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joelmillershole · 10 months

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dark but just a game

raider!joel x reader

warnings: 18+ mdni! raider!joel, rough sex/smut, unprotected piv sex (wrap it before u tap it folks), fingering, choking, hair pulling, probably dubcon but it’s not really?, deep throating/face fucking, spanking, joel is mean, joel is a bad man (but such a hot one), pet names (baby, sweetheart), no use of y/n

word count: 2.4k

a/n: i am depraved. also I wrote this in like 1 sitting and had to post. omg. i’ve never posted smut before and of course when I do it has to be fucking nasty! enjoy

You knew you treaded on a thin tightrope. No net, no balancing pole, nothing but the ground a hundred feet below and a short landing thirty feet away. The only consolation was the lack of a crowd, empty stands around the circus tent, only yourself and the lone figure on the other side. Waiting for you. Faceless, nameless; but you knew in the back of your mind that wasn’t true. Maybe your subconscious wanted you to believe that when you had this dream. You knew better.

You knew better than to trust yourself not to fall.

You weren’t even around too long before the outbreak happened; never even been to a circus. Only read about it in books. But the metaphor seemed apt, and as you climbed and gripped every rung of the ladder to the starting spot, you cursed and cursed yourself for the inevitable fall. Like clockwork, though -- like a machine with no off button -- you made the climb again and again.

And again. Creeping around the decimated town, you closed your eyes. Imagined taking the first step onto the taut wire. Felt it lag under your weight. Inhaled slowly, bracing yourself for the second step. And just as you swung your other foot out, just as you tightened your core and prayed to any God that would listen, your arms pinwheeled wildly and you lost your balance.

He’d snuck up on you, pinned you face-first to the wall with his large, heavy hands. The sharp inhale, the gasp, that you sucked in, overshadowed by a dark, languid chuckle from behind and somewhere above your ears.

“Can’t get enough of me, huh, baby?” You almost forgot about the drawl. The hint of some origin from long ago. Shivering, you felt his words fan against the shell of your ear, breath hot and sending goosebumps down your arms. “‘Li’l pathetic, don’t’ya think?”

You barely heard yourself respond, some breathy denial, maybe a squeak. Something truly pathetic, just as he said.

Joel used one hand to grip your hair at the root, yanking your head backward. His nails dug into your scalp. It was painful -- your eyes filled, against your will, with tears -- but then again, you knew it would be. You expected it to be.

He peered down at you, scowling. He looked strange from this point, upside-down and blurry. His other hand wrapped around your body, no longer used to shove you against the sharp bricks of some building wall. It found its spot at your throat. You swallowed against it, eyes fluttering shut as he applied pressure.

“Haven’t seen you in a minute,” he whispered. He pressed his lips against your temple. “Been hidin’ from me, baby?”

You shook your head. It was difficult to do with his hand wrapped around your throat and his vice-like grip on your hair. Miniscule, almost, but he got the message. “No?” He nosed down your cheek until his lips found the junction between your chin and your neck, just above where his thumb squeezed. Joel sucked the skin in between his lips, rolled it in between his teeth.

You gasped. You squeezed your legs together against the sharp ache between them. You grit your teeth. You didn’t think to do each one of these actions, the only thought in your head the feeling of Joel sucking on your neck. And plummeting a hundred feet down.

“Joel-” you tried but only choked as he tightened his grip with both hands. “P-please-”

“Please, what?” He mumbled into your neck. He let go of it to slide his hand down the length of your body, grabbing roughly at your breasts first, before trailing it down your belly and between the waistband of your pants. “Use your words, baby. Been so long since I’ve gotten to hear your pretty voice.”

Against your better judgment, your stomach flipped at his words, his praise. God, you craved this. It was the only reason you’d snuck out of your QZ to go searching around the abandoned city around it, far enough away from the FEDRA soldiers that you didn’t worry about getting caught. Unless there were some other raiders around; not an impossibility, but unlikely enough that you weren’t worried. Joel kept to himself. Even if someone did manage to find you two, you knew Joel would take care of it. You’d watched him kill before. He was violent and scary. There must be something wrong with you if it turned you on so much.

Joel, in a rough motion, let go of you to spin you around to face him. You barely got a glimpse of his face before he had his hands on your shoulders, pushing you down. Your knees hit the pavement with a painful jolt. You watched him undo his belt, deft hands quickly unbuttoning and pushing down his jeans and boxers. And then there he was, his thick cock hard and weeping with precum.

“You gonna suck me, baby girl?” Joel said. He fisted his hand in your hair again, pulling you closer. “Or am I gonna make you?”

You swallowed, looking up at him through your lashes. “I will, Joel,” you murmured. You leaned forward to take the tip of him into your mouth. He tasted salty, the precum rubbing against your tongue. Joel stared down at you, eyes dark and bottom lip pulled between his teeth. He pressed his hips in further and you obeyed, opening wider to swallow him deep. As his cock hit the back of your throat, you gagged around it, eyes watering, but not missing the way his closed, nor the exhalation of pleasure that left his lips.

“Fuck,” he swore lowly. “Mouth feels so fucking good. Love the way those pretty lips look wrapped around my cock.”

Your stomach flipped again, even as you gagged once more. Still, Joel pressed in further, his long cock inching down your throat. Your breathing quickened, chest rising and falling rapidly. You didn’t know how you were going to keep taking him, not when you kept gagging.

“Relax, baby,” he cooed, free hand brushing against your cheek. You looked up at him, breathing heavily through your nose. “Relax your throat. Don’t panic, you can take it.”

You tried your best to listen to him. You relaxed your throat, eyes squeezing shut as he pulled your head down his length until you had taken everything. Every inch of him stuffed down your throat, nose pressed into the small mass of curls above the base of his cock. You knew you must be dripping, clenching agonizingly around nothing.

“Look at you, fuck,” Joel said. He let go of your hair to run his fingers through it. “Keep breathin’ through your nose, baby. Gonna keep my cock in that mouth.”

You moaned around his length. When you closed your eyes, tears fell down your cheeks; but you listened, nails digging into your palms painfully. You knew he would be angry if you raised them and grabbed his legs. You’d played this game before.

Joel slid out of your mouth almost all the way, enough that you could finally breathe around it. You swallowed in large gulps of air before he pressed in again, slowly, all the way down to the hilt. You only gagged once before you relaxed and let him fuck your mouth.

After that, his pace increased. It was almost too much, the in and out, your throat spasming around his thick cock. Your lips and throat and knees ached, strings of saliva hanging down your chin, but you sat there dutifully, tears streaming out of eyes that you kept trained on him. You watched his expression, dark and flushed, as he used your mouth for himself. Your core ached. You kept falling, down and down, not having yet hit the ground.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Joel panted, sliding all the way out of your mouth. Your throat felt empty at the loss. “So fuckin’ good. Little slut for me. You a slut for anybody else?”

You shook your head, turning to wipe your mouth on the shoulder of your shirt. “No, Joel,” you croaked out. Your voice was fucked. “Only a slut for your cock.”

Joel swore. Staring down at you, he thought for a moment, then dragged you standing by your hair. You winced at the crack of your knees, the strain of them straightening after being bent for so long. Joel pushed your cheek against the wall again, his hand slipping in between your waistband once more.

You gasped as he ran a thick finger across your folds; Joel swore again at the wetness, sinking two fingers in to the knuckle.

“Joel,” you begged, eyes fluttering. You groaned out something incoherent, your body twitching at the feel of his fingers curling inside of you. They were so much longer than yours and could reach so much deeper. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Joel…”

“That’s it, baby,” he whispered into your neck. His thumb flicked your swollen clit roughly and you almost screamed at the feeling. Your knees could have buckled and he would’ve kept you upright just from the force of his body pressing you into the wall. “You like that? So wet from just sucking my cock. You really are a slut, huh?”

“Yes,” you sobbed. “Came looking for you. For this.”

Joel groaned, nipping at your neck. “I know, baby. So desperate for this cock.” When you nodded, he chuckled, extracting his fingers from your pussy. “So fuckin’ desperate… guess I’ll give you what you came for.”

Joel yanked your pants down to the knees. He grabbed your thighs and pulled you back against him, then pushed your torso forward so you were bent over. He pinned both of your hands behind your back with one hand and used the other to rub the tip of his cock against your soaked pussy.

Without another word, Joel thrust his full length into you in one swell move. You screamed, tears pricking your eyes at the burn, the fullness. He sighed from behind you, the hand not gripping your wrists moving to slap your naked ass. You yelped at the sting of it.

“Missed this pretty pussy,” Joel mumbled. “Who does this pussy belong to, baby?”

You shuddered throughout your entire body as you got used to the stretch. It’d been months since you had him inside of you, and it was something your body forgot. Too caught up in the feeling of his cock inside of you, you didn’t answer. He slapped your ass again, harder.

“I said, who does this pussy belong to?”

“You,” you cried out, clenching around him.

“Say it.” Joel dragged his cock out inch by inch, slowly, then sheathed himself back to the hilt with a grunt. “Who makes you this fuckin’ wet?”

“You, Joel.” You barely even registered speaking. “This pussy belongs to you… I’m this wet for you…” Heat bit at your cheeks, embarrassment, but you kept blubbering as he began to slide in and out of you slowly. You felt the drag of every inch, every centimeter. “Please, please, please fuck me-- harder, please--”

Joel laughed mockingly behind you. “Harder? If you say so.”

Your vision blurred as Joel fucked you, hard and deep and almost painfully. That familiar heat built up in your core. You wondered if it was even possible for you to come without him touching you, just from his cock alone. You never had before. But it’d been this long, and if you shut your eyes, you envisioned the ground steadily raising to meet your plummeting body. An acrobat you most definitely were not.

As if on cue, Joel shifted ever so slightly. His cock hit some spot inside of you, soft and spongy, and you unraveled with a start. Eyes rolling back into your head, you slumped, cheek scraping against the sharp edges of the brick wall. You barely noticed the pain and only distantly did you feel Joel pull you backward by your hair, your back arched, and heard him groan at the feeling of your pussy spasming around his cock.

“Shit, baby!” He bit down on your neck and used two fingers to rub your clit. “Didn’t even touch you. You gonna come for me again?”

Just as you started coming down, the quick circles he drew around your bundle of nerves sent painful overstimulation shuddering through your body.

“No,” you cried out, body jerking. “‘S too much, Joel-”

“Shut up,” he said, voice bland. “Take it, baby.” His hips jerked harder. You shrieked with each thrust into your sensitive core. His fingers didn’t let up, and in less than a minute, you felt your peak rising quickly again, this time muddled and almost feverish.

You came again. Harder. It felt like it lasted forever, like you were never going to come out of it, like you were stuck eternally in this high. Joel’s thrusts became erratic and off-kilter and then he was coming, too, with a grunt, filling you up. You didn’t even have the mind or energy to protest, just shook around his cock as he filled you with his come.

It took a minute, but you finally came down, bones sagging like jelly in your post-orgasmic state. Joel slid out of you. When he let you go to pull his pants up, you crumpled to the ground.

He squatted down to your level, rough hands lifting you at the hips and yanking your pants up. He set you back down and stood up, peering down at you with a blank expression.

“Keep telling you not to come back,” he said.

You stared back up at him, mind blank.

“Keep telling you ‘m not a good man, baby,” said Joel. “I ain’t gonna cuddle you after, just gonna take what I want. But you don’t listen.”

He bent down to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. Then he gripped your chin in between his fingers.

“I know you ain’t gonna listen if I say it again,” he said. “So I’ll see you next time.”

You watched him walk away, turning the corner and leaving you alone in the alleyway he’d found you in what seemed like forever ago.

After a few minutes, you managed to pick yourself up, wincing at the ache between your legs. You started on the way back to the QZ, wondering when the next time was you’d decide to make the climb again.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal as joel miller #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfic #tlou fanfiction #tlou show #raider!joel #joel miller smut #smut #tlou smut #joelmillershole

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bunsreverie · 2 months

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I spent hours yesterday spamming my close friends on Instagram about Ethan and Feng Xun and comparing them (I’m so normal about them.) (My mutuals think I am insane.) SO I’ve wrote a bunch of headcanons for them, prompt being what kind of a boyfriend I think they would be/what they would be like in a relationship.

