” And that wasn’t a lie. Jisung was probably the best caregiver you’ve had. He always made sure that you had what you needed, and he’d do his best to take your mind off of whatever was hurting you or making you feel sick. Even when you felt like you were going through hell itself, he managed to make you smile and make you laugh.

“She’s my girlfriend!” Minho snapped, and you heard his hand slap against the door, something that he did often when he was trying to make his point or when he felt like his words were being threatened. He didn’t like being wrong, and he surely didn’t like when anyone other than him said anything slightly valid. “I had her first, so how about you just accept what I’m saying and you can see her next week.”

There was a silence… And for the first time, silence scared you. Your eyes peaked open and you pushed yourself up just enough to see over the back of the couch. Jisung was standing right in the center of the doorway, making sure that Minho couldn’t shut the door on him, but not pushing the boundaries. “Oh! I see… I see what’s going on here. You’re jealous…” Jisung stated, and you heard Minho scoff, and you could see his head fall back as if he were silently laughing at the accusation. “You are. You know I treat Y/N better, you know that I love her better… You’re jealous and you’re scared that she’ll end up just choosing me at the end.”

You weren’t sure when this turned into a competition, that’s never what it felt like to you, but maybe deep down that’s what they both thought it was. “Why would I ever be jealous of you? If I was so scared I wouldn’t have let you start dating her in the first place.” Minho retorted, his words vibrating with his silent laughter. “I felt bad for you because you were always the awkward lonely third wheel. I let you be with her… But you’re really pushing it thinking that you can just come over here and try to take her from me when it’s my week. I make the decisions… She’s my girlfriend, she’ll always be mine first.”

You hated that… You hated that he felt like he could make the decisions for you, that he should be the one making all the choices. It had been your decision to date the both of them, so it should rightfully be your choice as to who you wanted to spend the week with. Those words had you getting up from the couch and making your way over to the door. “Hey, sweetie!” Jisung cooed, and Minhos head whipped in your direction, his eyes going wide as he looked at you and then back to Jisung.

“Honey… You’re not feeling well. You should be laying down. Maybe you should go to the bedroom so you won’t be woken up by him.” Minho urged, or… Moreso pleaded with you, motioning to the bedroom door with a forced smile. You couldn’t believe that he was still trying to ride with that lie, and you weren’t going to allow it. As much as you loved Minho, you loved Jisung too, and you didn’t want him to think that you chose to not see him.

“You know… I’m actually feeling better now.” You said, shooting a smile in Jisungs direction, and you saw his own smile spread across his face as his eyes sparkled brightly with excitement. Minho on the other hand, looked pissed. “I think I should spend the week with Jisung, I haven’t seen him in a whole week… That’s a long time to not see my boyfriend.”

Jisungs hands clapped giddily, but Minho was growing more and more furious with each passing second. “I’m your boyfriend!” He growled, his arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you back when you tried to move closer to Jisung. “I’m done sharing… You’re breaking up with him. It’s done. I’m over this.”

It was a shock, especially considering he was the one who wanted this. The only person more shocked than you was Jisung, but his emotions were more of a flurry, he was desperate, he was pissed, he was devastated. “N-No, you can’t choose that! It’s her choice to make, not yours!” Jisung shouted between heavy breaths, it almost looked like he was on the verge of hyperventilating. “Y/N… Sweetie… Tell him…” His eyes widened with panic as he looked at you, and you were panicking too.

“Yeah… Tell me, honey… Because I’m done sharing you… And if you want to be with him, then you’ll have to just be with him. I’m done doing this weekly bullshit, I’m done having to be away from you. You’re mine… I shouldn’t have let this go on for so long… I shouldn’t have let it start to begin with.” Minho said, biting the inside of his cheeks as his eyes turned ice cold, although you weren’t sure if the look was all for you, or if he was just so pissed off that he couldn’t look at you any other way.

“That’s not fair…” Jisungs nostrils flared as his own eyes became sharp, his glare directly pointed at Minho. “You waited… You waited long enough for me to get attached to her, for her to get attached to me… You waited for us to love each other and then you try to give her an ultimatum… It’s bullshit and you know it.” While they both seemed to have so much to say to each other, you were speechless. Jisung was right though, it wasn’t fair. Why did he take so long to figure shit out? “Sweetie… Look at me… Y/N…” Jisungs voice softened, and you saw that he wanted to reach out for you, but Minho was like a guard, doing his best to keep Jisung from being able to even breathe too close to you. “I’m not going to hate you for whatever choice you make… But I hope you make the right one. What he’s doing… It’s not right… It’s not okay. I know that whatever choice you do make… It’s going to hurt you. But I’ll still be there for you… No matter what, I’ll always be here for you because I love you. That will never change.”

It shouldn’t be so hard to choose, Minho was there first… He should be your choice… But Jisung… He was so sweet, he was so loving… He made you feel loved in a completely different way than Minho. It was all so confusing, and you already felt your heart breaking for both of the men that you loved so deeply, you’d lose a piece of yourself no matter who you chose. “I…” You started, tears spilling over your bottom lashes as you looked between both of the guys that held your heart. “I don’t know… I… I need time to think…” It wasn’t easy, it would never be easy… And you knew that it would only be made harder since they both were always together, they were in the same group, whether you chose Minho or Jisung, you’d always have to see the both of them… You’d always be faced with the thought of what could have been if your choice had been different. You’d need a lot of time to think… And you’d need a couple weeks, weeks to yourself to think about who you’d choose… If any of them… Because you didn’t just have to protect your own feelings and your own heart… You had to protect theirs too.

