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georgie-weasley · 9 months ago

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Deep Wounds: Chapter 1.5

Warnings: A wee bit of self loathing from Remus, mentions of scars

Word Count: 1.1k

Pairing: eventual Remus x fem!healer!reader

A/N: So it has been a while since I posted anything about this series so to refresh, there will be smaller chapters like this one in-between each of the longer chapters. The smaller chapters generally won't focus on the reader and mostly Remus instead. As of now I'm still tagging everyone that's on my Remus taglist but if people want I'll make a separate one just for the series

Series Masterlist Taglist

Remus laid on the couch, his arm covering his eyes. He could hear his friends whispering about him only a few feet away. They often talked about him and his condition in hushed tones like it was some sort of secret but there was no point. Remus knew what kind of monster he was; they didn’t need to pretend he didn’t. “Can you stop pretending I’m not here and speak at a higher volume so I can decipher what you’re saying?”

The whispering stopped at once. Remus peaked out from behind his arm to see the group of four moving from the doorway to surround him in the living room. Sirius lifted Remus’s legs and sat down, resting the werewolf’s feet on his lap. James and Peter sat on the floor while Lily stood behind the couch and busied herself looking at the new scars forming on Remus.

“Want to fill me in on your secrets?” Remus whispered, moving his arm so Lily could look at his face. Since she found out about his monthly issue, she had taken on a sort of motherly role. She was always checking on him and trying to feed him and do her best to help heal him but that was never her strongest magic. But it was nice to have her care so much for him even if he didn’t want to bother her.

“James was just filling us in on your trip to St. Mungos.” Sirius let the silence hang after he answered. Remus kept his eyes closed but he could feel everyone looking at him. When no one else spoke, Sirius continued. “Are you really going to let some random girl help you find a cure?”

Remus sighed and sat up with a groan, causing Lily to rush into the kitchen to grab some ice. “No, I’m not. I had no choice though since James wouldn’t leave me alone.”

“That’s going to be awkward.” Lily handed Remus the ice before she took a seat next to him on the couch. “James said she’s coming over here after her shift.”

Remus put the ice on his right shoulder, sinking into the couch. “When she gets here I’ll tell her that I changed my mind and she can leave. I don’t need her help. I have you guys and that’s all I need. There’s no reason for some random girl to give me pity and spend her time and my time making a cure that won’t work.”

“Why not?” Peter spoke up from the floor. “She wants to help so why not let her.”

“I don’t know her Wormtail. I don’t know a single thing about her besides the fact that she seems to think she can help me. She could be doing this because she has pity or because she thinks this will get her points in the medical field.” Remus felt like he was making fair points but the look on James’s face told him it wasn’t enough.

“Moons, I think we all know why you don’t want to accept help.” Remus watched James and shook his head. “I think you’re scared to be let down.”

Remus quickly stood, ignoring the way his body screamed in protest from the quick movements. He didn’t want to sit around and hear James’s ridiculous ideas. James may be one of his best friends but he didn’t know a single thing about this life that he was forced to have. He needed a walk, he needed air, he needed to get away from everyone for just a minute. It’s only been a few hours since he was out of control of his body and attacked by a hippogriff and forced to go to the hospital where a healer refused to take care of him because of what he is. Not to mention a random healer decided to wedge her way into his life to try and help him for whatever reason. He needed a nap.

Remus headed out to the small backyard and collapsed onto a plastic chair. He closed his eyes and felt like maybe he could relax for a few minutes before the door slid open and Lily walked out. Remus grew close to Lily during their last few years at Hogwarts and he was beyond thrilled that she joined the little group of misfits they had. She had a bond with Remus that none of the boys could ever come close to replicating. He loved his friends and he was closer to them than anyone else in the world but his bond with Lily was special. He thought that their relationship would be one like he could have had with a sister.

She pulled another chair over and sat next to Remus, handing him the ice pack that had fallen when he stormed off. “I suppose you’re here to convince me to go through with this.”

Lily sighed and shrugged. “Not really. I think you should give it a shot but you’re right. You don’t know her and while it seems nice that she wants to help, you don’t know why she would. James was just excited to know there was someone else that wanted to help.”

She carefully rested a hand on his arm. “We all just want you to be happy and to have a good life that you deserve. Everyone is just excited at the idea that maybe this healer could be the one to help that.” Lily glanced at a new scar on his arm. “And if she’s as good at potion making as she is at healing, then I think she really could help.”

Remus looked at his arm. He had plenty of scars all over his body but the one on his arm that you had fixed earlier that morning was harder to see than the others. In fact some of them you did such a good job that there was hardly any evidence he had been hurt there in the first place. You had done a better job than anyone else ever had so maybe that did bode well for a cure.

“Give her one month, just one chance to figure this out and if it seems to go well or you think she isn’t weird, then it can’t hurt to keep trying. It really can’t hurt to give her a shot.”

“Fine but just one month.” Lily smiled and left Remus alone with his thoughts as she went back inside. He would agree to one month of help but Lily was wrong. This could end up hurting so many people. Remus had been hurt by strangers and friends but nothing hurt more than getting his hopes up only to have reality come crashing down on him and continuing to be a monster. This could hurt a lot.

Taglist

@100gaysnails @weasleybuns @s1aaaaayyyyyyyt @steelthistle @asuperconfusedgirl @jsjcue @Andy200700 @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @daisydark @creepybloodykitty2 @avatheveela @themarauderswife7 @Mintyme101

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lavosse · 2 years ago

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untitled winner's room fic

pairing: danny garcia/brody king, implied HOB polycule

wordcount: 1333

tags: dub con (winner's room, canon-typical HOB magic) blowjobs, voyeurism (julia's there), self hatred (?) the sex is not good and danny's not having fun

When he sees Brody hanging around outside the Room, Danny snorts. “You guarding her? That’s lame.” He can’t say he’s surprised to run into Julia’s guard dog, but he is a little annoyed — both at the interruption, and the implication that they think he’s — a brute. A monster. As if Brody isn’t one, hulking here in the hallway like some kind of wolfhound.

Brody just lowers his eyebrows and gestures Danny through the door first.

Julia’s stretched out in a long armchair — is that a chaise lounge? Danny’s never seen a lounge in real life, this arena is weird — reading a paperback. She shoots him a close-lipped smile when she sees him. It’s scary.

“Congratulations on your win,” she says, rising to her feet smoothly. Her dress flows with her. She’s so small, and yet she seems so confident.

Danny won. He’s the one who’s in charge here.

So he goes for it. Julia seems like a person who appreciates directness. “Thanks. You got a safeword, baby girl?”

And she sneers at him. Danny takes a step back. It’s almost a snarl, teeth out and sharp. “Excuse me?”

Maybe Malakai didn’t tell her. That’s…mean. Then again, no one had told Danny, back then. “You’re the rookie.” He tries for a grin. “That means you take the fall when your team loses. Is that news?”

Julia gets this look in her eyes, and her face goes flat and empty. “Daniel, Brody failed in his duty, so the Room stipulation is Brody’s responsibility to fulfill. If I had failed, it would be mine.” There are her teeth again, a silver glint in the low lighting. “But I don’t lose. Do you have any more stupid questions?”

Danny has a lot of questions. Danny has six or seven trips to the Winner’s Room in Chris’s or Sammy’s place “because you’re the rookie, kid,” to think about.

Brody drops his heavy paw on Danny’s shoulder. “She isn’t the rookie, she’s a member of the House,” he rumbles, “and you shouldn’t speak to her unless she tells you to. Sorry, ma’am,” he adds to Julia, who inclines her head. “Forgiven.”

“Sorry ma’am?” Danny asks, too astonished to shut himself up.

Julia and Brody ignore him, and Julia settles back onto her lounge, and Danny’s supposed to be in control but it doesn’t seem like he is at all. He doesn’t know how to take that power back.

“Brody’s safeword,” Julia emphasizes, “is camo. I’m just here to make sure he behaves for you. You may answer.”

Danny clears his throat. “Okay?”

Brody slings a threatening arm around his shoulders — one that could become a chokehold with a movement. “Wrong answer.”

“Thank you, Julia?” Danny squeaks.

“Better.”

After a long moment, Danny takes a breath and squirms out from under Brody’s arm. Brody tracks him with his eyes, but says nothing; Julia’s reading again. Danny goes to check out the bureau.

There’s all sorts of toys in there, but lube, condoms, and other protective items take up the first drawer. There’s towels and wet wipes too, which is really smart. Pretty well stocked, in Danny’s experience, but they are in Winnipeg, and the arenas that see a lot of hockey tend to keep a better Room.

There’s nothing in here he’s really curious about tonight — maybe with someone else. He’s just stalling.

Brody grumbles behind him, low and impatient.

Danny knows he’s gotta have a deer-in-the-headlights kinda look. “Listen, I thought I was gonna be in here with her.” He jerks his thumb in Julia’s direction. “I got no idea what to do with you.”

“He takes it beautifully,” Julia interjects. She’s studying her shiny black nails, book open on her lap. “And his mouth comes highly recommended. But —” and her eyes snap to his. “You seemed like you enjoyed his chokehold, didn’t you, Daniel?”

She’s really mesmerizing when she talks. It takes Danny a while to parse her words, and he finds himself moving toward her, although he’s not sure why. And it’ll be easier for her to talk to him if he gets on her level, so he kneels by her feet next to the lounge.

Hair falling forward to frame her face, Julia takes his chin in her hand. “You’re a menace, Daniel, and yet you seem like what you really want is for a big strong man to hold you down, is that right?”

Agreement rises like bile in Danny’s throat; he fights it down and tears away from Julia’s grip. “Fuck is wrong with you? Get off me.”

Julia — chuckles, a low, dulcet thing. It makes Danny’s blood boil. “Get over here and blow me,” he tells Brody, suddenly furious and exhausted at once. He’s already wrestled tonight. He’s ready to be out of here.

Brody bares his teeth as he sinks to his knees. Julia clicks her tongue. “No biting.”

Christ. These two really are freaks, huh. Danny can’t help but wonder what the rest of the House gets up to — it’s gotta be crazy to be in a faction that actually gets along. The dynamics within the JAS are touchy on the best days, forced together by Jericho’s power and distaste for the rest of the roster, not that Sammy’s gotten that memo lately.

He cannot afford to be thinking about Sammy right now. Boner-killer of the century.

Danny combs through Brody’s hair, tries out tugging on it. Brody goes willingly, letting Danny move him where he likes. It makes Danny feel powerful in a way he doesn’t usually feel outside of the ring, and it makes him feel…bad. Not guilty, but…too-visible, exposed, ugly.

He shoves down his trunks and his feelings unceremoniously.

Chris has taught him how to entertain a crowd, but Julia seems to have been taught to enhance her natural strengths. Danny had seen her when she was the Blonds’ little cheerleader, sparkly and useless; the House — Malakai? — has taught her something that makes Brody King call her ma’am. Her confidence makes Danny angry.