This isn’t a rq, just me self indulgent rambling. I will post Ethan’s later because I’m so tired.

. ࣪ ˖ Feng Xun:

• My first thought about Feng Xun as a boyfriend is actually that he’s definitely husband material. He’s quite polite and genuine, so you can’t convince me otherwise!

• He’s very independent, lonely even. His sister going into a coma along with him traveling by his lonesome has made him grow accustomed to it, and so I think he might come across as a little more distant than he means, at first. You’ll eventually find that this is just a wall he puts up, and he’s much more affectionate and clingy than you ever would have originally guessed.

• He doesn’t mean to, but I feel that he is probably just full of guilt and regret over what happened with his sister, and fears something will happen to his partner or that he may lose them to. He knows what happened wasn’t his fault, however he regrets not being there for his sister more I am sure, and I think this affects him a lot more than he might let on.

• We also know he canonly cannot see the future of those he’s close with clearly. I think that’s why he may act brute with Li Ling and pretend be harsh with him- he cannot get too close as he wants to be able to see his future clearly and have the knowledge that he can protect him- that goes for you, too. He may purposely give you a lot of space in the relationship at first, because he is concerned that he won’t be able to see your future clearly and protect you. He won’t admit that however.

• Essentially Feng Xun is afraid of losing you, wether that be due to him not being able to feel like he can let himself get close to you, or because he lets himself get too close and his vision of your future becomes bleary and unclear. He can’t lose you too, not after basically losing his sister. (I know she isn’t dead, but she’s not conscious so you get what I mean.)

• Because of his sister, he is much more conscious and careful over things he does and says to you. The last thing he would want to do is make you feel ignored or unloved and for something to happen to you, it’s his biggest fear. He realizes that being distant out of fear, he cannot possibly make you feel as loved as you deserve, so his mindset will eventually shift and he will open up. Just be patient, I think Feng Xun is alot more complex than you might would think at a single glance at his character. He would be an incredible boyfriend if he just let his guard down some.

• Feng Xun’s love is gentle. Almost cautious. He’s just afraid of making you uncomfortable in any way is all, and he will always ask first before he does anything. It almost agitates you. “You mind if I just lay my head on your shoulder and take a nap real quick?” He will ask, as if he does not do that constantly. That’s another thing, he can not keep his hands off you. He’s touchy, and clingy, but he’ll only show that in private. Again, he’s afraid of losing you. I think physical touch is definitely his love language; it comforts him- and you, so it’s a win win.

• He particularly enjoys resting his head on your chest or you resting your head on his, especially after a long day or particularly difficult job of his. He’s not hard to please in the slightest- to him, no matter what’s wrong, everything feels completely fine and okay when he can just hold you. When you’re not out hanging around his neighborhood with him or off traveling somewhere with him, the two of you can be found curled up in his bed- probably alongside a few cats.

• He’s extremely smart and observant, so good luck hiding literally anything from him. He knows what’s going to happen before it even happens after all, so you can’t hide anything. Just.. don’t even bother lying. Feng Xun is level headed and has a very strong mental capacity, so if something is wrong just tell him and he swears he’s gonna fix it for you. I actually feel that if something is wrong, he’d be the best person to talk to.

• His calm demeanor makes him incredibly easy to talk to and trust. I do not think there would be a such thing as arguments between the two of you- if there was, it’d have to be something major. Either way, if Feng Xun ever perceived an argument in the future, he would probably be able to prevent it before it even happened. The only good reason that I could think of causing him to get upset with you, is if you blatantly lie to him. There’s no reason to, because he already knows how things will play out, anyways. I think honesty is incredibly important to him, he is a man of his word after all and he would like if you could be the same. That is all he asks for, really.

• When he’s not out working a job trying for some extra cash or napping, Feng Xun loves taking you out places. Don’t expect anything too expensive or fancy, but he knows a few really nice spots he thinks you might like. Feng Xun likes taking you to get takeout at his favorite restaurants, and showing you his favorite spots around the neighborhood. Wether be the abandoned house the stray animals he feeds lives, or some little wildflower field he only just recently discovered. He just really wants to share every little thing with you, and I think that’s super cute. He may not be the richest guy but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try his hardest to make you feel spoiled, and cared for.

• Just remind him that you don’t care about wether he spends money on you, it’s the quality time that counts. He feels the same way- He does not care no matter how bad things get, because if he just has you, then everything is fine. He believes that the both of you are destined to be together, and why argue with fate?

#dislyte #dislyte feng xun #feng xun #dislyte x reader #x reader

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avelera · 5 months

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I think the term, “flaws” as a necessity for writing well-rounded fictional characters is often misunderstood. It can lead to new writers thinking these flaws should be in a laundry list alongside their OCs hobbies, eye color, and favorite food.

All of the above traits shouldn’t exist in a vacuum. They all need to serve the story in some way, usually by illustrating plot, character, or themes in a way that enhances the story.

Saying a character’s flaw is that they’re “clumsy” isn’t really a flaw unless this trait stands between them and what they want in a meaningful way. Being clumsy is an obstacle for a dancer, or for a teenager who will be socially judged and derided in a meaningful way to the story. Even still, it’s a somewhat shallow and overused flaw.

What got me thinking about this is the fanfic characters I tend to enjoy writing are flawed people. The more flawed, the better.

I struggled to write Nicky and Joe in The Old Guard because they don’t really have any flaws. They’re never stupid, or selfish, or awkward, or mean. I couldn’t really write them until I wrote a story where the plot is that one of them gets returned by amnesia to his pre-character development Crusader self, back when he was prejudiced, quick to anger, and provincial in his world view. Then I had somewhere to go with them.

By contrast, Newt and Hermann from Pacific Rim are riddled with flaws, and it made them not only popular characters, but a blast to write. They’re rude, loud, snarky, selfish, self-involved, self-important, arrogant, and mean. They’re also both sincerely trying to save the world and willing to sacrifice themselves to do it if necessary. It makes them a wonderful mass of contradictions and it makes them feel like real people.

And recently I wrote about my desire to write Dream and Hob from Sandman as more like their comic selves, with all the rough edges and taciturn misanthropy and selfishness and rudeness that implies. I don’t want to write perfect people.

I saw a post that imagined Hob as passionate about returning artifacts stolen by the English to their country of origin. It was a very sweet post and fun, don’t get me wrong. But as a perverse creature, my first thought was, “Ok, but what if he wasn’t? What if he, as a former bandit and soldier for the Crown, wasn’t in favor of the artifacts being returned? What if he was the opposite?”

Now to be clear, I think it’s more in character for the brief glimpse of the Teacher Hob we see for him to be more worldly, more in favor of repatriation. I genuinely think that take is probably more accurate to the character.

That’s not the point.

The point is that I think one way to avoid creating these sort of perfect shiny soft characters with all the rough edges sawed off is to ask, “Ok but what if they didn’t do the right thing here?”

What if they don’t have perfect, up to date progressive political views on all possible topics? What if they weren’t always altruistic? What if they don’t always say just the right thing to their lover when that person is feeling down? What if they have moments where they’re stupid, selfish, insensitive, prejudiced, rude, awkward, or off-putting?

Personally, I think that’s how you get more interesting characters, who are more like real people and, more importantly, have room to grow or sometimes not grow in a way that better serves your story.

#Maggie rambles #writing #sandman meta #tog meta #pacific rim meta

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frownyalfred · 3 months

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Hey, Res! How have you been? I love when you post. I recently found your original post that "inspired" Hit Em Up Style out in the wild and was sooo 🤯🤯🤯 anyway

How old do you think Bruce is by the time Damian joins the fam? I want to you hear your headcanons! Doesn't need to be canon on even based on canon, but I would appreciate a timeline of events (adopting Dick, how old he – both Dick and Bruce – was, and then Jason etc etc) because I love the lore you have ("you have" as in yours... It feels like you own a specific DC timeline/earth) in your fics so much!!!

Sorry if this is too much! Feel free to ignore or only answer what you want. Thanks 🩷 ily

(Jk, jk) I know I wrote it out once for the above mentioned fic just to keep things straight, but I can’t find them so I’ll give rough ages:

Bruce adopts Dick (11-13) in his late twenties/early thirties, at the newer end of his career as batman

Adopts and loses Jason (10-12) somewhere in his mid to late thirties

Tim (16-17) shows up late thirties, early forties

Damian (12-13) shows up not long after that so probably also late thirties/early forties, approximately 12-14 years after Bruce returned to Gotham from the League.

Bruce is active and at his peak physicality until somewhere in his late forties. He’s in very good shape into his late fifties while ramping down his activity and then still remarkably fit in his sixties but not actively patrolling.

Alfred is in his early thirties when the Waynes die which puts him in his 50’s-60’s throughout all of this.

#asks #anon #bruce wayne #batman #dc #myfic #theresurrectionist #batfamily

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aroaceleovaldez · 3 months

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hey! hope this isn't weird but i wanted to know why you think artemis wasn't up to standards even in the original pjo series. you reblogged from me and so i had front row to your tags on the post about zeus jaja i've not seen people talk a lot about her and it got me interested as i'm a classics student!

- @zoebelladona 🌙

HELLO OH BOY okay so I have half a rant already about Artemis in terms of Rick and general aphobic tropes in the series. see: that open letter on twitter. i still need to transfer that to tumblr. fun fact: Rick replied to that post but deleted his reply at some point. probably because two replies after he replied to my post and word-of-god confirmed Reyna to be ace-coded he left social media for a bit.

Fun times! Anyways.

The thing I dislike about Artemis as she's depicted in the series, besides her constantly appearing as a teenager and the aphobic tropes with that [see: open letter linked above] - which on some level is slightly more excusable than other examples given she's a goddess of young women, but given how he writes Athena, Hestia, and the Hunt instead leaves a bad taste in my mouth - and other similar aphobic tropes with her, is her whole weird anti-men thing (which is also, in itself, also an aphobic trope in this particular circumstance). I understand TTC was written in 2007 so that flavor of radical feminism that Artemis and the Hunt is clearly supposed to be was only just coming into major public awareness and the flaws in the ideology (and the inherent bigotry, particularly transphobia and racism that often comes with it) weren't as well recognized at the time. But in hindsight it leaves a really bad taste in my mouth for obvious reasons and is one of the things from the first series that severely aged poorly in my opinion, and I greatly dislike that in every subsequent retcon of the Hunt for other reasons Rick more or less retains that aspect.

Secondly... it doesn't make sense from a mythological standpoint? Because there are multiple examples of men being Hunters in Artemis' retinue. Even ignoring Orion, no matter how you go about shaking that stick (which for the record I really dislike how Rick retconned him in the series/wrote him in HoO), Hippolytus is a very notable example. Literally his big whole original shtick was he joined the Hunt because he didn't like romance and Aphrodite got so pissed about him not needing her (romance) that she killed him. And even when Aphrodite was trying to ruin his life he held on to his virtues and vow to Artemis (refusing advances even when his life was on the line). He is otherwise totally chill and devoted to Artemis. Some versions of his myth has Artemis have him resurrected after he dies (by Asclepius, which is why Asclepius is punished for reviving the dead). This also obviously doesn't address the major glaring logical flaw in Artemis hating all men which is... Apollo. Especially within the series he seems to be an exception for no reason, despite Artemis also very overtly having a "brothers are not an exception to the no-men rule." And from a modern queer standpoint, it obviously begs the question of stuff like gender identity within the Hunt and if you bring back the radfem stuff it gets real bad vibes real fast. Which also sucks when you particularly look at historical/mythological descriptions of Apollo and Artemis and how they very poignantly encompass defying gender roles and expectations particularly within their cultural contexts.

And every time Rick tries to retcon the Hunt, he somehow manages to make it kind of worse, particularly with the oath. I have a whole personal thing for how I think to best rectify all that nonsense in a way that isn't horrible and is related to some of Artemis' aspects in a more sensible way (buried somewhere in this monster of a post. Honestly i'd just recommend ctrl + f search "Hunters" on that post and it should be somewhere near the first ping there). In there I also go into some of my other thoughts for the general meh way the Hunt is written in the series, mostly being aphobic tropes and random death fodder.