309 notes · View notes

dgrailwar · 10 days

Text

Round 2, Day 2 - MOONCANCER vs. AVENGER

"…The delivery guy was supposed to be here by now. I really don't wanna go outside and check… the outside world is dangerous… but I guess I'll have to give it my pico-best. So, one glance! Then we return to our hiding place, and never leave again. Zero social interaction, zero eye contact, zero conversation-- alright, let's go!"

She stepped outside, climbing up the basement steps and emerging in an alleyway. She looked around, before catching sight of someone. She pointed.

"Ohh, look… a handsome guy. He'd totally fit into an otome game… Forget it, I'm way outta his league, and you guys are too if you're hanging with a NEET. He probably wouldn't even notice--"

A moment passed, as the 'handsome man' in the alleyway caught sight of the MoonCancer… and smiled.

"Eh? Eh, eh, eeeeh? Wait a second-- look! He's approaching? He's smiling at me? Is it finally happening? My 'meet cute' romance flag?"

He was approaching. Slowly and carefully, as they locked eyes. They could both feel the mana in the air, dense and terrifying. Divinity clashing against something far darker.

"…An enemy Servant." The Avenger said, carefully. "And one of great magical power, I can feel it. As expected of an Extra-Class!"

"Geh-- Great magical power? M-M-Me?! Wait--!" You could see the color drain from the MoonCancer's face, as she slowly began to back up. "L-L-Listen, I'm really just hanging out-- I'm practically a civilian! I'm barely even a S-Servant! Can't you cut me some slack?"

"…No."

He drew a blade. A sword, roiling with bitter flames, as he pointed it towards her.

"Servant of the Holy Grail War. My Masters have given me the order to kill you, mademoiselle… and therefore, you will witness hell."

"See?! This is why going outside is dangerous! Every flag is a red flaaaaag!"

Ganesha: +7%

The Count of Monte Cristo: +4%

Both Ganesha and the Count gain a +1% boost due to their Defensive choices in the previous round!

Servant Skills:

Ganesha (MoonCancer)

Ganesha's defensive play was interrupted! Her skill boosts will reset next round!

Vinayaka (EX Rank): When 'Playing Defensively' gain a +5% bonus to scores, and you cannot be caught off guard. If you are unbothered, then this increases by 1% each time you are not attacked, resetting back to 5% once you're engaged in combat. However, this negates the inherent MoonCancer trait of ‘being unable to be targeted while Playing Defensively’. (Current boost: +6%)

Broken Tusk (B Rank): When engaged in a 1-on-1 confrontation (while not Playing Defensively), gain a +3% boost. Additionally, apply the MoonCancer Class Trait of 'not taking damage if there's a 3% difference in scores' to 1-on-1 battles as well. If Ganesha has been ‘Playing Defensively’ uninterrupted for 3 or more turns (in a row), when she goes on the offense, her attack bonus increases from 3% to 6% for that specific round. (Current defensive turn count: 1)

MOONCANCER-CLASS Servants are experts in manipulating the world and environment to take advantage. They cannot be targeted while 'Playing Defensively'. Additionally, when engaged in a Free-for-All, they gain a +3% boost, and if they score last place and there's at least a 3% difference in their score and 2nd place, they may avoid damage.

The Count of Monte Cristo (Avenger)

Determination of Steel (EX Rank): If Avenger is about to take a fatal wound, if there's at least a 3% difference in their score and the victor above him, he may avoid damage. When facing a single-target (1-on-1), he will gain a +3% boost.

Monte Cristo Mythologie: The King of the Cavern (C Rank): When battling enemies, his flames are like a poison. He reduces demerits against him by 3%, and when he is victorious against another, he inflicts a -2% demerit for their next round. This demerit increases by 2% by every 10% difference in scores.

AVENGER-CLASS Servants are vengeful by nature. The first time they are defeated by a Servant, they gain an automatic +2% bonus against that specific Servant, without needing to study them (but can in order to increase the bonus). They gain a permanent +3% bonus per wound they attain that will remain if the wound remains, but will disappear if the wound is healed.

#combat phase poll #team avenger #team mooncancer

84 notes · View notes

bird-inacage · 7 months

Text

Only Friends: EP8 Sand & Ray's 'Never Friends' Scene

I wanted to do a deep dive into this scene, because it really exceeded my expectations. It sets the tone beautifully for Sand's current state of mind, and First delivers such a wonderful, nuanced performance here. Easily one of my favourite Ray/Sand interactions yet.

Sand is looking noticeably weary after witnessing Ray and Mew dancing in the bar. The poor boy just looks so tired and dejected, as if he's carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Unfortunately for him, the bar is where he works so he's not able to avoid being in a place Ray and Mew frequent together.

Ray approaches and tries to behave as he normally would. He asks to borrow Sand's lighter, a little call back to Episode 1. The camera lingers on Ray's reaction when Sand simply hands it over. Another nod to where Sand had lit his cigarette for him previously. A split second detail, a very clear message: 'It's not my role to take care of you anymore. You have someone else for that now'.