When Brody wraps his hand around Danny, slow, long pulls to get him hard, his hand swallows Danny up — he’s just that big. Danny hmms back in his throat — it’s good, nothing special but solidly good like popping his back or post-workout endorphins. “Yeah, that’s right.”

Brody leans in to take Danny into his mouth — but to Danny’s surprise, he just lets the tip rest on his tongue, kneels there waiting. He makes a low noise when Danny’s dick kicks, spitting precum onto his tongue.

“You want me to…?” Danny asks.

“Go ahead,” Julia interrupts, without looking up, and Brody whines.

Again, Brody doesn’t resist when Danny pushes into his mouth, lets his eyes fall shut and just goes where Danny wants him. It’s not doing nothing for Danny, having the big man on his knees, but as he moans at the press of Brody’s tongue he’s thinking about what Brody must be like on his knees for Julia. Is he gentle like this? He must be. Julia doesn’t seem like she has the patience for disobedience.

Danny feels disconnected from his own dick, weirdly, half wishing it were over already, half imagining a Room he’s not even in. It does feel good, jolts up his spine when his dick butts up against Brody’s soft palate, but the thing that gets him there is the thought of Julia doing this, taking her pleasure from Brody’s mouth like he’s a toy for her to use, like — “Oh fuck—”

Brody spits afterwards, which is fair. He doesn’t say anything, just goes to sit at Julia’s feet. He’s hard; Danny’s not interested.

“I don’t suppose you’ll be coming to play with us again,” Julia says. She sounds a little affected, actually. She probably got more out of that than Danny did.

She’s right, too. Danny won’t be taking anyone’s place in the Room after this. He’s not Chris’s whipping boy, Jesus. “We’ll see. Send some more’a your boys after me and see how it turns out for ‘em.”

#aew fic #my writing

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xoxo-ren-xoxo · 1 year ago

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hi hi hi little gayboy please please please elaborate on The Sickness -Sculk

HI SKULK ILY HIIII OK!!!

Context: I'm gathering asks about my Life Series [/Hermitcraft] Fantasy AU (tagged with #kingdoms au)

So the concept of The Sickness comes in several forms, I'll be super happy to explain them cause they rot my brain completely.

Mage Sickness: Magic users who overuse or misuse their magic, or use a lot of dark magic such as necromancy, become corrupted by the magic. Sorcerers are particularly susceptible because of their innate magical ability and general lack of self-control. Mage Sickness is pretty obvious physically, as it takes over the body slowly with a skulk-like disease. The skulk can be removed early on to slow down the process but there is no known cure, only preventative measures like potions. Mage Sickness takes over the mind last, and tends to make the victim swing to using dark magic if they didn't already. It makes dark magic more powerful but comes at the physical and mental cost of the magic user. Anyway this is Scar's entire deal as a Sorcerer. He's had Mage Sickness for ages and he's kind of owning it.

Inherited Sickness: some magic users inherit Mage Sickness from their parents. They are actually more resistant to showing symptoms and less likely to get full-blown Sickness, but it's in their genes and they can pass it on to others if they cast magic upon another person. For example, this is what happened to Bdubs when he was still a student of Life Magic. He didn't know he was carrying the gene and his magic backfired, killing two people and getting himself hurt instead of healing them like he was supposed to.

Mismatching: this is when someone's magic does not match up with their body's physical ability, causing them to basically short-circuit and gain Mage Sickness. For example, if someone gains demonic magic while being in a human or hybrid body, the magic will corrupt them. This is what happened to Doc, as he was turned part-demon and his magic registered as demonic, but his body is still non-demon enough that it hurt him, basically an overload of power. This also spreads like skulk across the body!

Soul Loss: if someone loses their soul (or it is taken from them) they will become corrupted with skulk-type stuff as if they have Mage Sickness. This doesn't kill the affected person but it makes them physically weaker and can alter them mentally. It also makes the user unable to perform magic, if they could before losing their soul.

Spreading Sickness: Mage Sickness can be passed on to other people via magic. For example if an infected person tried to use a healing spell on another, they run the risk of either getting the opposite effect (harming) or infecting them. The Sickness can also be spread willingly, if someone understands their Sickness well enough.

Other effects of long-term Mage Sickness: if you have Mage Sickness for a long time (like Scar) you can adapt to understand it a lot better. It can act as a new sense, as it links you with the world's magic, and eventually you can learn how to not spread it when casting magic on other people. However, it can also cause bodily decay in the long-term and eventually results in death. There has been no record of a cure as of yet.

I hope these tidbits are interesting! I love this au a lot haha.

Asks about the au are welcome and wanted! Check the tag #kingdoms au for everything so far :)

#ben chats shit on the internet #kingdoms au #hermitcraft fanfic #hermitcraft #life series #trafficblr #hermitblr #fanfic #ask #sickness #chronic illness #disease

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uwu-berryfaerie · 2 years ago

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Sara vs. Night Swan (POV, angst fic)

Fandom: Just Dance

Rating: T

Characters: Sara, Night Swan, Jack Rose

Relationships: Night Swan/Jack Rose

Tags: Alternate universe, Hurt/Comfort, POV Sara, POV Night Swan, Fainting, Unconsciousness, Healing, Redemption, Son taking care of mother, Angst, Concussion, Post-concussion syndrome

POV: Sara

Sara felt a knot well up in her stomach as she backed up to her friends comforting her, realizing the extent of how powerful Night Swan was. Breathing heavily, Night Swan won't back down until she wins that match, gazing straight ahead with hate and anger in her eyes. "You won't break me," Night Swan growled, bobbing and weaving in an attempt to land a hit on Sara. "I'll show you who's boss!" At that moment, Sara felt a sharp, quick scratching sensation on her cheeks, only for her to reach up to touch the wound and can see blood oozing down her fingers, leaving her physically shaking. You would've thought it was something the human girl could control, but she couldn't. Shouting, Sara charged straight toward Night Swan, bashing her hard in the head with her fist. The power-hungry witch barely stood steadily as her dark magic drained, sinking to her knees before her body hit the ground. Sara felt an immense joy building up inside her as her friends, Wanderlust, Mihaly, Brezziana, Jack Rose, and Discoball, stood beside her and felt that unmatched excitement. However, it all came to a halt when Jack exclaimed in shock and ran over to an unconscious Night Swan. The rest of the team caught up to him, looking worried as he tried to wake up his sleeping mother. Sara, who felt a sense of justice over looking after one of her friends, told the rest of the gang to check on all of the coaches who were formerly Night Swan's minions. Sara crouched down to Jack's level to see a scared look on his face as he tried every one of his instincts to wake up his mother, even resorting to lightly shaking her by the shoulders while her head rested on his lap. With a tone of urgency, Sara talked it out to Jack for a few moments and proceeded to rush into her bedroom. As Sara stood next to Jack, laying his mother down on her bed and making her comfortable as possible, she couldn't help but feel sorry for him because Jack's mother was the one who always wanted him to be perfect. "Are you gonna be okay in here?" she asked Jack out of concern. Jack nodded slightly and said, "It's okay, relax. All of this happens way too fast." Jack gave himself a moment to collect his thoughts while watching over his mother as Sara walked out of the room and looked out the door. While she watched, she felt a wave of guilt wash over her. She knew that she beat Night Swan intentionally, and even though it may have been self-defense or an act of justice, she still couldn't help but feel like she did something wrong. Sara could barely stop herself from crying, looking at Night Swan out the door then her hands, feeling the guilt of being the person who knocked her out. "I shouldn't have hit her. I didn't mean to knock her out, it was just a reflex," she thought to herself as she desperately tried to make sure her actions were justified. As Wanderlust, Brezziana, Mihaly, and Discoball ran back to Sara, she felt a sense of relief wash over her. Thus, she and her friends returned inside the room. But, after seeing Night Swan apologize to Jack and vowing to become a better mother, they were hesitant at first, but delighted she had finally learned her lesson. When Night Swan closed her eyes again, Sara apologized to Jack one more time, for the regret of having his mother unconscious at the end of the fight. Jack accepted, and allowed her opponent to rest for a little while longer.

POV: Night Swan

The adrenaline fades away upon the battle's end as the last thing Night Swan sees before her body hits the ground is an overjoyed Sara and her friends switching to instant concern. As Night Swan was just about to drift away, she could barely see the sight of his son, Jack Rose, rushing over to her in a panic. She was yet to hear his voice as she slipped into an unconsciousness that wouldn't let her wake up. Night Swan could feel that the ground under her was smooth, cold, and hard on her belly and the left side of her face. Her ears picked up soft, distant voices, but she wasn't sure what they were saying, as if they were coming from outside a cave. Finally, Night Swan regained a familiar sense of touch from her son, who tried to shake his injured mother awake by her shoulders. All she could remember of the fight was seeing that blue-haired girl give her a blow to the head. Taking a chance, Night Swan wearily cracked her eyes open before snapping them shut again, only to see a different world and a familiar silhouette staring at her before settling herself back into a deep sleep. She let out an undignified groan and slowly opened her eyes again, wincing in pain as her vision came back to her. The only thing the sorceress could make out was her dimly-lit bedroom and her son kneeling by her bedside. It wasn't often that Night Swan saw herself as a weaker individual, and this was no exception. Her head hurted all over after her opponent's attack, and she could hardly move it, causing her to roll over on her sides toward Jack. After staring at him to give herself a few moments to comprehend who he was, Night Swan spouted in a meek voice. "I'm sorry, Jack..." she weakly apologizes to her son for not being a supportive mother over her son's dreams of being a celebrity, but using him as a red-hand man to help her create an army of what she imagined. "I didn't mean it to come off so bad," Jack softly replied to his mother as he leaned over and placed his head on her pillow. "It's okay, darling," Night Swan tells her son as she strokes the back of his neck while yawning affectionately. Jack sighs heavily before placing his hand around his mother's arm and holding her close. As silence falls, Night Swan speaks. "I'm sorry I wasn't more supportive, Jack...of your dreams." She gives him an apologetic smile before continuing. "But I promise I'll be here for you now," she finishes gently, reaching out to touch his cheek lightly with her claws. In what seemed like only minutes, Sara returned into the room, accompanied by the others, their faces filled with concern as they assessed Night Swan's condition. Fighting back tears at seeing how much her son cared for her, Night Swan weakly apologized to Jack before telling him she'll be there for him now, pledging support for everything he does in life from then on out. As fatigue kicks in once more, Night Swan lets herself fall into another peaceful sleep knowing that things would finally be alright.

#just dance #just dance 2023 #jd sara #jd night swan #pov fic #angst fic #angst with a happy ending #man i wish this could happen in the game #jd jack rose #fanfiction

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swagship-sideblog · 2 years ago

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Pinned! Read for info!!

pro-fiction pro-whatever lolicon cartoon fan. dont like - dont look

[art tag]

The main things I enjoy at the moment are: Ed Edd & Eddy, Fosters Home for Imaginary Friends, Ojamajo Doremi, Mob Psycho 100, Homestuck, and whatever other shit i'm into at the moment

Read more below to see my fav ships & characters!