So yeah. Basically, tl;dr: I am personally not a huge fan of how Artemis in the series is halfway to being a terf and chock-full of aphobic tropes. And I need Rick to stop retconning things into the ground.

#pjo #riordanverse #hunters of artemis #artemis pjo #analysis #< yeah sure it warrants that tag #ask to tag #zoebelladona #ask #i really need to transfer that open letter rant to tumblr #still amused that rick replied to it within like an hour of me posting it but clearly didnt read it #long post //#also heads up this is only like half-proofread cause i'm ill right now #so i apologize if it's nonsensical at all

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trutrustories · 6 months

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STUDY IN LOKI ROMANCE

Part 4: Heart of the TVA

Since we're only a few days away from the last episode, I decided to COUNT DOWN everything we´ve got so far ( that can be interpreted very easily as romantic ) and discuss what the actual fuck is going on with second season. Because even though I shipped lokius practically from S1E2, I absolutely did NOT expect this kind of development. (Not that I´m complaining)

Warning: This is gonna be LONG post, lots of screenshots, lots of SPOILERS, lot of "oh-my-god-they-so-cute" language, and little bit of meta.

I originally thought that this post would be everything at once, but since I have just too many screenshots this time around, I´ll have to split it. so every post will be one episode. Color coding means:

IIIIIIIIII = anything, that coud potentialy be just acting choice.

IIIIIIIIII = everything else (tzn.: whatever was written, and/or carefully prepared by filmmakers. )

side note: I already wrote, about how amazing it is, that Mobius is unable to fight but fights anyway and how beautifuly, and ridiculously brave he is HERE. But this is about Loki/Mobius interactions, so I´ll try my best not to talk about THAT. (Even when I´m really happy, that s2 continues with this formula and Mobius is still his completely defenseless while aggressively brave self. I love him, btw.)

EPISODE 1 HERE

EPISODE 2 HERE

EPISODE 3 HERE

check-list, episode 4 (my beloved): 33) changing clothes together not to be that person, but like... they always went through the door from TVA on timeline in their "camouflage disguises". So Loki couldn't use his magic to change their clothes. I mean... they even make turning off system that prevents magic plot point in this episode So unless they have some special device in TVA (which was never established) It is implied, that these two just spend some time changing clothes together, before going out. And that brings me to this specific moment: At the end of the previous episode we see them going through the time door (fairly soon after Victor Timely, in 1893 clothing) And this episodes starts with Victor ariving at TVA and wondering around the empty hallways. Alone. So let me get this straight: After we see them both walk through the time door, they end in that war room (were they met in ep1), just the two of them. Victor is.... somewhere. who knows where, who even cares? And they though: it is actualy priority number one to change our clothes. Yes, right now. Never mind, we have He Who Remains variant wondering around the TVA and everything is going to explode soon. We have to take our clothes off. RIGHT THE FUCK NOW. I´m sorry, film makers, but what the acual f-

34) Bickering like married couple (part 4) (but this time with EVERYONE else watching them with question marks above their heads. And these two idiots husbands probably didn´t even noticed xDD )

Also.... "It´s got your shape" 😳 really? really Mobius? And how would you- oh sorry, my bad, never mind. I almost forget you were changing clothes togheter MULTIPLE TIMES, so of course you would know that. ... right? 35) The "misunderstanding trope"

This whole scene is just... jeeez! Sylvie screeming at Mobius for wanting cake (while Loki already knows, that Mobius wants it, because he is in a stress.) He tries to stop Sylvie, but she continues. Loki circles around her and ends up right between them (cough...smybolism...cough) And Sylvie starts attacking Mobius because he doesn´t want to know his life on a timeline. While Loki is RIGHT THERE, knowing perfectly well Mobiuses reason´s and how bad she is hurting him, because episode 2 happened. Loki knows. And then she leaves, and Loki follows her. But Mobius doesn´t know, what we know: and that he went to her to DEFEND HIM. Jeeeeeeez writers.... thanks, for this perfect example of romantic complication. Dramatic irony 100%. I´m living for this relationship drama while everything around them collapses and explodes. 10/10 television!

Also... poor man needed pick-me-up cocoa drink immediately after 😭

36) Pie scene number two I have to say, I LOVED this scene. EVERY FUCKING WORD. philosophical conflicts? yes please. moral dilemas? give me more! but let´s focus on Loki defending Mobius. Him bringing up Thor into the coversation, and comparing his change on Earth (that he didn´t understand before) to his own change that came from spending time at TVA. spending time with Mobius. And he is standing infront of pies this whole time! basicly him low key comparing Thor´s love for Jane to his love for Mobius

And let´s not forget how obvious the difference between two pie scenes is! Because the first one is full of relaxed gestures, kindness and understanding. Just Loki and Mobius being intimite and open with each other 🥹 In glaring contrast with that, THIS scene, with Sylvie is full of conflict, tention and disagreements. The are standind, far from each other, and whole room has completely different (horror like) vibe.

37) THIS SHOT. just the two of them, right before the end.

God I love this episode so much! 💛💛💛

#lokius #loki #loki spoiler #loki spoilers #loki season 2 #mobius #mobius m mobius #loki and mobius

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nikxierocks · 7 months

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House Symbolism with the LOV

Ok so I was just thinking abt how Touya burned down Toga’s home pre final arc and it was totally an act of kindness and from a place of empathy because he knows what it’s like to have a home that rejects you and is the source of all your suffering.

If he was just trying to grow her hatred or something he probably would’ve stoked her negative feelings, but he didn’t. This was as close to an act of comfort as we’re probably ever going to get from Touya in this series.

But that has brought me to a startling realization. Touya is the only main villain (excluding AFO this ain’t abt him) to not destroy his childhood home.

Shigaraki obviously destroyed his when he was a kid; it fits perfectly in line with his themes of destroying things he hates, and tearing down this world that has silently rejected him (and those like him). For a child, their home is basically their whole world. And his (in his own words!) rejected him silently, the same way hero society has rejected the LOV. It makes perfect sense.

Toga’s home being destroyed by Touya also makes sense. Her whole story is about how the league gave her the freedom to be herself and freed her from the judgement of her own family and peers. Of course it would be a league member who tears down the origin of this judgement, who fully frees her from her past. However, it is significant that it wasn’t Toga herself who did this. Because as we realize later, Toga is has not freed herself from the trauma of her family home.

And so, that leaves us with Touya. Sweet baby Touya. His family home is still standing. Fully. The origin of all of his suffering is still standing tall, and he has not freed himself of it. Nor has anyone else. This reflects perfectly in the story, as well. Endeavor is still the number one hero, and Shouto’s still fighting as well. Because of that (at least in his own eyes), Touya cannot be free.

Another thing that I think is really interesting is that both Touya and Toga went back home. Touya upon returning home was met with a cruel rejection and received no comfort, leading him to turn into Dabi. Toga finds the same thing upon returning to her home, but this time someone is there to make things ok. This is definitely very headcanon-y, but I think that’s partially why Touya burned it down. He literally went through the same thing as her, and he’s not going to let her get chained to the painful memory of her past the same way he did. Or something like that. Probably not nearly as virtuous since it is Touya but yk. He’s got a big heart somewhere in there <3

And so this post has come full circle, meaning my work here is now done. My dinner is cold because I wrote this post instead of eating, but it’s worth it because I haven’t made a post in a while!

I love Toga and Touya so much they are literally the siblings ever. One day I’ll go back and reread Tomura stuff too but that’s a mission for another day. Until next time, I’ll see ya later!

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oleander-nin · 11 months

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Smoke and Mirrors(Bakugō Katsuki x Reader)

A/N, not important: Oh wow look, something I forgot to ever post(jk this was written b4 I had a tumblr). Uh, sorry about it, I just felt like y'all needed to suffer too. Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

Tw: old writing, female hinted(sorry), reader puts on makeup, seriously I wrote this a long time ago, Bakugo being a jerk, rejected confession, badly written sad, not beta read, honestly I haven't read this since I last wrote it like 2ish years ago

Words: 1100

Summary: Yes or No may be the normal answers to a confession, but Bakugō can always find something worse to say.

Just being near Bakugō Katsuki was intoxicating. The way a slight smell of caramel and smoke drifted from him, the way his bright red eyes shined in the light, the way his facial expressions changed as he was thinking things over. Even his brash, can-do attitude enticed you. There were so many factors pulling you into him. Not that any of this mattered to him though.

"Hah! How could I ever love someone as useless as you? You’re worse than Deku, always blabbing on and on about stupid things and being such a crybaby when you get scared." He said, mocking you. The same ruby red eyes that once drew you in were now throwing you out, flashing with anger and disgust at you merely being in his presence. How rude can this guy get? All this hatred for a simple confession? Tears started brimming at your eyes as you tried to control your breathing, not particularly wanting to break down in front of him and have his opinion about you being a crybaby be confirmed.

"I'm sorry if my confession offended you, just thought you'd wanna know." You retorted, turning on your heel as you left the classroom, wiping your eyes as you went. "Sorry for wasting your time Bakugō, it won't happen again".

"It'd better not! Come near me again with any sappy stuff and I'll blast yer brains in!"

Whoever said 'the worst they can say is no' has obviously never met someone like Bakugō. All you could do is hold in your tears as you walked away from class 1A and back into your dorm room. You were so glad you decided to do this at the end of the day and not during lunch like you originally planned. Your pace turned into a borderline run, wanting to go to your dorm room as soon as possible. You open the door to the 1-A dorms as the dam finally breaks, tears running down your face as you walk in.

Fortunately, Tsuyu and Uraraka were the only two people in the dorms at the moment. Unfortunately, they were in the dorms at the moment and witnessed you walk through the dorm like the mess you are. Both of them turn their attention away from the television and onto you, your face red and puffy from holding back the tears now pouring down your face.

***

Tsuyu and Uraraka trying to comfort you was a really sweet gesture, and it was kinda helping. Not really, but it's the thought that counts. You stared at the ceiling as they consoled you about the harsh rejection Bakugo gave you.

"It isn't like his opinion really matters, you'll get over him soon enough! Plus, now you don't have to worry about whether or not he likes you, so that's nice. And you shouldn’t be worrying much about dating anyways, we're just first-years.” Uraraka says cheerfully. You appreciated her trying her best to comfort you, you had no idea what you would do without her here to help. Cry probably, but that's beside the point. You were a bit jealous of Ochako though, not that you’d ever admit it. She never has to worry about Midoryia insulting her when she finally gets the courage to confess to him.

Tsuyu nods her head in agreement with Ochako. “He was a big jerk, ribbit, but now you know just how big of a jerk he was, so it might be easier to lose the crush on him, ribbit.”. You groaned and turned over, shoving your face into your soft pillow.

“Maybe you guys are right. I might be able to get over him now. I wish I didn't have to though. Hearing him say all that really hurt.” You said, although your words were a bit muffled as you haven't removed your face from your pillow just yet. Tsuyu nods in agreement to your last statement, rubbing your back comfortingly. Both Ochako and Tsuyu leave, but not before giving you a few more speeches on how amazing you are, and how Bakugou never deserved you anyway. It felt nice to know they cared about you, even if Bakugou didn’t.

Your eyes felt heavy as you thought about the day, silent tears falling down your face as you came to terms with the fact that your crush called you useless. That he thought no more of you than the dirt under his boot. And as much as you hate to admit it, it hurts. It hurts so, so very bad.

When you finally fell asleep, your eyes were red and puffy, your lips swollen from being chewed and bitten so much to try to keep quiet. And if a few sobs escaped despite your valiant efforts last night? Well, nobody has to know.

***

Waking up was hard in the morning. Well, it always was, but today especially. Your alarm went off at a time that felt way too early to be right, your head feels like it’s being crushed in a vice, and your face was still hot and gross looking from all the crying you did last night. All in all, you felt like garbage. You dawdled your way through getting dressed. It isn’t like brushing your teeth a bit longer and more tired than usual really matters. Who really cares if it takes you a few extra minutes to get your tie right, your hands were feeling numb anyway. And so what if your makeup was really only partially done? Not like anyone would notice. You only were using it to cover up your face because it still had some evidence of tears.