Sand being Sand, is still concerned about how Ray is doing and asks about his arm. They fall into a little routine patter before Sand gets straight to the point. I give him such kudos for doing this, for choosing not to skirt around the subject but confront it head on. Besides, it's not as if avoiding it is going to make it hurt any less. "So what's going on between you and Mew?" Sand frames it as a question, because he wants to hear it from Ray himself. It's the least he deserves. There's also a challenging air in the way Sand looks at Ray with his eyebrows slightly raised. 'Humor me. And don't lie.'

Ray looks visibly uncomfortable and hesitant. I do believe Ray exhibits a conscience where Sand is concerned. He at least has the decency to feel guilty. I think he was hoping they could continue 'as normal' for a little while longer, so he wouldn't have to tackle this difficult conversation. Ray's wordless reaction gives Sand all the confirmation he needs.

Before Ray has anything to say, Sand jumps in with, "Congrats, you're no longer in the friend zone." The way he says this feels 100% genuine. I do think that Sand wishes the best for Ray, because he's in exactly the same position as Ray once was - pining after someone who doesn't return his feelings. So he gets it. He can acknowledge how nice it must be for Ray to finally be reciprocated. This is an example of Sand's 'if you're happy, I'm happy for you' response, because it means the attention is deflected off him.

What Ray says next is also quite telling. He's says things are good but it's very early days, and they're essentially seeing how it goes. "It's okay." Note how Ray doesn't gush or seem particularly animated. A few brief but fairly non-descriptive comments. You'd expect him to be over the moon. I feel like this is Ray's attempt to be minimise the damage by downplaying things. He doesn't want to overly dwell or flaunt his happiness in Sand's face. I also believe there's a degree of honesty here, that Ray has some genuine reservations about Mew and their future as a couple, (that perhaps he's been trying to ignore).

The next few lines absolutely gutted me. "Good, you can finally end the secret crush. Such a waste of time, right?" 'Good for you, you're no longer suffering (like I am)'. When Sand talks about a waste of time, he's referring to himself. 'At least you no longer have to kill time with me, when you really wanted to be with Mew, what a relief that must be.' Sand is massively self-deprecating here. The time they spent together was not special. It didn't have the same meaning to Ray as it did to Sand. Everything he did was meaningless in context because he thinks Ray was simply 'settling for second best' in the meantime. Sand often uses this tone to imply his own foolishness. For continuing to care so much for Ray when he's getting nothing back.

Ray then asks "Are you okay?" I've noticed that when Ray poses this question, he's not really asking. He already knows or he wouldn't ask in the first place. He's basically saying, 'You're not okay but tell me why', allowing Sand to further divulge. However, Sand is never going to give a honest answer to that question. He's always putting on a brave face and pretending to be okay even when he clearly isn't.

Sand then comes back with his classic, "Why wouldn't I be?" "You're seeing someone you've always loved. It's a dream come true." Not a single thing Sand is saying is about his own feelings. His own pain. His own turmoil. He's purposely shifting the focus to Ray, 'well you're happy so I don't matter. It's your dream come true, so my feelings aren't part of this equation' - which just breaks my goddamn heart. 'Who cares what I feel or think about this. I get no say.'

Ray ponders for a second or two. You can tell he's at a loss as to how to salvage things with Sand without losing him completely. So he offers the next best thing he can, in order to still keep Sand around. "Can we still be friends?" Which means, 'I still want to spend time with you. I still want you to be part of my life'. And Ray's face is full of hopeful naïveté that Sand will agree (this boy really has no idea how agonising that would be). For Sand, this is like adding insult to injury. 'Friends' has no clear definition in Ray's terms, and Sand is wary of Ray's tendency to blur that line. So Ray asking him if they can still be friends doesn't really mean anything, which prompts Sand's "You and I have never been friends from the get-go". 'We need to stop fooling ourselves that what we were doing was ever friendship. I've woken up, you need to too'. Sand is not prepared to participate in muddying the waters, especially now Ray is dating someone. It's not fair to anyone involved.

"We have nothing in common. Besides, I don't know why I should be friends with you." This is probably the harshest thing Sand says in this entire conversation. He's very pointedly trying to create distance. Despite evidence to the contrary, he's alluding to differences between them that should justify that distance, justify him pulling away. Sand is just so resigned and matter of fact about all this because he knows there's nothing Ray can say to refute his thinking. It's all far too late anyway.

Ray displays a moment of slight panic and he's clearly thrown by this. 'It's not like that. Don't reduce it to that'. One thing we can be sure of is it upsets Ray to imagine no longer having any connection to Sand. This indicates to me that Ray does value Sand in his own way. Right now he just has no idea what he can offer to keep Sand close to him, because there is no legitimate reason for doing so since he now has Mew.

As a form of consolation, or perhaps a last ditch attempt to tug on Sand's heart strings, he admits, "but when I'm with you, I'm so damn happy." Ray means well by saying this, as in you make me happy. 'That's got to mean something, right?' But by phrasing it this way, it comes across as he's making this all about him. Sand is desperately searching for evidence to prove Ray does care about him, and he keeps coming up empty. He's run out of reasons to stick around anymore. And Ray's not saying the right things to prove him wrong.