Current Waifus:

Senoo Aiko - my baby, my one and only, I love her so much........... I relate to her on so many levels and just love her alot... I actually have 2 different narratives in my head for this one, one where my self insert is a cute lil catboy who gets sent to her universe, and one where she magically shows up in mine. I could talk about her for hours but all you need to know is that she's my sweetheart of the whole world and I love her <333

Double Dee - i would do. so many things. i shant say...

Ships I like:

Anything ed edd & eddy - any combination of the characters works for me. I love all of them so much

MobRei - been a fan of this one for years, always been there for me and I quite enjoy it [ageswap AU is my fav <33]. Many of the fics I read of them are very cathartic to me, so these 2 hold a special place in my heart

RitMob - also love this one, it's very very cute, was there for me when I was stuck hanging out with antis but my love for mob could never be fully repressed <3

Rickorty - this one's so fucked up but my brain loves it lmao... the first time I read a fic of them I got suuuuper guilty about it the next day, but unfortunately I find guilt pretty hot so this one latched onto my brain like a virus, huge fan

Stridercest - pretty much all forms of it are right up my alley. Don't post about it as much currently but it's an absolute longtime CLASSIC and I love it. Most recently was on an alpha stridercest kick because I love dom shotas and watching Dave fight for his life

Kris x Spamton - I absolutely love the themes being developed in deltarune so far, and I feel like these 2 characters and their interactions explore the themes relating to control and freedom very beautifully... both Kris and Spamton are characters whose struggles I can relate to easily/empathize with, so some of the fics I read of them can be very cathartic and comforting... alot of complex emotions arise from this ship, and I really love it. its also really hot lol.

SaiGenos - oh man.... cyborgs...... I read a fic where some of Genos' wires get fucked up and he needs Saitama to plug them back in cuz hes basically immobile until they get fixed... and OUGH it's really hot..... I read alot more im addition to this, but this one was REALLY good

Scratch x Molly: I enjoy a veeery specific wholesome flavor of this ship, but not many people draw it the way I like (last I checked), so any fellow shippers feel free to say hi lol

Style (south park) - this one is an ABSOLUTE classic, a childhood favorite of mine, and im glad to say it lives on in my heart after all these years <3

Kyman (just a little) - I can have a little kyman... as a treat :3

And many others......

Other Waifus (for historical purposes):

Bloo: jeeeze louise he's so cute. He's such a little brat I just wanna pick him up and shake him around <3 bloo crying 10 minute compilation on loop

Dirk Strider - had a big phase of liking him lol. He's really cute <3

Eddy - I need to put him in a dress and make him cry tears of pleasure

Eric Cartman - I have a thing for little chubby boys in drag btw

Brobot - yes, the battle robot dirk made in his image. It's hot. I like to imagine giving it a personality <33

Mob - unfortunately I was hanging out with antis during my original Mob Psycho phase, so I didn't really accept my love for him & he didn't register in my brain like that... but I still had dreams of cuddling with him and fantasized of being able to meet him and comfort him (and got really high an pretended to cuddle with him using my cat lol), so I believe he still counts

Reigen. - I had a pretty substantial reigen obsession during my first mp100 phase, I have a 125 image porn collection of him from back them lmfao. He's pretty alright

Hal 9000 (2001 a Space Odyssey) - I fucking love hal

Karkat Vantas - excuse my french but I need his transboy tentacle cock in my mouth he is very cute

Mituna Captor - Mituna.......... yippee!!!

Dave Strider - he's every transmascs favorite character of course I like him... tried writing a self insert kissing practice gone wrong fanfic but I couldn't get his dialogue right so I gave up lol

Charles Calvin (Henry Stickmin) - now I know this one's pretty out of place compared to the rest but uh... yeah he was probably my BIGGEST obsession with a fictional character... like it was detrimental at some points lol. But man I really wanted to fuck this stick figure X] I actually created a Google drive folder with about 230 pictures of Henry stickmin porn, even including a document with all the sources I could find lol. If you recognize me from this information, no you don't

Genos (OPM) - god I was reeeeaaally into him when I was watching one punch man and I LOVED him. I still love him just focused on other characters atm <3

And probably some others

Other fav characters

Hunter (TOH) - bro he's just like me fr fr... quite love him and want to see him happy

Scratch (tgamm) - DUDE he's so silly funny, so goofy silly..... these so underrated and ppl need to appreciate him more >:3

Kyle (SP) - mannnn Kyle is pretty cute, some of these south park characters are nearing the waifu tier, it's going to be very silly goofy

Kenny (SP) - dude kenny is one of my classic childhood crushes, shoutout kenny lol

Spongebob (Squarepants) - another one of my childhood crushes, youll see me occasionally post about him too lol.

+ plenty others lol

#proship please interact #profic

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dngrs-untld-hrshps-unnmbrd · 7 months ago

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(previous anon - hi!) aaand you certainly never disappoint (not that you legit could've, but). yep, that's the exact ship i had in mind😈. for someone who's normally so touch-averse, he himself is certainly very touchy with Charlie, isn't he👀 (yeah yeah control, but there's a bit more to it than that).

i think the main appeal of this ship is its complexity and almost unlimited potential? they're extremely powerful, charming characters with similar interests (dancing, singing, dumb, dorky puns) who act as foils but who also genuinely enjoy each other's company and have fun together -hidden agendas aside. you want some power couple goodness? done! cutesy, wholesome, endearing fluff? ta-da! dark, angsty, sexy mind games? comin right up! on that note - the fandom (esp on twitter) is so crazy talented and productive -despite the gross hate it gets- that you have so many different options when it comes to Alastor's sexuality and the type of space it would hold if he were romantically involved with Charlie. i'm on that same spectrum too, and knowing (from my experience, combined with what i've read from other ace ppl) that those who are asexual/aro can also experience sexual and romantic attraction (just way less often), made it ok for me. i can only speak for myself, ofc, but yeah. and so there are so many fics etc that respectfully explore what effect those new sorts of feelings and intimacy would have on Alastor's self-image and dynamic with Charlie. You can find super well written interpretations of him as either sex-repulsed or sex-positive (there's a reason 'Deer Virgin' and 'Charliesexual' are some of the most popular tags around here, lol) all that to say if you do ever find yourself curious or peckish, i gotchu! couldn't recommend 'penance' by kinkydents enough (something tells me it'd definitely be your speed👌). on the lighter end of the spectrum, 'under my skin' by whamgram is also exceptionally good food (and so funny!). then there's 'the riddle of magic' by rubyfoxfire - an epic in itself, and one that generally sticks to the 'romantic friendship' sort of angle. just a few options on your table😻. thank you for indulging me with this ask and take care!✌️

Oh nonny you make me wanna dive into some fics and rewatch the show for the third time!

Thank you for sharing your perspective on Alastor as an ace spectrum person, that’s really interesting to know. I will for sure check out these fics. Penance sounds great!

You take care too, and feel free to come off anon and DM me because I’m alway happy to talk about our red flag radio darling ❤️

#ask and answer

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sweetcloverheart · 2 years ago

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I posted 12,154 times in 2022

That's 2,054 more posts than 2021!

104 posts created (1%)

12,050 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@vulpiximisa

@twinklecupcake

@pocketramblr

@supersoftly

@avalonblue12

I tagged 8,738 of my posts in 2022

Only 28% of my posts had no tags

#prettiful - 1,151 posts

#i spotted a queuety - 1,098 posts

#miraculous ladybug - 756 posts

#pokemon - 491 posts

#fire emblem: three houses - 491 posts

#spy x family - 227 posts

#owl house - 224 posts

#dc comics - 204 posts

#the owl house - 204 posts

#genshin impact - 204 posts

Longest Tag: 126 characters

#more like bruce calls up clark and goes ''hey i think lex is trying to clone you again have you been to fawcett city before?''

My Top Posts in 2022:

Clover Rants Miraculously: Nope, still hate it

(This is more me venting then anything really. Spoilers below!)

Okay, to properly explain why I greatly dislike “Lila and Chloe are more evil than Gabriel” thing, I need you all to think back to the olden internet days when you would read those fanfics where the writer clearly and obviously wrote one half of their NOTP as a raging jerk/yandere psychopath to justify their preferred OTP/Self-Insert character and fav character getting together.

Did you imagine it? Did you remember how cringey and eyeroll-inducing you found it?

That’s how I feel about the whole “These two teenage girls are more monstrous and capable of greater villainy than the established magical terrorist super villain who emotionally abuses his son”.

Because it’d be one thing if Lila and Chloe becoming a supervillain criminal girlboss duo just for the hell of it was being done as a way to expand on their characters and explore new plot territory - That I don’t mind at all and would 1100% be down with. But instead, it’s very clearly and obviously being used to help hype up Gabriel’s frankly unearned in my opinion “redemption arc” because instead of writing Gabemoth showing actual remorse for his actions and eventually turning himself in or having him have this “too late now” moment that ends in his defeat and the slow realization that he destroyed his and his son’s lives for nothing, we are instead treated to the show repeated screaming at us that the two teenage bullies (both of whom could be very easily dealt with if the adults surrounding them did their jobs and forced them to face consequences for said bullying) are clearly the greater threats here, what with their constant scheming to...*checks plot* ruin the day of a girl they don’t like while trying to steal her boyfriend via lies and one of said girl’s parent’s money, which is clearly leagues more evil than...*checks plot again* magically controlling your son through the ring that’s literally tied to his life, while abusing the sentient cosmic entities you stole (well, actually your teenaged nephew stole them for you, but I digress) as you forcibly use their powers to buff up your magically transformed croonies to help them fight the pair of magical teenagers who’s magical jewelry you’re trying to steal.

It’s so obvious they can’t be bothered to make Gabriel into the 3D villain they claim he is, so their only option is to drag down the other antagonists so they’re “more evil” and make all the terrible and awful stuff he’s done on screen seem “minimal”/less bad than it is. That’s why Chloe’s “worse than usual” and Lila’s collecting moms and alternate identities like pokemon cards - not for actual plot development and character progression, but so that the writers can prop up Gabriel as this “misguided saint” who “only did what he had to for his family” while shoving his “redemption” through the story and down everyone’s throats. Because it’s the only trick they have in their bags for making a character “good” - make one character super evil/mean so whoever they’re propping up looks better in comparison. They did with the Zoe/Chloe comparisons, they did it with Felix’s intro, they’re doing it with Nathalie and Gabriel, they’re doing it with Amelie and Emilie (Don’t think I don’t see that nonsense going on with that “The other Princess wants a magic baby because she was overcome with jealousy over her sister” line), and they’re doing it with this.