The walk to class also took you longer than usual. Who could blame you though, with your headache and heavier than usual limbs? You barely noticed you were moving, and were surprised when you looked up to see the classroom door. You open it begrudgingly and trudge in, happy to have finally made it, but dreading all the schoolwork you have to do today. Iida’s all too loud voice welcomes you, and you know it’s with good intention, but you can’t help but glare at the unwanted sound that's now echoing throughout your head. You deliberately avoid eye-contact with Bakugo, choosing to look around the already familiar room instead. You plop down in your seat behind Midoriya, finding your notebook and a pencil so you can be ready for whatever Aizawa Sensei throws at you. You look at the back of Bakugo’s head one last time and close your eyes. Your friends were right, love really isn’t all that worth it.

#i wrote a bakugo fic #ew #bakugo katuski #katsukibakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo #katsuki bakugo mha #bakugo katsuki #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo fanfiction #bakugo imagine #katsuki #kacchan #bakugo x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #katsuki x you #bakugou katsuki x reader

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preludicrous · 9 months

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i feel the need to elaborate on my last post regarding sigma's past so here it is

this is going to be in part theory crafting and in part headcanon. let's fucking go.

so first, the theory crafting portion: i believe that sigma does have a past, he was not created out of thin air. perhaps not the most groundbreaking theory (depending on how you look at it it can feel quite obvious) but let's examine some evidence:

as we know, sigma was created from the book. so if we want to learn about sigma, we need to understand the book. luckily, BEAST contains a good amount of information regarding how the book works.

to paraphrase what dazai says here: the book contains an infinite number of alternate universes within it, worlds that have as much merit as the "real" world in every sense other than they don't exist outside the book. when the book "creates" something, it doesn't materialize something from nothing. it pulls from these alternate universes. it makes the alternate universe "real".

going off of this explanation, it means that sigma is to be originally from one of these alternate universes. another piece of evidence for this: sigma appears in the desert with a train ticket to a station that doesn't exist. the person who wrote sigma into existence only wanted to create someone who had a powerful ability suited to crime. nowhere is the train ticket mentioned, so why would he appear with it? and moreover, why specifically a station that doesn't exist?

because it's an artifact from sigma's original universe. sigma in the original universe was going to take the train to somewhere when he was pulled into the main universe where his destination does not exist.

one last point to this theory: fyodor says that sigma has amnesia. amnesia is the inability to remember. if sigma doesn't have a past, what is there to remember? unless sigma has a past, but when he was "created" by the book and pulled into a different universe, he forgot his past. he can't remember who he is. equally as interesting is dazai describing him as a "novel that begins from the middle". the beginning of the novel is somewhere out there in the multiverse of the book.

this isn't,, without it's flaws (sigma actually breaks the rules of the book in several ways, one such way that his existence doesn't follow the "logical continuity" the book requires because how the fuck is a fully grown man materializing in the desert logically continuous) BUT i still think it has decent merit.

now, onto headcanon territory:

i think sigma probably came from a universe where he had the things that he currently longs for: a home, a community where he belongs, and a purpose. he was secure and happy.

there's no evidence for it, but i like this idea because it's kind of poetic: what's more tragic than a man who materialized out of nothing, with no past and no home and nowhere he belongs? a man who had a home, and had somewhere he belonged, but then had it ripped away from him by forces beyond his control, dropped into another universe in the desert with no memories of his past and nowhere to return to.

it also fits really nicely with sigma's motivation, why he is so desperate to keep his casino even if it means committing global terrorism. he may not remember it, but he has lost his home once already. thus, when he does find another place where he belonged, he defends it with his life - he already went through the pain of losing his home once, and no part of him wants to go through that again.

i'll go one step further: my personal headcanon is that sigma was originally from his universe's armed detective agency.

this idea... i just, really, really like it. we know sigma does want to join the ADA, and the ADA is home for so many misfit ability users- wouldn't it be interesting if instead of finding a new home, sigma joining the ADA would be him returning home, returning to the one place he belonged and finding it again after spending so long lost at sea?

plus, the one thing we know about the conditions that "created" sigma was that the book was asked to produce someone with an ability suited to crime. i'm not sure about you, i know of an organization that is full of ability users, with some abilities which are suited for crime...

and sigma's information exchange ability is uncannily suitable for detective work as well...

#bsd spoilers #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd sigma #sigma #bsd headcanon #headcanon #bsd theory #sigma bsd #bungou sd

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alyshiba · 1 year

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Lilagon hen zaldrizoti

Prequel: the bethrotal

Read on Ao3

Summary: AU where Visenya, Rhaenyra's only daughter lives and is born as her eldest child. To all of Westeros she is seen as the only trueborn child of Ser Leanor and Rhaenyra, but in truth her father happens to be Deamon.

Author's note: Well, I feel bad for chapter 8, so I thought of treating yall with a Christsmas gift. This is a prequel to the main fic, set in episode 8. It will be devided in 2 parts, the other will be posted tomorrow. Consider it your Christmas Targryen dinner <3 Merry Christmas to those who celebrate it, Happy Hannukah (hope I wrote it correctly) to those who are celebrating it, and idk, enjoy this period of the year to those who do not celebrate anything, or who celebrate other things instead <3 Edit: This was alway supposed to be a one shot, I got cocky, thinking that I might turn it into a two, or three, chapters thing. Turns out I couldn't. So I'll repost the whole thing at it was meant to be originally.

Warning: violence and smut. This is your Chrismas smut.

When her family reached the main gate of the Red Keep she was still up in the air with Balerion. Her mother had traveled by ship, for her pregnancy prevented her from riding Syrax, and her siblings had elected to be with her, not to leave her alone. Still, Balerion was too much of a symbol of Targaryen legitimacy to be left on Dragonstone, so she and her father had decided to travel together on dragonback. The journey was quick, and easy, it was not what left a bad taste in her mouth, a sense of annoyance in her guts. She had told Daemon that landing outside the pit was not going to be a good idea, that unlike Caraxes, who was used to being occasionally housed in that wretched structure, Baleion hated it. With a passion. So when they landed, and one of the keepers foolishly waved his staff to convince her black mount to try and fit in the keep, her dragon just squished him under his paw. He looked at him, and if he had brows he would raise one in mock of the ant screaming at him, and just stomp his giant paw on the fool’s body.

She pitied the other keepers who had to scrap his remains out of the ground.

Daemon laughed, while conducting himself the Red Wyrm inside the pit, while she had to make up excuses. You stand too close, she had said, he cannot see you, you have to mind his size, and not run under his paws. And ultimately decided to mount back again in the saddle and take off, as a precaution, since she could clearly sense Balerion’s growing anger. All directed towards the place he had been chained to by Jahaerys for years, after his last rider’s horrible death.

When she felt Balerion calm down enough she bid him to find a place to land, somewhere he liked to nest. There must have been a place for him, somewhere Aegon, and Maegor after him, thought when planning the construction of the Red Keep. It appeared such a place was a sandy beach, just outside the walls of the Keep. There was a small path leading down to shore, a lot of steps, and above it a small wooden door. A passage, likely an escape tunnel, that probably led inside the keep.

The dark, tiny stone corridor led in the training yard. She heard it before she even saw it. She heard the clanging of swords, the occasional applause to a fight well fought.

She reached the yard to see not as many people as she expected to, the Kingsguard were there, some Lords, eager to see the princes, and her brothers, Jace and Luke, wandering towards the weapons stack. <<Nobody would question your place as heir to Driftmark, if we looked more like Ser Laenor Velaryon and less..>> Luke paused, lowering his voice, <<like ser Harwin Strong>>. Her heart stopped for a second, in pain for her brothers. Where she wore the silver lock and purple eyes of house Targaryen, symbolizing her status as trueborn daughter of Ser Laenor, even if few knew better, her brothers bore the dark hair and dark eyes of their true father. Many times it was argued that it came from the Baratheon blood in them, from their grandmother Rhaenys, but everyone seemed to know.

<<You are a dragon>> She said to her brothers both, <<and dragons do not worry themself over the opinion of lesser creatures>> Jace agreed with her, patting the younger brother on the shoulder. <<You weren’t with Daemon>> He questioned, looking at her with a half grin, <> Jace laughed. Luke was horrified. Visenya huffed, and turned away towards the sounds of broken wood and fighting. A small crowd gathered in one corner of the yard, circling what surely must have been an interesting fight. Jace patted them both on the shoulders and bid his siblings to follow him in that direction. It took her a glimpse of long, straight silver hair for her to understand that perhaps it wasn’t such a great idea after all.

When they reached their destination she saw Criston Cole, the arrogant, smug Kingsguard she now knew to be the Queen’s sworn shield, swinging his morningstar at Aemond. Man had he grown. She remembered a time where he was maybe half his current stature, a timid boy picked on by the others. She admired him more than the fight, he was tall, and judging by the fact that he didn’t finch or fall when Cole’s morningstar hit his shield he must be strong. Very much so. She admired how fluidly his body moved, how his muscles flexed with deadly precision. How he was able to avoid the morningstar, shield now discarded and forgotten, so quickly, even with his injury. Aemond quickly spun, now facing them and Criston, so she could appreciate his defined lineaments, his sharp jaw, high cheekbones, and the large scar that graced one entire side of his face. He wore an eyepatch over the yee she knew he lost. She wondered if the eye was still there, or if it had been carved out. She wondered what it looked like, under the patch, was there a hole? Could she see the insides of his head ? Or has his eyelids been kept sewn shut ?

With the corner of her eye she saw how her brothers looked worried. It was no secret the hatred that Aemond bore towards them, Luke specifically. And seeing how deadly and skilled he had become, despite his injury, because of it, she realized. It was because he lacked half of his vision that he had to become so skilled with the sword, so better than anyone else. She could understand her brothers’ uneasiness. But she couldn’t help the throb in her core, the warmth that took a hold of that spot between her legs. The urge to press her thighs together to apply some pressure. She needed to go back to her chambers.

Cole looked tired, swinging his morningstar required a lot of strength, and Aemond was clever enough to let him do it, over and over again, until the knight was too exhausted to lucidly parry the young Prince’s attacks. It took Aemond one spin and one blow to be able to raise his sword to Cole’s neck. For a second she wished he would push the blade in the knight’s throat, see his blood being spilled.

She applauded the display alongside the other people gathered, her eyes trained on the one eyed Prince, <<well done my Prince>> said the Kingsguard between heavy breaths, <<you’ll win tourneys in no time>> but it was not on Cole that Aemond’s attention was anymore. She saw his eye finding her brothers first, <> he said. His voice was deep, deep and soft like velvet, <<nephews>> he finally said, addressing her brothers. Both Luke and Jace straightened their backs when their uncle spoke to them, <<have you come to train?>> there was a dark glimmer of excitement in the lilac orb of Aemond. She knew he wished for nothing more than to beat them up, probably both at the same time. Just to show his better skill, even with his one eye. Was she a terrible sister if she wished to see it? If she got aroused while her brothers were shamed by their uncle?

<<;Niece>> Called the same velvety voice, sweeter this time, not like honey or sugar, but like a sweet poison, it snapped her from her trance and cut clean the string of her thoughts, dirty thoughts. Aemond discarded his training sword and started to walk in her direction, she saw it in his eye that he decided to find new ways to hurt their brothers, <<your beauty is that of a goddess>> he delicately grabbed her hand and kissed her knuckles. It took everything in her not to laugh at his face. Visenya turned briefly and saw how Jace and Luke were barely containing themself, she felt Aemond’s grin on the soft skin of her hands. <<Have you come to spend time amongst true dragons?>> She was waiting for the insult, she knew it would come. She hummed, faking amusement at her uncle’s pun, <<this days a prefer.. stronger company, I fear, my beloved uncle>> she delicately slid her hand from his grip and started walking towards her brothers, and the inside of the keep. Where she knew their mother was waiting for them.

