#And i don’t even ship half of these guys myself | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

paperultra · 1 year ago

Text

mise en rose.

Pairing: OPLA!Roronoa Zoro x Reader Word Count: 3,806 words Warnings: Swearing, alcohol use

The tune that your father used to whistle now leaves your lips the same way it left his.

Notes skip offkey across the water as your boat rocks gently, waves lapping up against the wooden sides. The moon shines brightly overhead. You shift in place and wait for a tug on your fishing line, the basket at your feet waiting patiently for its first meal.

Archy will be happy if you actually catch something for once. There’s not a lot of fish around here, and you’re not exactly sure why; something about the aquatic plants in the area, or if you were to believe the old man in the village square, a curse that swallows anything with fins that swims too close. The last time you caught something was months ago, and it was tiny and more bone than flesh.

You don’t really care. It’s enough to just sit out here and feel the waves.

Cheeks puffing up with air for another round of music, you let your gaze drift out towards the ocean and abruptly freeze.

There’s something floating in the distance.

A piece of debris. Wood from a hull, a scrap of sail perhaps?

The thought that it may be the remnant of a ship destroyed at sea is enough for you to reel in your line and start rowing towards it, anticipation bubbling up and drowning out any thoughts of a midnight snack.

You get close enough and your anticipation gives way to shock.

“Oh, shit.”

The guy clinging to the chunk of wood stirs and lifts his head, and you almost hit him upside the head with your oar.

“Oh, shit. You’re alive.”

—

“You say you’re going out fishing and you come back with a half-dead man with three swords?” Archy looks like he’s about to have an aneurysm, but this time, you don’t blame him. This is certainly uncharted territory and your older brother is hopeless without a map. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“What was I supposed to do, leave him to die?”

“I dunno! Yeah!” he gestures to the waterlogged man lying halfway on the living room couch, one arm and leg hanging off the side. “Look at him. He’s probably a pirate!”

“Damn, you think?” Crouching down, you drag your eyes across Swordsman’s ragged clothing and grin. You might’ve just rescued someone with a bounty on his head. “That’d be so cool.”

“That would not be cool.”

You shrug. “Well, I brought him in already, so you might as well help me unless you want a dead body in our living room.”

“You little –” Taking a deep breath, Archy pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a long, loud groan, and you know that you’ve won once more. “Fine. But as soon as he’s even a little bit better, we’re calling the Marines.”

“Okay,” you agree amicably. “So, what do we do first?”

“We have to undress him and warm him up.”

“Got it.” Your eager fingers go straight for the swords.

The man comes to life without warning. Seizing your wrist, he cracks one eye open and speaks in a low and rasping voice.

“Don’t. Touch. My swords.”

“Uh,” you say.

“We got to get everything off, mate,” Archy grumbles, and your guest turns his glare onto your brother. “I know how to clean swords and scabbards. I’ll dry them off and put them under the couch afterward.”

“I’ll do it myself.”

With a grunt, Swordsman pushes you away and attempts to sit up. He struggles for a full minute, jaw clenched and muscles trembling; his arms, strong and sturdy as they are, look like they’ll buckle at any moment.

Your eyebrows shoot up to the ceiling when he actually manages to prop himself up.

“Well, that’s impressive,” you mutter, making eye contact with Archy. He rolls his eyes. “Can you remove your clothes and wrap yourself up too?”

It takes a few moments before Swordsman has enough breath to respond. “I’m fine,” he says once he can.

“You’re really not,” Archy replies.

“You’re probably really dehydrated,” you say. “How long were you out there?”

The man stares at you, opens his mouth, pauses.

“Three days. Maybe.”

You gape. “You spent three days floating in the East Blue and you’re not dead?” You look at his neck for gills. “Are you a fishman or something?”

“No.”

“Really? I mean, I never met any fishmen before, so …”

His eye twitches. “I’m not a fishman.”

“Well, okay, if you say so.”

What a weird guy. Then again, you’ve heard that all sorts of characters traverse the Blue Sea. Devil fruit users, talking animals, clowns. A person who can survive the ocean for a couple days on a piece of wood is hardly out of the question.

“You’re dehydrated, in any case,” you conclude. “I’ll get you some water.”

—

After gruffly accepting a glass of water and putting on some dry clothes, Swordsman proceeds to “sleep it off” for the next twenty-four hours. When he finally wakes up, it’s in the middle of the night and you’ve just started rereading your favorite book.

“Oh, he’s awake,” you say when he stirs, swinging your feet off the coffee table and leaning forward in your chair to observe.

He grimaces under the dim light of your lamp, lifting an arm to press it over his eyes. “How long was I out,” he grouses.

“’Bout a day.”

“Shit.” He wriggles around in the fuzzy blanket you’ve wrapped around him. Once he’s loosened its hold enough, he sits up slowly and looks around, expression equal parts drowsy and wary. “Where –”

“Archy took your swords and cleaned them. They’re under the couch.”

“I told you not to touch them.”

“I didn’t. My brother did.”

Casting you the most unamused glare, Swordsman bends over to look underneath the couch. He pulls his swords out and places them in his lap, inspecting the white one first with a care that makes you rest your chin in your hand, curious and charmed. His brow furrows and you know that he finds your brother’s work to be satisfactory when he moves on to inspect the other two.

“Our uncle was a bladesmith in Loguetown. He taught Archy a thing or two before he passed.”

“You’re bladesmiths?”

“Coopers. Uncle was the rebel, I guess.” You close your book and stand up. “There’s leftover soup in the fridge. I’ll heat up the broth for you.”

This time, the man does not refuse your help and only nods. As you head to the kitchen and start to reheat the soup, you glance over and catch him sipping from the glass of water you’d topped off while he was asleep. Somehow, even that small action intrigues you. You smile.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Ladling the steaming broth into a small bowl, you stick a spoon in and walk back to where Swordsman is, sitting beside him. “Here you go. Don’t drink it too fast, and all that.”

He takes the soup, blows on a spoonful, tastes it. His eyes close, and something funny happens in your stomach when he opens them again to look at you.

“’S good.”

“Really?” He nods and puts the bowl to his lips to drink directly from it. “Thanks.”

You let him finish the miso broth in silence. It gives you time to stare at him some more; even with the horrible sunburn and petroleum jelly smeared everywhere, he’s a very handsome man, that much you can tell, with broad shoulders and a pretty face and hair as green as forest moss. The three earrings on his left ear gleam gold and sway with every movement he makes.

“Are you gonna keep staring at me, or are you gonna ask me questions?”

“Hm? Oh!” Shaking your head in slight bewilderment, you smile. “Yeah, I guess it would be good to ask some questions … so, what’s your name, anyway?”

“Roronoa Zoro.”

You tilt your head with a frown. “Roronoa Zoro.” You taste the name in your mouth. “That sounds really familiar. Are you a pirate?”

“No. I hunt them.”

“You hunt them?”

“That’s what I said.”

You look at his swords again. His earrings. Three and three.

Shooting up from the couch, you dash to Archy’s room and slam the door open.

“Archimead! Wake up!” You grab your brother’s shoulders and rattle him.

“Shit – what?!” he gargles, pushing your face away with one meaty hand and sitting up. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“It’s Roronoa Zoro!”

“What?”

“The guy in our living room,” you shriek at him, practically shaking, “is the Pirate Hunter Roronoa Zoro. I fished Roronoa Zoro out of the fucking ocean.”

Archy stops rubbing his eye. “What.”

Soon enough, Zoro faces both you and your brother in the living room once more.

“You’re Roronoa Zoro? For real?” Archy asks him.

Zoro blinks up him. “Yeah.”

“Can you prove it?”

“‘Can you prove it’ – Archy, look at him. He’s got three earrings in his left ear and three fucking swords.”

“He could be some sort of copycat. We have no idea what Roronoa Zoro actually looks like.”

“You’re such a pessimist. Nobody would lug around three swords if they couldn’t use all of them at once.” You turn your attention back onto Zoro. “How the hell did you get stranded out there?”

He looks between the two of you, waiting for a moment before crossing his arms. “I was headed to Mirror Ball Island, but the boat I was on got caught in a whirlpool,” he says, displeased. “Then I got separated from the rest of the crew. Don’t know if they survived or not.”

“Mirror Ball Island?” you repeat. “That’s a three-day journey from here, at least.”

“Where’s here?”

“Dokusha Village.” You open one of the books on the table and point to a tiny strip of coast you’d labeled on the edge of the East Blue map. “Right there. You could buy a boat and sail west, straight to Mirror Ball Island.”

“I don’t have any beri on me right now,” Zoro says.

“Oh, yeah. Of course you don’t.” Archy puts his hands on his hips. “Well, the merchant ship is coming by in two weeks. If you’re all good by then, you can hitch a ride.”

“I’ll be fine by tomorrow night.”

You snort, closing the book and reclining back. “The rate you’re going, I don’t doubt it. Does that mean you want to leave earlier? You’ll still need a boat and supplies. Food, water, towels, sleeping gear. That all costs money. I mean, we could lend you some, but still.”

“I’ll work for it,” Zoro replies. “I don’t take and give nothing in return.”

Both you and Archy give a hum of approval.

—

True to his word, Roronoa Zoro is up and off the couch by the fourth day.

He doesn’t have a clue as to how to make barrels or buckets, which is expected, so he ends up helping with the grunt work of carrying staves into the workshop and stacking finished barrels. Other than that, there’s not much for him to do.

“Sorry if it’s boring,” you apologize during lunch, speaking through a mouthful of sandwich. “You’re kind of just hired muscle.”

Zoro shrugs, chewing on his own sandwich. Two girls walking by – Phoebe and Iris, the blacksmith’s daughters – spot him on the bench and giggle, hurrying past with glances over their shoulders. He appears not to care. “It’s fine.”

“I think you’re even stronger than my brother. Is it because of your training as a swordsman?”

“Probably,” he says.

“When did you start?”

“When I was eight.”

You nod sagely. “Not surprised. I’ve been helping around the workshop since I was a kid, and I only just finished my apprenticeship a few weeks ago. It’s good to start young.”

It seems that Zoro agrees by the way he grunts, stuffing the last piece of crust into his mouth.

When he’s done, you muster the courage to ask, “What’s it like, being a bounty hunter?”

Zoro raises an eyebrow at you. Then he gazes back out at the street. “It’s fine,” he responds. “Makes good money.”

You sigh exasperatedly. “Yeah, but, like, is it fun? Do you spend a lot of time at sea? See a lot of different places? Stuff like that.”

“I don’t do it for fun. My only goal is to become the world’s greatest swordsman.” He leans back and puts his hands behind his head. “It’s a shitton of traveling, both on ships and on land. I’ve been all over the East Blue.”

“Wow.” The word comes out as a sigh. You crunch longingly on a carrot stick. “That sounds amazing. It’s my dream to travel all over the world on a ship.”

“How come you’re here, then?”

You wince, hushing him hastily. Glancing behind you, you clear your throat and lean in to speak softly. “Archy hates the ocean. He worked on a merchant ship for a few months when he was eighteen and got super sick.” Upon reading Zoro’s blank expression, you clarify, “I can’t just leave him. I’m the only family he’s got now, and his younger sibling to boot. So Dokusha Village it is.”

“You’re staying because of your brother.”

“Yeah. I love him, so it’s fine.” There’s a familiar ache in your chest, but you push it down and elbow Zoro’s ribs in jest. (He doesn’t even move a muscle. Geez.) “Makes okay money. I got a bunch of adventure books to live through, anyway.”

It’s a little hard to meet your lunch companion’s eyes after that. You eat the rest of your carrots in silence, pretending to be occupied with finishing them. Zoro doesn’t utter another word.

But as the two of you get back to work, he seems a little warmer, a little less stiff. You make a silly joke and Zoro huffs out something that almost sounds like a laugh while Archy threatens to stick you in a rum barrel and roll you down a hill.

Perhaps you’ve made another friend.

—

“What are you making?”

You blow off the wood dust, closing one eye to cut a fin just right. “Shark. See?”

The bonfire you’d made crackles just a few feet away as you place the half-finished carving into Zoro’s palm. He picks it up with his other hand and twists it around, touching with intention, and you almost feel self-conscious with the way he’s examining it.

“Nice,” he finally says, and the praise makes you giddy. He hands the shark back to you.

“Thanks. I had a lot of practice.”

Zoro rests his elbows on the rock behind him and takes another swig of sake. You resume carving the shark’s fins, bare feet buried in the cool sand.

Archy’s on a date for once, so he left the two of you to your own devices for the night with a distracted wave goodbye and a warning that he’ll be back late. You took that as a chance to break into the alcohol after supper and drag Zoro down to the beach. The swordsman was willing to come along, though you suspect it was mostly for the sake.

“Ain’t that your third bottle?”

“I can hold my liquor.”

You stick your tongue out at him. “No need to brag.”

He wipes his mouth, dark brown eyes black in the firelight. They glint like steel when he looks over at you, but he doesn’t say anything – not that you’re surprised; sometimes Zoro just looks at whatever he wants without any reason. He’s not particularly complicated in that sense.

(You like that. Too many things in life are complicated.)

“Hey, Zoro.”

“Hm.”

Your lips purse. “Do you think my brother will get married one day?”

“How am I supposed to know?” His tone is flat.

“Well, I dunno! It’s just a question.” You frown, slowing in your work. “It’s just that after our parents died, he’s been too busy looking after me and the shop to court someone. He’s turning thirty next year and most people his age have settled down already. I feel kind of bad.”

“It’s not your fault,” Zoro says. “Wouldn’t he have more time now, anyway, since you can take care of yourself?”

“I think he’s been out for so long he doesn’t know how to date anymore.”

Zoro downs the rest of his sake. You know that there’s no advice he can give you regarding Archy’s marriage prospects, which doesn’t surprise you either. You suppose you just need someone to listen. It’s not like you can talk to Archy about it.

“Hell,” you remember, “I’m expected to be married by now, too. I’ve never even been on a date.”

“Really?”

“Nope. Why, are you surprised?”

Stretching his legs out in front of him, Zoro yawns and closes his eyes. “You just seem like the type.”

“What do you mean?”

“You talk a lot,” he says.

You burst out laughing. “Yeah, I do. Would that make me a good date?”

“How am I supposed to know?”

“I’m guessing you’ve never been on one, either?”

Zoro shrugs. He doesn’t look too torn up about it. “Waste of time,” he mutters.

Your grin widens. “Figured you’d say that,” you drawl, digging your blade into the shark’s mouth. “Dating doesn’t really help you become the world’s greatest swordsman, does it?”

“Nope.”

“I still think it might be fun, though. If you’re with the right person.” With that, you brush away the last curl of wood from your carving. After admiring it for a few seconds, you offer the shark to Zoro, bumping the nose softly against his cheek. He opens his eyes and turns his head to squint at it. “Here you go. All yours.”

His brow furrows as he takes it.

“It’s a going away gift. Since you’re leaving tomorrow,” you say. Folding your knife and putting it down beside you, you grab your bottle of sake and gulp down half of what remains. “Don’t forget it.”