Like, mark my words, almost every other episode of Season 6 is going to contain at least one character going “Wow, Chrysalis is so evil! Hawkmoth never did something like this!” or “If only Gabriel had kept the butterfly miraculous - he would never abuse it the way Chrysalis has!”

67 notes - Posted December 4, 2022

Does Chloe still work as an Antagonist?

You know, I’ve come to the realization that one of the main issues with Chloe being an antagonist isn’t simply that Thomas doesn’t really use her unless it’s to have the episode follow her around with a big fat giant “Hate this character!” sign (much like he does with Lila and Felix too, I realize, but we might end up off topic so let’s move on), but the fact that once you go past season 2-3, Chloe has...basically no real role in the story anymore as an antagonist

Like, when the plot was contained to the Akuma-of-the-day formula and the slice-of-life stuff, Chloe was a spectacular “villain”, because everything was still very much small scale in terms of stakes, enough so for her to seem a big enough threat to Marinette daily life. After all, Chloe is a titular mean girl, the rich kid school yard bully who just had to flash a credit card or call in daddy dearest to make everyone miserable and leave Marinette and Adrien worrying about what person she’ll end up ticking off bad enough to turn into a Akuma next. It made you hate her, revile her, wish that she’d eventually get her comeuppance (and usually, she did, depending on how the episode ended)

And it worked, because that’s what she was built for, where she fit best.

But then the show expanded it’s stakes by bringing back Lila, who ends up having more influence and doing far more damage than Chloe usually would with her bullying (Like, Chloe for all her threats and insults, is more bark than bite. Lila actually had impact with the trouble she brought to Mari’s door). Then they expand again by introducing Felix, who ends up deepening the whole Gabriel plotline while being an active thorn in his and the heroes side (where as Chloe mostly just existed and was slowly becoming regarded as a nuisance). Then the show actually tried to give Chloe depth and a character arc (which they end up aborting because screw breaking the status quo I guess), showing the reasons for her behavior and that she could actually be decent when given the chance and right motivation. Then season 4 kicks off bringing in Chloe’s half-sister (who we only hear about just that episode) taking her place as the bee hero while Marinette deals with her new responsibilities of being the Miraculous Guardian while Felix is trying to sniff out Gabriel’s secret and - well, you get the picture.

With every raised stake and furthering of the plot, Chloe’s mean teen bullying kind of becomes small potatoes when compared to everything else going on in the show. Who really cares about her taking over a group film project or her trying to get out of playing in a class soccer match when the cast is busy trying to deal with Hawkmoth creating magical sentient doppelgangers, Master Fu getting amnesiaed, Marinette getting stressed out with all her new Guardian responsibilities, who will become today’s temp hero, the overarching mystery of Emilie Agreste and the wedding rings, and Adrien causing the apocalypse (again). Most shows at this point would have their bully character get sent “to military school” or move abroad with a distant unknown aunt, but there Chloe stands, still thinking she’s one of the big kids while the show desperately tries to keep her relevant despite her no longer having a miraculous and no real involvement in the Akumas attacking everyone (actually, now that I think about, Chloe isn’t even responsible for 2/3rds of the Akuma during season 4). We’re suppose to think of her as this powerful malicious force on the same level as Hawkmoth that’s ruining Marinette and everyone’s lives with her very presence because...well, the show says so. Did you not see the giant sign they’re holding over Chloe’s head saying “Hate this character!”? That means you have to hate her no matter what, even when there’s other things to focus on outside of hating her.

Not to mention she’s...very much irrelevant to the plot now. Sure, she still has that “crush” on Adrien/interference with the Adrinette side of the love square, but it hasn’t been a thing or plot-focused in forever, and Lila and Felix (much like with Lila’s bullying) are having and had more effect of that relationship progression than Chloe did. And as said, Zoe taking her place as the Bee hero has removed her from the temp hero plot (unless they plan on having a Chloe VS Zoe battle now that Hawkmoth’s stolen it), and her becoming friends with the rest of the cast had basically edged Chloe out of most of the slice-of-life stuff since “no one likes her anyways”, so there’s no point in involving her in activities they can invite her more “likeable” and nicer half-sibling to (and yeah, Chloe could force her way into those plots, but that’s what it’d end up being - forced). The only real connection she could have to everything still is Sabrina (Who gets barely any screentime as is! She finally becomes a temp hero too once, and is immediately replaced by Felix in the finale episode), and that “budding” relationship with Lila (that is literally last minute with no real build up. I want to say they’ll likely show them becoming “friends” in the fifth season, but knowing the show, it’s just gonna be Chloe playing the Sabrina role to Lila’s Chloe with no real self-reflection or interesting character dynamic exploration...). Hell, despite her betraying Ladybug for Hawkmoth at the end of season 3, almost no reference or callback is made to it, and everyone seems completely unaffected by Chloe brainwashing almost all of Paris considering they’re treating her like normal (in fact, if anything, they only seem just slightly more annoyed with her and her antics now - just not for the reasons stated previously)

And it’s sad. When I see Chloe pulling her usual stunts in the later seasons, I don’t feel the urge to hate and deride her like in season 1. When I see Chloe still trying to be the big bad mean girl bully in a season that had the show’s second apocalypse, sentimonsters being revealed as sentient beings with feelings (and one of the main cast potentially being one), families getting held hostage, and Hawkmoth successfully (with help) grab almost all the miraculous, I feel more bad for her than the other characters, because it’s clear that the show is just simply putting her through the motions since they don’t know what else to do with her now. It’s like watching a parent force their child into a costume that clearly doesn’t fit anymore to do a dumb little performances they liked to as a kid that they’ve clearly outgrown now.

And now we have Season five to wait on (and it’s likely going to be a long wait with all the protests going on about Zag not paying VAs Edit: Congrats to the VAs for succeeding in their protest and getting their raises), where Marinette’s going to be laser focused on getting the stolen Miraculous back, alongside the Emilie plotline still being a thing and Felix’s betrayal opening up a huge can of plot-theory worms - not gonna be much room in there for pull her “wait till my father hears about this!” shtick and leave an impression like before.

Honestly, if Thomas really hates her as much as he claims, he’d of just sent her off to New York with her mom now that they’re “Besties” (by the show’s word) or have her sent abroad for some sort of “fashion scholarship” or something. At this point, Chloe’s run her course as an antagonist and should be retired if they really have no plans of redeeming her or anything.

67 notes - Posted April 3, 2022

I can’t wait for Season 6 of MLB to open with Lila burning down a children’s hospital or kicking puppies or some other wild nonsense before Thomas heads to twitter and posts “So we all agree we don’t like Lila anymore right? :)”

77 notes - Posted November 30, 2022

Clover Rants Miraculously (Because no this actually bothers me)

(I’ve decided to put all my Miraculous salt/complaints under the tag #Clover Rants Miraculously from now on. I’ll go through all my old UOT tag to add the new one to any Miraculous related post)

I love how Felix can screw Marinette and all of Paris over for “Senti-rights” (Despite the fact that Marinette clearly wasn’t even aware Sentimonsters were, in fact, sentient living being, that it’s mostly Gabriel’s fault since he’s specifically making Sentis to die fighting Ladybug and co and has “killed” more than they had (but sure, give him all the Miraculous for the Peacock, dude’s totes earned it), and the one that was “too far” for him was destroying Paris), and get rewarded for it with a shiny new hand-me-down girlfriend and getting to be Marinette’s new good-aligned ally by the end of s5 if the spoilers are to be believed (and with no accountability for any of the nonsense he’s pulled since his intro), and that Gabriel will basically have all evidence of his Hawkmoth activities erased and be given a free pass by the narrative via Ladybug/Marinette keeping his secret to return to his old civilian life (despite learning nothing considering he purposely throws away the Butterfly to spite her despite how merciful she was being to his ungrateful ass)

Meanwhile, Lila and Chloe are basically labeled the most evilest beings on the planet (with the former basically taking the Hawkmoth mantle) not for the actual awful stuff they did (getting Marinette falsely expelled for Lila, near crashing a train for Chloe, and teaming up with Hawkmoth purposely for both), but because...*checks bible* Lila lies, Chloe is a brat, and they both have the audacity to get in the way of Adrienette - ‘Cause only real monsters get in the way of the perfect teen romance!

Just...fantastic. Really loving this guys!

88 notes - Posted October 15, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Things Adrien will never know since he’s not allowed to find out his father’s Hawkmoth

That Gabriel has purposely gone out of his way to upset Adrien’s friends via unfairly punishing him/limiting his freedom solely so he could have an Akuma to use (”Bubbler” and “Chat Blanc”)

That Gabriel once tricked him into believing he had upset his father so he could akumatize himself and keep him and Ladybug from realizing his real identity (”Collector”)

That after akumatizing Gorilla (“Gorizilla”), that he purposely put Adrien’s life in danger and had him thrown from on top a building just so he could find out if he was actually Chat Noir or not (and only changed his mind after Adrien had been thrown and it looked like he wasn’t about to transform to save himself)

Had noticed via his akuma butterflies when Adrien is upset/depressed but did nothing about it

Openly threatened his cousin (Like, feel how you want about Felix, Gabriel still threatened a child)

Has had Paris nearly flooded/burned down/deleted/eeby-deebied/brainwashed/zombie invaded several times while Adrien was outside the house with no idea if he had gotten/might get caught up in the attack (and not seeming to care)

That the few time he did arrange for Adrien to not be around when he was planning something (NY and Shanghai specials, “Risk”, etc.), it was specifically so he could hurt his friends, and usually done at Adrien’s own expense

That Gabriel almost caused WW3 by threatening the world with nukes (NY special)

That his father murdered someone(Or at least had their murder arranged via a gang hit) (Shanghai special)

That Nathalie’s health dove into the negatives specifically because she was helping him with his supervillainy (Yeah, she chose to become Mayura and everything, but this is still someone Adrien considers family here)

Everything about the Grimoire

Went out of his way to manipulate Chloe in “Heart Hunter” (Again, feel however you want, Gabe still purposely made it so Chloe would think Ladybug didn’t want her so he could get her on his side more easily)

Purposely put Lila and him together so she could “keep an eye on him” at his behest

Was the one who instigated Lila into enacting her plan in “Ladybug”, which ended up with Marinette expelled, and all because he considered her a “bad influence” on Adrien

Had twice Akumatized Adrien after he found out about him being Hawkmoth and his mother’s actual fate, just so he could get Ladybug’s miraculous (“Chat Blanc” and “Ephemeral”), which led to the world ending and everyone being dead in one of these scenarios

Has been magically manipulating him into obeying his will (If Senti!Adrien proves to be canon)

Made a deal with Felix to get all the Miraculous the latter stole ( “Strikeback”)

Deliberately chose to focus on stealing the Miraculous instead of taking the opportunity given to him to save his mother and Nathalie from their respective ailments (“Evolution”)

Purposely had him Cataclysm his arm, and near risking making his son a murderer/orphan (“Destruction”)

Kept the Kwamis he stole/kidnapped in cages and called them “slaves”

That the whole “Alliance Ring” nonsense was specifically to help mask his activities as Hawkmoth

And that he mainly just cares about his rivalry with Ladybug now.