It didn’t take long before her walk was stopped, by Criston Cole this time, <<;Princess>> he bowed. It was more of an insult than a reverence, <> her blood boiled. That man had the ability to irate her like no other. She felt the fire, she wanted to breathe flames on his body and enjoy looking at him burning.

A thud, the ground and walls shaking, it was what kept her from responding. A low growl and a shadow who blocked the sun. Cirston’s face contorted in horror. The fear in eyes, the amusement badly hidden in Aemond’s. Her brothers’ grins. All of this fed the flames of her rage.

She kept her eyes in Cole’s dark orb, <> his body went rigid in memory, <> she enjoyed torture, the rage she knew he felt and couldn’t let out, <<or a son>> Visenya kept her eyes in Cole’s as she began to circle him, <<is that because of his injury, hmm>> she moved to his right side, his face snapping in her direction not live her stare, as if she could stab him any moment. She wished she could, <<or is it all the late nights you spent with his mother the Queen? Your.. devotion to her grace that compels you to take care of her children?>> She felt Aemond’s rage at the suggestion, and saw Cole’s cold sweat dripping down his neck. She was joking, she had no way of knowing what happened inside the keep while she was way on Dragonstone, but the sheer terror she could read in Criston’s eyes were indicators that somehow she hit a sore spot, <> she whispered in his ear, for him only to hear, <> her wild grin only grew when she saw his body tense and go rigid.

<<;Look at him>> Visenya said out loud, tilting her head towards the large dragon perched on the walls right in front of them. Everyone turned, not just Criston Cole and Aemond, not far behind, <<Balerion believes this walls and halls to be his>> she said for all to hear, <<he still vividly remembers when the Conqueror ordered the construction of this keep, when he made him breath fire on the pile of swords that compose the throne that belongs to my grandfather, he sees all of you as guests in his halls>> she said, looking at Aemond, <<and be mindful, dragons are rather territorial. History should tell you what he did to those who challenged his riders, what happened to Aenys’s brood>> she didn’t even need to mention Maegor’s name to stir fear in the hearts of the presents.

Balerion highlighted her words with a low growl, one that made most of the people in the yard scramble inside, <<if you care to remain in this world, Criston>> she refused to call him by his title of knight. He had forsaken his vow, even if her mother was the one guilty of instigating it. He could have left her in her room that kight, <<you should remember your place and how to properly address your superior. And who this halls will one day belong to.>>

She smirked noticing how Aemond looked uneasy, not at her display of power, he was grinning, he loved it she understood. Her gaze trailed down for a moment, it was his trousers who made him uncomfortable, too tight she knew. Visenya bit her bottom lip and left. She had to be in her room as soon as she could.

—

The next time they saw each other was in the throne room. It was packed with people, the entire royal family, the remaining Velaryons and everyone who was peasant at court, higher and lower Lords and Ladies. All anxiously awaiting to hear about the issue of the succession of Driftmark.

Criston Cole was nowhere to be seen.

<<Though it is the great hope of this court that Lord Corlys Velaryon survive his wounds,>> Began the booming voice of the Hand. He was too comfortable in her grandfather’s throne, Visenya thought. It is a seat for dragons, not for a lesser born second son. <<We gather here with the grim task of dealing with the succession of Driftmark. As Hand I speak with the King’s Voice on this and all other matters>> She and Daemon sneered, at almost the same time. Rhaenyra glared at them both, but they couldn’t help themselves. How can such a second son to a lesser house pretend to speak with the voice of a dragon? She wanted to shout, how could he so blatantly disrespect his King’s wishes. The same King he so adamantly claimed to serve? She wanted to climb the steps and rip him out from the throne. To teach him a lesson. She felt her father’s hand on her elbow, silently telling her to calm down. To allow him to talk his nonsense.

<<The true, unimpeachable blood of House Velaryon runs through my veins>> Claimed Lord Velaryon pleading his cause, <;<and not in mine?>> Visenya reached her point of break, the insults veiled in Vaemond’s speech too much to bear and stay silent.

The Lord turned, he looked at her, <<Am I not the first born daughter of Ser Laenor Velaryon? Tell, me Vaemond, how can a second brother overstep the offsprings of the firstborn son of Driftmark?>>

<<Your mother will have her chance to make her own petition, Princess>> Came the voice of Alicent Hightower, <<Do ser Vaemond the courtesy of allowing his to be heard>> Rhaenyra gripped her hand, pleading to stop. But Visenya was her father’s daughter, too much like Daemon to calmly wait out the storm.

<> She said turning her attention toward the Queen consort, <<it is courtesy enough given the insults spoken towards my mother, my father’s memory and towards his own brother>> she saw Otto Hightower’s grip on the throne’s handles tighten. She hoped it cut him.

<<The craven couldn’t wait for his own brother’s death to try and seize his title. I hear he didn’t even go to sit at Lord Corlys’ side once, such was his taste for power>> She continued, relentless, unforgiving, <<I wonder why Vaemond stood, unmoving, when the pirates attacked my grandfather’s ship. From atop Balerion I saw you cowardice, or rather your lust for power, as you stood motionless spectating your own brother’s fall>> She was at Vaemon’s side now, hearing the court’s whispers, <> Vaemond’s face was unreadable, too many emotions all at once were depicted on his face. <> She continued, <> kinslayer, was the word whispered in the hall, power hungry, man without honor. Visenya had reached her goal, Vaemond’s case, despite the favor of the greens, just crumbled, falling like the dry leaves on a tree's branches in autumn. Gone and forgotten like the cinders she left on the Stepstones, that once belonged to the thriarcy’s soldiers.

Viserys’s presence was anymore needed, yet her heart warmed at the sight of her grandfather come to defend his only daughter, as her mother confessed she had called her. She glanced once in the direction of her uncles, while her father helped the old King to sit on his throne. She disliked them. Not because of her mother’s and Alicent’s feud, or because of the rift in her family, she disliked them because not once in her life had they made her feel welcomed. She disliked Aegon, most of all, she hated his grin, and the light hand wave he gave her when he saw her looking. The sight of him repulsed her. The sight of his hands even more so.

Aemond had a grin on his face. She couldn’t know why, nor did she cared to. Then there was Helaena. Sweet Helaena, always lost in her world and her bugs.

Her trance was broken once again by the irritating voice of Vaemond Velaryon, <> the fool said, <<allow it?>> came the voice of Viserys. He was weaker than she ever saw him, his illness eating him away slowly. But even in that moment she saw the shadow of the dragon he was, the flames burning in the back of mind. She admired him, him and his strength, she couldn’t understand the strength it took him to get there despite his decaying body, the resilience in settling this matter once and for all.

The discussion went on, but she didn’t listen, she was focused on her mother’s hand gripping her wrist, on her silent plea to stay still and do nothing, to let the King settle the matter. To not act for once, like her father would.

< Vaemond said, a dead man standing, she grinned, <<say it>> Daemon whispered. Visenya grinned, savoring the chaos about to erupt.

She saw the fear in the eyes of Otto Hightower, fear for her father, and the resignation on the King's feature, he too knew his brother too well.

<<Her children are bastards!>> The corpse shouted, the King leaned over on his throne, the Queen held his breath and her uncles grinned, <<and she is a whore>> she wished she could be the one to end it.

It took one only precise swing to cut Vaemond's head in half, <<he can keep his tongue>> said Daemon to his brother, after he had called for the beheaded man’s tongue after the insult shouted.

The half of Vaemond’s head rolled at her feet, she kicked it and it rolled so that now it balanced on what was left of his skull, revealing the insides of it, <<empty, as I thought>> she proclaimed. Her father laughed. The Queen was disgusted, the King fed up, Aegon was petrified, poor Halaena was almost panicking, she felt terrible for her sweet aunt, and Aemond was almost excited. She wondered again what she could see from the hole in eye socket. She wondered if he wished to live with such impunity like her father, he dreamt of himself being in his shoes, with Luke instead of Vaemond. She wished to know what it felt like, possessing the strength to behead a man with such ease.

<<;Disarm him!>> shouted the hand, <;<no need>> sang her father, cleaning Darksister with his cloak.

Her mother let out a long breath, relieved and angered both. Visenya knew she hated when she and her father took harsh decisions without her counsel. But this was necessary and even she understood. Vaemond Velaryon could have been left to live after the accusation. Even if he was right to call them bastards.

<<Enough of this nonsense>> Came the weakening voice of Viserys, <<it warms my heart to see my family all reunited>> he couldn’t speak more than a few words before taking a break to breath, it was painful to see, <<we shall celebrate it with a feast tonight>> Visenya tried to remember the man she saw in her youth, the strong King she admired, who so kindly spent time with her as a child. Her and her brothers, never his other children she bitterly thought.

<<And to further unite our house>> He breathed, turning to look at her, oh no, she thought freezing under her grandfather’s gaze. She knew what he was about to say, and her parents too, she could see it in the way Rhaenyra’s grip tightened, in how her breaths were deeper. She saw it in Daemon’s hand gripping the hilt of Darksister, on his eyes of the brother he loved and loathed at the same time, <<come forward Visenya, my first grandchild>> she obeyed her king, she didn’t have any other choice. <<You are the image of my mother>> He smiled briefly, <<and of my father>> she knew little of Baelon and Alyssa, save that they both died before their time. Visenya returned her grandfather’s smile, despite the grip that took a hold of her stomach, <<willful and beautiful, and clever beyond your age>> she bowed in thanks. Yet the compliments didn’t ease the hold her stomach was in, nor did they make her accept easily what was about to happen.

He slowly turned towards his wife, his wife and her children. <<Aemond>> He called. She saw her uncle stiffen, and bow, and when Viserys signaled him to come closer he did so, quietly. There was no love in his lilac eye, no empathy for the suffering King on the throne, he was afraid maybe, but just because that man was his King. There was no love between Aemond and his father, and she found it deeply sad. <<My dear children, it is my wish to see you united in marriage>> Visenya was frozen in her spot, her arms limp on her sides, her mind filled with one thought, repeated over and over again, <<;to further unite our family, as it should be>>, she did not hear the rest of it. Visenya stood there, frozen like a statue, thinking that sooner rather than later she will belong to the man next to her. That he could do as he pleased with her, and her body. It was a terrifying thought.

When they arrived for dinner thankfully her uncles were still nowhere to be seen. She sat at the head of the table, close to her father who was still fuming from the events of the day.

He had spent the rest of the afternoon irate, screaming and throwing things left and right. Visenya however, just sat, she sat and watched her father’s ire, her mother’s worried face, and her brothers' angry expressions. She knew that sooner rather than later she had to marry, there was a time where she knew it would be in the family, a time when the rift between them wasn’t so large and irreparable, a time when she knew that her bond with Balerion was too important to House Targaryen for her to be sold to any other House.

And there was a time when she was content in that knowledge, when she told herself that at least she got to know her future husband better than any other Lady, his flaws and his character. It felt like a lifetime ago.

Now the prospect of wedding Aemond Targaryen terrified her. It terrified her because she would be forced in the viper's den, she would be forced to spend time with them, with Aegon.

She could not take her mother’s side once she was married, she could not support her, she would be expected to obey her husband. Her husband whom she knew hated her brother Luke and her family with every single fiber of his tall, muscular body. Her husband who, in the privacy of their chambers, could do everything he wished. Even slid her throat and eliminate her mother’s greatest weapon, the one reason the peace was holding. The one dragon that could end any and all rebellions by himself.

They entered moments before her grandfather. Aemond took the seat right in front of her, on the other side of the table. Never once did his eye leave her. She returned the gaze, unwilling to show fear, or to make him think that she would easily bow to his will.

Visenya stood, like everyone else, when guards came to bring the chair in which Viserysìs sat. His body was so weak that now even supporting itself was too great of a taks. The guards placed him in the center, between his daughter and his wife.

<<Prayer before we begin?>> Asked the weak voice of Alicent, she sneered like Daemon. And watched as everyone joined their hands. Hers remained on her lap. It was odd, however, to see Aemond’s head bow in prayer, the perfect image of a pious man. She wondered if he was really so religious, or if he was simply pleasing her mother.