Sand deflects again. '(So what if I might make you happy?) You'll be happy with Mew too. I'm nothing special. You'll get to spend time with him in the same way we did'. "You might even be happier," said with a smile no less. Another absolutely gut wrenching line. Sand's sadness clears briefly and he looks sincerely like he wishes Ray the best. It almost feels like a farewell of sorts. 'He'll make you happier than I did. Because I'm not good enough. I'm not what you want.' This is yet further indication that Sand doesn't think he's left any lasting impression on Ray. Whatever they shared with one another, Ray can easily replicate with Mew instead. He's easily replaceable.

Ray reaches out to stop Sand from walking away. Ray is conflicted. He feels regretful over Sand, which he shouldn't be feeling. He's worried that this time Sand is really slipping from his fingers, and there's nothing he can do about it. Because what's done is done. He chose Mew. So what else is there to say?

Sand follows up with, "Let me go already." 'Stop torturing me. Stop giving me false hope when you've already made your choice. Forget me so you can continue being happy and I can move on. Don't make this difficult for me.' Even in this line, I can hear Sand's care for Ray permeating through it. Sand knows he's isn't what Ray wants. He can make Ray happy but not happy enough to choose him. So the best he can do is to send Ray on his way, and to wish him well. All he asks is for Ray to return the favour, and leave him alone to heal. Akin to his addiction, Sand is telling Ray that he needs to let go from clinging to him like a crutch. Because the only purpose he serves is a crutch and nothing more.

He wants Ray to want him for him, and not as a safety net. Not because he provides Ray with some form of temporary comfort or company. Not because he's a means to pass the time.

Why I adore this scene so much is due to the enormous strength and kindness Sand displays here. He could have been much colder with Ray. He could have been petty, outraged, bitter, resentful. But you truly sense his helpless love for Ray throughout the entire interaction. He's still trying to deliver his message in the most considerate way he can manage. He firmly holds his ground but without any malice. 'The tragedy is I can't help but love you, despite what you've done to me'.

#only friends #only friends the series #ofts #only friends meta #ray x sand #sand x ray #raysan #sanray #khaofirst #firstkhao #first kanaphan #khaotung thanawat #crying into my pillow #this scene hurt me so much #sand breaks my heart so badly #how many ways can you feel pain? YES #this BOY *sobs*

302 notes · View notes

sugarbbgrl · 2 months

Text

Got Yourself a Bad Habit

I'm tipsy, h word and hoping this doesn't come out too shitty :3

WARNING: MDNI, 18+

cw: enemies to lovers, pnv, insults

wc: 1355

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

It’s a constant battle between the two of you, every damn day. No amount of peace in the world could get you to stop irritating each other from your respected apartments.

The first week he moved in was the last time you knew tranquility. You’d think you would make peace with each other and then move of with you lives. But then, BAM, two years later and there still seems to be a problem everyday.

You can't play your music without John hammering his fist into the wall adjacent to you. It interrupts your spring cleaning and is more obnoxious than the music itself. But the volume doesn't falter no matter how much he complains

Until a knock at your door disrupts you. Well, more of a bang on your door.

"What?" You say, opening the door to see a red faced John Price at your door with his hands on his hips.

"Did you not hear my complaints to turn that shit down?" His chest heaves in anger as his voice booms through the air, his British accent more gruff than usual.

“Oh.. That was you?." You smirk and lean against your door frame, taking a sip from your coffee. “Thought is was someone’s dog yapping.”

“It’s nine o’clock in the fucking morning, Y/N.” John point s finger at you. “Turn that shit down.”

“Mmm..” You trail off as you fake a thought, tapping on your chin with your free hand. “No.” You slam the door in his face.

“You’re a right cunt!” His muffled curses could be barely heard through the closed door as you turned the music up a little bit more. Banging continued against as Bad Habit by The Kooks began playing, until your front door was slammed open by a, now, fuming John Price.

“Hey! You’re going to pay for the damages, asshole!” You screamed at him as he stormed into the threshold. Price made his way to your speaker and hit the power button, you music coming to an abrupt halt.

"I told you to turn this horseshit off, Y/N!" He yelled, solid chest heaving from the short and angry breaths.

"What's your problem, John?!" You scream at him, walking closer to him. "It's just music! I'm allowed to play whatever I want and whatever time I want and there's nothing you can fucking do about it!" You poke at his solid chest, digging you finger in harder more each time. You stare into each other's eyes for a few seconds longer before you mauver your way around him and turn your speaker on once more

"You're so fucking infuriating!" He barks at your back as you scroll through your songs. You smirk as you settle on Something in Your Mouth by Nickelback, really trying to elicit a reaction out of the fuming man behind you.

Suddenly, large hands twist your around by your waist. You're now chest to chest with John, both breathing heavy and tension to light around the both of you as he crashes his lips against your mouth.

A muffled yelp escapes you cover lips, eyes widening sightly before squeezing shut as you kiss him back with the same amount of force. Your hands move along his broad shoulders to the back of his head, gripping the soft strands in your fist.

You can't lie, you've been dreaming of the day you get to have some physical interaction with your neighbor, John is a sight for sore eyes; wide, muscled back, pretty eyes, and a slight sense of humor when he wants it to break through. Even with his annoying "rules" of no music past a certain time, you've always been attracted to the Brit now roaming your body with his rough hands.