169 notes - Posted October 24, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #So much Miraculous Ladybug

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lightgriffinsect · 8 months ago

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prev I was gonna answer in the tags but I started rambling way too much so. here they are lol

#tbh i've thought about this before #i was just never too concerned because i somehow missed the part that the events of mind games took 2 years off his life #it's surprising because it wasn't that bad of an encounter (i think)

I always saw it as a surprising amount of time too but Psychic seems to take it as normal, if he even knows exactly how much time he’s lost. And that was likely a pretty tame encounter compared to what Psychic’s been through before.

#imagine how many years he'd waste on something worse

Absolutely; like I said, imagine how much time he’s lost already doing such mundane stuff as telepathy or telekinesis. he does acknowledge reading minds as a taxing power so he doesn’t use it that much. but the rest of what he does still builds up fast. imagine if he used so much magic at once that it damaged his core and left him not only disabled; but with half a lifespan left.

#it actually makes me think that he doesn't care if he. yknow. used up all his powers. as long as he serves the dearests well.

that’s definitely one sentiment he would hold about the situation. denial lol /hj

And he’ll absolutely die satisfied with being able to serve the Dearests to his full extent. But I think that only applies in a situation when he’s gotten to live his life in full. He’d only truly be at peace if it was something he had complete power and freedom to choose, to the extent where he knew how much time he’d have with the Dearests, no question. It’d be easier to accept it that way.

As it is, I don’t think Psychic would feel okay with suddenly being forced to accept that he only has like a thousand years left with them at most. In this situation, his life would be cut short with no warning, due to circumstances most likely beyond his control. Even if he caused it unintentionally by unleashing a flood of magic at once; he’d still have lost so much out of nowhere and I think that’d really affect him.

Psychic is not a man who likes change. he doesn’t like sudden; unforeseen consequences. He wants to be in control of his own fate. Being rendered helpless, unable to access his main method of self-defense, would be really difficult for him to accept.

He’d be forced to confront his own mortality, contemplate how he’s used his powers freely and let his life slip through his fingers. While he’d probably consider it worth the loss, because he expended that energy in serving the Dearests, he could easily start spiraling into existential fear, dwelling over his past, especially his struggle to survive in hell, and what little of his future is left before he has to abandon the

Dearests.

He’s not ready. He’s been going his whole life secure in the knowledge that he’ll last a few more millennia with the Dearests, serving them, ensuring their safety, perhaps even knowing their descendants. What would they do without him? He can’t just leave like that. While I think he’d ultimately accept the fact that he doesn’t have as long as he thought, and commit to serving the Dearests for the rest of his days as he was planning, he’s still not ready.

100-300 years is nothing for a psychomancer. How would it affect him to learn that he has barely a single millennium left?

#wow that took a dark turn sorry about that

nah dw lmao i love psychic angst. as you can clearly see ^^;

#i do wonder how much would psychic really limit himself if that kind of strain was imposed upon him. how would he communicate

Like I said. Denial lol slash hj

He definitely would not accept that he has to go easy on his magic in the beginning. He knows his limits, of course, but those only apply in extreme situations. What happens when simple telekinesis becomes such a limit, unsafe to cross?

Psychic would start out using his powers like normal for a while. He’d be in constant pain but refusing to admit it or get it checked, convinced that he could take it.

of course, his boss is not going to let that slide. They’re already going to lose Psychic anyway, does the boy really have to speed up the process? overcome with even more guilt than he already was due to the whole ordeal, but finally understanding his employers’ concern, Psychic stops his self-destructive behavior. He gives up telekinesis and mind reading and trapping souls in video games.

He continues to speak in telepathy for a long time, however. he’s not particularly comfortable using his real voice, but the constant, if faint, pain every time he speaks might drive him to start trying.

He might also start writing a lot more. my writing hc strikes again lol oh no but really.

He might start documenting every little thing that happens, talking more about his feelings towards the Dearests in a journal than he ever could out loud, so when he’s gone they’ll have something to remember him. They’d finally understand that he always saw them as his family, DD as his father, GF as his sister, things he was never brave enough to admit in person. They’d be angry, so angry about him never telling them, in so much grief, but they’d understand. They’d pass on his memory, because he was always a Dearest, even if he wasn’t immortal, even if he’s not there now. They’d tell their descendants:

This is simply the kind of person Psychic is.

a really, really good angst/whump concept to explore with Psychic would be taking away his access to his powers, or severely limiting it. permanently.

Psychic is heavily reliant on his powers. we’ve seen this in the mod, and it’s been confirmed that although using his magic will drain away a little bit of his lifespan every time he lifts a finger, he doesn’t think about that and continues to magic away his problems freely and carelessly.

more than that, he IS his powers. Psychic’s very being depends on the existence of his energy, his magic. if his core is taken from him, he will simply be extinguished. this might seem to contradict my initial statement, but what I think would be interesting is not if we took away his core or destroyed it, but if we damaged it permanently. not enough to kill him, but to incapacitate him so he can’t use his powers without straining or hurting himself. this could potentially also cut down his lifespan by a good couple millennia depending on how it happens.

because he’s so accustomed to using his powers without worrying about any far-off consequences, I imagine Psychic would get himself hurt a lot before his boss intervenes, he finally gets the message, and he stops overusing his magic.

there’s a lot of potential for self-esteem issues and existential crises there too, if Psychic is suddenly faced with how fragile he really is, and how much he’s been using his magic. it might have seemed inconsequential at first; the events of Mind Games only took off two years after all, but Psychic had already sealed Spirit in the Hating Sim once before. he’s done similar things to many other people throughout his career. he survived hell because he had his powers. he’s one to use magic for the most mundane things. he doesn’t even speak with his real voice, he uses telepathy.

things like that build up over time. his magic is like a crutch. and suddenly he’s without that crutch, his inevitable death lurks in his peripheral vision, after so many years of believing he would be okay.

this is why it’s bad to be overdependent on things lol

#you have no idea how long I’ve been thinking about this concept I’m so glad I got the chance to get it out of my system lol #also I got emotional near the end there sorry #fnf psychic #fnf headcanons #friday night funkin

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nokwisi · 3 years ago

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hi hi !!! idk idk this has been done before, but imagine the day Vik augments his leg with the hex core and does his sprint, he comes back home to the reader with a rush of adrenaline and has really rough sex with her since he’s finally able without his weak leg…. ;) love ur work! <3

whatever it takes—viktor x fem!reader note; hi hello! thanks for sending in such a lovely prompt! As per my norm, I got carried away. it's rough, it's emotional, it's maybe a little self indulgent...but I hope you like it nonetheless, anon! warnings/tags; nsfw, 18+, cunnilingus, biting, hair pulling, little bit of choking, rough sex, smut and angst, porn with feelings wc; 5.3k

Check out this amazing VA accompaniment by the lovely, talented, @kikorenart! Buy the full version, treat yo self.

Running.

He's running.

I am running—

—and although the throbbing ache that had ailed his leg his entire life has finally, finally been abated, there lingers a phantom pain in every single nerve of his remaining flesh-and-bone body; as though the evolution of a piece of him has in turn magnified the faults he carries elsewhere.

His back is throbbing, the metal embedded into his spine grinding against the bone as though whittling it away; he has never put so much strain on it before, he dismisses it. His head is pounding, exhaustion and dehydration hitting him in stacked waves; he knows he hasn't been taking care of himself—why care for a sanctum that has fallen to ruin?

But, there is something that transcends the physical, manifesting behind the cage of his sternum like an amorphous mass of everything he's ever regretted; everything he's held back, bottled up, kept buried. It swells within him, pushes him to push himself, like he could simply outrun the weight of it now that he has that option, but he can't.

It's infuriating, because he cannot diagnose the root of this problem. He cannot apply medicine, or science, or even his meager knowledge of the Arcane—and it rises up his throat, unbidden and out of his control, exorcised from his being with a shout; a long, agonized cry that is a coalesced purge of triumph, despair, and every single possible micro-emotion between.

It slices through the rain, shatters the preternatural silence of the docks, and Viktor finds there in the heady taste of catharsis on his tongue: dreams, goals, and desires. Things he has simply never been capable of accomplishing, now shining under the pulsating, purple light of possibility.

He thinks of you.

His heart thrums quick, like a chord struck and reverberating through him with the tonality of anticipation. He's riding a tidal-wave of a high, pushing him out of the realm of logic and into the depths of something baser—wants that have always come second to his work.

Friend, companion, lover, bystander to tragedy, future mourner; has he been selfish, in taking you, in keeping you? Viktor knows the answer to that already—knows that you deserve more than what he offers, that he has pushed you into the shadows to watch from afar as he tries, and fails, and tries again to save himself.

He was preoccupied with chasing down the end of his rope, grasping blindly to stop it from going abruptly taut, but now...now, he can root himself in the soil, keep himself grounded on this plane...and now, he can run to you.

Viktor is almost tempted to leave his crutch on the docks, abandoned and shunned as a part of him cast aside, much like the blood and sinew and bone of his leg, but he takes it nonetheless. If there is a sense of disdain in doing so, he pushes it down—a method he's also beginning to abhor, but he is not entirely without reason.

Should the infamously crippled half of the Hextech partners be seen suddenly galivanting around as though magically cured of his ailment, he may never have the opportunity to fix the rest of his crumbling body. In that, he may never be able to grasp all those buried, now bursting through the seams, dreams and goals and wants—never be able to show you just how desperately he wishes to give you everything he never could.

No, they wouldn't understand.

Viktor believes—knows, that you will.

It's well past midnight, and the worry that had started prickling under your skin earlier—when you'd gone to find him in his lab, and he was not there; and you'd asked Jayce, and he said he didn't know—is reaching a crescendo in your chest.

You're sitting in your shared apartment, center of the sofa in your living room that, admittedly, appears more like a workshop than a place of living. You both prefer it that way. Warm tones, ornate wood often graced with well-used parchment; bookshelves teeming with journals and the gold-embossed spines of thick academic books from years ago. Diagrams and schematics are tacked onto the wall, flickering with yellow light at the lanterns you'd strung from the ceiling six months prior in an effort to 'liven the place up'.

It feels distinctly desolate without him, however.

Normally, his prolonged absence wouldn't be a problem. Viktor is well known for stretching hours until they roll into days, and you never fault him for it—his drive and passion are integral to him, and the very reason you fell in love with him, in the first place.

This is not a normal time; the diagnosis he received days prior made sure of that, tainting everything with a looming shadow of dread.