One of the logs in the bonfire crumbles, falling into the coals. Orange sparks fly up into the smoke and disappear just as quickly. You poke at the fire with a stick, trying not to think about how sad you’re going to be tomorrow morning.

“I won’t forget,” Zoro says.

“I know.”

—

It’s almost dawn, and the family boat is packed up and ready to set sail.

“Got everything?” Archy asks, lowering into a squat to scan over all the supplies.

“Yeah.” The swordsman drags a hand through his hair. “Thanks again for the boat.”

“It’s nothing.” Your brother elbows your arm, and you sway. “Oi. He said thank you.”

“I know,” you mumble. For the first time this morning, you spare Zoro a glance and smile at him, but it’s shaky and fake and you really hate how your voice wobbles when you say, “You don’t have to thank us. Just have a safe – have a safe –” Your voice cracks, and you look down at your feet, eyes burning. “Have a safe trip,” you finish quietly.

You can feel two pairs of eyes on you as your vision goes blurry. Shit. This is so embarrassing.

The fact of the matter is that Roronoa Zoro has been in Dokusha Village for only a week, and you’re already missing him like he’s been in your life for years. You’re going to watch him get into your family’s fishing boat and sail away, the wind at his back, the East Blue before him, and you will remain on the dock with your big brother beside you and your dream in your head.

You’re being selfish, but it’s not … it’s not fair.

Archy puts his hand on your shoulder and says your name.

You wipe your nose. “What?”

“… I’ve been thinking.” He sounds hesitant, taking in a deep breath and letting it go slowly, carefully. “You’ve always wanted to travel the world on a ship.”

It’s like the world tilts on its axis.

Rigidly, you look up at your brother, eyes wide.

“I’m not dumb, you know. You’ve only stayed here because of me,” Archy says. “I’m the one who’s supposed to look after you and protect you. But you’ve been able to do that for yourself for a while, now. Right?”

“Archy.” You swallow. “What are you …?”

“I talked with Zoro last night. He’s willing to take you to Mirror Ball Island, if you want.” His smile is crooked, but it trembles at the corners as he continues. “You know how to sail, how to navigate. We’ll just have to add some extra stuff to the boat.”

You can barely breathe.

“There’s plenty of merchant ships there,” Zoro adds, leaning on his sword. “Your skills are valuable. Just be willing to pull your own weight, and they’ll take you on board. If not, I’ll tell them to.”

“You don’t have to –” Now you’re full-on bawling. You throw your arms around Archy, who wraps you in a bear hug, and then around Zoro, who stiffens. “Thank you so much. Thank you thank you thank you.”

“No problem,” Zoro mumbles, patting you on the back. When you let go to beam at him, he averts his eyes and rubs the back of his neck. “Just hurry up.”

Nodding, you dash back up to your house, Archy following close behind. You grab your bag, throw what you need into it, snatch your hat from your bedpost. Less than twenty minutes pass before you’re all ready to go.

“Got everything?” Archy asks once more at the dock. You nod and look at Zoro, who nods as well. “All right.”

You hug Archy for the last time. Tears spill over and down your cheeks. “Thank you for everything, big bro. I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too, kid.” His voice is rough and trembly, muffled against your head. “Come back to visit sometime, okay?”

“Okay.”

Getting into the boat with Zoro, you help him check the rigging and hoist the sail. Archy unties the vessel and pushes the two of you off. As you float away, he waves, and you wave back, staring as he gets smaller and smaller.

“I’m not turning back,” Zoro tells you as you eventually settle in your seat. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

Is it?

You cast one last glance back at Dokusha Village, at the small point of your brother. Then you look out at the broad expanse of the ocean. And you feel many things – joy, sadness, apprehension – but above all that, you feel –

Free.

“Yes,” you say firmly. You push your hat down and smile at Zoro, and this time, it’s genuine. “It is.”

Zoro smiles back. And as the sun begins to warm your face, you whistle your father’s song and think about the journey to come.

#opla #one piece #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #zoro #opla zoro #one piece live action #opla fanfiction #one piece fanfiction #reader insert #fluff #once again i underestimated how long this would take. hoowee #opla zoro my grumpy old man :)#good thing reader is coming along otherwise he'd NEVER make it to mirror ball island rip

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deiitsukki · 2 months ago

Note

OMG I JUST READ SUNA’S SITUATIONSHIP DHSHD PLEASE GIVE A PART TWO OMD 😭😭

Us again | Suna R.

Sequel of Situationship.

Tw:(Y/n was slightly harassed, Fingering, F! Receiving, finger licking, Vaginal Penetration, Creampie)

The waves rolled in, steady as always, lapping against the shore of Suna Rintarō's memories. The beach he often retreated to felt different now—emptier, quieter, haunted by the absence of someone he hadn't realized he needed until you were gone. It was here, among the silvered sands and whispering tides, that he had first brought you.

The thought of your laughter as you met his family for the first time still echoed in his mind like the lingering notes of a forgotten melody.

But you had left.

You’d vanished into the horizon without a backward glance, chasing a life you had always deserved to follow. Suna hadn’t stopped you, he didn't have the rights to, after treating you like shit, No. He hadn’t said the words that had been festering in his heart: Don’t go. I need you. He hadn’t realized how deeply he meant it until the silence you left behind filled his life.

Months passed. The ache in his chest grew heavier with every passing day. Suna had always been composed, calm, and unshaken, but now he felt like a ship adrift, rudderless. He found himself wandering back to the beach often, staring at the stars that once witnessed your presence.

“Why am I doing this to myself?” he muttered one night, sitting alone by the fire-pit you both had once shared. His voice was swallowed by the wind, offering no answers. It wasn’t like him to dwell on things he couldn’t control, but nothing else felt right anymore.

It was Atsumu who finally dragged him out of his gloom. “C’mon, Rintarō, yer a mess,” the setter declared with a clap on the back. “Yer comin’ to the party with me. It’ll do ya good to let loose a little.”

Suna scowled. “Not interested.”

“Not a question, ya loner. I’m not lettin’ ya rot away.”

And so, reluctantly, Suna found himself standing in the pulsing chaos of a massive club. The bass pounded through his chest, the crowd a sea of unfamiliar faces. It wasn’t his scene, but Atsumu had been relentless. He sipped at his drink, keeping to the edges, eyes distant.

Until they weren’t.

You were there.

In the center of the dance floor, under a kaleidoscope of neon lights, Y/N. your hair moved like silk in the dim glow, your laughter rising above the music like a siren’s song. you spun, carefree, lost in the rhythm, and for a moment, Suna thought he was imagining you.

But it was real. you were real. And you looked radiant—until his gaze darkened. A man he didn’t recognize grabbed your arm roughly, pulling you too close. your smile faltered, confusion and discomfort clouding your expression.

Suna moved before he even realized it.

“Hey,” he called, his voice low, sharp like a blade slicing through the din. “Get your hands off her.”

The man looked at him, sneering. “And who’re you supposed to be?”

Suna’s eyes narrowed. He stepped forward, his height and the weight of his glare sending a clear message. “The guy who’ll make sure you regret it if you don’t walk away right now.”

The man released you with a scoff and disappeared into the crowd. you swayed slightly, your drunken state evident. you blinked up at Suna, your expression a mix of surprise and recognition.

“Rin…?” you murmured, voice soft, uncertain.

“Let’s get you out of here,” he said simply, slipping an arm around you to steady you.

The ride to his apartment was quiet. you leaned against him, murmuring incoherent apologies between bouts of half-asleep silence. Suna didn’t respond, his mind a whirlwind of emotions.

Once inside, he guided you to the couch, kneeling in front of you to remove your heels.

“You shouldn’t drink so much,” he muttered, more to himself than you.

you giggled, your words slurring. “You’re still…so bossy, Rin.”

He looked up at you then, his breath catching. Even in your disheveled state, you were still breathtaking. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed you until now, with you so close yet so far.

“You’re a mess,” he said softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face.

“And you’re…still brooding,” you countered, your gaze locking onto his. The air between them shifted, heavy and electric.

“Why did you leave?” The question slipped out before he could stop it.

Your eyes glistened, tears threatening to fall. “You know why, Rin. I couldn’t stay. Not when…” you trailed off, voice cracking.

“Not when I was too blind to see what I had,” he finished for you, his voice barely above a whisper.

your lips parted to respond, but before you could, he leaned in, capturing them in a kiss that was both desperate and tender. you froze for a moment before melting into him, your hands tangling in his hair. The world outside ceased to exist; there was only the two of you, a collision of longing and unspoken words.

Clothes fell away like forgotten promises as they tumbled into his room. His hands traced the familiar curves of her body, rediscovering the territory he thought he’d lost forever.

“Rin…” you whispered, his name a prayer on your lips.

“Y/N,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m sorry. For everything.”

you silenced him with another kiss, your touch conveying what words couldn’t.

“Let me make it up to you, love.” the nickname rolled off on his tongue so smooth, and you forgot how long have you waited just for him to call you that.

He broke the kiss, lifting your dress up, his fingers tracing your pale legs as one of his fingers hooked on your laced thongs, he chuckels, quickly removing your underwear.

“Open your mouth” he demanded, and you obeyed, opening your mouth, he then puts his ring and middle finger in your mouth, your tongue swirling arount it.

“Still a good girl huh.” he praises you while chuckling as he removes his saliva covered fingers inside of your mouth. Without aqny warning he inserted his fingers in your pussy, slowly pumping in and out of you, you moaned at the sensation you felt.

He continues to finger you, while rubbing your clit and you moaned at every rhytym of his pace. you could feel a knot began to form inside of you, and he notices this as your toe curled, fingers clawing his arm “Oh fuck rin~” you whimpered, but he suddenly stops and you looked at him in disbelief.

“Why would you do that?” you whined “I was about to cum” you said

“Oh sorry love-” he apologizes and you noticed him stripping out of his clothes and so you did too, you slowly slipped your dress out off you, so you were both bare “I just wanted you cumming in my cock not on my fingers.” he continued as he took your legs into his broad shoulders.

He then lined his hard dick in your entrace, slowly putting it in. You sighed a moan, his pace just slow and you could feel his thick cock moving in and out of your wet pussy.

“Oh god you're so good~” he moaned out, feeling the warmth of your insides “Fuck- so fucking warm.” he curses under his breath as he continue to fuck you slow.

“Rin~” you purred in his ears as your hands snaked around his neck combing the back of his hair, you stared at his eyes pleadingly “Fuck me good, Fuck me fast” you moaned staring straight into his soul

the way you said and the way you stared at him drives him nothing but more crazier. wadting no time, he obliges, His pace picking up and becoming more faster, you could feel him trying to burry his cock deep into your tight cunt and you felt none but pure bliss.

“Oh~ Oh f-fuck” you moaned as your wine red nails dug into his broad back, he delivered a had thrust in your pussy making you rake your fingers in his back, he winces at the sting but secretly likes it

“Oh shit- I'm gonna cum” he moaned, his thrust becomming more sloppier, cock burrying more deep, your pussy tightens around his cock making him groan “Shit- Don't squeeze me like that love” he said as he enhales a deep breath.

“Gonna cum too rin fuck-” you cried out as you can feel yourself reaching your climax “Cum on my cock love” he said, and you did. You came on his cock as you felt him emptied his loads inside of your pussy, His cock still throbbing as he burried his cock still in your pussy, you both moaned as the pleasure of reaching the climax hits you both.

In the darkness, you both found each other again, two halves of a whole that had been broken for too long.

The next morning, sunlight streamed through the curtains, casting a golden glow over the tangled sheets. Suna woke to find you nestled against him, your breathing soft and steady. He tightened his arms around you, pressing a kiss to your hair.

“Stay this time,” he whispered, his voice raw.

you stirred, eyes fluttering open. You looked up at him, your gaze soft but hesitant.

“Only if you promise to not treat me as casual again,” You said, your voice barely audible.

“I promise,” he vowed, pulling you closer.

And for the first time in months, Suna Rintarō felt whole again.

special mention to: @strwbivy @erensdickgarage @hrtfelts

#haikyuu smut #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fic #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #suna rintaro fluff #suna smut #hq suna #suna angst #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintaro haikyuu #suna rintarou #suna rintarō #inarizaki #suna rintaro smut #suna rintaro x you

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buttered-milky · 3 months ago

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Russingon being an incestuous couple is so fucking interesting to me for what it represents narratively. (Yes, I know they are not canonically a couple. No, I do not care, because I do believe the coding is on purpose. Even if it’s accidental, it’s still there.)

If you don’t have a lot of experience with incest in other fiction (for example: the staple gothic horror), incest usually represents deviance. That’s just what it says on the tin: diverting from norms. Usually in a bad way. Deviance can be narratively treated as bad or wrong, and there is plenty of deviance from our meta societal norms with these two, but I digress. I don’t want to talk about that today.

I want to talk about subversion, and the deviance that is sometimes good, actually, and the message that sometimes you must break norms to do good.

[PS guys if you read all this and want to add your thoughts please do! This is kind of half-baked and I’d love to see more opinions because I’ve not seen anyone talk about this much.]

They are so fucking fascinating, because they are deviant! They are! Their entire relationship is baffling politically because of the Finwëan house feuds. More importantly, they have individual deviances that this relationship is telling you to pick up on.

Maedhros is a Kinslayer. Maedhros is also arguably the most heroic one of his siblings.

No, we can’t burn the ships. How the fuck are we gonna get Fingon over here?

No, I have to go parley with Morgoth.

I have to abdicate the crown because I’m becoming something I don’t want to be.

No, I have to put myself in front of everyone else. I have to hold Himring so the rest of Beleriand doesn’t get nuked.

I have to summon everyone for the Nirnaeth.

And then after Fingon dies in the Nirnaeth, Maedhros (as we all know) goes fully off the rails—which is to say, he becomes fully Fëanorian. He goes back to the norm for his family.

There are more Kinslayings. He tries once to save two twin children, and that’s it. He gives up. There is no more hope. Maglor is responsible for taking in the next set. Maglor also wants to beg the Valar for forgiveness, and maybe Maedhros would’ve seen the sense in that once, but instead he becomes the second coming of his father and dies burning, clutching onto his Oath.

The deviance from Fëanorian standards was the only thing keeping him from becoming a monster for all that time.

Fingon is also (very likely) a Kinslayer. He’s also the family extrovert and hope incarnate.

Unlike Aredhel and Turgon, he does not seclude himself for his own protection. He does the opposite.

No, we can’t just stay here in Aman. We need to protect the other half of our people??

No, we actually have to get Maedhros. Fine, I’ll do it myself then. I’ll reach out to the gods while I’m at it, since none of you will.

Of course we’re going to join every battle. Of course we’re going to help hold down Beleriand.

If I have to face evil alone I suppose I will, then.

And he dies when he’s alone against those Balrogs. Fingon is also like his father in many ways—but in some ways he is not. He is brighter, sometimes. He is hope incarnate in the worst of places.

I’m far from the first person to acknowledge that what Maedhros and Fingon have going on is a very strong message to never give up hope. But like—not just that. What kills me is that, you know, the hope and the heroism and the goodness is the deviance.