The kiss was more than you could've ever imagined. Intense was the best word to best describe it. Teeth clashing lightly, tongues intertwined and short breaths between.

"You piss me off far more than you could imagine." He speaks into your mouth, ending the sentence with a tight squeeze of your ass in his hands. You can feel your pussy begin to soak your underwear at the rough action, causing a quiet moan to push it self against his lips.

"Fuck you.." Your mumble, his kisses trialing form your mouth and to your neck.

"Yeah? You think so?" John stops his attack and spin your around, pressing your body against the nearest wall. "Why don't you try me, slut."

John spreads your legs with his knee and yanks your shorts down with lustful force, taking no time to cup your cunt with his large hand. You sharply inhale at the sudden contact, your pussy clenches against him as he brings his hand to your clit, taking two fingers to rub circles onto it. You force your ass against him at the feeling, your arousal drenching his fingers.

"So fucking wet.. All for me?" You hear his voice from behind you trail and an unzipping of his jeans.

"You fucking wish." You exhale as his tip lines up with your entrance, running it along slowly with his fingers still focusing on your slit. John pushes himself into your opening slowly, hissing at the tightness of you.

"Jesus fucking Christ." John bottoms out into you, nuzzling his nose into your neck and kisses the back of your neck once more, "If I would've known you were this ready I would've done something sooner."

He slowly pulls himself out of you before pushing back in with just as much force, as if savoring the warm feeling of you around him. You sigh as he bottoms out once more, pushing his chest to your back, more heat roaming around the both of you, His fingers still touch your small bud, retracting and thrusting once more.

"You wouldn't know what to do even if it was in front of you." You breathlessly chuckle, savoring the feeling of his thick in your. A locw growl emanates from deep within in, his other hand snaking its way through your hair and grips the crown. You look at him as he forces your head back, mouth open and doe eyes capturing his attention. John keeps a steady pace now, sliding in and out of your with ease and rests his mouth on top of your head.

HIs cock grows harder as he impales your harder, hushes moans pushing past his lips with every movement. You can feel yoursekf growing wetter as he tightens his grip on your scalp, closing your eyes to fully immerse yourself in the pleasure.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to fuck the living shit out of you." He breathes, picking his pace up more and more as time rolls by. "Watching you take your trash out in skimpy little shorts and a tank top without a bra. You could make any man forget everything.

You can feel your climax approaching faster and faster, opening your eyes once more to meet his.. Eyes linger longer this time, breaths quickening pace, He places a quick yet gentle kiss to your forehead, lips lingering a bit longer than expected. His cock hardens further at the moans you shamelessly let go, finally letting yourself feeling everything in this moment.

Your orgasm rip through you, a yelp and a shiver running through your entire body. Your legs shake as he keeps the same pace causing your eyes to roll back. He pushes your head against the wall as your body gives into the intense feeling coming over you.

"Fucking shit,," John hisses, releasing our head and running his hand along your back before landing on your waist, gripping both side with force. He comes not to long after you, puling out to spray his ejaculate along your backside. Deep moans ringing in your ears as you attempt to recover form your own climax.

Banging on the wall from your neighbor on the opposite side sounds through your place, breathless chuckles coming from the both of you as you both sit and process the interaction between you two,

"Well, maybe you should turn your music up louder next time."

#call of duty #captain john price #cod x reader #john price #john price x reader #john price x you #john price smut #captain price x you #captain price smut

93 notes · View notes

wangxianficfinder · 22 days

Text

Fic Finder

Apr 7th

~*~

1. Would have been Lan Wangji/Wei Wuxian.

After the Sunshoot campaign and for some reason Wei Wuxian is in Cloud Recess and Lan Qiren discovers that they don’t have a core. But the lan clan had a technique to fix a lost core for others that had been attacked by others that could melt their core. @nikkiwhitecraft

I was the requester for #1.

I am sure that part of the story that Wei Wuxian and Lan Q had to travel, and that was when it was discovered that Wei Wuxian had no core, and Lan Q was annoyed he never said anything and the Lan Clan had a technique to restore a core that was lost/melted as the core melting clan was known.

Thats all I remeber

NOT FOUND Righteous at a Cost by thunderwear (G, 21k, wangxian, LQR & WWX, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, no one dies, LQR finds out about WWX’s core, WWX and LQR are friends??, In My Fic?, its more likely than you think, LWJ in the bg like whats happening?, Fluff, WWX goes to Gusu, Mutual Pining, Golden Core Reveal) Might be this? LQR discovers WWX lost his core, brings him back to CR & finds a way to restore it

~*~

2. Hey! Im looking for a fic where the jins got the tiger tally, and that they wanted to 'flood the world with vermillion light'. I remember that it was post-the first siege of the burial mounds, and WY was maybe dead? After which the other sects had to fight the Jins, and there was also something about the people wishing that WY was alive. Please help me find it! Thank you so much!