<<May the smith mend the bonds that have been broken for far too long>> How big of a hypocrite could Alicent be? Did she not forget her contribution to those broken bonds? Did she not forget that it was her father, her son, her betrayal towards her mother’s friendship that generated this situation? <<And to Vaemond Velaryon, may the Gods give him rest>> Visenya turned towards her father, Daemon was suppressing a laugh. She bit her lips to avoid making a sound. Her mother glared her disapproval. They both turned to look down at their laps, to avoid showing their expression. To Vaemond Velaryon she thought, snickering. The audacity.

She raised her head once again, Aemond’s eye was still on her. Not her face though, no. Visenya grinned, he was staring at her body, at the low cut of her dress. ‘Aemond is a man’ Said her mother after Daemond had calmed enough to allow conversations to be had, ‘and your body is a weapon he cannot resist’ she supposed her mother was right. <<Aemond>> The old King called, his son snapped his head in the direction of the sound. Has Viserys ever cared to call his son ? How many times had Aemond heard his name coming from the lips of his father in the last nine years? <<Why are you seated so far from your future wife?>> She saw Alicent’s face drop, was he her favorite son ? It certainly looked like it, seeing how her expression hardened when Aemond stood from his chair. As if someone had sewered a limb from her body at that very moment. An important piece of information at least.

She turned to look at her father, he stiffened and glared at his brother. Do nothing she pleaded in her mind. Jace and Baela were ready to make space, but she moved first. The Princess slid her chair closer to her father, and gestured for the new chair to be placed at her side. She would avoid Daemon sitting in front of his nephew. Gods forbid giving Daemon a target for his ires.

Aemond sat without ceremonies, <<a toast, to the three young couples>> called the King. Everyone raised his glass. She saw her future husband stiffen, Visenya followed his gaze to see Aegon, whispering something to Jace.

It didn’t take long before Viserys was brought back to his chambers, his body could endure all so much. And the moment he left, all the toasts and wishes of good faith left with him. It was as if their family was starting to rot and decay like his body. A chill went down her spine, what would happen when they finally lost the one frail thing that binds them all together? Would war ensure the moment Viserys died?

In the end it started with a dance: she huffed when Jace stood and asked Helaena to dance with him. To her good soul it probably was an innocent act, to everyone else, a scorn to Aegon.

She saw a glare of anger in Aemond’s face, it was much more evident than in his brother’s. Visenya slid a hand on his thigh, his muscular, strong thigh. Aemond’s head snapped immediately in her direction. <<Helaena is a great dancer>> She said, he hummed, offering her his hand, a silent invitation to join the dances, the polite thing to do, <<oh no>> Visenya laughed, <;> she whispered. It worked, if the way he slowly swallowed his saliva was any indication, now his attention was going to be nowhere near her brothers, if she played well enough.

Her hand stayed on his thigh caressing it lightly, Aemond didn’t complain.

<<A final tribute>> Called Aegon, once his wife was returned to him, <<to my brother and his future wife>> Visenya’s free hand gazed at the knife on the side of the table, her betrothed saw, and so did her father. <<And to my nephews, all wise, handsome..>> She knew what he would say, she removed her hand from his thigh and grabbed the cup in front of her, <> then she felt Aemond’s hand, his big calloused hand on her leg. He grabbed the soft flesh of her thigh, probably in the vain hope that she would stay put and ignore the insult. Visenya grinned, crossing her legs and trapping her future husband’s hand too close to her core.

She leaned over, brushing her breasts on Aemond’s bicep, holding her cup high,<<and to you, my Lord Hightower>> She said, toasting towards Aegon, she acted before any of her brothers could do anything stupid. Daemon sneered, Aemond’s grip tightened, her mother pleaded her to stop with a look.

<<Look at me, niece, don’t I look like a Targaryen should?>> He said. Indeed he did, he had the silver hair and the purple eyes typical of their house. <<So do all the whores in Lys, yet none feel the urge to shout it out loud>> She laughed. Rhaenyra closed her eyes, Daemon laughed, her brothers grinned. The Hightowers looked horrified. Aemond’s hand gripped a bit tighter her soft flesh, she felt a shiver crawling towards her core.

Her mother then stood, to toast Alicent and her loyalty towards Viserys, to the unfaltering love she had shown him even in his sickness. Visenya supposed that it was due to the guilt she felt towards her childhood friend, to the friendship her marriage destroyed.

The dinner proceeded then, the table clearly divided in two apart from Aemond who unceremoniously stood, excusing himself for a moment.

She waited for what felt like a reasonable amount of time before standing herself, pretending she needed to use the privy. Visenya was never one to make her prey escape.

She strolled in the general direction of the bath, it was a small, dark room lit only by lanterns hung high on the stone floor. It wasn’t hard to spot Aemond’s tall figure, even in the dim light. She sneaked closer, inching towards his back. There was no mistaking what he was doing, given the rhythmic movements of his arm.

<<Isn’t this a sin?>> Visenya asked in the sweetest tone she could muster, while grabbing at his muscular arms. She felt his entire body stiffen, in embarrassment surely. The Princess pressed herself on his back, caressing her way down the curves of his arms, towards his big hands. <<Will your gods punish you still, if I am the one committing this sin?>> She mewled cupping his hands. Aemond groaned, letting his hands fall and allowing her to grip his hardened length.

Visenya started to stroke him, up and down. She couldn’t really see what she was doing, with her face pressed on his shoulder, but he could feel the smooth skin of his member, the almost imperceptible movements of his hips, back and forth, his labored breaths. <<Were you thinking of me?>> She asked, the only reply she got was a low moan that sent shivers down her spine.

<<When we will be married>> Aemond finally said, between groans and moans, she took note of her hands becoming wetter, as did her core, <> she laughed, and willed her hands to move faster.

It didn’t take long for him to finish, which left her with tacky, wet hands, and a wet, needy cunt.

<<When we are married>> Visenya said, reaching the water basin to wash away that annoying feeling from her hands, <<;I shall bite your cock off>> she wondered how terrible it might feel, that wetness, tackiness, not on her fingers but on her inner thigh. It was not something she would love to, Visenya decided.<<We will see>> Whispered Aemond in her ear, right before disappearing in the darkness.

Taglist: @hawsx3, @readsalot73 @tempt-ress @but-i-write-so-i-must-count @arignipanja574 @scaraxmouche @softyelfdragon If you wish to be added to the taglist, and notified as soon as I post any update, please comment!

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amenemisa · 11 months

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Aaah! Mushroomfields and their fictions! Their fictions always make me feel better and worse!

I drew this drawing one or two week ago after reading their fiction about reincarnation again. -and i will read it again... who loves pain? me?? nopeee(!)- Then I couldn't help but paint and here it is. Hmm I have to say that I actually drew this drawing entirely on their fiction, so they were totally my muse. But as a result, i played around with a thing or two myself, so at this point I can say that i went a little bit out of the original text they wrote. There was no such information about the outfit Fukuzawa was wearing but I like to see Fukuzawa like this. And Mori by Mushroomfields didn't get the job done with a single finger grip, hehe. Anyway! Long story short, my muse was definitely Mushroomfields and what I'm drawing here outlines the scene in their fiction, but what I'm drawing is far from the scene in that fiction. Ehm... thank you for listening to the turmoil in my mind, and I strongly suggest you read their fiction. I'll leave a short excerpt here for you~

<Fukuzawa stood in utter boredom amongst the crowd of dressed up guests filling the ballroom, filled with too many enemy organisations that Fukuzawa was throughly sick conversing to as though they wouldn’t all pull a gun on one another the moment this night of a truce was over. It felt fickle, something Fukuzawa didn’t like to indulge in when he was nothing if not a realist. Yet, there was one man amongst them all, one enemy somewhere in the crowd that Fukuzawa would be more than happy to indulge. It showed.

When finally Mori had come to rescue him from his circle of small talk. The younger man passed Fukuzawa’s conversing circle, his body coming close enough for their shoulder’s to brush, and his eyes didn’t dare look to Fukuzawa, the two not even giving away a hint of acknowledgment to the other as Mori ghosted by. But, hidden from view of any possible prying eyes, Fukuzawa felt Mori’s pointer finger touch his palm hanging by his side, the other tracing a slow line from Fukuzawa’s pinkie all the way up to his wrist, teasingly tempting in the way Mori knew Fukuzawa would follow.

Mori continued walking by until Fukuzawa watched from the corner of his eye as the younger left outside the large door’s of the ballroom, before he cleared his throat. The circle stopped idly talking for a moment to direct their attention to Fukuzawa as he nodded once to them all, gracefully placing his half drunken Champaign glass on a waiter’s tray passing by.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Fukuzawa regarded, before turning on his heel and swiftly locating his way through the crowd until he reached the ballroom’s doors. Just like that, in one simple touch he was chasing after Mori like two opposite ends of a magnet compelled towards each other.>

And yes I'll probably be on the exam when this is posted on my tumblr, wish me luck~

#fukumoriweek2023 #fukumori #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd mori #bsd fukuzawa #drawing #fanart #painting #fukuzawa #mori #ougai #mori ougai #yukichi #fukuzawa yukichi #zenku soukoku #zenki soukoku

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iamthecomet · 1 month

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@purlty23 tagged me in This game and I'm super excited about it! (I tried to reblog the original post and just tack on but tumblr hates me)

Thanks Blue, this was so fun!

I'm tagging: @amara-among-the-stars, @mac-and-thefox, @littlemoon-beam, @divine-misfortune and whoever else also wants to expose their sins to the internet. Under the cut, because LONG.

Xena Warrior Princess - Passive Enjoyer Only passive because I was too young to be anything else. Barely counts, except that this show was my first real obsession so I have to include it. I dressed up as Xena for halloween when I was like…5. The pictures are incredible.

Good Charlotte - Mostly passive As is a trend with a lot of these, I wrote a little fan fic, and daydreamed a thousand scenarios, but never shared any of it. I was mildy obsessed with Benji Martin, but I didn't really get involved beyond that.

LOTR - Creative Enjoyer The first fan-fic I ever posted on the internet (I was twelve, people were mean). I didn't make any friends within the fandom. But I was so determined to write for it that I had an entire novel planned out--that eventually became an original book idea instead.

Harry Potter- Mostly Passive I read a lot of HP fanfic, but not as much as others. I didn't get involved in online conversations. I did dabble in writing some fics that I hid from the world and never finished.

The Boston Red Sox - Creative Enjoyer Ok. Now you know why I said I was exposing myself. Look I was like 12-14. My best friend and I filled entire notebooks with our MANY chaptered fic that spanned the entire 2004 Red Sox Season, that we started the day they won the world series that year. We hand wrote it all, I transcribed it into my computer where it still exists somewhere. It was our EVERYTHING. And it has never (and will never) see the light of day. I may have posted some Red Sox fic on the internet in my Live Journal days, and I made a bunch of online friends within that community, but they never saw THE fic.

Rammstein - Creative Enjoyer Again, my best friend and I had a notebook with a long form rammstein fic in. We didn't go as far with this one. And I didn't get involved in any online communities. Though, our love for Rammstein lived a lot longer than our fic writing did.

Twilight - Creative Enjoyer In that I wrote and posted a single fic about Alice.

Lost - Passive Enjoyer. I read a billion Skate fics. Probably thought about writing my own, but I don't think I ever actually did. Was obsessed with this show until the last season. I still have never seen the last episode.

Vampire Academy (THE BOOKS) - Passive Enjoyer. Not a lot online. Read some fic. Was so obsessed with this book that I started to write a fanfic where we got to see some of the story from Dimitri's persepective and accidentally created and entire new plot and new characters and accidentally created my own CHILD of an original novel because of it.

Grishaverse (Shadow and Bone/Six of Crows/Rule of Wolves) - Passive Enjoyer Loved these books. Loved every single character. Read as much fanfic as I could find. Accidentally spoiled a death in one of the books with fanfiction.

Avenged Sevenfold - Creative Enjoyer Short lived. Read some INCREDIBLE fics on the basically defunct site Mibba and thought "I can do that" and was fighting for my life in college. Wrote a few chapters of a fic. Got decent feedback. Got bored immediately.

Supernatural - passive enjoyer Read some fic. Took me like 15 tries to actually get through the whole show. Adored it, never went very far with it.