Having bitten your nails down to the quick, you're nearly vibrating with the urge to jump from inertia and go seek him out. The only thing keeping you here, waiting and restless, is the very viable concept that he simply wants to be alone.

You would never consider Viktor to be a selfish man, but disappearing without a trace, leaving you to turn over worry and anxiety until it nearly aches—you can't help but be frustrated.

You sigh deeply, tugging your lower lip between your teeth to chew it with contemplation and uncertainty. His well-being, fragile and tenuous as it is, is far more important than his ego, you decide.

With that, you push yourself off the sofa, and into action.

Serendipitously, the door to your apartment swings open just as you venture into the bedroom, seeking out a jacket to shield you from the gentle down-pour that pelts against the gilded windows. You startle and pivot, and your heart feels as though it's been released from a vise-grasp of dismay, fluttering in relief at the sight of him.

"Viktor." You sigh, and then a knot forms between your brows, "you had me worried sick. You can't just disappear right now, not when you're—"

"I want to show you something." He cuts you off, and it's with an urgency and eagerness that immediately stuns you into silence. "I want to show you a great many things, and I hope you'll forgive me for the worry I've caused—for everything...but this...this is insurmountable."

Your prior worry melts away, and in it's stead, a tense curiosity.

"You've reached a breakthrough, haven't you?" Baited and waiting, you can discern the glimmer of thrilled excitement in Viktor's amber eyes, far away as he is. "Viktor, did you...did you find the answer?"

"I've found...an avenue. It is a dangerous one to venture, but my choices are limited." He steps into the apartment, the door closing behind him, and he swallows thickly and squares his gaze firmly with yours. "Whatever it takes. Do you remember?"

Of course you remember.

You'd whispered those words against his mouth naught days ago, bodies intertwined and trembling, grasping onto one another as though he may simply vanish in the span of an instant. It was after he'd received his diagnosis, both of you functioning with a desire that far surpassed anything physical. You told him you couldn't lose him. You begged him to save himself...whatever it takes.

There's a palpable tension in the air now, brought in with Viktor's presence, solidified with the recollection of those words—spoken with despair-charged passion and desperation then, but as this moment unravels, a sense of harrowing anticipation wraps itself around that invocation; around you.

"I remember." You whisper.

Suddenly, there is an urge to drag your attention over his body, scrutinize, seek out discrepancies; find the change. Something that would answer the question that rings in the back of your head, without having to voice it: what did you do?

Viktor appears no different than last you saw him. Frail, pallid, all hard angles stacked upon one another with a steadily shifting, off-kilter foundation—tragically beautiful.

"I've done nothing to afford such a request...but, I ask that you never forget what you said. No matter what the future has in store. Can you do that for me?" A tremor rattles his usual refined cadence; your heart quickens in the cage of your ribs.

Fraught—he sounds nearly fraught, and pleading, and you come to the conclusion, devastatingly quick because there is no other choice in your mind, that you never will.

You feel as though you're standing before an abyss, blind to what's before you, but for Viktor...you will gladly step into the unknown.

"I won't." You state with conviction. "I won't forget."

Viktor's gaze softens marginally, as though relieved, and just as quick, it hardens—like amber solidified to stone. Without another word, he lets his crutch fall free. The hard, metal clang as it hits the floor startles you, and before you can instinctively go to his side to aid him, he straightens out, and he goes to you.

Your breath catches, stunned and rendered inert as Viktor closes the distance between you two with a purposeful, undeterred, steady stride. His brows are knit, a sharp determination in his eyes, and coupled with the barely there curve of his lips, you cannot help but feel suddenly weak.

"Viktor—" is all you manage, the myriad of questions on your lips snuffed out as he presses his mouth against yours with a harshness that knocks your teeth together; cupping your face in a way that spans his touch to your neck, as though trying to hold as much of you as possible.

Your mind is reeling, questions rapid-firing and sizzling out just as quick with the way he kisses you; frenzied, packed with so much passion it makes your legs weak. Viktor holds nothing back, licking eagerly against the seam of your lips, delving in when you gasp at the way his hands venture up, combing through your hair to give a neat little tug, angling your head back.

"Let me have you." Viktor exhales hotly, coaxing your lashes to flutter, resurfacing from the daze his touch induces to connect with the molten gold of his eyes. "Please."

"Have I not answered that question already, Viktor?" Reaching up, you cradle his sharp jaw in your palms, stroke your thumbs from the corners of his mouth, outward. "You hardly have to ask, but I...I have questions, as well."

His lips curl into the faintest, wry smile. "Of course you do, and they will be answered...but, I still live on borrowed time, my love." He's searching your face, now; earnest, full of tenacity that simmers beneath the surface of his cool countenance. "I would be remiss not to take advantage of this, to not please you in ways that I have only imagined of doing."

"Advantage of what?" You push, curious, contrary to the lance of arousal that shoots through you via his words.

In response, Viktor closes the distance once more, kissing you hard, nipping at your lower lip to draw out a surprised, pleased whine from your throat. He's derailing you, and you hardly have the will to be frustrated about it. You can't remember the last time Viktor's been this emboldened, and you find yourself sinking into the embrace once more, your arms resting on the angled shelf of his shoulders; fingers dragging through the small hairs on the back of his head.

"I will show you." He supplies, close enough that his lips graze yours, and suddenly, he's pushing you back; herding you into the bedroom.

His kisses trail from the corner of your lips, to the cusp of your jaw and over, searing hot and open-mouthed down the column of your throat. Gasping quietly, you cling to him, follow his guidance, and internally question—theorize, hypothesize—just how he's managed to become the anchor, the stability, in a familiar dance where you always led.

This change, wherever it may root from, is enough to push you into a state of astounded compliancy, like nothing else matters except for him—letting him purge himself of this intense need with an eagerness that casts all your doubts and questions aside.

With the backs of your legs brushing against the bed, routine and familiarity has you shifting, tugging Viktor in a silent beckon for him to lay down, do as you've always done and slink your way atop him; take the lead. But Viktor remains rooted where he is, and instead, he lets his hands fall from where they are buried in your hair, to firmly push against your shoulders.

"No—not this time," he breathes, "on the bed, please." His tone is an intoxicating composition of steely demand, and searing desperation, and who are you to deny him?

So, you do as he bids; you let yourself drop down, sitting at the edge with anticipation, and the way Viktor lowers himself to kneel between your thighs—easy, fluid, not an iota of pain on his face—makes your heart leap with both joy and inquisition.

"I have always been plagued with the guilt of depriving you of what you deserve." Viktor states, his hands smoothing up your thighs, further still to your waist, where he deftly works the button of your pants through the eyelet, "there is not enough time left in the world for me to pay you what is due, miláček."

Swallowing thickly, Viktor's admission steeps into you, fills you with adoration, sentimentality, and the overwhelming urge to dissent.

Reaching for him, you brush the wayward hairs that've fallen in his eyes back, feel the skip of your heart when he leans into the touch. He gazes up at you beneath the lust-addled weight of his lashes, you say with sincerity: "You've always been enough for me, Viktor."

He huffs out a laugh through his nose, "a sentiment I truly cherish, but...I may have to disagree with you." He tugs on your pants, you raise your hips on instinct, a static warmth blooming on your skin as he catches your underwear as well; shucking them down your legs to leave you bare.

Viktor's attention drops down, a shuddering exhale leaving him at the salacious vision before him; the arousal that wets the inside of your thighs, which tremble just enough beneath his fingers as you part your knees that you're positive he can feel it.

Bashful and coquettish, you whisper, "I suppose we'll just have to agree, to disagree, then."

"I suppose, so." He whispers—it's distant, listless nearly, and it directly contradicts the sudden and zealous way Viktor glides his hands to the backs of your knees; long, spindly fingers digging into the sensitive skin as he hikes your legs high enough to rest on his shoulders. His breath billows onto your heat, "or perhaps, I'll change your mind."

A shiver weaves it's way down the track of your spine, bursting inside you like an electric jolt when Viktor closes the sparse distance, parting your slick with a broad, heavy swipe of his tongue. You curl your fingers in his hair, moan, and steady yourself with a shaking arm behind you.

Viktor hums against your cunt, caresses his hands from your knees, all the way up your flanks, before grasping your waist tight enough it aches; giving a firm tug that nearly has your ass hanging off the edge of the bed. You fall onto your back with a punched-out gasp, he doubles-down on the deadly precision of flicking his tongue against your clit, effectively thwarting whatever sense you have left.

It doesn't take long before you're riding the cusp of your orgasm—it never does, with him.

He moans against you, shedding any modicum of his signature decorum in favor of fucking you relentlessly with his mouth; lewd, wet, heavy breaths that roll over you in waves of heat. He sounds just as blissed out as you feel, follows eagerly when you pull his hair, willing him impossibly close—and you're so, so close—

"Viktor," you whine loudly, begging for something you're not entirely positive of; you just know that you need more, trust in that he will fill in the blank spaces of your lust-drunk plea, "please, oh—"

And he does, he knows precisely what you need—a perfect synchronization where you haven't the faintest means of knowing yourself. Viktor vocalizes a response that registers as nothing more than a bone-shuddering vibration; circling your clit in perfect little spirals with his tongue in tandem to two deft, long fingers pushing into the clutch of your heat.

The stretch is divine, the prominence of his knuckles felt acutely when he spreads his fingers, works you open, honing in against that hypersensitive bundle of nerves with an expertise that he's since mastered.

Viktor anticipates the responding buck of your hips, pushing down against you with the hand that brackets your waist—iron clad, unmoving, and you distantly picture the bruising he will leave; the intensity of him, imprinted on your skin like a brand—before he immediately picks up a steadfast, perfect piston of his fingers.

You're reduced to stuttering out his name, voice pitching higher and higher as though Viktor is tuning your body to his own preference—that being: coarse; piteous; debauched. Tightening around his fingers, blindly tugging his hair, you writhe and squirm against the tension threatening to snap within you, the pleasure reaching a fever-pitch.

"Come for me," he murmurs directly against you, sounding wicked and depraved.

Every muscle in your body spasms, going taut and rigid as you fall over the edge with a shattered cry; a frisson of euphoria throwing you into a stupor of utter bliss. You're helpless to the way your toes curl, legs drawing inward, back curving with an arch that pushes your head into the bed—contorted, thoughtless, neither here, nor there.

"You don't know how beautiful you are." Viktor muses breathily, his voice sounding far away, through the depths of ecstasy and the hum of your afterglow.

He eases his fingers out of you with an audible slickness that makes you shiver, immediately mourning the loss of him inside you, before he begins kissing against your hipbone, continuing upward from there. Pushing your blouse higher and higher, he presses his lips in a hot line up your heaving chest, and it's with a haste and need that fans the ember of desire inside you.

You move as though hypnotized, raising your arms, letting him strip you of your remaining clothes before he brings himself down and kisses you again. You taste the distinct bitterness of yourself when he licks a line along your tongue, firmly bracketing the underside of your jaw in the curve between his thumb, and forefinger.