FOUND! I'm pretty sure this is the deleted "When the World Comes Crumbling Down, you Will Call my Name" by pft_a_Frog22. The archive link was https://archiveofourown.org/works/35867848.

the deleted fic for #2 can be found at the wayback machine here

~*~

3. Hi! I’m searching for a fiction on AO3 where Wei Wuxian is a Rogue cultivator, he founds Lan Wangji floating in a river/lake and saves him. Wangji don’t remember anything due to the trauma he has suffered and his core is damaged altogether. He had a severe injury on his back but when he recovers he starts to travel with Wei Wuxian, not knowing his brother is searching for him. Because of his poor health issues he breakdown with a fever in the middle of a hunt, far from everything, during this time Lan Wangji loses consciousness, Wei Ying is visited by a strange fox spirit, really creepy whom he made a pact with to save Lan Wangji life's. In the history, Wei Ying has an uncle that reach both of them to advise something, Lan Wangji discorver to be a really powerfull fox spirit, i think they call him Huxia or something like this, Wei Ying "dies" by the venom of a fierce corpse (most like become one of them) and is ressurected by the Jade Emperor himself, the Demon subdue palace is actually a palace and Wangji's mother was the previous Huxia.

I’m going crazy cuz I remember ALL the history, but not the name of the fiction.

I appreciate the help with all my little heart. ❤️ @myukisora

~*~

4. Hi, could you please help me find a wangxian fic? I apologize for the inconvenience, especially because i don’t remember much of the plot except select few parts of it and i dont remember if it was a thread on twitter or on ao3.

The scenes i do remember are as followed: Prior to this scene, wangxian might have had an argument or were avoiding each other because i dont think they had spoken to each other in a while. The scene i remember is WWX going to JYL’s place where everyone is gathered for a get together, wwx dotes over JL, going on about how he’s the favorite uncle. When he enters the living room, he sees LWJ on the couch, and sitting next to him is JZX half brother MXY talking to him. He thinks they are sitting a little too close and he gets a bit jealous but doesn’t say anything. I’m not sure if I remember it right, but i think people or mainly nhs kept saying how MXY resembles WWX, worsening the situation. Wangxian and their whole eye contact happens and everyone in the room is tense because of their interaction or lack their of. WWX suddenly goes to the bathroom, leaning into the sink…waiting and LWJ follows him in. They end up reconciling.

Thats all I remember, I know its not much, and i have been struggling as well because of it going through my bookmarks on ao3 and twitter. I’m hoping someone remembers this part as well and can mention the fic. Thank you!

Hi, the fic you mentioned is not the one :/ i am so sorry for the inconvenience. I can try adding more context. It’s the fic about WWX entering JYL’s party at her place and finding LWJ sitting on a couch with MXY. The scene is towards the very end so MXY’s presence is more of a cameo, he wasn’t present for the fic. WX might have a fwb situation that went wrong or it might be a lwj fucks fic. Lwj follows wwx to the br, its tense as wwx stares at him through the mirror but they both make up

NOT FOUND Talk Hard by DeviyudeThoolika (E, 161k, wangxian, LXC/JYL, JZX/WQ, JC/MM, Modern, College/University, Roommates/Housemates, rare pairs galore, Falling In Love, Getting Together, Separations, Getting Back Together, BAMF WWX, Drunk LWJ, Protective WWX, Good Parent YZY, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Cultivation Sect Politics, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Angst with a Happy Ending)

~*~

5. Hi,

I’m trying to find a fanfic where instead of Jin Zixuan dying to Wen Ning at the pass it was Wei wuxian who pushed him out of the way and died instead? I’ve been trying for ages and still can find it. Thank you!

neither of these are exactly what you described, but it might be

NOT FOUND! A Butterfly Flaps, A Sword Stabs by RadAceFriend (T, 37k, JZX/JYL, JZX & WWX, JZX & LWJ, JZX & JGY, JZX & JL, Major Characted Death, JZX Lives, WWX does not, background wangxian, Not Jiang Family Friendly, Sect Leader JZX, POV JZX, Canon Divergence, the horrifying experience of killing someone you didn't like much, and finding out that you're one of the only people you know upset about it, Wen Remnants Live, LSZ is a Wen, WangXian Get a Happy Ending)

NOT FOUND! in this place where we don’t have a prayer by Cerusee, Mikkeneko (T, 42k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, WWX dies at Qiongqi path, Demonic Cultivation)

FOUND! finding you always, all ways by BlueFrogs (T, 31k, WangXian, ChengQing, Reincarnation, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Romance, Memory Loss, technically there is character death, but he comes back lol, Age Difference, due to reincarnation)

~*~

6. Hi, hope you are having a great day! Could you, please, help find a fic, which, I think, had a wangxian arranged marriage due to growing Wen threat, but honestly cannot remember the exact premise. But there was a scene where wrh manages to get wq married to lwj as a second wife, and wwx felt like he failed the Jiang-Lan alliance. And there was a big confrontation between wq and wwx, where she tells him the reason for the marriage was to save her family. And lwj might have been ill or cursed and wearing a mask (not sure).

FOUND? The deleted "A Price to Pay" by wangxianist.

~*~

7. Looking for help finding the name of this fic on ao3 I’m have trouble hunting it back down. Burial mounds settlement days canon divergence.