Marvel (Specifically The Winter Soldier) - Passive Enjoyer. I should have been a creative enjoyer, but was too afraid to write anything or put myself out there. (I spent all of my time after high school/college thinking that fanfic was a waste of time and I should never write it because I needed to be serious. What a waste). Still mildly obsessed with BuckyNat. I adore Bucky and Black Widow. If they put out another good movie I could see myself falling down that rabbit hole and actually letting myself land. The trailer for The Winter Soldier changed my brain chemistry (nevermind the whole move).

Fallout 4 - Passive Enjoyer I could read Sole Survivor/Paladin Danse fics every day forever. I know that's insane. Stop looking at me like that.

Ghost - Creative Enjoyer. Finally allowed myself to write whatever the fuck I want and have fun with it and it has changed my entire fucking life. Wish I'd done it sooner. So glad I got to do it now and with all of you. ♥

#comet comments #tag game #fandom game #I adore this so much blue!!!

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simping4villains · 1 year

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I’m usually a Feitan girlie, but here’s a little Shalnark one shot that I wrote recently! It’s posted on ao3 and wattpad along with my ongoing Feitan fic (all under the same username).

Please give me some requests bc I love writing little scenarios like these!

Anyway:

Our original plan had failed.

As soon as we got to the special event island, we were stopped by one of the game’s creators and beamed to one of the main cities. Shalnark decided that it would be best for us to find somewhere to rest tonight and regroup in the morning.

“Come on,” he said to us. “There’s a place up the road where we can rent lodging for the night.”

"So, now what?" I asked while we walked. "Can we still go through with the rest of the mission? We don't have the boat anymore."

He rubbed his chin as he thought. "I guess for now we'll just play the game until we can find another way off of the island."

"What he means," Phinks clarified, "Is that we'll steal whatever cards we need in order to get the treasure. That's what Fei and I did before."

"Right," Shal agreed as he pushed through the front door of one of the city's brick buildings.

The decor inside was very old and rustic-looking. I noticed that there were cobwebs wrapping around the chandelier that hung in the center of the room. There was a small cat-like man sitting in one of the lobby's plush chairs, reading a book. He smiled at us as we came in, hopping up to run behind the counter.

"Hello! What can I do for you folks?"

"We'd like to rent six rooms, please," Shalnark answered.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I'm afraid I've only got three left."

"Should we go somewhere else?" Franklin asked Shal.

"No, no, we can just pair off—you and Kortopi, Phinks and Feitan, and me and y/n.” He gave me a warm smile as he said my name.

I appreciated Shalnark’s offer to room with me, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t surprised by it. I didn’t think we were necessarily the closest. Then again, who was I really close with out of these guys—Phinks and Feitan? Definitely not, the three of us just teamed up for missions sometimes. Maybe he figured that out of everyone in this group I’d feel least threatened rooming with him. He did have a very welcoming presence after all.

We grabbed our keys from the man behind the counter and climbed the stairs to our shared room.

“I’m excited for our sleepover,” he beamed as he unlocked the door. “I’ve been dying to get to know you better, it’s just that we’ve both been so busy—you with your training and me trying to plan this mission—but what a perfect opportunity this is!”

“Yeah,” I agreed, returning his grin.

It was true that the two of us hadn’t really spent a ton of time together—just a few card games here and there, and that one time he looked after me when I’d passed out during the Yorknew auction mission—but I’d always thought of him as being very kind. Plus, he was pretty close with Machi and Shizuku, and they were probably my best friends in the troupe. So, logically, it made sense that Shalnark and I would get along pretty well, too.

Our room was simple and rustic, just as the lobby had been. The only furniture we had was a beat-up writing desk, a nightstand with a dusty lamp, and a bed just big enough for two.

“Oh no,” he said when he saw it. “Are you okay with sharing? If not I completely understand. I’ll let you have the bed and I can just sleep on the floor or—“

I waved my hands. “No, Shalnark, you don’t have to do that. We can share.”

“Are you sure?”

I nodded. “It’s fine. Really!”

“Okay, as long as you’re comfortable with it!” He flashed me another one of his charming smiles.

He went down the hall to the shared bathroom so we could both have some privacy while changing into our pajamas. I climbed under the covers once I was done and waited for him to get back so I could shut the lights off.

He came back into the room in a pair of purple shorts and a white t-shirt with some video game logo on the front of it, locking the door behind him before rushing and jumping onto the bed. He laughed to himself as he collided with the mattress, then turned to his side and propped his head up on his elbow.

“What, you aren’t tired already, are you?”

“Oh, I mean, were you wanting to stay up?”

“Yeah, I thought maybe we could play a game or something.”

“Like what?”

“Hmm,” He tapped his finger against his lips as he thought. “Oh, I’ve got it! We could play Truth!”

“Truth?” I echoed, not recognizing the game.

“It’s like Truth or Dare, but without the dare part.”

“So, we’d just be asking each other questions?”

He chuckled. “Uh, yeah, I guess that’s all it really is, but you get one chicken card to use if there’s something you don’t want to answer. Is that lame?”

“No, not at all!” I moved onto my side so that I was facing him, too. “You go first so I can think of one.”

“Alright. What’s your favorite color?”

“That’s it?” I laughed. “I was expecting some much deeper questions!”

“Oh, we’ll get to those. I just figured we should start small.” He was smiling again, not that he ever seemed to stop. He really made hanging out with him feel so natural and easy.

“It’s green.”

“What kind? Like a lime green, or an olive green, or a forest green. . .?”

“Mmm probably a deeper green, almost like, well, like your eyes.”

He blinked in surprise at my response, but quickly snapped back to his usual happy demeanor. “I’m flattered. So, did you think of a question for me yet?”

“Who’s your best friend in the troupe?”

“Oh, that’s a tough one!” He weighed his response. “I get along with everyone, but I’d have to say that I’m probably closest with Phinks or Feitan.”

“Really?”

“Is that so hard to believe?”

Honestly, yeah. Phinks and Feitan had regarded me with suspicion when I first joined the troupe, treating me like an enemy, but Shal had always been warm and welcome. It was odd that the three of them would be such great friends. “You’re just pretty different is all.”

“I can see how you’d think that, but they’re good people once you get to know them.” He paused, his expression changing. “Speaking of, is there something going on between you and Feitan?”

My stomach flipped. “What? Why would you think that?”

“Downstairs when I paired people up he didn’t seem to like that I chose to room with you. I guess you must not have noticed the look he was giving me.”

I hadn’t. “Well, I don’t know what that was all about. We can barely stand each other. It’s been that way since I joined.”

It wasn’t technically a lie. There wasn’t anything between Feitan and I—just this stupid attraction that I couldn’t kick, but I knew nothing would ever come of it.

“Okay,” he grinned. “You can count that as my question.”

Fuck, I hadn’t been thinking of what to ask next.

“Do you have anyone?”

It was all I could think of. We were on the subject of romance, so it was the first thing that popped into my mind.

He shook his head. “Nope. I wouldn’t be against it though if I met the right person.”

“What does your ‘right person’ look like?”

He wagged his finger at me. “It’s my turn.”

“Right. Sorry,” I laughed.

“And just for that, I’m stealing your question.”

“No fair!”

He shrugged. “Shouldn’t have tried to skip me, then.”

I jokingly rolled my eyes at him. “Alright, fine. I haven’t really thought about it much, but I guess my perfect person would be. . . someone I could trust, who I can be myself around and who makes me feel safe.”

“Aww that’s sweet.”

“Well, what about you?”

“Oh, no, I’m sorry. Repeat questions aren’t allowed.”

I frowned. “But it was my question.”

“I don’t make the rules.”

He literally did, but I wasn’t going to argue. “Alright, then, um, where’s your spider tattoo?”

“Right here,” he tapped the right side of his chest. “Wanna see?”

I nodded.

He sat up and pulled his shirt over his head. I had already figured by his arms that Shalnark was fit, but that knowledge didn’t keep me from staring at his toned abs. I didn’t mean to, but I couldn’t look away.

Shalnark noticed my wandering gaze. His cheeks lightly flushed as he laid back down again, still shirtless.

“Do you have a question for me now?” I asked.

“I do,” he murmured. “If I tried to kissed you right now. . . would you let me?”

My heart skipped. Was this a joke? No, he wasn’t laughing. He didn’t even have that trademark smile plastered on his face. I searched his eyes—innocent, pleading, sincere. Shalnark wasn’t someone who would hurt me.

Maybe he was exactly what I needed.

I nodded, breathless.

He traced his fingers along my jaw until he reached the back of my neck, where he wove them into my hair. Using this grip, he pulled me closer to him, and our lips met in sparks.

Kissing Shalnark was everything you’d expect: soft, gentle, and sweet. I felt like I was melting against him, turning to putty under his touch. I think he must have known what he was doing to me, because I felt him smiling again.

He broke the kiss, smirking as he brushed his thumb across my lips. “You enjoying yourself?”

“I don’t think it’s your turn to ask a question,” I joked. “And for that, i’m stealing yours.”

He laughed. “Alright, I see how it is. I guess I deserved that.” He moved his hand down my neck and along my side, until it came to rest at my waist. “But yes, I am.”

“Me too,” I smiled.

He rested his forehead on mine, our noses barely brushing. “Do you want to stop?”

“No.”

Our lips connected once more, but nothing about this kiss was the same. We were both driven by a wild passion coursing through our veins, unable to hold back. It was like our bodies burned for each other. No matter how closely he held me to him, it wasn’t enough.

His hands slid under the fabric of my shirt and he helped to guide it over my head. He paused, his lips parting when he saw the way my stomach was littered in scars.

“Y/n. . .” he carefully ran the tips of his fingers over my raised skin.

“Battle scars,” I chuckled awkwardly. “I’m fine, really.”

He wrapped his arms around me again and held me close to his chest, stroking my hair. “I’m sorry. Whatever it was, I’m sorry.”

“Will you just. . . help me forget?”

He tilted my head up so that I was looking into his eyes. “Anything you need, I’ll do it.”

I kissed him again, biting down on his bottom lip before rolling him on top of me. He took the hint and started biting, kissing, and sucking further down my body until he reached my waistband. He hooked his fingers into the top of my shorts and glanced up at me, waiting for confirmation that this was what I wanted. I nodded and he pulled them down along with my panties.

I suppose I should have felt self conscious, being so exposed in front a man I admittedly didn’t know all too well, but Shalnark didn’t give me any reason to feel insecure.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered as I lay sprawled out before him.

He pressed a soft kiss to my knee before pushing my legs apart, then another on the inside of my thigh, and finally his lips covered my clit, causing my hips to buck upward as if they had a mind of their own. He started slowly, teasing me with long, drawn-out strokes in an effort to drive me wild.

“Shal.”

He hummed a question in response, sending vibrations rippling through my core. I threw my head back at the sensation.

“Faster,” I begged. “Please.”

He did as I’d asked, hitting the small bundle of nerves with quick, patterned flicks of his tongue. I moaned as I began to feel the tension building under his skilled movements, my back arching off of the mattress.

He barred an arm across my hips, holding them down as he brought me closer and closer to my release. With his other hand, he traced his fingers around my entrance, testing my wetness with one before sliding two in, curling them over my g-spot and stretching me out.

My hands shot to his head, grabbing fistfuls of his hair as I practically screamed at the amount of stimulation he was giving me. Galaxies exploded behind my eyes as I finally came undone. He moved up to kiss me as I caught my breath, coming down from my high.

“I love the sounds you make for me,” He said, pulling his pants down to release his already-erect cock. “Don’t hold back, okay? I want to know that you’re enjoying it too.”

The rest of our clothes were torn off and thrown into a pile on the floor. We pounced on each other with an animalistic hunger, leaving love bites on every inch of skin we came into contact with.

He sunk into me slowly, giving my body time to adjust to his size, but once I wrapped my legs around his waist he started moving, torturing me with the same drawn out pace as before—the only benefit of this being that I could feel every inch of him rubbing inside of me.

“God, you feel amazing,” he said, burying his face into the crook of my neck. “It’s making it so hard for me to hold back.”