They like each other while most of the Noldor are off getting doomed or fighting with their relatives. You get to those little bits where it mentions Maedhros and Fingon still keeping up their friendship and you kind of have to think “damn, at least some people still genuinely love each other in the midst of all this horror.” It’s sweet. And yet it’s deviant.

And that’s weird, right? Usually deviance is bad. But I think here it’s more neutral. Just presented as: this is not the common option, not the norm. It’s not the common option, but it leads to one of the kinder relationships in the Silm.

The Silm wants you, the reader, to take away that you should have hope and goodness, even when everything around you is hell. Even when it is the hard option. When it becomes hardest to hold up light and help others, that is when it’s needed most.

It will be scary sometimes to be hopeful, and that’s okay. It will be scary to extend yourself. It will be scary to trust and to defend others. That’s okay. Do it fucking scared and keep doing it.

#incest was prob the weirdest way to do this message so idk if I think there’s authorial intent here #but. it’s still fun to read into subtext and pick apart the book #silmarillion #russingon #maedhros #fingon #this was like a little puzzle for me #I spent so long thinking about Fingon because he’s not as clear cut #these two are so deeply compelling. why are you like this guys #if there’s typos ignore them I’m Eepy #I’ve tried to make sure there are no egregious ones but knowing me I forgot an important word somewhere #btw if I start seeing arguments about incest morality please read the room. this is not about that #essay tag

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howlsofbloodhounds · 23 days ago

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I have a couple of questions, the main two being: 1: what ships do you dislike/hate? and why? 2: are there any ships you enjoy/like? and why? I am an anti-shipper myself, so hearing other ppls opinions on ships is interesting to me.

Only ships I really hate are like, incest, pedo or zoophilia, and Killermare and Bad Sans Poly.

I hate Killermare because it is trafficker/kidnapper/abuser x victim/captive and that is just..baked so completely in their narratives I find it ridiculous to ignore it.

I hate the narrative that Nightmare ever genuinely saved Killer, he didn’t—Color was the one putting in hard work and tears trying to protect, understand, befriend, and earn Killer’s trust. He was the one being threatened with death and stabbed and attacked for trying to help like he was asked to— by Killer himself—to help. He’s the one constantly risking his life and safety and well being for Killer’s freedom.

I hate how certain shippers treat this ship, how they treat Killer, and how they definitely treat Color—like Color’s somehow the bad guy because they want to pretend that Nightmare is somehow good for Killer’s safety or that Killer would ever be happy with him. Or as if Color only has selfish intentions and motives for Killer. Even more so when they pretend it’s one sided and Killer doesn’t grow to feel the same eventually—even when they’re extremely rough and certainly not friends in the beginning.

As if Killer wasn’t the one asking Color to save him. As if Killer didn’t say he kinda likes Color, and Nightmare had to tell him to literally shut up—as if Color isn’t the only one besides Toriel Killer has admitted to liking before, compared to when he said he doesn’t like anyone when asked. As if Color wasn’t the only one Stage 1 Killer ever felt comfortable asking, pleading with, for help—trusting him enough to admit he wants to be saved.

As for ships i enjoy, there’s Colorkiller obviously—but I also enjoy them as a friendship, or queer platonic, or them in general. Lifeafterdeath most definitely. Reapertale Chara x Core!Frisk (I don’t know. if they have a ship name) is wonderful.

Epic Sanses poly, Delta x Color, Epic x Color, Ccino x Color, just other Color ships in general i like. Chromatic Crew poly could be interesting.

But honestly what I really want is more of Killer in platonic relationships.

Color is special to him and this is just an undeniable fact, and Killer doesn’t strike me as the type to be very interested in friendship outside of what he managed to build with Color—but i think he should have more social connections, even if they aren’t what he has with Color because he does not trust most people at all.

I’d love to see more of Ink and Killer. Not really as a ship, but as pals—I feel they’d understand each other. Ccino and Killer and Lust and Killer and Color too. I’d like to see Ink and Color content as well, and Color and Dream.

I feel I’d be interested in seeing more Killer and Horror content, but there’s barely any outside of Bad Sans Poly or MTT Poly—and even in those ships there’s hardly anything.

I’ve found myself turned away from most Killer and Murder dynamics because, similar to Kross and killermare, these two always have to have some sort of “sexual tension” or something and it’s actually just beating eachother half to death or being lovey dovey and so in love. (Or when Killer is portrayed as a desperate whore for dust’s attention and begging him to love him or something.)

I think I’d find them more interesting in fandom depictions if 1. It wasn’t always just about how “hot” they are together and how “hot” is it that they hate eachother or whatever, and 2. people focused more on how they’re different rather than how they’re similar.

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vodika-vibes · 1 year ago

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*slides $100 in a monopoly money over*

You got any sub!crosshair and Dom!reader smut in the back?

We Could Be More pt II

Summary: Recently defected from the Empire, you and Crosshair struggle to make ends meet while you cross the galaxy looking for a safe place to call home. At least you have each other.

Pairing: TBB Crosshair x F!Reader

Word Count: 1766

Warnings: Smut, oral M!receiving, Dom/Sub dynamics, reader is a gentle dom, Crosshair swears when getting laid

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: *accepts the money and slides this fic across the table* So, I decided to make this request a sequel to We Could Be More, since it seems to fit. I hope you like it! So this story (which is probably going to have a third part) is basically Crosshair and Reader falling in love and finding their happy ending. Why do I keep doing this to myself with Crosshair?

“I can’t believe you managed to talk that hack into buying the tie fighter,” You say as you offer Crosshair half of the sandwich you bought from a nearby stand.

“I didn’t sell it,” Crosshair counters, taking the sandwich gratefully, “I traded it for a better ship.”

“Better how?” You ask, as you take a sip of your grape drink.

“Well it comes with a droid-”

You release a happy gasp.

“-a protocol droid.” Crosshair continues, a small grin crossing his face as you wilt, “It’s the ship's pilot. It also has a proper kitchen and a bedroom.”

“Oh thank kriff,” You mutter under your breath.

“What, you didn’t like sleeping in the chairs?”

You scrunch up your nose at him, “Not in the slightest.” You finish your half of the sandwich, “I suppose we need to buy food now?”

“Already taken care of. That guy was way too happy to get his hands on a TIE fighter.”

“Mm, probably part of the rebellion.” You muse thoughtfully.

“Not our problem.” Crosshair warns, “We’re not getting involved.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” You toss your trash into a nearby can, and fold your arms over your stomach, “So, how are we going to afford to keep this ship?”

“Bounty Hunting.”

“Cross.”

“I know, I know. But it’s what I’m good at. And at least this way I get to pick my targets.” He points out. Crosshair quickly finishes his sandwich and tosses his trash as well, “In any event, it’s time for us to get off this planet and move on.”

“Where to?”

“Salesman said Takodana. He said that we can get help there.”

“Help?”

“That’s what he said. I figure it won’t hurt to check it out.”

“Your call.” You shrug, “If you think it’s safe then it probably is.”

He smirks at you, before he kisses the tip of your nose, “You’re too trusting.”

“It’s you, Cross.” You counter with a roll of your eyes.

“Mm.” He glances at you, a sly smile on his lips, “I don’t suppose you want to spend one more night in the hotel? For a repeat of last night?”

“Maker, don’t you have an off switch?”

“Yeah, it’s located in my dick, you have to suck really hard-” You punch him in the shoulder and he laughs.

“You’re a pig.”

“You weren’t saying that last night.” He says smugly.

“I…don’t recall.”

“So my dick was so good that you have no memory of it. Sounds like you need a repeat.” Crosshair muses as he drapes his arm over your shoulder and directs you towards the port where the new ship is waiting.

“Sounds like wishful thinking on your part.”

“Ooh, I’m hurt.” His grip tightens around your shoulder.

“Cross-” You murmur, your gaze flickering to the Stormtroopers harassing a shopkeeper further down the street.

“I see them. Keep walking. They haven’t noticed us.”

“...so much for a repeat at the hotel,” You quip with a small smile as you lean against him.

“Eh, we have our own bed now.” Crosshair replies, he keeps the stormtroopers in his sights right up until you climb the ramp onto the new ship, and only then does he start to relax.

He heads into the cockpit to give directions to the droid, while you poke through the rest of the ship. The kitchen is fully stocked, and the bedroom is clean and the bed even has fresh linens on them. More surprisingly, the closet is full of clothes. Actual, properly fitting, clothes.

“Surprise.”

You blink at him, “What’s all this?”

“The Fighter was worth a lot more than this ship. So with the extra I got all of this.”

“...how do you know what size bra I wear?”

“I spend a lot of time staring at your tits, kitten.”

You grin at him, “Honestly, it’s almost like you’re only using me for my body or something.”

“Eh, the rest of you isn’t terrible. But I really like your tits. And your ass.” Crosshair tilts his head to look at you, “That bother you?”

“Nope. I do have an amazing chest after all.”

“Alright, little miss modest,” Crosshair says, sounding deeply amused, “We’re taking off in the next fifteen.”

You hum a response as you pick through the clothes to see what he picked out for you.

“Does it all meet your approval?” He asks sarcastically.

“It does! Well done.” You pause when Crosshair inhales sharply, and you turn your speculative gaze towards him.

“Right, well…I’m going to go make sure the clanker doesn’t kark up our departure-”

You cross the room and lightly pinch the material of his shirt between two fingers, and Crosshair doesn’t pull away from you. “Cross,” Your voice is light, and he seems to curl in around you, “I want you to take this off, please.”

“...and why should I do that, kitten?” Crosshair asks, his voice low and raspy.

Your smile is small and peaceful, “Because I asked you nicely.”

He leans in slightly, “Maybe don’t ask so nice next time?”

Your eyes glitter with mirth, “Cross, take it off.”

“Why?”

“Because good soldiers follow orders,” You tease, “And you are a good soldier, aren’t you?”

Crosshair groans, “That shouldn’t be half as hot as it is.”

He steps further into the room and allows the door to slam shut behind him, before he peels his shirt off and tosses it to the side. You smooth your hands across his chest, lightly tracing the scars and tattoos that cover his skin. “Lay down please?”

It’s a soft request. Gentle. Just like everything else about you, but you have a feeling that Crosshair will treat it as an order.

And you’re right.

Crosshair settles himself in the middle of the bed, with his head resting on the pillows. His dark gaze trails over your body, and he tucks his arms under his head. “What’s the plan, kitten?” He asks.

“I’m going to taste you,” You reply immediately, “And then I’ll go from there.” You settle yourself on the bed next to him, and slowly unfasten his pants, giving him the chance to refuse you.

“You gonna take any of your clothes off?” He asks, as you lower his pants enough that his half hard cock bounces free.

“Hm…maybe. If you’re good.”

Crosshair watches you with half lidded eyes, “You don’t have to be so gentle, kitten. You’re not going to break me.”

You duck your head, a small smile on your lips, “I like being gentle with you, Cross.” You drag a single finger down the side of his cock, hard now that you’re touching him. “You deserve a little gentle.” And then you wrap your hand around him fully and give him a lazy stroke.

“Kriff-” His hips twitch at your touch.

Gently, very gently, you press your free hand against his hip, “Lie still, Cross.” He releases a second curse but stills his hips. You favor him with a warm smile, “Good boy, you follow orders so well.”

His head falls back with a low groan, and you can see the muscle flexing in his arms, “Motherkarking…-how are you so good at this?” He demands.

You just smile at him, “Would you like me to stop?”

“No I do not want you to karking stop you-” He trails off when you slowly raise your eyebrows, “I’m not going to beg you, kitten.”

“I would never ask you to,” You continue to languidly pump your hand, “I just want you to feel good.”

He releases a shaky breath, “I assume there’s more to this than just ‘lie still’.”

“You don’t get to touch me until after I’ve made you cum. That’s the only other condition.”

“At all?”

“At all.”

He flashes a cocky smirk, “Easy.”

“Well, we’ll see won’t we?”

With that said, you turn your gaze back to his leaking cock. He’s long and thick, though you’re not sure how he’d compare to other men. Honestly, you don’t much care, because he’s perfect for you.

You lower your head and lightly lick the precum from the head of his cock. His groan sounds like music to your ears, and you decide that you want to hear as many noises as he can make.

You wrap your lips around him and slowly start bobbing your head.

There’s no need to rush, after all. Plus, you’re still new at this.

He’s warm and heavy in your mouth, with a taste that you’ve come to associate with Crosshair over the last couple of days. Slowly you ease more and more of him into your mouth, using your hands to massage the part that you can’t quite take yet.

Above you he’s groaning, and alternating curses and praises.

You can feel the muscles of his thighs flexing under you, and you’re touched. Crosshair is so much stronger than you, the fact that he’s willingly going along with this is…incredibly empowering.

And incredibly arousing.

You pull back slightly when Crosshair groans your name, though you keep him in your mouth as you work him over with your hands.

He groans low in the back of his throat as you push him over the edge. You make sure to swallow every drop, and you don’t pull away from him until he’s spent.

“How was that?” you ask, a little shyly.

Crosshair drops his arms from under his head as he starts to catch his breath, “Incredibly, incredibly hot.” He finally says.

You smile slightly proud, “You didn’t mind?”

“If I did, it wouldn’t have gotten as far as it did, kitten.” He shifts and kicks his pants off the bed, and then turns his gaze towards you, “Come here.”

You slide up the bed so that you’re closer, and then you squeak when he quickly tugs you across his chest, his lips crashing against yours. He quickly tugs your clothes off and tosses them to the side, before immediately sliding one of his hands down to massage your ass, pulling a startled squeak from your lips.

“Kitten,” He murmurs as he breaks the kiss, “I want you to sit on my face-”

Your face flames with flustered embarrassment, and Crosshair smirks.

“And then I’m going to fuck you into the mattress.”

You pull away to press your flaming face against his chest.

“And after that, I’m going to show you how to be a proper Dom, Princess.” He coos in your ear, “Your way is very hot, I want to show you my way.”

You peek up at him, a small smile on your lips, “Okay.”

His smirk grows into a grin, “Good girl.”

#star wars #tbb #tbb crosshair x reader #crosshair x reader #18+ fic #clone thirsting #smut #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic #answered asks

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girlwithadragonheart · 2 months ago

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Chapter 7 - Spite's Revenge (or lack thereof)

This story contains major spoilers for Dragon Age the Veilguard. Read at your own discretion!!

Kalais x Lucanis

Summary: It's finally time to get Lucanis and Spite's revenge against the Venatori witch that tortured them.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: Illario(yeah that should say how I feel pretty well about him), Kalais is pissed off, lots of venatori death, lucanis and kalais are so cute, sexual tension

A/N: Oooh Illario pisses me off so baddddd >:(

Chapter 6 DATV Masterlist Chapter 8

The morning light filtered through the cracks in the shuttered window, pale and hesitant, as if it didn’t quite belong in this room weighed down with unspoken words and regrets. My side still ached, a steady throb that tethered me to the moment, even though I was mostly recovered, like it was a phantom reminder of what happened. I lay there for a while, staring at the ceiling, listening to the muffled sounds of movement beyond the door. Life continued out there. Here, I felt stuck in some kind of limbo.