Essentially the premise is that the people living in Yiling often see Wei Ying taking care of and teaching A-Yuan by the river and a woman one day who was also there to wash her clothes asked him to look after her son while she was busy. This snowballed into Wei Ying basically running a little informal school out of Yiling where he teaches and just looks after any child that is brought there, including orphans and prostitute’s children which is kinda illegal. Lan Zhan knows and regularly visits. If the children show aptitude for cultivation they usually get sent to the Lan or (later in the story) the Jiang. The rest of the Wens kinda accidentally become a part of the Yiling community so much so that they all move out of the burial mounds and into the town proper. Because they’ve all left the mounds and disconnected pretty hard from the cultivation community they don’t even realize that the Jin’s sent people to attack the mounds. They found no one and declared to the world that they had slayed the rest of the wen dogs alongside Wei Wuxian. Jiang Cheng only finds out his brother is alive because he’s been informed that a small school in the Jiang territory hasn’t been paying taxes and when he goes to investigate finds Wei Ying safe and sound. @coffeehousefanfics

FOUND? Just as the Snow Melts by draechaeli (T, 66k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, SL/XXC, Everybody Lives AU, Canon Divergence)

~*~

8. Hello, could you please help me find a fic where Lan Zhan finds a number to call Wei Ying which Help? to people at night and calls himself patriarch yilin afterwards They (wei Ying and lan Zhan) meet in the university library

FOUND? Maybe You’re the Reason by Clearpearls (E, 67k, WangXian, Modern AU, College/University, Phone Sex, slight D/s, Secret Identity, Praise Kink, Phone Sex Operator WWX, he’s part-time though, slight internalized sexual repression, Fluff, Light Angst, Dirty Talk Orgasm Delay/Denial, Slow Burn, Sub LWJ, Bottom LWJ, Vibrators, Aftercare, Introspection)

~*~

9. There's an au where Wangxian are like murder husbands and it has very dark themes. It's a series but I remember one of the fics in it had a scene where a woman tries to get their attention so the other cuts off her body parts or something like that? Would you be able to help me find it?

FOUND? So Full Of Love (Wouldn't Know Where to Start) by witchupbitch (M, 63k, wangxian, Best Friends, Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Possessive LWJ, Protective LWJ, Blood and Violence, Killing, Idiots in Love, Humor, Mafia AU, Modern, Flirting, shameless WWX, Confident WWX, Explicit Language, Swearing, Mutual Sexual Tension, dark LWJ, Dark WWX, They're both twisted, Exhibitionism, Sex, Possessive Behavior, Unhealthy Relationships, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings)

~*~

10. Hey!!! Love your work!

Do you know of a fic where jiang cheng's younger self sort of takes over his future self for some while before going back and this repeats for some time? I remember a young jiang cheng talking to older wwx. Older wwx doesn't believe that it's really the younger jc so he asks him to ask about why wwx dislikes dogs (i think). Young jc asks young wwx and it's because www had a pet dog named 'doggie' who had turned on him during the winter. Sorry that's all I can remember

~*~

11. Hi, I dunno if my ask got lost in the mail but i was looking for a fic that had a line "lan wangji was a musician, he know how to make his hands do different things" in reference to one hand jackin wwx off and the other up his ass. if this sounds familiar lemme know please

~*~

12. Hi! I really am looking for this story in AO3 and still can't find it. It was about Wei Wuxian who got married to Wen Chao but Lan Zhan couldn't take it so he plans to take Wei Wuxian back by claiming Wei Wuxian each time he got (even in the wedding night of WWX and WC) and destroying the company of the Wens. As they (LWJ & WWX) continued the deed, WWX ended up pregnant and LWJ is more than determined to take WWX back. I do hope you can help me find this story. Thank you in advance!😘

FOUND? 姻緣 | this marriage was always predestined by saccharinings (E, 43k, wangxian, Cheating, Infidelity, not between wangxian, WWX is married and LWJ persuades him to cheat on his husband with him, Dark LWJ, A/B/O, Feminizing Language, Exhibitionism, Size Difference, WagnXian Have a Breeding Kink, Stomach Bulge, Possessive LWJ, Manipulation, WWX Wears Lingerie, Rape/Non-con Elements, for one part, Hair-pulling Kink, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Mirror Sex, Vibrators, Phone Sex, Rimming, Edgeplay, slight choking kink, Light Bondage, Inappropriate Use of Gūsū Lán Forehead Ribbon, LJY's Big Fat Crush on Milfxian, Pregnant WWX, WangXian Endgame, Spanish Translation)

~*~

13. Hello! I've been trying to find a fic I lost on AO3 for a few days now so hopefully you can help 💚💚

It was canon-verse but an AU where lwj and wwx hadn't met and wwx was still the Yiling Patriarch. Someone has an idea to give wwx a "bride" and wwx picks lwj and he goes to live at the burial grounds with wwx and the wens. At some point lwj gets stabbed and almost dies and wwx reveals he picked lwj because he assumed lwj would be in on some kind of plan to spy on/hurt wwx and the wens but lwj wasnt a part of that at all. It had a happy ending but i cant remember exactly what it was. Pls help 🥺 i want it in my bookmarks soooo bad

FOUND? 💖🔒 love, in fire and blood by cicer (E, 360k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, YLLZ WWX, Arranged Marriage, political scheming, Gratuitous Domesticity, Mutual Pining, EXTREME SLOWBURN, the inherent eroticism of the forehead ribbon, The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known, neither wwx nor lwj want to be Perceived, but sorry kids! it's gonna happen!, rated E but the the NSFW stuff doesn't begin until chapter 19!, bottom LWJ in chapter 20 and 27)