The broken rhythm of his breathing, the brush of his lips against my ear, the strokes that left me wanting more—it was all driving me crazy, making my body feel electric.

“Don’t,” I said.

That was all the convincing he needed.

He fucked into me at a reckless pace, bringing one of my legs up to rest on his shoulder to give him a better angle. He buried himself deeper and deeper, hitting the same, sensitive spot each time he snapped his hips. I arched against him, throwing my head back into a moan. I could already feel another orgasm building.

“There you go, sweet girl. Let me hear that pretty voice of yours.”

“Shal, God, just like that.”

My right hand reached to clutch the bedsheets, but he grabbed it and pinned it over my head, lacing his fingers with mine. My left hand wrapped behind his neck, holding him closer as he dipped down and caught me in a kiss. His tongue ran across my bottom lip and I granted him access, letting him explore my mouth as he pushed me closer to my second release.

His hand came between us, moving to work my clit with his thumb. I gasped at his touch. I was so close now, any second I’d—

“You got it, let it go for me.”

His words sent me over the edge. I pulled at his hair as he rode me through my orgasm, my walls clenching tightly around him. Every sensation was amplified, yet at the same time it felt as though I were experiencing the world in a warm haze. I had never felt so content.

He gave me a moment to come back down to earth before dropping my leg from his shoulder and pressing my knees to my chest. I dragged my nails down his back as he snapped his hips even faster than before, chasing his orgasm. I could tell he was getting close when his thrusts became erratic, not following any particular rhythm. Shortly after, I felt the twitch of his cock inside of me followed by a rush of warmth as he filled me with his cum.

He rested his forehead on mine, shutting his eyes tight as his chest rose and fell with exasperation. After a few final strokes, he pressed a passion-filled kiss to my lips and pulled out of me, letting his seed seep onto the bedsheets.

He laid on his back, smiling to himself as he caught his breath. “That’s not how I imagined our first sleepover would go,” he said, pulling me into his chest, “but I still had fun.”

I nodded in agreement.

He helped me clean up and we got dressed in our pajamas again before settling back into bed. I fell asleep in Shal’s arms, listening to the retro sounds of his video game.

#shalnark #shalnark ryusei #phantom troupe #hunter x hunter #hxh x reader #shalnark x reader #oneshot #hxh smut #fanfic #imagines #greed island

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quaranmine · 5 months

Text

10 Years of Posting Fanfic: A Retrospective

(If you only care about reading my writing from when I was 12, skip to the cut)

I've always enjoyed reading as a kid. I was the kid in class who was reading at a high school level in intermediate school, and the kid who had 8 library books on her desk at a time. Therefore it is no surprise that I quickly realized that I enjoyed writing a lot too.

This post cannot be a look into when I started writing fanfiction though, because frankly I don't remember. Instead, all I have to go off of is the publishing date on my old fanfiction.net profile: December 15, 2013. I'm a little too young for the heyday of Live Journal and other fanfic sites, so ff.net was my first introduction to fanfiction. I also used to use Wattpad now and then, but I never posted anything there. I preferred ff.net, and did not make an AO3 account until 2016.

In middle school and intermediate school, if you asked what I wanted to be when I grew up, I'd tell you I wanted to be a novelist. Of course my actual career went a different direction--I'm now an environmental outreach specialist. But the great news about writing is that it can be done at any time!

Fanfiction.net was also my introduction into the world of fanfic, back when I stumbled onto some Jayfeather Warrior Cats fanfic from a random google search. It took me entirely by suprise to find out that I could actually read more stories about my favorite characters! It was like stumbling into a gold mine. I still remember how thrilled I was. I was instantly hooked, despite being more than a little traumatized by instantly finding a "lemon" and reading about cat sex at probably 11 or 12 years old. Somehow, that did not stop me. I continued to avoid lemons, and developed a huge taste for angst, whump, and hurt/comfort stories. In retrospect, I'm not sure my mom would have viewed reading about torture or suicidal characters as particularly better than smut, but oh well. She never knew.

Throughout middle school and early high school, I was constantly writing. In middle school I had a notebook and used to hand write fanfics and original stories inside. I had two friends who also liked writing, and together we'd spend time developing and editing each other's stories. It's during this time I posted my first stories on FF.net. In high school, my school gave every student a chromebook laptop, and I started writing fanfic in Google Docs on that. I was fearless and had no problems writing angsty anime fanfic in class, on a school-monitored device.

I stopped writing fanfic somewhere in 10th grade, though I never stopped reading it. I stopped writing it primarily because I spent a lot of time writing other things. I was taking college classes. I doing competitive essay writing (I medalled at state) and competitive literary criticism. I was doing art competitions. In 12th grade, I had a job reporting school news to my local newspaper. I wrote op-eds about the environment and dutifully recorded hours of school board meetings to summarize. Then, I was properly off to college, and despite the pandemic hitting a year later I had classes to take online and a part time job outdoors. I had 60 page mock-environmental risk assessments to write. I was too busy to write fiction.

The MCYT fandom is what brought back my desire to write. The creativity of this fandom is so astounding, and I'm grateful all the time that I get to see the things everybody creates. Back in 2021, I no longer felt like I just wanted to read. I felt restless again, so I started writing a DSMP story about clingyduo at the disc war finale. I scrapped this, but it set things into motion again. In the summer of 2021 I posted my first two fanfics in years. I received such good feedback. By kudos, NWNF is my most popular fic on the site, and The Babysitting Game is still 4th most popular. I'm super grateful for that, and I'm grateful for everybody here who reads my stories. I still can't really comprehend that I post things that people actually read now. I save so many of your comments to keep for later.

I'll stop reviewing my history of writing here. You guys know the rest. I wrote HC, Evo, ESMP, and Life series oneshots. I wrote my first long fic, and then smashed that record by writing another longer one that I'm less than two chapters away from finishing. It's been a huge amount of fun and the improvements I've made in two years of active writing is super encouraging.

If I've made this much progress in 10 years, who's to say what I could do in 10 more years? I really look forward to it.

Anyway, the sappy stuff aside, who wants to read the story I wrote when I was 12? I'll post it below the cut in its entirety, no matter how much psychic damage it dealt me. It's Doctor Who, because of course it is. It always goes back to Doctor Who with me :)

From the TARDIS Files--A One-Shot Book

by: crazykatz430 <- I used to go by this everywhere

Description: This is a book of drabbles and one shots-nothing long will be found here, and it will not be updated frequently. Chapters will often have more than one short story in it. Rated T because I'm paranoid, don't know about what I'll end up writing in future chapters. All that said, enjoy! EDIT: CANCELLED

Published: 2013-12-15

Words: 1196

Rated: Fiction T - Language: English - Genre: Humor/Adventure -

Characters: 11th Doctor, Clara O. - Reviews: 4 - Follows: 1

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A/N: Okay, so this is a collection of four short (I mean SHORT) oneshots I wrote, most of them just drabbles. So far, this will be just a fic to update when I write more short oneshots in the freewrites on my English Class.

Disclaimer: I don't own DW but if I did… <- oh the early days back when we were all sticking disclaimers on things but not knowing why

There will be a linbreak for new oneshots, and a cat symbol (crazyKATZ430..it's in the name) for the time skips or point of view changes..

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Without further ado, I present: Geronimo , Uploaded , The Forgotten , and Cemetery Nightmares .

Geronimo

Set: The Wedding of River Song

I don't know what to say. All my secrets, fears and enemies, they've all caught up to me. I've run too far, run for too long.

The prophecy states that silence will fall when the question is asked. The first question, the oldest and most important question. I do not know what the question is nor do I want to find out, for the silence that falls will be the silence of my death.

I do not want to do die here, at Lake Silencio, Utah, but it is a fixed point. It will always happen no matter how far or long I run from it. I don't want to die alone… don't want to make my love do it.

I have made a plan, one to hopefully save my life and the earth. Everyone will think I am dead, but it will be safer. They'll be safer from me.

Geronimo!

Now I know what to say, the same thing I've always said when adventure and danger and the unknown ensued…

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Uploaded

Set: The wi-fi's first victim ;

"Where am I?" I whispered, scared. "Hello?"

I looked around myself, studying the surroundings. It was all strange to me, I'd n idea where I was.

I felt panic rising in my chest. "I don't know where I am!" I shrieked, becoming ever more terrified. "Somebody, please, help me! Where am I, I don't know where I am!"

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I raced around the room looking for a way out of what appeared to be someone's bedroom. I gave a cry when I couldn't get out and I subconsciously returned to the computer. "Help me!" I screamed infrustration and fear, my heart racing as panic took over my body. "I don't know where I am!"

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The wi-fi had taken its first victim.

The uploading had begun.

The Forgotten

Set: hmm… can't remember. Strange.

I was alone in a cold, dark room, no other living thing in sight.

I can't remember what I've forgotten. But if I can't remember what I've forgotten, then how do I know I forgot something?

But I wasn't alone.

How did I know that? There was nothing visible..yet I felt there was another creature in the room.

Sudden pure, unexplainable terror washed over me. I yanked the sleeve of my shirt down and stared at the underside of my arm. One fresh, black tally mark marred my skin.

The panic reached its heighth and I dropped into a defensive postureautomatically. I didn't know why, it felt like I was forgetting something… I was confused and terrified.

A second crisp tally mark appeared on my arm, closely followed by three more. A full set. But why?

Fifteen or more sets of five tally marks were tattooed on my arm.

Wordlessly I pulled down my right sleeve. What I saw there cause me to scream in fright and drop to the ground.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Doctor who?

Silence will fall when the question is asked. The first question, the oldest question…

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Cemetery Nightmares

Set: New York City, 1950 (set in New York City; however, the

character is British)

The statue had moved. It had really, properly moved!

Eagerly, I lifted my camera to take a picture. "Moving Statues in City Cemetery"? Sounded like a story to me! My editor always thought my stories were rubbish, but I begged to differ. Maybe he's let me print something with proof.

Curiosity killed the cat. This statue could be dangerous, what did I know of it? I smiled as I recalled the second part to the phrase. But satisfaction brought it back. Making up my mind, I held up the camera and clicked a picture.

I waited for it to move again, but it did not. Was it my eyes? No, I'd had two cups of heavily caffeinated tea this morning, you don't start seeing things untill the third day without sleep, I still had a day to go.

I huffed and sighed, closing my eyes. Why must good stories always slip way like this? Or was I just being too impatient?

Either way, I got a shock from when I reopened my eyes. The same stone figure, who seemed to be an angel statue, had moved again, closer to me. I didn't know if I should be happy for more evidence or scared because the hand seemed to be seemed to be reaching out to me…

I blinked again. A small cry escaped my lips as I noted it was closer. Was it all just some sick game? I was the only one in the cemetery though so that option was out of the question. Either way, the expression on the face of the angel now was frightening me. I decided it was best to leave.

I turned to walk back to my car, but on a whim turned to look back again. The statue had moved again, probably 15 meters in a few seconds! I began to tremble. It was like straight out of a horror movie! I just wanted to get away, to get home and out of this creepy place!

Then I made the mistake, my fatal mistake. My eyes began to burn and I blinked, a simple movement. But when I reopened my eyes I stood in a place far more different from where I'd been.

I was somewhere else! It was impossible, the city, cemetery and creepy angel statue were gone too! But where was I? I set out to find someone about what had turned into a nightmare for me. A cemetery nightmare.

The image of an angel becomes an angel.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

One bright red vintage camera lay on the ground, on button switched. The last picture it had taken displayed out from the screen. A seemly harmless picture of an angel statue, taken a minute before the camera's owner was whisked away.

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A/N: There you go, three short oneshots with a fourth that's twice the size of the others! PLease remember to review and say if it was good or not, and have a wonderful day… now that I've given you some stories of dying people. ( Geronimo had no dying but it was pretty intense if I do say so.) And please forgive me, I'm not British so I may tend to overdo some things…

(narrarator voice: she did not, in fact, ever upload another chapter)

Anyway, hope you enjoyed, as soon as I type it up, another's on its way!

#WOOO HOOOO #idk how to tag this #quara fanfic #fanfiction #doctor who

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