Eventually, I forced myself to sit up, wincing as the motion pulled at my tender skin. My gear sat neatly folded on the chair in the corner, my boots placed side by side. I wasn’t sure who had done it, but a nagging feeling told me it was Lucanis. Despite everything, he always made sure things were orderly---like if he could control the chaos of the little things, the bigger things might stop spinning out of control too.

The door creaked open, and I tensed, half-expecting to see him again. But instead, it was Varric, chest still bandaged up, and he walked with a limp while his leg was braced. His ever-present smirk was slightly softer than usual.

“Well, look who’s up,” he said, stepping inside. He pulled a stool over and dropped onto it with a sigh. “You look like hell, Rook.”

“Thanks,” I muttered, running a hand through my hair. “Good to see you too.”

Varric leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “So, you wanna talk about it? Or are we doing the whole ‘brooding in silence’ thing?”

I shot him a look that suggested exactly what I planned to do. “What’s there to talk about? We went up against a literal ancient nightmare, and I almost got myself killed. Again.”

“Yeah,” he said, his tone light but pointed. “And yet here you are. Still breathing. Which is more than most people can say after tangling with something like that.”

I leaned back against the headboard, my arms crossed. “It doesn’t feel like enough.”

“Enough for what?” Varric asked, his gaze sharp despite the casual set of his shoulders. “To save the world? To live up to whatever impossible standard you’ve set for yourself? Let me tell you something, Rook—being alive is enough. It’s a hell of a lot more than some people get.”

I looked away, my jaw tightening. “Tell that to the people we couldn’t save.”

“I have,” Varric said simpy. “And guess what? They’d say the same thing I’m saying now. You did what you could’ve. More than anyone else would’ve.”

Silence settled between us, heavy but not uncomfortable. I traced the edge of the blanket with my fingers, my thoughts tangling into knots. “Lucanis thinks he failed,” I said finally, the words tasting bitter in my mouth.

Varric nodded, like he’d been waiting for me to bring it up. “Of course he does. That guy’s got enough guilt to sink a ship.”

“Why?” I asked, my voice quieter now. “Why does he put so much of this on himself?”

Varric was silent for a moment, looking at me for long enough that I met his stare. The weight of it made me look away again. His voice was low when he asked, “Why do you?”

I looked down at my hands, flexing my fingers. “I don’t know how to help him,” I said instead.

“Start by helping yourself,” Varric said. “You can’t pull someone out of the fire if you’re already half-burned.” I frowned, about to argue, but he held up a hand to stop me. “I mean it, Rook. You’re both too damn stubborn for your own good. Maybe it’s time to stop trying to fix everything alone.”

His words hung in the air, and for the first time in a long time, I didn’t have a sharp reply at the ready. Varric stood, patting my thigh affectionately before moving for the door. “Think about it,” he said, pulling the door open before looking over his shoulder at me. “And for Andraste’s sake, try not to get yourself killed again. I’m running out of sarcastic things to say at your bedside.”

I snorted despite myself, shaking my head. “I’ll try.”

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving me alone with my thoughts. This time, they didn’t feel quite as heavy.

—-------------------------

I finally managed to drag myself out of the cot in the infirmary. My side was still tight, and the skin was stretched taut with a scar, but it was healed mostly over. Phantom pains still plagued me, but that could just have been the result of so much mental and emotional stress on a physical wound.

Lucanis and I hadn’t spoken, but I would wake to the smell of his cooking and a cioccolata calda steaming on a tray beside my bed. If that was his idea of a peace offering, I’d take it. Everything was hard enough without trying to lay our feelings out in a messy heap on the dining table. Best to keep them tucked away in organized folders, nice and neat to pull out when necessary and close up and put away in other cases.

And until the time arose for me to pull some of those folders out, they would stay right there in my chest where they belonged. Where I knew no one could see them or hurt them.

Hurt me.

And yet, my feet carried me right to him anyway. As though they just couldn’t help themselves. As though I couldn’t help myself. Like a moth to a flame, always trailing after the danger and unable to resist the temptation of its warmth.

I knocked hesitantly before pushing open his door. Lucanis stopped mid-pace, seeing me. “Are you in here brooding?’ I asked with a slight smile.

“I’m fine,” He said, placing a hand on his hip.

“That’s not a ‘No.’”

“I had her. She should never have gotten away from me. This was our contract, Rook. I don’t fail my contracts,” he said, venom toward himself with every syllable that slipped from his tongue.

“Forget about Ghilan’nain,” I said.

“That’s why I’m here,” he argued.

“I know, but… I’m just happy you didn’t get killed out there.” I crossed my arms under my chest like I could pull that folder back in before it spilled all over the floor like loose coffee beans.

“You shouldn’t go easy on me,” Lucanis said. “Mistakes get people killed.”

“You’re an assassin,” I grinned. “So do successes.”

“I thought I still had this. Whatever else I am, I’m a professional,” he said. “After the Ossuary, I thought at least I could still take out a target. I need to work.”

“Ghilan’nain was a giant face in the clouds, Lucanis. I asked you to stab a cloud.”

“And I missed the damn cloud!”

“My point is: That was impossible, and you still almost did it. That’s not small,” I told him.

He sighed, looking at the ground. “I was distracted,” he said, looking back up at me. “That cannot happen again. I need to get my head on straight.”

“Whatever you need to do, okay?” I told him.

“Have you been to talk to the others?” He asked. “I think everyone might have… things to deal with now. I should check in with the Crows. Whatever the word is, I’ll let you know.”

“Tell Teia I said hi,” I told him before leaving. “And Lucanis,” I turned back toward him, and he looked up at me. “Stop beating yourself up before I beat you up,” I leveled him with the best glare I could manage.

His eyebrows shot up, “Is that a threat, mi estrella?”

I shrugged, smiling at him before shutting the door behind me.

—---------------------

After a talk with Solas that night that provided no new information or feedback, I wandered back out to the dining hall to see if Lucanis had heard from the Crows. When I entered, he was standing at the corner of the table, several knives stuck into the wood.

“This is ominous…” I said as I approached.

“Viago found something,” Lucanis said.

“Something bad, I take it?” I asked, bracing myself for whatever news I was about to hear that had Lucanis sticking knives in the table.

“Venatori in Treviso. Like I thought. One of them might know where Zara is. Viago has Crows watching them. We find them, we find Zara,” he said.

“Everything she did to you… We’ll make her pay, Lucanis. Side by side,” I said earnestly.

“We just have to get this done. I’m not losing anyone else,” he said in a low voice. “We only get one shot at this. We’ll go when you’re ready.”

—----------------------

We met with Lucanis’s Crow contact. She told us that they found a group of Venatori hiding out in the market, not far from Cafe Pietra. They already took Minrathous from me. They couldn’t have Treviso too.

I would do anything to keep a home.

I didn’t like anything about this. I definitely didn’t like how willing Illario was to insist Zara had moved on and left. Especially now that Venatori were trying to occupy the city beside the Antaam.

We made our way through the city to where she said they were hiding. Of course the front door was locked. So we went up. There was always another route, this was Treviso, after all. Holes in the walls and climbing the lattice-works on the sides of buildings. Jumping between roofs and ziplining over canals.

Still, I must’ve miscalculated a jump, my foot slipping. My heart plummeted to my stomach as I started falling. A hand gripping my wrist firmly stopped me, and a second later I was back on my feet, looking at Lucanis as his hand lingered on my wrist.

“Careful,” he said before turning to lead the way again.

I’d forgotten how fun it was to kill Venatori. They were worse than roaches. Like a rat in the last bag of rice. Lucanis watched with raised brows, almost in surprise as I slammed my dagger through a Venatori’s ribs all the way to the hilt before pulling it out and slitting his throat.

“You fight like a Crow,” he observed.

“Varric taught me to fight. I guess the rogue in him rubbed off on me,” I said in response. “Sometimes even a normal stabbing beats burning them to a crisp.”

“Remind me to stay on your good side,” he smirked.

“I think you’re safe,” I laughed.

There were lots of useless notes scattered around their hideout. Only one pointed to a possible lead. A powerful mage named Aquila. A mage? Two could play that game. Try a mage with a dagger, bitch.

It didn’t take long to get rid of him. His pockets were stuffed with jewelry from the Chantry. That was our next stop, then.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this? Facing Zara, I mean,” I asked him.

“I lost a year of my life to that Venatori witch. I owe her for that,” he said steadily.

We climbed up to the roof, and Illario was standing there. “There you are. What took you so long? Did you stop for coffee again?”

“Illario? What are you doing here?” Lucanis asked as we approached. I watched him, very much waiting to hear the answer to that myself.

“I’m coming with you, cousin. No arguments.”

“This is my job,” Lucanis argued.

“This is Crow business,” Illario countered.

“How did you even know we’d be here?” Lucanis asked.

Illario looked at me with a sly grin. “Rook! Always a pleasure. Touring the city with my cousin? You must allow me to show you the sights.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “Lucanis told you not to come.” I saw a flash of anger and disappointment cross Illario’s face before it was gone, replaced by that stupid smug grin.

“This isn’t your type of job, cousin,” Lucanis said, shifting slightly closer to me. “There’s no one you can charm into dropping their guard. Only fanatics. All you can do is get yourself killed.”

“You think I’m not good enough?” Illario questioned.

“Are you?” Lucanis asked.

“Fine. Have it your way, cousin. You know best,” Illario replied with a hiss.

“Let’s go, Rook. Zara is waiting,” Lucanis told me.

“Go on, then. Don’t keep Zara waiting,” Illario crossed his arms, watching me like a predator. I sidestepped him, heading across the roof.

We didn’t find Zara, but we found about a dozen Venatori and a bone-reader in the Chantry hall. Apparently she was Zara’s favorite soothsayer, Porcia. Lucanis said if she’s here then Zara is too.

All of her lackeys were here, which meant she was here. We just hadn’t found her yet.

And of course, when we did find her, it was in a pool of blood in the basement of the holy sanctum.

And she was naked.

Great.

“Lucanis,” she purred. “It’s terribly uncivilized to drop in on a lady unannounced. Now the evening’s ruined.”

“You’ve got something on yourself,” I said.

“How very eloquent,” she said, standing from the water. She was covered in blood up to her collarbone, hair black and wavy, lips painted dark. Her eyes were bone white, a stark contrast to her hair and the blood bodysuit.

“Bitch,” I sneered, curling my lip and flipping her the bird. Lucanis glanced at me with a similar expression, and my hand clutched my dagger as she prepared to fight us.

All of my anger with the Venatori that had built in my veins now came charging out in a concentrated blast of fire and lightning. I watched as Lucanis leaped into the air, wings erupting from his back in a display of shadow and night and everything righteous and vengeful that had been building in him over the past year.

While she was busy focusing on not burning to a crisp and spending all her power regenerating herself, Lucanis grabbed her by the shoulders and threw her forcefully against the floor. Her once beautiful face was now old and wrinkled, her hair white as snow.

She cowered against the pillar she was thrown against, trying to drag herself up. “So serious, Lucanis! Why don’t we talk? I can tell you much about Venatori… and our pet Crows.”

“No. I want. Her heart. Quivering. On our knife,” I heard Spite hiss in Lucanis’s mind.

I watched Lucanis’s face twist, his neck straining as he fought against Spite for control. His eyes flashed purple before he closed them.

“You want to know who betrayed you, don’t you? Who sent you to the Ossuary?” Zara crooned.

“Talk,” Lucanis spat.

“I knew you were—”

She was cut off by someone dropping from the ceiling. I almost had them under my blade before I saw it was Lucanis’s cousin.

“Illario!”

“I told you. This is Crow business.”

“Amatu—” Zara was cut off by Illario’s hand around her throat, squeezing the life out of her. Literally. Her neck snapped. And she was gone.

“No! Mine!” Spite hissed through Lucanis’s teeth, wings flaring from his back. Spite screamed in anger, leaping into the air and pinning Illario, arm drawn back with his dagger. I watched in slow motion as he tried to plunge the knife into his cousin. His other hand caught his forearm.

“Get. Illario. Out!!” Lucanis yelled in my direction, fighting against Spite with everything in him.

“What? No—”

“Rook, I can’t—” He screamed in pain.

“Lucanis!” I moved in front of Illario.

“No!” Lucanis screamed.

The dagger pressed against my skin, drawing a nick of blood at my collar. “Rook. Move!” Spite hissed.

I stared right into those glowing purple eyes. “No. If you want him you have to kill me first.”

Spite growled. My face cracked as the dagger drew a scratch against my skin from Lucanis’s shaking hand trying to hold Spite back.

“Rook. Hurt!” Lucanis stumbled back, eyes back to their normal chocolate brown.

“Rook,” Lucanis took a step toward me, hand out.

“Hey, I’m fine.” I swiped my thumb over the wound, letting my magic heal it with the pass. “See? Nothing’s there, it’s okay.”

“You need to get him out of here,” Illario said behind me. “Rook. Keep him away. From Treviso. From the Crows. He’s a danger to the family.”

I spun around to face him. Approaching with my finger in his face. “If you had bloody well stayed away like we bloody well told you to, this wouldn’t have happened! That wasn’t your fucking kill, Illario! Do you know he spent a year in that fucking prison getting tortured? That he never would’ve been possessed if not for her?” I spat, my hand fisted in his collar.

“Rook—” Lucanis said weakly.

“No!” I cried. “He does not get to call you a danger when he’s so reckless. And what was it Zara called you, hmm? Amatus? The Vint word for love, if I remember correctly from my time as a slave,” I spat in Illario’s face. “Forgive me, if I’m not ready to let you off the hook just because you happened to know where we would be, and happened to know where the Ossuary was, and happened to be called love by the person we came here to kill. So, no. You get out of here Illario before I get the mind to kill you myself. Your only grace is being Lucanis’s cousin. Get the fuck out of my sight.” I shoved him and he stumbled.

“Lucanis, you’re going to let your plaything speak to me like this?” He questioned.

“Kalais is not a plaything, and you would be the luckiest man in the world to have her as yours. Just go, Illario,” Lucanis said, all of the fight gone from him.

Illario looked between the two of us, scoffed, and walked away. He was smarter than I gave him credit for, then.

Lucanis watched him go and then fell to his knees. I rushed over to him, hands on his shoulders to keep him upright. “Come on, just gotta get back to the eluvian and you can rest,” I said, helping him to his feet. “I’m alright, okay, now I just need you to be.”

Lucanis complied as best he could, Spite helping him move with me as we traversed back to the Diamond and through the Eluvian to the lighthouse.

I managed to get him back to his room, sitting down against the wall as he passed out on his cot.

—--------------------

I didn’t sleep much, but I rested a bit while he did. He sat by me for who knows how long while I was injured, I couldn’t bear to leave now.

Hours later he stirred. “Rook?”

“You’re awake,” I said, looking up at him from my camp on the floor. I had brewed fresh coffee for when he awoke sitting on the table next to his bed, the small lamp the only light in the room.

“Yes,” he said. “I’ve been trying to figure out what to say to you,” he said quietly.