It's a distinctly possessive hold; you find yourself thrilled by it—enough so to take his lower lip between your teeth in a borderline vicious bite, drawing back and tugging hard enough to earn a strangled, throaty groan in response.

You let go; he quickly chases you down, "yes—do not hold back, I want you to be rough."

"Only if you promise to return the favor." You rush out, aiming for cheeky, but landing somewhere in the realm of indigent.

"I intend to." He all but growls, kissing you again. It's harsh, all teeth and tongue with an underlying rumble of a moan in his chest.

You've almost forgotten Viktor's cryptic words from before, the mystery that lingers in the background of this embrace; the keystone that is fueling this entire moment. You're reminded when he brings himself closer, shifting you higher on the bed, kneeling so effortlessly between your still-trembling legs.

His right thigh is unyieldingly hard beneath yours; thrumming with a strange, pulsating type of warmth that you can physically feel.

Viktor, ever astute, breaks the kiss and presses his forehead against yours, panting against your mouth. "Whatever it takes." An aide-memoire, lilted in such a way that it nearly sounds solemn.

Your heart kicks into higher gear, compelled to impatience as anxiety and uncertainty fester behind your sternum. You cup Viktor's face for a brevity of acknowledgement, craning to kiss him quick before your hands start working haste on his tie, tugging it free; the buttons of his vest then; his dress shirt thereafter.

"Show me."

Viktor doesn't hesitate in shrugging off the layers of his clothes. You don't meander any longer on his chest say for a hastily reverent drag of your fingers over the front of his brace, down to the hem of his pants. It's a fumbling series of maneuvers; Viktor settling back, you leaning forward, tugging open the fastens—a shift, a trade in movement, and he's leaning over you, pushing his pants and briefs down, and he makes it no less challenging with the way he consistently chases down your lips with his own.

Stripped down, bare and exposed, you break from his kiss and glance down between the chasm of your bodies.

Your breath catches.

Viktor's attention quickly flits to your face; searching, anticipating, and perhaps disquieted.

The bedroom is shrouded in dark now, but the tracery of winking light embedded in Viktor's now-adamantine leg is enough to cast a violet glow across the room; highlighting and shadowing the dips and curves of your bodies. You reach out, and you touch him. Tentative at first, just the curious drag of your fingertips over the synthetic, wiry musculature. You feel the warmth he emanates, the eerie hum of something inhuman and yet, so very strangely alive.

"The Hexcore." Finally breaking the silence with an awed kind of wonder, you slant your gaze to Viktor. "You did it."

His brows arch, as though he is relieved, as though he ever doubted you to begin with; and he is quick to caress your face, an ardor of fondness and adoration softening his amber eyes before he bows himself over you, and kisses you firmly.

"For now...but I do not want to focus on such a grim topic." Viktor breathes against your mouth, "I have much more pressing matters to attend to."

Your legs are pushed higher beneath his thighs with the movement, the steel-hard plane of his augmented limb echoing heat into you, and coupled with the tantalizing way his cock presses against you, you're inclined to agree.

"I'd never stop you from achieving your goals." You whisper, equal parts playful and genuine as you wrap your arms around his neck, holding him close.

You have questions, but now...now you've got time. However fleeting it remains, it's more than what you had before. Enough time to indulge in this—to indulge in him.

Viktor huffs a laugh against you, "I know," and with a hand deftly disappearing between you two, he presses his cock flush against your throbbing heat. You hiccup a surprised moan that he eagerly swallows, kissing you breathless before pulling back just enough that your lips graze, "my goal is to pleasure you beyond anything I've ever been capable of. I want to hear every moan, every cry of my name that I have yet to earn."

You shudder, barely manage to lob out, and with a warbled tone that undermines whatever teasing you're going for: "quite the ambition, Viktor."

"Intention, my love." He parries easily, and proceeds to push against you, inexorable, stretching you out and filling you in one smooth, seamless thrust that chokes out whatever response you have.

Viktor barely stifles a groan, exhaling sharply as his hips press flush against you. You're trembling, clinging to him as you adjust to the size of him—always a feat, always a process—but it seems he doesn't intend to give you that reprieve.

But, he isn't entirely without clemency. "Should you reach the point of begging—I will stop." And it's with such a distinctly Viktor brand of self-satisfaction, that you can't find it in you to be anything other than aroused.

It's become such a rarity, this brazen confidence he's exhibiting, and you want nothing more than to kindle it; to give him this, take what he's so eagerly offering; feel what he's promised. You push your fingers up and through his hair, grabbing a fistful of wild, chestnut waves in either hand, and you pull him down with a force that makes him grunt in his throat.

"Perhaps you should let actions speak louder than words." You say, locking your gaze with his; and you watch as his eyes sharpen, seizing your explicit permission with a harsh kiss and a throaty moan.

Viktor wastes no more time. He brings himself low, braces his weight with an arm above your head, his other hand snaking around your throat in a grasp that is both gentle and grounding, pushing his tongue in your mouth as his hips roll smoothly against yours.

The friction is there, the heat and pressure of him inside you, the stretch and the drag and the depth of his thrusts making you moan and rock back, but you want so much more—you want to see him baser, driven to carnal want.

"Harder." You urge, feeding into his flame, "fuck me like you've always wanted to, Viktor."

Viktor groans, unabashedly effected by your words, tightening his grasp on your throat just enough to deliver a pleasant, hazy daze. "I want to fuck you until you cannot think straight." He admits in a rush, and you clench around him in response, bring a hand down to wrap around the taut, wiry muscle of his forearm—a silent consent.

"Want to—ah—to see you ruined by pleasure...I want to be the one to do that to you." His pace has picked up; hard, unrelenting thrusts that spear you deep enough it nearly aches, desperation lacing not just his tone, but his movements.

"F-Fuck, Viktor!" Digging your nails into his ivory skin, curling your legs around his waist, the metal and fastens of his brace chafe against your inner thighs, but you couldn't care less—you've never been able to do this; to put that weight on him with him above you, to drag him close and remain blissfully carefree on whether or not you're hurting him.

"Oh gods, yes—fuck...you feel so good." Moaning the words out best you can, you grind your hips against him with each forward stroke, will him deeper with the lure of your body; chasing down the intoxicating catch-drag of your clit against his pelvis.

Viktor visibly shudders at the praise, releasing his hold on your throat. You inhale raggedly, immediately reverting to whining; sweet, pleading little noises that spur him on.

"Louder." He hisses it in demand, finding purchase with his hands behind your knees, pushing your legs up to your chest. "I want to hear you."

The position has his cock slide impossibly deep, your breath snagging in your throat, hands scrambling to hold onto him by way of tugging his hair. Sound returns to you in the form of a reedy, trembling moan. The way he's fucking you is seismically different than anything you've ever done with him—raw, harsh, bruising. He hasn't faltered once, the steadfast, borderline brutal way he thrusts against you frying any coherence you might've had.

Nothing matters but him—the sounds he's making, the familiar and comforting scent of him, the way his body is pressed so tightly against yours that you feel every hard angle; every shift of bone; ripple of muscle, and the newfangled, bruising press of his steel leg colliding with the back of your thigh. He is all-encompassing, pounding pleasure into you that sings in your veins like magma, permeating you down to the marrow.

You're not going to last much longer.

Through stilted moans, Viktor leans in close enough to latch onto the soft palette beneath your ear; hot, heavy breath dampening your skin. A shiver racks your frame when he bites you sweetly, coalescing with your pleasure like a personalized dose of euphoria.

You wrap your arms around his head with a half-garbled cry of his name, and Viktor huffs out an amused breath, "have I truly been enough for you? Have I ever—mmph—f-fucked you to the point of speechlessness?"

How you can't even form a response is all the answer Viktor needs.

"I wanted to," he grits out, his grip on your legs fierce enough that you know you'll be bruised—you'll have a collection by the time he's done, and the concept makes you clench tighter around his cock, eliciting a sharp groan from him that vibrates against you, "always—every time I have been inside you, I have craved this."

As though charged with that declaration, he slows his pace, backs his movements with a force that rockets knife-sharp pleasure right up your spine, carving it into a radial bow off the bed, pushing your chest into his. The hard protrusions of his brace press into you. You don't care, you pull him closer, voice your pleasure with a keening moan every time his hips collide with your thighs.

"You...you are going to come again—hm?" He envelopes you in his arms, holds you with one hand buried in your hair, the other winding around the nape of your neck. You whine, delirious and broken and vaguely affirmative, and Viktor kisses your throat once more, "do it, so I can push you over the edge again, and again. Until I am satisfied with the mess I will make of you."

He's speaking rushed, quick and hot, and he punctuates his urgent statement by way of sinking his teeth into the sensitive apex between your neck, and shoulder.

Silk walls clench so tight around him that his hips stutter, that he groans against your skin and it ricochets a wild flourish of tingles throughout your entire body, that he has to grip you harder, hold you in place as you writhe and arch and shriek through the hard-press of your teeth.

Your orgasm hits you with cataclysmic force, and all you can do is hold on, ride it out, shiver and tremble in his arms as he chases down his own release. He bucks against you, his seamless movements pulling apart, short and choppy and desperate, Viktor groans and bites you harder.

You pull his hair hard enough to tune that throaty noise of his into a whine. Shivering with the heavy pulse of his cock, nestled deep inside you, you can feel the blooming warmth of him filling you to the brim, washing you over with a wave of pleasant goosebumps.

He relents from digging his teeth into your skin, gasping out foreign swears embellished with the reverent invocation of your name. Everything—his movements, his voice, his vise-grip, winds down in tandem, until it feels like time itself has reached a standstill.

With your lashes wetted with involuntary tears, leaden with post-orgasmic bliss, opening your eyes feels like resurfacing from the depths of rapture; catching your breath feels just the same.

Viktor rests his head against your collarbone, his body loosening, unraveling from the tense pressure he's put upon himself, allowing your legs to drop down on either side of his waist.

You can both feel and hear the rattle in his lungs as he chases down a steady inhale-exhale, spurring you to gently comb your fingers through his hair, soothing him; coaxing him silently to recuperate. As though he senses just that, finding the challenge as he's always had the proclivity to, he breathes in deep, and pushes himself up on trembling arms.

"Viktor." You croak, voice hoarse and lilted with concern. "You should rest." Cupping his face, you stroke beneath his eyes, which have sharpened once more with that zeal of determination.

He shakes his head—your heart swoops with both admiration and concern. It's so painfully obvious, so cuttingly worrying: he genuinely believes he has something to prove, burdened with the guilt of not being enough for you; driven to right what he believes is wrong. He's healed a fraction of himself, and in doing so, finds the mistakes he's left unchecked, and Viktor, always so headstrong, is convinced he can solve it with the fleeting strength he's been given.