~*~

14. For the next fox finder

Pls help me find this fic where wwx and lwj are night hunting and wwx gets hurt badly lwj makes a deal with a spirit/god but in exchange to save wwx he will lose his love/ emotions (he only acts on what’s needed not on the things he like or is want)

Wwx ofc suffers because of this but is able to re awake lwj love after 3 years while he’s playing wangxian (( he has already lost hope lwj would recover his emotions))

~*~

15. hi! im looking for a post canon fic where jc sends a letter to cloud recesses saying that gusu lan owes him a debt since wwx married into the lan. lwj responds very angrily. it wasnt jc friendly and at the end of the fic, wwx finds a bitter letter from jc who dies alone. wwx and lwj live longer and happier lives. id love it if you could find it, thank you!

FOUND! The Price of a Golden Core by AshayaTReldai (M, 9k, wangxian, LXC & WWX, WWX & JC, Major Character Death, Angst, Tension, Aggression, JC pays the price for his choices, demanding letters, JC is a Brat, Supportive Lan Brothers, WWX deserves the best, Life Debt, Sad Ending, Sad Ending for JC)

~*~

16. Hi! So, I’m looking for an AO3 fic, Lán Zhan/Wei Ying, that I read what feels like years ago and I can’t find it again. I remember it is a bit of a dark lan zhan or dark cloud recess fic, with Wei Ying being brought to this ‘hunt’ type thing with a group of people. I believe all the people brought are given Lán Zhans scent, so that he may track them. I also believe that it’s not expected that the participants will survive, and they’re being offered a reward if they do. Please help me find it! @diabolic17

FOUND? 🔒 Five Fifteen by 3neetee (M, 11k, wangxian, rape/non-con, modern, ABO, alpha LWJ, omega WWX, mating runs, graphic depictions of violence, dom/sub undertones, light bondage, rape/non-con elements, dark LWJ, betrayal)

~*~

17. Hey mods! 💜

I’m pretty sure I found this fic on here but now I can’t seem to find it. I’m not sure if it was on a itmf or fic finder. But it’s the one where wwx takes a curse from some ghost in order for her to move on. It’s a curse where he can’t see or feel anyone that feels “strongly” about him. He assumes the juniors all either hate or fear him and I forgot what he assumed lwj. They say to break the curse he has to accept the others’ feelings. So he tried to accept the fact that jin ling hated him although jin ling did not mean what he said and was confused at how wwx reacted. I think lan jinyi was the one who figured out wwx couldn’t see them because he launched at him as if he was going to attack him and wwx didn’t flinch. In the end he starts seeing and feeling impressions of them until he can see them in full again. Please help? I’ve been through my history and bookmarks and all open tabs of ao3. No such luck.

Thanks for all that you do! @jikcf

FOUND! See Me, Feel Me (Listening to You) by Ghost_Honey (T, 29k, WangXian, POV WWX, WWX Needs a Hug, WWX’s Abyssmal Self-Esteem, Emotional Healing, Angst, The Juniors love their Senior Wei, Curses, WWX is an Unreliable Narrator, JC & WWX Reconciliation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Cuddling)

~*~

18. Hi! I’m searching for a fic that I’m pretty sure was a threadfic on twitter... It was foxian and dragonji, and LWJ came across WWX while he was in heat in a cave and they mated. WWX went back to Lotus Pier not knowing who he’d been with only to find himself pregnant. He has hybrid babies and LWJ eventually tracks him down and he turns out to be a prince or something? WWX goes to visit Cloud Recesses, still unsure about LWJ. There was also a scene when one of the babies gets snatched by an eagle or some other bird and LWJ saves them? I think that’s as far as I got, as it was a WIP at the time and I lost track of it. Thank you!

FOUND? Twitter thread by cerbykerby (wangxian, cw: dubcon, mpreg, memory loss)

~*~

19. Hello! Hope you're well! I've been looking for a fic like crazy and have not been able to find it, so hopefully you know it? It's a fic where instead of nie mingjue dying, nie huisang dies as a result of jgy and nmj attacks the cloud recesses because he blames Lan xichen in part due to him defending jgy. Please help me find this if you can. Thank you in advance!!! 🫶🙏🏼 @cherryblossom8

FOUND! Digging Graves by nirejseki (Not rated, 13k, NHS & NMJ, WWX & XY, wangxian, Revenge, Broken Moral System, Non-Graphic Violence, the masterless sabers)

~*~

20. Pls there was this one fic in ao3 , I was so looking forward to it but I lost it 😭😭😭I don’t know much about it but the summary was smth like Wwx getting pregnant and being in an island?? Shizui grows up and smth please 😭

FOUND? The Winner Takes It All by YilingSani (M, 46k, WangXian, Modern AU, Single Parent WWX, Old Friends, One Night Stands, No Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Forgiveness, Second Chances, Inspired by Mamma Mia! (Movies) Teen Pregnancy, Mpreg, mention of miscarriage, Birth Trauma, amniotic fluid embolism)

~*~

#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic finder #wangxian fic search #the untamed #wangxianficfinder #long post

89 notes · View notes