Ah.

So he’d been awake for awhile, then. I just didn’t know because he hadn’t stirred.

“And…” he continued. “There aren’t words enough to apologize.” I shifted to sit on my knees before his bedside, brows furrowed. “I never wanted you to see me like that. And to think I almost…”

I shook my head. “I’m still here,” I told him. “Nothing happened that I wasn’t expecting other than Illario falling from the sky,” I said with a slight grin. “And look…” I took his hand, pulling it to my collarbone where his dagger had nicked me. “There’s nothing there. Not even a scar.”

I let go, and his fingers trailed across my collarbone, eyes lingering on the skin there. A shiver went down my spine, goosebumps raising on my flesh. Lucanis inhaled sharply, looking away, putting his hands on his lap. “We need to talk about Illario.”

“He wants you to stay away from the Crows. He… thinks you’re a danger to your family,” I spat. I’d had plenty of time to think about it and let my anger cool down. And yet, every time I thought about it, that anger came rushing back. What better way to tell I was justified than that?

“He’s not wrong. If I cannot stay in control…” He said solemnly. “Something’s not right, though.”

I sighed. “I didn’t say anything because he’s your cousin, but… I’ve always had a bad feeling about Illario,” I said carefully. “And for your sake, I didn’t want it to be true.”

“For his sake, let’s hope you’re wrong,” Lucanis said. “Zara is dead. After everything she did to me…”

“To us!” Spite hissed.

“It should have been my knife that finished this. Illario denied me that.”

“Trust me, I won’t be soon forgetting that, either,” I scowled.

“Thank you, Rook,” he said softly. “Just… give me time.”

I took his hands, squeezing them lightly. “Of course. I’ll be around if you need to talk. Your coffee is on the end table. I made it, I hope it’s alright. I tried to copy how you do it,” I said sheepishly, looking away.

His eyes were wide, and he picked up the cup, bringing it to his lips. He hummed, eyes slipping shut as he tasted it. I squirmed with anticipation. His eyes slowly slid open to peer at me. “I think… this is better than my coffee, Kalais. I might be asking you to make it more often,” he smirked.

I felt my face flush, and I stood, hands on his knees as I leaned in. “No promises that I can make it again,” I said before standing and leaving the room.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: I hope you guys like the slight changes I made! (I needed to yell at that bitch (Illario) and Zara so badddd)

Let me know if you want to be added to the Lucanis tag list or the Kalais tag list!

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voxofthevoid · 3 months ago

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*banging pots and pans together* Goyuu gremlins, come get y'all fucking juice.

I say this as if I'm not inundating you in goyuu every week, but Gojou has been conspicuously absent from my current WIP for...10 chapters and over 70k words. A major character and one half of the endgame ship, and he shows up halfway through the story—JJK has got me making more and more novel (in terms of my writing) narrative choices with each fic.

Gotta say, it feels great to get back into writing Gojou. Last time I tackled him was at the end of September, for the fem!Gojou no-powers oneshot. The necrofic from October beginning has a lot of Gojou, sure, but he's a...well, a corpse. Sinking back into goyuu banter and interactions felt like coming home.

Now, here's Demon/Hunter Horror Wednesday #9, featuring Gojou Sluttoru Satoru in the flesh.

There’s a man on the platform.

It’s the height that startles Yuuji first. He’s freakishly tall. The tallest person Yuuji’s seen—unless he counts Sukuna, which he won’t. Besides, this guy’s all legs, and it’s weirdly fascinating how they move, smooth and graceful under shiny pants reflecting the platform lights. They eat up the platform with long, languid strides, getting closer and closer and—

Yuuji blinks, dragging his eyes from the man’s legs to a face that’s a lot closer than he expects, even though he has to crane his neck to make eye contact—kind of. The man’s wearing sunglasses, those thick black ones that show nothing of what’s underneath, so Yuuji just ends up staring at his own distorted reflection.

His eyes are wide, his mouth a little open. Yuuji closes it, his teeth clicking together.

The height isn’t the only startling thing about the man. His hair is a shock of white, messy strands covering his forehead and even falling over the sunglasses. And Yuuji’s got no leg to stand on when it comes to people with eye-catching coloring, but there’s still something about this man that makes it hard to look away.

“Hi?” he offers warily.

“Hello,” comes the answer, immediate and cheerful. “You a local?”

“Uh, yeah? I guess.”

A tilt of the head. Those snowy strands shift with mesmerizing motions. “That’s not very reassuring.”

“Why…am I reassuring you?”

The man claps, once. “Good point! You’re not a serial killer, are you?”

Yuuji’s so confused. “No?”

“Hmm, you don’t sound very sure about that either.” The man leans closer, which involves a lot of bending. Yuuji blinks at his reflection in the glasses, which blinks right back. “Nah, you’re too cute to be a serial killer.”

“Thanks, I think. Who are you?”

“Gojou Satoru!” The man declares, straightening up and sticking out an arm. “And who are you, my young, uncertain friend?”

Yuuji takes the proffered hand. It’s big, almost swallowing his whole hand when it closes around it. There’s warmth too, seeping boldly into his flesh.

“Itadori Yuuji,” he introduces himself. “I’m very confused.”

“I did get that impression.”

“No, I mean, you’re—” Yuuji shakes his head. “Never mind. Why are you asking weird questions?”

“Hey now,” the man says, his lips pressing into a pout. They’re very shiny. And pink. “Those were very sensible questions. There’s no point asking for directions from a non-local, is there? And it’d be very unwise of me to put myself in the maw of a murderer.”

“Well,” Yuuji says, slightly less confused, “I’m not a murderer. And I do live here. Moved here a few months back. Pretty sure I can give you directions. To where?”

“A recent transplant. I see,” Gojou murmurs, his head still tilted slightly down. Despite the opaque glasses, Yuuji has the distinct sense of being looked at. “Would you happen to know the way to the Fushiguro household, Itadori Yuuji-kun?”

“Fushiguro?” Yuuji repeats. “You know him? Or are you here for Tōji-san?”

“Both,” Gojou says, his smile widening. The glossy gleam of his lips doesn’t hide how sharp the expression is, and for the first time, Yuuji really takes in the rest of his face—the chiseled jaw, the straight nose, the prominent cheekbones. A sharp face, but pretty too. Like Fushiguro’s, except that while Fushiguro’s soft around the edges, this man looks like he’ll cut if touched. “—to me?”

Yuuji blinks back to himself, trying and failing to make sense of what Gojou just said. “Huh?”

That smile grows even bigger, flashing a hint of very white teeth. “I asked if you’re listening to me?”

“Oh. No,” Yuuji admits. “Sorry?”

Gojou hums, tilting his head like a curious cat. “I don’t think you are. But I’ll forgive it if you’re a good boy and take me to the Fushiguros.”

Yuuji swallows, his throat very dry. “I could, but…”

“But?”

“How do I know you’re not a serial killer, Gojou-san?”

Gojou snorts. It’s an ugly sound, rough and nasal. Something inside Yuuji unclenches, like that’s the proof he needed that this guy is human and not some abnormally pretty dream he conjured up. It’d be a kinder dream than usual, but Yuuji can’t trust his imagination anymore.

“I’m too handsome for that, don’t you think?” Gojou asks, his grin grown lopsided.

“Yeah, but—” Yuuji makes a sweeping gesture with his free arm, covering Gojou as well as the rest of the platform. “I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“So there is a brain under all that pink fluff,” Gojou says, his tone weirdly approving.

“I don’t think you get to talk about anyone’s hair,” Yuuji points out, eyeing Gojou’s snow-white strands again.

But Gojou just tosses his hair like he’s in a shampoo commercial. “It’s all natural.”

“So is mine,” Yuuji says drily. “Not the point.”

“Oh? What is your point then?”

“Serial killing. I think.” Yuuji shakes his head. “Whatever. Yeah, I’ll take you to the Fushiguros’ place. Do anything weird and I’ll punch you.”

“Careful,” Gojou purrs. “I might be into that.”

Yuuji just looks at him for a moment, before taking in the rest of the platform with half a mind to foist this guy off on someone else. There’s no one, obviously. It’s not like this place is bustling even during what was the rush hour back at Sendai. Nanami and Yuuji were alone the entire time they waited, and he’s pretty sure no one but Gojou got off from the train.

Plus, he probably shouldn’t inflict this guy on anyone else. Yuuji doesn’t think he’s a bad person or anything, but he’s kinda weird. And Yuuji’s pretty immune to stranger danger.

Except when he walks into cursed churches.

“Come on then,” Yuuji says. “It’s getting late, and Tōji-san usually turns in early.”

Gojou’s lips and cheeks do something very weird. “Fushiguro Tōji has a bedtime.”

“Uh, not exactly—”

Yuuji’s cut off by demented laughter—full-on cackling, filling up the open air of the empty platform. All he can do is watch, nonplussed, until Gojou calms down, and even that’s startlingly abrupt, the noise stopping so suddenly that the resulting silence seems to boom.

“Sorry, sorry,” Gojou says, not sounding all that sincere. “That was just too funny. Guess the single dad life suits him.”

Yuuji thinks of what Fushiguro sounds like every time he has to talk about his dad. “I…wouldn’t say that. Anyway, you coming?”

“Sure,” Gojou says easily. “You going to let me go first, or are we holding hands the whole way?”

“What’re you—”

Yuuji realizes the answer before he even finishes the question, blinking down at his own hand—still clasped firmly around Gojou’s bigger one. He lets go quickly, snatching it back. For a moment, he doesn’t know what to do with it. Wiping it on his pants would be rude. And it’s not like Gojou’s palm was sweaty or anything. It was just warm, and Yuuji’s whole hand sparks like it’s stolen that heat for itself. He settles for folding his arms across his chest.

Gojou looks entirely too amused. “Pity.”

“Don’t tease me,” Yuuji grumbles, hoping the heat on his face doesn’t actually show on the skin; he knows his odds though, and they’re not good. He’s about to march off, leaving Gojou to choose whether to follow, when something occurs to him. “Wait, are you…”

“Yes?” Gojou prods after a moment, that curling grin still in place.

Yuuji squints up at him, specifically the sunglasses. He doesn’t think Gojou’s blind. People wear sunglasses all the time, though he’s rarely seen ones so dark. And Gojou navigated the platform pretty easily earlier, no cane or anything. Still, the thought won’t leave his head, and Yuuji’s mind refuses to accept the vague sense of being watched as enough proof, so he asks, “Are you blind?”

“How blunt,” is Gojou’s response. “I like that in people.”

“That’s not—”

—an answer, Yuuji doesn’t say because Gojou proceeds to give him an answer, raising one long-fingered hand to pluck his sunglasses off.

A maelstrom of blue slams into Yuuji.

He’s seen blue eyes more than a few times. People he knew, people he passed in the street. Bright ones, dark ones. Then there’s Fushiguro, whose eyes act like some deep-sea trench, shifting from dark green to depthless blue based on the lighting and his mood.

But he’s never seen eyes like these.

It’s not just one shade of blue, but every blue, all at once. Thin threads of shuddering color, spreading out from pupils that swallow all light. It’s breathtakingly bright, like the colors are reaching out of the eyes to claw at the air. Or maybe they’re just swirling inside, chasing each other inside the confines of those irises.

A part of Yuuji knows that he’s imagining it, that Gojou’s eyes aren’t actually nuclear ghosts. But that logic doesn’t quite penetrate the blue haze in his head.

Gojou blinks, cutting off that stream of color, and Yuuji sucks in a breath like a drowning man.

#goyuu #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #wip wednesday #jjk snippets #my fic #divider credit: saradika-graphics #fic: mouth of the wolf

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damnfandomproblems · 24 days ago

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About 6988: (TW for sexual assault, pedophilia, death threat mentions, and zoophilia)

You got brainwashed by antis. Antis have been the ones being exposed as pedophiles and even defended them. The anti lolicon people have stuff behind EDP445 because he said lolicon is pedophilia. For those who don’t know, EDP445 is a disgraced YouTuber who was caught TWICE trying to meet up a minor for sex. Once was a guy pretending to be a 13 year old girl, twice is where he tried to meet a real life 16 year old and sexted her. He SOMEHOW got a platform again.

There are actual pedophile rings on Twitter with adults meeting actual minors and using codes and emojis to hide what is actually happening, a proshipper pointed this out, and an anti was actively looking the other way and instead focused all of their attention on what the proshipper liked in fiction. Imagine that someone points out a pedophile ring and you see someone looking the other way because they saw someone’s taste in fiction and instead put 100% of their focus on that and not children being groomed and social media.

I have seen antis get caught being creeps. One anti was sexually harassing an ex partner while they were 18 and she was 15. Another anti who is a horror themed lewd V-Tuber (ironic) interacted with minors from ages 14 to 17 years old. Idc if you knew the minors as friends or if you’re 18, you should not be interacting with minors as a NSFW account.

I’ve also seen antis ENCOURAGE proshippers, who they THINK are “pedophiles” to go hurt real children. I’ve also seen them tell people to kill themselves over fiction. I’ve seen an anti tell a recovering self harm addict to “relapse.” I’ve seen too many antis tell sexual assault victims that they “deserved their abuse,” or they invalidated them.

Antis were also the reason why a non-binary artist I liked get ran off the internet all over what? A yucky incest ship? Seriously? THAT is the reason why they get ran off the Internet, meanwhile actual pedophiles still have platforms or have been given platforms?

Antis are also the reason why most fanfic writers quit because they don’t like the content they write.

Antis have been racist to said fanfic writers. Particularly, a south Asian writer who wrote dark fetish content who used dark content as a coping mechanism.

I’ve also seen an anti who is another V-Tuber get exposed for being a rapist, as they repeatedly attempted to have sex with an ex partner against their will while they were drunk and they ONLY stopped when their partner started crying. They also got off to their ex’s photos without their consent as well and cheated on their partner by sexting a minor.

Also, antis were strangely very quiet when it came to infamous zoophile Kero the Wolf coming back as a V-Tuber. For those who don’t know, I’m sorry for the horrors I’m about to tell you. Kero the Wolf was a part of a few zoosadist and zoophilia rings and even sexually abused his OWN DOG. Then, he made a half-assed apology (like that will ever reverse the damage he did to those poor animals and his own dog…) went into hiding for a very long time, then came back as a V-Tuber model and used a voice changer. Antis have not talked about this guy, and yet it’s the people who can separate fiction from reality (aka, proshippers) who spoke up about him.

THE LIST GOES ON. Do you STILL want to paint Proshippers as the “bad guys” and Antis as the “good guys” here? If you still think Proshippers are bad even after I tell you all of this, then idk what to tell you.

I don’t label myself as a proshipper. Because I think the label is stupid. Back then, we called it, “mind your own business,” and “Don’t like? Don’t look.” But hey, because of the state of the internet from 2016 to now, those labels and the ongoing “proshipper vs anti” discourse will still continue because we’re gonna keep letting it continue.

Posting as a response to a previous problem.

#fandom problem 6988 #response to previous problem #mod sf

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glennjaminhow · 3 months ago

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My newest hyperfixation ship finally manifests as a sick fic because of course it does.

Beautifully Broken Things

Tim wakes up disoriented.

While that’s not unusual for most, it is unusual for him. He’s alert before he’s even aware of his surroundings. That was drilled into him by the time he was four.

He rubs his eyes and groans as he pulls himself up, out of breath from the simplest task. He blinks through the darkness of his bedroom and sags against the headboard, careful not to get too comfortable. Dizziness brews in his skull, thick and foggy. He feels like he’s on a raft in the middle of the ocean, the waves relentless, violent, treacherous. It’s ridiculous. He’s in his bed, at home in Los Angeles. The idea that he’d be anywhere else is as absurd as it is impossible.

Okay. No big deal. He’s a little out of it, and that’s fine.

Kojo whines at his feet.

Tim runs a hand through his hair as he peels himself off the mattress. A wet cough rattles through his chest, but he ignores it in favor of letting Kojo out. The wooden floor is icy beneath his thermal socks. He usually goes outside with Kojo – sometimes even plays fetch with him depending on how late he got in – but not today. He feels strange… distant. Kind of like he isn’t really here. Instead, he stands at the door and stares out the frosted window, eyes heavy.

He jumps when Kojo barks.

“Sorry, pal,” Tim says as he lets him back inside.

The dog huffs and scampers away. His automatic feeder goes off, and then Kojo’s gone.

Tim should be eating too. He isn’t a big breakfast guy, so he typically just has overnight oats or a smoothie, but the idea of eating right not makes his stomach squirm. He has about half an hour before he has to shower. He could lie down on the couch – or better yet in his bed – and bundle himself in blankets, but the here-but-not-here feeling is so strong he’s afraid he won’t be able to get back up. He resorts to sitting at the kitchen table, too exhausted to make coffee even though maybe it’d help fix whatever is wrong with him.

Time passes in a glazed blur, too fast and too slow all at once. He autopilots his way through his morning routine. He brushes his teeth, combs his hair, puts in his contacts, throws on jeans and a hoodie, and is out of the house five minutes ahead of schedule. It doesn’t make any sense. Sometimes, he wakes up wrong, guilty or angry or upset or exhausted, but it never lasts this long. He’s great at snapping out of any funk before he enters the station.

“You okay?” is the first thing he hears when he opens the side door. Chen. Great.

He rolls his eyes. He just wants to get into uniform and on the road. Maybe focusing on the job will help.

“Fine,” he says. He heads to the locker room without looking back, even though the urge to read her facial expression is strong. Lucy always wants to know everything, even if it’s irrelevant things like his favorite ice cream flavor or that he’s allergic to strawberries. She’s like this way with other people too, but it’s more annoying because she was his boot and now she’s his gopher. It’s like he just can’t get away from her.

Tim changes. Grabs his thick police-issued coat. Coughs into his elbow a few times. Stands in front of the mirror to make sure his sure is tucked in properly and his hair is up to standards. Heads to morning roll call.

Lucy stops him before he can head inside. She places her hand on his chest; Tim shrinks back from the touch.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Tim nods. “I’m good.”

“You’re wearing your coat,” she points out. “You never wear your coat.”

“It’s December.” His voice is hushed and scratchy. Shit. He clears his throat, but it sounds weird.

Fantastic.

Lucy’s eyebrows furrow. “And?”

“Aaand I don’t have to explain myself to you,” Tim says as he pushes past her. “It’s just a coat.”

“It’s never ‘just’ anything with you,” Lucy mutters as she trails behind him.

Tim ignores her.

Somehow, by the grace of whatever, Tim doesn’t have to say a word during the briefing. Grey does all the talking, even down to announcing their jurisdictions and duties for the day. Tim stands off to the side, arms crossed over his chest and giving his best thousand-yard stare. He doesn’t focus on anything because focusing means feeling, and feeling means acknowledging that he’s shivering. Hard. So hard he swears his teeth are chattering.

No one seems to notice. Good.

Grey releases them. They disperse.

By the time he makes it to the shop, Lucy’s in the driver’s seat.

The urge to be in control is strong, but not as strong as the urge to sit down.

He’s thankful the shop is already warm, heat cranked to the max.

Lucy immediately passes him a thermos.

“Tea with honey,” she says.

Tim buckles his seatbelt and nods once. “Thanks.”

“Have you eaten?”

“I’m fine,” he tells her again.

Is it really that obvious?

He has to get better at hiding these things.

“Do you want an applesauce pouch? It could help your throat.”

Tim frowns. “Like the things that little kids eat?”

“Adults can eat them too,” Lucy says adamantly. He doesn’t know why he believes her. “I have apple, cinnamon, and peach mango.”

“Pass,” Tim says. “And my throat is fine.”

Lucy rolls her eyes. She hands Tim his sunglasses, which were tucked away in her breast pocket for some reason, and puts the shop in drive.

Tim puts them on without a second thought, pulls the sleeves of his coat over his hands, and crosses his arms. He stares out the window as they drive through the busy streets of LA. The morning is drizzling and overcast, but that doesn’t stop the Christmas festivities. He should be BOLOing and patrolling even from the shop, but the road ahead of him is fuzzy. There’s a tightness in his chest that builds with each passing second. He gulps and shifts in his seat, biting his bottom lip. He should be able to handle this. Whatever it is, whatever is going on with him, isn’t bad enough to cause all this drama.

He can handle it. He can handle it.

And he tries to breathe through it. He really does. But now he’s nauseous, and his mouth is salivating, and each blink hurts. His dad would kill him. His military brothers and leaders would laugh in his face and tell him to suck it up. Because that’s what he should do. That’s what he has to do. He needs to suck it up. He doesn’t know why he can’t. But the fact that he can’t means that he’s out of control and being out of control means chaos and chaos means –

“Tim?”

He swallows thickly.

“Pull over.”

She does, and Tim is barely able to open the door before he spills out onto the concrete below, coughing up nothing but bile. His stomach heaves. Everything is raw and exposed and open, and he doesn’t like this. He shouldn’t behave like this. He should be able to hold it in like he always does. But he doesn’t hold it in. Of course he doesn’t. That would take a level of discipline that he clearly doesn’t possess.

“It’s okay,” he hears. The voice is soft, kind.

Lucy’s hand is on his lower back, rubbing it in soothing circles.

He shakes his head. “’s not okay,” he mumbles, swiping at his messy chin with his hand. He hiccups, and more bile splatters on the ground below.

None of this is okay.

Tim screws his eyes shut when Lucy’s hand leaves his back.

He coughs and hunches in on himself. Maybe if he curls into the smallest, tightest ball imaginable, he can disappear. His heart hammers in his chest, skipping beats and double-timing. The rest of his body feels like it’s been stored away in a deep freezer for months on end. He tries to hide his face in his knees, but moving is a herculean effort. His limbs don’t feel like they belong to him anyway, so it’s pointless.

“Tim, hey,” he hears. The hand on his back returns and then moves to his shoulder and then to palm his forehead.

His instinct is to flinch away, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t.

“I’m gonna clean you up a little, and then we’re gonna get you home.”

Tim shakes his head. He doesn’t know why there are tears streaming down his cheeks. He can’t remember the last time he cried, but he’s sure it wasn’t because of something as dumb or idiotic as not feeling in control.

Lucy unclenches his hands for him. Cleans them with something cold and wet. Does the same thing to his chin and the front of his coat. Tim shivers. Coughs again. Blinks rapidly. He doesn’t – maybe can’t – fully understand all of what’s happening. Delirium settles in, nestling and burrowing. He just knows one second he’s on the ground and the next he’s sagging against Lucy’s side as she helps him into the shop. She wipes his cheeks with her thumb and buckles him in, safe and sound. Tim leans on the door, pressing his cheek to the cool window, hoping that it’s enough to ground him, to help him stay in reality, to let him get back to himself in one piece.

He closes his eyes and tries to breathe through it, but things – everything – just feels wrong.

Tim isn’t sure how or when it happens, but somehow he’s in his bed. His gray comforter is soft against his skin, pulled up over his chin. He tries to roll onto his back, but he can’t seem to muster the strength. Instead, he coughs wetly and attempts to place how he got here. He’s home, so it isn’t anything sinister, and he knows Lucy was with him the whole time. His former boot wouldn’t let anything bad happen to him. It’s weird to acknowledge that, to understand that someone has his back, but he knows it’s the truth.

Something wet drips from his forehead and down his cheek.

Tim blinks. His arms feel like they’re glued to his side.

“Any better?” he hears.

Lucy comes into his line of vision, kneeling down in front of him. She replaces the wet thing on his forehead – a washcloth apparently – with an icepack. Tim bites his bottom lip and winces.

“Sorry,” she whispers. “But you’re gonna hate this even more.”

Lucy invades his cocoon, exposing him to the air outside. Tim lets out a groan that’s dangerously close to a cry and shrivels in on himself. Lucy places an icepack under each armpit, and this time tears swell in his eyes. The cold is immediate and fucking hurts. Like needles. He hates needles, but she’s right: he hates this even more.

“It’s just for a few minutes. Your fever is through the roof, and you need to cool down before you fry your brain,” Lucy says.

She pulls the comforter back over him. Tim wraps his arms around himself and coughs, body shaking harshly. He chews the inside of his cheek with chattering teeth. His dad would absolutely annihilate him for this… this…

“Tim,” Lucy whispers. She’s still kneeling down in front of him. “You’re okay. This is only temporary.

He gulps. “You sure?” His voice is weak.

Everything about him is weak.

“I’m sure. Just breathe. You’ll get through this.”

Tim nods. He looks at Lucy, whose brown eyes are shining with tears, yet also full of reassurance. She’s trying to make him feel better. He ignores the desperate ache for her to hold him close, to run her fingers through his hair, for her to whisper comforts in his ear.

He breathes. Closes his eyes. Lets sleep tug him under.

#let me know if you want me to continue #chenford #lucy chen #tim bradford #the rookie #chenford fic #the rookie fic #sick tim bradford #caring lucy chin #season 4

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amandapearls · 3 months ago

Note

Not the antis saying that Elriels are the ones that don’t care about Elain…💀🤡 Because apparently Az would do the things he does for Elain for everyone else and that he just sees her as another lover, that he wants to keep a secret.

I’ve also seen them point out that Az was still dreaming and lusting ovwr Mor when Elain was just THERE. I mean, first of all… we don’t know the extent of his feelings for Mor. We just know what everyone assumes LOL. And yeah, Az is there to save people, he defends very strongly those he cares about, but did he EVER had a reaction to anyone else like he had for Elain when she was taken for example? Nope. Alsoooo, Elriel just has a normal build up, from friends to (almost) lovers. It took some time for Az to get over whatever he was feeling for Mor. Ofc. But he developed a friendship with Elain in the meantime, that turned into something more eventually. Even in ACOSF is said pretty clear that he basically gave up to Mor. After all this time. But I’m repeating myself, we don’t know the exact extent of what he felt for Mor. Maybe he just let ppl assume lol, bc I refuse to believe he’d just act like he doesn’t get the hint from Mor for like 500 years, when he knows basically everything. Things are more complex than that.

And the ones that don’t like Elain are the ones that pair and force her with a male she doesn’t want. At all. Guess which one is that. SJM said that it’s obvious who the next book is about and she also build this ship for several books now. Just stop pretending your ship has ANY chance. The lies y’all tell yourselves just so your ship can “earn” half a point in the romance department are laughable.

I genuinely can’t wait for the day to prove y’all WRONG. 💅🏻

Goodness you guys love sending long as hell anons.

1. I’d say that if you ship Elain and Azriel then you don’t really love Elain. If you loved Elain, then you’d ship her with the person who would treat her the best and actually care about her wellbeing (aka her MATE). Also, we don’t have Elain’s POV yet, so nobody truly knows how Elain feels about her mate.

2. When Rhys confronted Azriel about Elain in the bonus chapter, Azriel did NOT say “I think I’m in love with Elain” or “she’s special to me” or “I really care about Elain”. Nothing. Instead he called her the third sister. Then let us know that he “hadn’t gotten that far in his planning, certainly NOT beyond the fantasies that he pleasured himself to”. Sounds like lust to me. And since Rhys can read minds— I’m sure he heard Azriels thoughts and knew that it wasn’t love. Rhys did the right thing here.

3. Rhys confronted Azriel about Mor in the bonus chapter and Azriel completely ignored that question. Hence, I do think Azriel still has some unresolved feelings for Mor that he needs to get over before he’s with anyone.

4. It’s stated multiple times throughout the book series that Azriel looks at Mor with “heat and longing”. And at the end of ACOMAF, when Azriel was poisoned he still tried to protect Mor. His sole focus was on Mor. So I’m pretty sure his feelings for Mor are spot on with what other characters have said in the books.

5. Sarah stated it was obvious and it is. The next book will be Azriel’s with Gwyn as his love interest. I think Azriel will finally get over his unresolved feelings for Mor in his book and he will fall in love with Gwyn. Based off ACOSF and the bonus chapter, I think it’s clear that they’re definitely mates. Especially since Gwyn is the only female to ever make Azriel feel a “spark in his chest”. Sounds like mates to me.

Can’t wait for the next book announcement too ❤️❤️

#elucien #pro elucien #gwynriel #pro gwynriel #elain archeron #azriel shadowsinger #gwyneth berdara #acosf

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trinityobsessesovatings · 1 month ago

Note

do you have a ranking of your favourite arcane characters?

this might come as a little bit of a shocker…

MOST

Caitlyn

Jayce

Mel

Sevika

Ekko

Jinx

Ambessa

Viktor

LEAST

caitlyn is my absolute FAVORITE character!! idk what it is about her but i want to have her children! i would definitely be her little housewife fr! she has me acting in ways… IM CONCERNED ABOUT. i would definitely be in her corner like “babe stop this isn’t you! look at me baby this isn’t you! don’t let jinx get you there.” …yeah it’s bad.

vi is a VERY CLOSE second. i absolutely ADORED her character. she lowkey reminds me of myself fr, willing to do anything and everything for the ones she loves. i have an older brother who has autism and would DIE for that mf fr! i really loved how even though she was frustrated with jinx… she never really gave up on her… in my eyes at least.

…now… jayce i’m not gonna lie.. he’s position on this list is a SHOCK to me. i was a jayce HATER all throughout the show! mainly because i was jealous with the way he got the baddest bitch in the show mel.. YES IM A HATER! but chileee… when he popped back up with beard… SUMN WAS PURRING 🤪 i’m a slut for mean with beards.

mel, mel, mel… when she first popped up on my screen I was deadass stunned with how stunning that woman was! then when she first started getting with jayce i was like: 🤨😕. i couldn’t believe it. i was also definitely one of those people who shipped her with sevika even though those two NEVER interacted. but yeah her aura was so strong she had me hating jayce. WHEN SHE UNLOCKED HER POWERS OH MY GOD I WAS SCREAMING AND JUMPING FOR JOY! baddest bitch. 😌

sevika was definitely someone else who caught my attention when the show first started! i thought she was THE COLDEST mf they introduced! even when she betrayed vander i was upset a bit, but also at the same time… i supported it??? because she just wants the best for her people! i was literally so pissed she kept getting that vegeta treatment tho… LIKE COME ON!

NOW the only reason ekko is so low on this list is because… most of the people above him they got EXTRA POINTS because i’m attracted to them! ekko is honestly so adorable and just the goat fr! that’s my son fr! little man when he was so small 🥹 MY SON!!! i was having heart palpitations when him, hiemerdinger, and jayce where glitching out during the wild runes scene! MY BOY JUST WANTED TO KNOW WHAT WAS WRONG WITH HIS TREE!

the reason jinx is where she is on this list is literally the same as ekko’s! jinx and ekko idk how they are so that’s an immediate “you’re my child and if anything happens to you, i’ll kill everyone.” jinx was also one of them characters that deadass HAD ME DYING! the scene with enforcer not believing she’s jinx, when silco was calling for her but she was too busy jamming, when she jumped sevika and tied her up, asking her sister if her caitlyn fucked before she killed them, almost crashing out when viktor called her powder… THE LIST GOES ON! she an icon, a legend, and she is the moment! 😌

ambessa she had me in the first half, like when she was first introduced! i’m pretty sure if she didn’t end up being an opp… she would definitely be higher on the list! the only thing ambessa got going for her rn is she’s hot! I JUST HATE WAR STARTING/LOVING ASS BITCHES!! like for why! DO THAT SHIT ON YOUR OWN TERF DON’T BRING THAT MESS OVA HEA! also she slapped mel so that DEF docked some fucking points!

now this might be an unpopular opinion… i might get hate for it… i thought viktor was the most boring character on the show highkey fr! IM SORRY IM SORRY! like he had his moments that man is a sassy king… but other than that I didn’t really rock with viktor as a character or as potential boo thing. when it comes to science people… it’s hit or miss for me fr. also… that mf ran a cult 🙅🏾‍♀️ NO THANKS

HONORABLE FAVS

vander

isha

babette

shoola

lest

claggor

cassandra

HONORABLE LEAST FAVS

SILCO

that rat looking mf

MADDIE

mylo

that guy who was in sevika’s gang who was also licking something or someone

#trinity💭tings #trinityyaps 💬#arcane #arcane vi #vi arcane #arcane caitlyn #caitlyn kiramman #arcane jayce #jayce talis #arcane mel #mel medarda #arcane ambessa #ambessa medarda #arcane ekko #arcane jinx #arcane viktor #arcane sevika #sevika arcane

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deathmybride · 9 months ago

Text

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ midnight at noonday | dead poets society (part 3) *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

ship: Surprise! x fem!OC

warnings: still none

summary: Clare gets to know Charlie.

word count: 3124

a/n: Tragically, I forgot to cross-post this chapter when I was doing them all before. Hope you guys enjoy.

taglist: @toobraindeadtofunction

“So,” Charlie broke the silence as we passed a group of younger boys playing knucklebones in the dirt under one of the oak trees. “You got your extracurriculars yet?”

“Yeah.” I unlinked our arms as we came up to the building’s entrance, casting a glance around for any teachers. “Soccer, rowing, and Nolan said he’d have the caterers teach me some home ec too, even though they don’t do that for boys.” I sighed. “I don’t mind it, really. I like cooking and folding laundry fine, but it kind of seems a little, um…”

“Misogynist?” Charlie offered.

“Yeah!” I nodded enthusiastically. “I was scared to say it.”

“Hey, don’t be.” He gave me an emphatic look. “This whole place is backwards. I’m surprised they let you in at all.”

“Me too, but it was the only way they could get my father to teach. We’re kind of a package deal.”

“I see. Still, it must have been a tough sell. You must have enough merit of your own to convince Nolan to change his ways.”

“I suppose I do.” I flushed under his praise. “I mean, my grades are up to standard and, uh… Well, I suppose I’m a good debater when I have my head screwed on. I had to vouch for myself on the phone to him before he let me in. Y’know there’s something about that man that makes me want to stand up for myself.”

“Would that be his face like a smacked ass, or the whole correctional officer bit?”

“Both, probably.” I said with a giggle. “I managed to convince him to let me into the debate club too.”

“Debate club?” Charlie raised his eyebrows. “Impressive. How’d you swing that?”

“Well, I debated him. I told him I imagine a number of the boys in the club would go on to careers in politics, so if any of them wanted to run for president or something, it would be very important to understand the female perspective in order to win women’s votes.”

“No time like the present, right?”

“Exactly.” I nodded. “I said that the earlier you start gathering information, the easier it will be to campaign later. And then I made a joke about helping them to better understand their future wives, and that really tickled him.”

“Did he give you any push back?”

“Of course. He said I’d have an unfair advantage ‘cause my femininity would fluster my opponents; and also that my admittance to the club would ‘undermine the long cultivated identity that has been a constant since the club’s inception.’” I slipped into a half-hearted impression of the stuffy old man. “So I said if I ever argued against the club’s values, surely the members coming together to defend them would only strengthen their resolve; and that I would wear my ugliest, lumpiest jumper when I’m on the soap box.”

“I bet he saw the funny side of that.” He said sardonically.

“He did! He actually laughed, can you believe it? He said I have ‘moxie.’”

“Weird.” He frowned, but there was real admiration in the look he shot me.

“You’re telling me.” I laughed to cover my blush. “The funny thing is, I don’t really care about debating. I really wanted a spot on the school paper, but he said it would be inappropriate for a new transfer student to be involved in something so front-facing; especially one who’s already drummed up some controversy.”

“Damn. Try him again next semester, huh? I’m on the paper, I can vouch for you.”

“That’s so kind! Thank you, Charlie.”

“Any time.” He said as we rounded the corner to the east wing stairwell. “Hey, did you say you’re doing rowing?”

“And soccer.”

“Bit of a sportswoman, huh? Very nice.”

“You don’t have to butter me up, I’ll still help you with English.” I threw him a smirk.

“Ugh!” He threw his hand up in phoney indignation. “I’d never use flattery to get what I want! But, seriously, I think it’s cool you’re athletic. You can sit by me at rowing, if you want.”

“Sure. I’ve never done it before, so I hope I’m not too much of a hindrance.”

“You’ll pick it up fast. It’s easy once your muscles get used to it. You better pray you’re on my soccer team, though, kid. I’m the best goalie that ever lived.”

“Sure you are.” I rolled my eyes playfully. “I’ve never played that either. I hope I learn quickly.”

“It’s not so bad. What did you do for sports at Chelsea?”

“I did tennis and track. We had soccer and cricket teams too, but that was never my thing. You ever played tennis?”

“No, never.”

“That’s a shame! It’s so much fun.” I sighed dolefully. “I still have my gear, and I’m hoping to find a partner.”

“I could try.” He offered. “I don’t know how good I’ll be.”

“That’s sweet of you.” I gave his arm a light squeeze. “If I find somewhere to play, I’ll let you know.”

“Sure. Look, we’re nearly there.”

“Oh, so we are.”

Sure enough, we had arrived at the familiar stairway that led right up to my room. I was astonished that not only had he kept me entertained all the way from the west wing to here, but he had kept me talking through our entire walk. After the horror of this morning, I thought I would be buried deep in my shell forever. I felt a warm rush of gratitude for the boy with the permanent smirk. Though he liked to mask it with a clownish attitude, I could see that he really cared about people.

“I can take it from here, thanks Charlie.”

“No problem. Hey, do you have your own bathroom, or are you slumming it with us?”

“No, I have my own.” I laughed. “Well, it’s Dad’s- I mean Mr Keating’s too.”

“Ugh! Privileged.”

“I know!” I blushed, embarrassed at the faculty’s special treatment. “I’ll see you at dinner?”

“Sure.”

“Hey, can…” I hesitated. “Can I sit with you guys?”

“Of course!” He touched my arm reassuringly. “I’ll save you a seat.”

“Thanks. See you then.”

“Bye, Skipper!” He was gone before I could reprimand him.

Feeling a spark of annoyance- more so at my father than Charlie- I scaled the last flight of stairs and came up to my bedroom. It was a surprising relief to be alone, and I realised my ears were ringing from the constant noise of three hundred teenage boys nattering and play-fighting from class to class. I rubbed my temples, feeling around for tension, heaved a sigh, and dragged my feet over to my suitcases. It felt like such an effort to dig around and find my toiletries, and by the time I found them I had to fight against the urge to curl up on the floor and go to sleep. Instead, I hauled myself to my feet and had a quick look around my room. It was much better than the boys’ dorms; there was more space, with a bigger bed and wardrobe, a bigger desk with more drawer space, and a small table with one of those new fangled electric tea kettles. I felt like the Queen of Sheba, though I doubted she would be so ashamed of her luxuries. I let out a sigh, then made my way to the bathroom to scrub off the day with soaps and potions.

I had just finished putting my hair up in Spoolies and was about to put on some dinner clothes when I heard a rapping at my door. I hurriedly pulled a bathrobe over my pajamas and went over to investigate. To my dismay, there was no peephole, so I had no clue as to who I was opening the door to. In a slight panic, and not wanting to sound rude, I opened the door straight up without asking who was there. Thank the lord it was just Dad. He was smiling softly and held a bundle of cattails in a tall crystal vase.

“Hi, sweetheart.” He stepped in and kissed my cheek. “I thought you could do with some colour in here, but for the life of me, I couldn’t find any foxgloves. I nearly had an impromptu scuba session getting these.”

“Thank you.” He strode past me and placed them on the windowsill by my desk. “I love cattails.”

“Yes, you do.” He agreed with a playful smile. “You bit one when you were two and got a mouthful of seeds.”

“So I’ve heard.” It was one of his favourite stories from my early childhood.

“So. Clare. I thought you might like to join me for dinner in my room tonight for a little recconassance. How about it?”

I hesitated. I would be so grateful to have some quiet time before study group tonight, but Charlie had already saved me a spot at his table and I desperately wanted to see Neil again. I supposed I would see him while we studied, but there would be little time for talking. I suppose I left it too long to reply, as Dad shook his head and laughed.

“You don’t have to say yes.”

“No, no I’d like to. I just-” I sighed in agitation. “I don’t like that I have privileges that the boys don’t have.”

“Hm.” He looked thoughtful. “Well… Sure, you have a few luxuries not afforded to the rest of the student body, but you have plenty of extra restrictions too. I think it all evens out in the end.”

“I suppose you’re right.” I let out the tension in my shoulders. “I’ll eat with you, but I need to go a little before eight so I can meet up with my study group.”

“Of course.” He nodded. “I’m proud to see you taking your school work seriously, but try not to let it rule your world.”

“I think I might have to if I’m going to stay here.” I wiped my eyelids, fatigue weighing heavy on them. “I have to at least stay on top of things, until I get a feel for how much I have to do.”

“Mm, you are right.” Dad sighed, shaking his head. “I only wish you had more time to do what you’re truly passionate about.”

“Who knows? Maybe I have an untapped passion for Latin.”

“Well, you can’t have inherited it from me.” He ambled to the door. “Come on, dinner’s getting cold.”

It seemed Dad had hustled an extra portion of the teacher’s meal for me. Waiting at the small dining table in his room was a tray with a glass cloche over it, covering two steaming bowls of carbonara. With a pang of guilt, I noted that it was much nicer than the prison food I had heard some of the boys describing earlier that day. I sat down while Dad stepped aside to select a record to put on the turntable.

“Looks good, doesn’t it?” He smiled. “I can’t guarantee all your meals will be as nice as this one. Hell-ton hash is a necessary rite of passage.”

“Surely it’s not that bad.” I tried my best to sound optimistic, but the day was so long and I was so tired, and with a stack of work to do for every class, I truly felt like the entire school had been designed to torture me. Why would the food be any different?

“You don’t sound convinced.”

“I’m not.” I let my hand rest on my cheek and gazed longingly at the meal, only just realising how starved I was.

“Go on, dig in.” Dad insisted, picking out a Chopin piano record, probably for my benefit.

I started eating before he sat down, and neither of us said grace. Of the four pillars, tradition was the one that fell most by the wayside in our household. The pasta was the most divine thing I had ever tasted, and it took a lot of effort not to wolf it all down straight away. The piano filled the air with delicate swelling sounds. Chopin would always be my favourite.

“So, how was your day?” I asked before he had a chance to start a round of twenty questions.

“Excellent.” He responded, pouring us both a glass of cloudy apple juice. “Every one of my classes contain students of great merit. I can see poets everywhere! But I see real brilliance brewing in your class. There’s a spark there that I can’t quite place.”

Neil. I thought. From the brief interaction I had had with him, I saw his friends treat him with reverence; even Charlie- the social dynamo that he was- seemed to look at him with respect. Neil’s very presence must have stirred up inspiration in his peers.

“I agree.” I smiled. “I think even the quiet ones will surprise you.”

“Yes, indeed. Though, I quite like that Dalton boy, loud-mouthed as he may be. He reminds me so much of myself at that age. Eager to entertain.”

“Charlie’s lovely.” I swirled some pasta around my fork, reminiscing our earlier conversation. “A boy was giving me a little trouble earlier today, and he saved me.”

“What kind of trouble?” Dad paused, fork raised, his face suddenly grave.

“Nothing serious.” I said quickly. “He wanted me to join his study group, and said something insulting about one of the boys in my group when he found out I already had one.

“Oh. How unpleasant.” He relaxed and took his bite of pasta.

“Mhm. I stood up for him, though.”

“You always were one to do that.” He smiled proudly.

“I suppose I am. I had a disagreement with Overstreet before class when he threw a paper ball at that boy who sneezes a lot.”

“Spencer Poindexter.”

“Poindexter?!”

“Yes, you heard right. You won’t forget that one in a hurry, will you?”

“No. Poor guy.” I shook my head, feeling a rush of empathy for the kid. He must have had a terrible time growing up. “That reminds me, though-” I pinched the bridge of my nose in embarrassment. “I forgot Todd Anderson’s name earlier. Called him ‘Tom.’ It was terrible, he went bright red… looked like he was malfunctioning. He’d only just been introduced too! Oh, gosh, it was so bad!”

“That’s not that bad.” Dad chuckled. “You’ll worry yourself to death if you let yourself get hung up on a little thing like that.”

“I suppose it could have happened to anyone…” I mumbled, face hot with remembered embarrassment.

“Exactly. Anderson seems like a forgiving kind, anyway. You’ll make amends in time.”

“Yes, I hope so.” It would be so awkward to spend time with Neil if his roommate hates me.

We ate in silence for a while. I soaked up the piano melodies like gravy into bread, letting them draw my mind away to ballroom scenes of slow dancing with Neil at a senior prom we’d never have. I was just scraping up the last bits of bacon and was about to dig into my creme brulee when Dad spoke up again.

“So, about this crush we were discussing earlier…”

“Oh, stop!” I exclaimed in hushed tones, as if Neil might have had his ear pressed up to the door. “Forget I said anything.”

“Now, Clare, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” He soothed.

“There’s everything to be embarrassed about!” I let my fork clatter into my bowl. “I’ve barely said a word to him! I shouldn’t even be feeling like this, anyway. It’s against school rules. Rules that you are supposed to enforce, by the way.”

“I am aware of that. And, as such, if I catch you fooling around, officially I should report you. So it’s of the utmost importance that you don’t give me or any of the staff any reason to suspect a thing.”

“There’s not going to be any fooling around!” I took out my agitation on the crispy top of the creme brulee and shoved a spoonful into my mouth.

“Well, you say that now.” He ran his spoon along the top of his dessert, taking great pleasure in the scraping sound, then struck it once with the back of the spoon, creating a satisfying crack. “Anyway, a clandestine love affair is a good thing at this age. It’ll build character and fuel your poetry. You’ll write the best poems of your life before you’re twenty-five.”

“Mmph!” I buried my face in my hands.

“Who is it?”

“Who is it?” I looked up in horror.

“Yeah.” He rested his cheek on his hand like a gossiping schoolkid. “Tell me.”

I looked at him long and hard, searching his eyes for a glimpse of just what he planned to do with this information. Turning up nothing, I said the only thing I could think of.

“Absolutely not. You’ll have to guess.”

“Guess?”

“Yes, go on. You got three strikes, then you can’t ask me again for a week.”

“Okay, okay.” He thought for a moment. “The obvious guess would be Dalton.”

I hesitated.

“Well, no… Charlie is really wonderful, but, well… it’s not him. It might be simpler if it was him. I mean, at least I’ve had a proper conversation with him, and he makes me laugh, and he seems… Well, maybe the flirting is compulsive.”

“Hm, not Charlie. There goes my one informed guess. Meeks?”

“No. He’s lovely, but no.”

He looked out the window and thought for a moment.

“Anderson?”

I hesitated again, though this time I couldn’t put my finger on why.

“No, not Anderson.”

“Darn. Y’know, if you told me, I might be able to help.”

“Help how?”

“I could reassign seats, pair you two up for assignments… recommend him love poetry.”

“No! No, thank you.” I said hurriedly, getting to my feet. “I think I’ll handle this just fine on my own. Now, I really should go and meet Neil. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Neil!” Oh no. “Neil Perry! The one who sits in front of the Pitts boy, with the big brown eyes. I thought of him straight away, but I couldn’t for the life of me remember his name!”

“It’s not him.”

“Oh, yes it is.” He grinned, absolutely cheesed. “I can tell by the panic in your eyes. Not to worry, Clare, my lips are sealed and I will take no action without your go-ahead.”

“It’s not!”

“Okay, sweetheart.” He said unconvincingly, got up and kissed me on the cheek, and handed me the rest of my creme brulee. “Take this to your room, you can eat it later. Though, I’m sure you’ll get enough sugar to last you elsewhere. Now, go have fun.”

“It’s. Not. Him.” I said emphatically before giving him a quick hug. “Good night.”

#charlie dalton x reader #dead poets society #dps #dead poets #dead poets x reader #neil perry x reader #todd anderson x reader #knox overstreet x reader #gerard pitts x reader #steven meeks x reader

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ssruis · 4 months ago

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Also catch the thief was just really funny.

> Luka shows up like hiiiiii guys what’s up… oh there’s a thief ok emu can I borrow you for a second :) takes emu up on a watch tower & emu uses her special Emu Eagle Eyes pink creature ability to locate a bunch of Ninjas.

> emu asks the thief to slow down while chasing him and then calls him cool when he does the wall jump.

> Rui gets distracted by an actor’s smoke bomb technique and is like “I gotta circle back to this later.”

> Nene gets attacked by children.

> The writers shoe horned in so many “MATTE MATTE MATTE”s with tsukasa that I’m not convinced this entire event wasn’t an excuse to make hirose say that a million times. Challenge: don’t matte matte matte for 2 minutes (critical failure).

> The only reason they found out what the thief was disguised as was because nene forgot a prop and, like a 10 year old boy, tsukasa went “no I’ll go get it I am super fast I’ll go get the prop sooo quick” & the thief happened to try to steal a (prop) vase while tsukasa was in the warehouse.

> The thief sees tsukasa again and is immediately shitting bricks and then takes off when tsukasa is like “show me your hand 🤨.”

> The thief’s biggest mistake was getting scratched by his cat or something. I’m not kidding they know they’ll find their guy because tsukasa spotted 3 little scratches on his hand when he first chased him down.

> “IM TAKING YOU TO HELL WITH ME” “hell?!? 😰” (tsukasa tackles a guy off a roof)

> kijima coming in clutch at the final second with a hay bale

> rui watching tsukasa fall off a building and having wonder halloween flash backs

> kijima was a former big talented wrestler & after his shoulder injury he “didn’t want to go on” (impactful in context. Kind of funny out of it.)

> tsukasa seems to think that screaming at the top of his lungs is necessary for sprinting even while training & scares poor innocent park goers (and their dog)

> emu+nene+rui show up early to the new moon place and see tsukasa running back and forth in a room yelling (training). Rui is like “well. Normal tsukasa kun behaviors?” Emu thinks he’s cool and nene suggests shipping him off to a zoo.

> tsk has entered his gym rat fitness era and tells wxs he’s planned out allotted protein shake breaks and everything.

> comedic sequence where tsukasa loses the thief in a crowd because a ninja class starts gathering

> apparently wxs heard tsukasa scream STOP!!! THIEF!! & just went ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ until they saw him chasing a guy

> it gave us the horrible no good very bad rui line about tsukasa’s muscles in the after live

> tsukasa’s biggest beef with the thief is that it’s getting in the way of his ability to put on a show

> tsukasa spends like half of the event incredibly depressed that he can’t wall jump & then being even more depressed that he can’t chase down a thief on foot.

> “tsukasa. please don’t do anything reckless.” “(I am going to catch that bastard MYSELF!!!)”

> yet another pro actor who is now like tsukasa tenma my friend tsukasa tenma :) my boy is networking!!!

> whatever the fuck kijima and shousuke had going on in college is made funnier knowing that kijima was in his sad era

#mine #tsukasa #rui #emu #nene

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ecoterrorist-katara · 12 days ago

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You mentioned that your first ship was percabeth what did you like about it? I'm just rereading the books since I havent read it in over a decade and Im surprised how well it still holds up with the friends to lovers. Personally I feel like it did the subtle lines between platonic and romantic and how with each book the lines got blurred. I feel like with FTL its actually really hard to write organically because its hard to write that change from platonic to romantic without one side seeming like they are almost being convinced into it (usually the girls side).

hello anon!! Sorry it took me SO long to get to your ingenious ask. I was like "hmm haven't read PJO since I was thirteen, time for a re-read" and I just kept...getting sidetracked.

Even as an ETL enjoyer myself, I subconsciously took it for granted that enemies-to-lovers is inherently more toxic in comparison to friends-to-lovers. You're absolutely right, though, that FTL comes with its own set of baggage. For whatever reason, I've never extrapolated that baggage to the trope as a whole.

One of the critiques I often see of ETL is that F/M ETL reproduces heteronormative gender roles and power dynamics*. That’s true, but that's a risk in FTL too, like you said. "Guy falls for girl and pressures her to return his feelings" is very much a gendered dynamic. The friendzone is, by definition, unique to FTL ships, and there are many many well-known examples where a male character pressures his female friend to return his feelings and makes her uncomfortable: Gale and Katniss, Bella and Jacob, Katara and Aang, etc. To be clear, I absolutely don't mind if one party falls first in an FTL dynamic, but how that person conducts themselves makes all the difference. (I also don't think it's a coincidence that in the examples I listed, the only character to end up with the girl they liked was Aang...who was also the only character written by men.)

Also, this is a side note, but I think it's pretty funny that people think friends-to-lovers is inherently wholesome? Have we forgotten that Heathcliff and Cathy is a classic case of childhood friends-to-lovers? Less dramatically, I'm very partial to versions of Wolfstar where Sirius and Remus are both huge messes as a result of trauma/war etc and say mean things to each other.

Anyway...onto Percabeth. I loved Percabeth for the same reasons you do: I thought the slow burn was impeccably organic. I also loved the mutual pining. Even though the book was from Percy's POV, it was very obvious to me that Annabeth liked him, possibly even before he recognized his own feelings. The mutual devotion in their friendship felt really special to me and I never felt like romantic interest will jeopardize the friendship. Fundamentally, my favourite friends-to-lovers romances have this kind of dynamic: it’s fine if they don’t get together because their friendship can survive anything, but of course they will -- it's obvious to everyone!

A gradual slow burn friends-to-lovers is catnip to me, whether in original fiction or fanfic. I want to be salivating for the mutual confession! I want to feel the yearning! I want to giggle in a very high-pitched fashion and scream when they get it wrong! Some of my favourite fics, even in ETL ships, are actually FTL. My favourite Dramione fic of all time is Lionheart. As for Zutara, basically all post-canon fics are FTL: refraction, Katara Alone, The Horizon, Another Word for Alchemy, Half Asleep, etc. FTL is hard to write, but when it's done well? Chef's kiss. Delicious.

A lot of Ka/taang vs. Zutara discourse tends to fall along "do you prefer FTL or ETL," with the conclusion that if you prefer FTL you'll like Ka/taang...but it's precisely because I'm an FTL enthusiast that I don't like KA! I think it was written poorly! It stumbles right into the exact pitfalls of FTL you identified, and there are so many better FTL romances out there that don't rely on pressure as a source of conflict/drama.

Anyway: anon you've made me think a lot, and I'm very grateful! Big hug to you.

*Footnote: obligatory disclaimer that fiction is fiction and people can ship whatever dynamic they like.

#In general I think I’m just more of a friends to lovers enjoyer #But yes I’m picky with this dynamic!!!!#Friendships change you! They make you better! That’s so special and I want that in an FTL story #friends to lovers #enemies to lovers #anti kataang #accidentally #zutara fic recs

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piratecaptainscaptainpirates · 1 year ago

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Congrats on 1k! I'd love a little missing scene fic between 2x04 and 2x05 where Stede gives some much-needed TLC to Ed and all of his mutiny-sustained injuries during his first night back on the Revenge 🥺

YES this is my NICHE!! Get absolutely cared for and cherished Ed!

Send me a prompt and I'll write a 1k word fic!

Ed had a thousand half-baked plans swirling through his mind as they rowed back to the Revenge.

He didn’t think Stede understood just how badly the crew would surely want him to stay gone. Ed’s current top idea for their best strategy was to pretend that he had become stricken with malaria. He’d also once met a guy who claimed to have been able to cry blood on command, and he was hoping that maybe he could do that, if it came down to it.

Fuck, but he was tired.

He’d had a hell of a day, was the thing, and he’d kind of been relying on staying moving or otherwise letting himself just drift along, and now that he had to sit still, and it was getting dark and quiet, everything was starting to rush in.

His head was pounding, and it hurt so badly he could feel it in his teeth. His split lip stung. His arm had kept getting sorer, until now he really didn’t want to move it. If he had been lucky enough to avoid a couple broken ribs, they were sure as shit bruised.

Point was: he felt like warmed over shit, and he was beginning to suspect from Stede’s increasingly worried glances that he might’ve noticed.

Fortunately, all his planning turned out to be useless.

As they pulled alongside the ship, Olu’s face popped up over the side. “Fucking finally,” he said. “What’s taken you so long?”

“Well, we stopped by an antique shop for dinner, which burned down,” Stede filled him in, reaching out to steady the ladder Olu threw over the side, “and then Buttons turned into a bird.”

“Ed with you?”

Stede pursed his lips, looking at Ed over his shoulder. “Yes, he actually-”

“Jim says they want you to lock the cabin door tonight,” Olu said. “As a precaution.”

Olu’s head disappeared, and Ed just stared up open-mouthed. “Huh. Thought that’d be harder.”

“Well, I had a feeling.” Stede held the ladder steady, motioning for Ed to go first. “C’mon.”

Ed would never know how Stede managed to get him up the ladder, because the second he put his foot on it, the world went spinning away, and suddenly the sky was on the ground, and that certainly wasn’t good.

The next thing he knew, he was laying on the deck, and Stede was saying “give him some space, please,” in that bitchy tone Ed loved so much.

“‘M fine,” Ed mumbled.

“Yeah, and I’m the Queen of England,” Jim muttered under their breath.

Ed let his eyes slip closed again, listening vaguely as Roach promised to bring a few first-aid supplies to the captain’s cabin.

“D’you want me to take care of him?” Roach asked.

Before Ed could even lift his head to say no, Stede was saying, “I’ve got it, don’t worry.”

Ed risked a peek around as Stede helped him up, supporting him with an arm around his waist as he led him towards the cabin. Fang gave him a genuine smile, but Frenchie wouldn’t meet his eyes, and Jim still glared at him.

“It’s okay,” Stede whispered into his ear. “You don’t have to worry about anything right now.”

Ed’s headache must have been worse than he thought, because he kind of drifted, half-conscious, as Stede got him seated on the couch. He heard Roach’s voice again, saw Stede sit something on the cushion next to him.

“I can take care of it myself,” Ed muttered half-heartedly.

“You don’t have to, though,” Stede said softly.

Ed sort of nodded, and the next thing he knew, Stede was sitting next to him, warm and real and there, and there was a soft cloth dabbing at the cuts on Ed’s cheeks.

Stede helped Ed shimmy out of his jacket and his shirt, whispering apologies when Ed cried out as that jostled him, and set to work soothing bruises and patching up cuts. The wound on his arm hurt like a bitch, but it thankfully wasn’t too deep for Stede to feel like he couldn’t stitch it up himself.

He should’ve felt more cautious, he knew, shouldn’t have been leaning into Stede’s side, halfway to nodding off, letting Stede see all the vulnerable bits of him so soon.

But Ed was tired, and everything hurt.

“Shh,” Stede kept soothing, so gentle and so earnest that Ed exaggerated a bit, whining like he’d never had worse pain before just so Stede would keep comforting him. “Only a bit longer, you’re doing so well.”

Roach had left something for the pain, a syrup that went down sweet as honey, and Ed was glad that Stede had taken over, because he might’ve kissed anyone who gave that to him out of sheer relief.

As it was, Ed was so tired he wound up just kind of mouthing at the side of Stede’s face.

Stede laughed, pulling Ed into his side, wrapping his arms around him, and the whole world went soft and steady. “Tomorrow,” Stede promised. “You can rest, now.”

Ed let his head rest on Stede’s shoulder, nuzzling into the crook of his neck, humming in delight at the feeling of Stede’s hand softly circling his waist to hold him steady.

He wasn’t looking forward to how he’d feel in the morning. He knew he’d be on unsteady footing, unsure what to say or how to say it, and Stede would probably come up with a whole speech for him to memorize for the crew, and that would go over like a lead balloon, he imagined. He wouldn’t know how to respond when the crew were upset or angry with him - as would be their right, of course. And he wouldn’t know how fast Stede would want things to move, or if he’d be angry with Ed, still, too, or…

Ed sighed, tucking his nose further into Stede’s neck, breathing in, just allowing himself to enjoy the feeling of Stede around him.

That was tomorrow. For now, he was safe.

#ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd fic #my fics

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