But an augmented leg does not cure the sickness within him.

"No." He says, with a sense of finality. "I told you...time is precarious for me. If I cannot have this now—give this to you now—I may never have another opportunity."

Your brows knit, and you steady your hold on him; force him to look at you. There, in the depths of his gaze, glints something like despair. You pluck it easily from his obstinate front; you've spent enough time looking into those amber eyes to discern the cracks beneath the surface.

"You promised me, Viktor." You remind him, firmly. "We will find another chance...find more time." Gently pulling him closer, your tone slips into an imploring lilt. "Do you remember?"

Viktor's breath shudders, his expression softening with a telling gloss. He reaches up, overlays his hand over yours and leans into your palm. The smile on his lips is faint; sad, loving, grateful.

He echoes those words again. This time, they are weaved with a thread of forlorn optimism; saccharine and bitter; a multitude within five syllables.

"Whatever it takes."

#viktor x reader #viktor x you #WOOO this was a rollercoaster #hope you enjoyed the ride my loves #viktor #arcane #fanfiction #viktor x y/n #my writing #arcane fanfiction #viktor arcane

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dorthyanndrarry · 2 years ago

Text

Whatever You Want, Draco Malfoy -36-

Tags: alcohol use, marijuana use, cigarettes, smoking, reckless behaviour, lack of self preservation, anxiety issues, chronic illness, deportation, racism, the fucking Tories, ptsd, super unhealthy coping mechanisms, Down and out Draco who’s friends with muggles, various OC’s, enemies to lovers, angst, mentions of throwing up/vomit, mentions of suicide, mentions of panic attacks, swearing

suggested rating: Mature

Part 1 (contains links to all parts) <- Part 35 || Part 37 ->

Draco hated Potter’s friends. He, in fact, loathed them with every fibre of his being.

“He’s cheating! I swear he’s cheating!” Weasley pointed aggressively at the board where Draco’s game piece had just knocked his off the board and sent it back to the starting area.

“It’s dice,” Draco said flatly, “They are, by design, random. I can’t control what I roll.”

“Bollocks! We’re wizards!” Weasley said, throwing up his hands.

Draco showed both his empty hands.

“You charmed them before we got here!” Weasley said.

“He didn’t pick the game,” Potter said, “I did. So hand over the dice.”

“Not until they’re checked for magic,” Weasley said.

“Are you a curse breaker now?” Draco said sarcastically.

“Hah!” Weasley pointed an accusing finger at Draco, “It’s a curse then! You admit it.”

Draco closed his eyes in dismay.

“He was being sarcastic, Ron,” Potter said, his impatience starting to show.

“See, if you had just allowed me to place a non-cheating charm over the board before we started, then none of this would have happened,” Granger said.

“Or you could just fucking trust Malfoy-” Potter started.

“Trust Malfoy?!” Weasley said.

“YES. He’s not going to cheat over a stupid board game, Ron,” Potter said sharply.

Granger looked incredulous.

“Yeah, right, he’s-”

“He wouldn’t,” Potter snapped, “That’s not- it’s- it’s just not something he would do. He’s petty but not in that way.”

“How sweet,” Draco muttered under his breath.

“Look,” Granger said, pulling out another game box, “we can use the dice from this set. That way, you’ll know they’re not tampered with.”

Weasley narrowed his eyes. “Only if Malfoy gives up his wand, otherwise-”

Draco froze.

“No,” Potter interrupted before it could go any further. “Just play with the new dice and stop being a prick.”

Draco breathed out. And for just a second, he felt Potter’s hand on his arm, a brief reassuring touch.

“Fine,” Weasley muttered as Granger took the new dice and passed them to Potter.

When it finally came around to Draco’s turn, he rolled his dice and, instead of moving his last piece into the home spot where he could have probably won in the next couple of turns, he moved past it so he’d have to make whole nother round of the board before he could be safe. “There. Happy?” He said to Weasley pointedly.

Weasley glared at the board, “Are you fucking-”

“That’s the kind of petty he is,” Potter sighed. He grabbed the dice and handed them to Weasley, “Go.”

Weasley’s mouth hung open, “You’re just going to let him-”

“He can do what he likes,” Granger said.

“Yeah, but it’s not fair! If I’m going to win, I want it to be fair and square! Not like- like this!” Weasley gestured to the board.

“I would have beat you before that,” Granger said. “You still have two pieces in the starting zone-”

“Which is his fault!” Weasley said.

“I was just playing the game. That’s how it works. I read through the rule pamphlet quite thoroughly,” Draco said.

“You just had bad luck,” Granger said.

“I’m the one who had bad luck,” Draco said, standing up from the couch.

“Where are you going?” Weasley demanded.

“Kitchen. Obviously,” Draco said as he walked the ten feet to the small kitchen. “Just play without me.”

Potter stood up and followed him, “Are you sure? You don’t have to leave. Ron’s just being difficult.”

Draco snorted, “Understatement of the century.”

“Once he gets to know you a bit, he’ll relax,” Potter said.

“And I’m tired of waiting for him to unclench,” Draco said, “Finish the game; it’ll be easier without me there.”

“Malfoy-”

“Besides,” Draco smirked, “We all know I would have won. That’s not going to change just because I left.”

Potter sighed.

“He started it,” Draco said.

“He did,” Potter agreed in the way a parent of two squabble children who knows it’s only a matter of time before the roles are reversed.

In the few seconds they had been gone, it seemed like Weasley was working himself up into another strop. Potter hurried back to the living area before the game board was flipped off the coffee table.

Draco sat on the countertop, picking up a meat pasty from the plate Weasley had brought along as his contribution to game night. They were almost unfairly good, better than anything he’d had from a shop. Apparently, his mum had made them.

There was a faint pop of apparition, followed by Luna Lovegood stepping out of Potter's bedroom. Her hair was in a wavy half-curled state, and she was wearing an almost painfully cheerful yellow sundress that matched the small lemon earring hanging from her ears.

After exuberantly greeting the golden trio and chatting with them for a bit, Draco was surprised when Lovegood came to join him in the kitchen.

She hopped up beside Draco on the counter on the other side of the meat pasty plate, “Are these from Molly?”

Draco nodded.

“She’s so good at them, isn’t she?” Lovegood said.

“...yes,” Draco said uncertainly.

Lovegood nibbled at the pasty crust, pausing to wipe crumbs off her dress. “Am I bothering you?”

“No,” Draco said, “Not in the slightest.”

She stared at him, her eyes far too intense for their pale blue-ness.

“...I was more worried that I was bothering you,” Draco said.

Lovegood shook her head, “I’ve been wanting to talk to you, you know.”

“You have?”

“Yes. I looked for you a bit after the war, but it seemed as if you had vanished into thin air. Poof,” Lovegood made a poofing motion with her hand.

“I was here. In London,” Draco said, “Just on the muggle side.”

“Oh,” Lovegood said. She took another bite of pasty and chewed it thoughtfully. “...It is remarkable how very big the muggle world is, isn’t it? I could search most of the wizarding places in the UK in a day. Well, perhaps in a day, if I was determined. But I could spend years just searching London and never find someone, especially if they were determined not to be found.”

Draco nodded. He added, a bit carefully, “It scared me at first, how big it was and how many people there were.”

Lovegood nodded, “It gives me a headache.”

“It does?”

“Not right away,” Lovegood said, “There is just so much that after a while my head feels as if it might explode.”

“Ah,” Draco said as if he understood. “...Why did you want to talk to me?”

“Oh! Right,” Lovegood smiled brightly. “My mind healer recommended it. He said I was holding onto unresolved trauma from what happened during the war in your house.”

“Understandably,” Draco said.

“I think he was right. But I don’t think you were to blame,” Lovegood said.

“You don’t?” Draco said.

Lovegood shook her head, “I mean, I don’t think Humbert thought you were either-”

“Humbert?”

“My mind healer,” Lovegood said, “But I was very upset about it all, and I wanted it to be your fault. It was easier when I could blame you.”

Draco’s eyes widened in dismay, “But it was my fault. You were in my house. You-”

“Did you put me there?” Lovegood asked.

Before Draco could answer, she continued.

“Deatheaters caught me. Voldemort had me put there. And it was your parent’s home.” Lovegood ticked off each point on her fingers before popping the last bite of meat pasty into her mouth. “I think it was easy to be angry with you because you brought our food, so I saw you the most.”

“I should have-” Draco hesitated, “I should have done more.”

Lovegood laughed, “I think you’re comparing yourself to Harry too much.”

Draco’s brow furrowed.

“When you compare yourself to Harry, everything you did wasn’t enough, I think. You want to be as brave as him, and when you can’t, it feels like you’ve done it wrong,” Lovegood said.

“Oh, who cares what scarhead would do.” Draco’s expression slipped into a glower, “That’s right, I do know. He’d rush in and save everyone and then rush off again.”

Lovegood smiled, “He’s very brave like that, but we can’t all be Harry, can we?”

“I should hope the fuck not,” Draco said.

Lovegood laughed, a light tinkling sound that reminded Draco of wind chimes. When she caught her breath, she said, “Are you in therapy too?”

Draco blinked in confusion.

“Oh, because you’re taking all this so well, and I felt like you understood,” Lovegood said. “Humbert does say that I jump ahead in conversations, and it can be hard to follow my line of thinking, so sometimes I ought to go back and explain how I got there.”

Draco nodded, “That did help.”

“So are you?” Lovegood asked.

“Am I-?”

“In therapy?” Lovegood asked.

Draco nodded reluctantly, “Group therapy. I haven’t been going long.”

“It’s helpful, though, isn’t it?” Lovegood said.

“Yes?”

“It’s been enormously helpful for me. I’ve been trying to convince some of the others to do something like it, but they think it’s silly,” Lovegood said. “I wonder sometimes if just because it’s me saying it. But I can’t help but be myself, can I?”

“No. I quite often have that problem myself,” Draco said.

Lovegood nodded solemnly. “It’s quite terrible when you want nothing more than to be listened to, but they can’t hear you over the you that you are.”

Draco stared at her.

Lovegood shrugged.

“No, there’s something profound in that. It’s just- it takes a moment to think through,” Draco said.

Lovegood smiled, “Thank you.”

“For what?” Draco asked.

“For taking the time to think it through,” Lovegood said.

💜thank you everybody!! I was worried no one would care about this story anymore since I was gone so long but y’all are great😭💜

Tags below v (I don’t have a permanent tags list. All tags are of the wonderful people who left messages or reblogs on the previous 2 parts.)

💜 @the-blind-one-speaks subtly has never been his strong suit😅 thank you!!

💜 @sitp-recs 😍💕💕I’m so happy you like it so far!!! 💜

💜 @pain-changes-everything thank you!!!!! 💜 💜

💜 @havingaverydrarryday 😁thank you!!

💜 @idareyoutotakealook thank you so much!!!

💜 @dewitty1 yeah! I needed it, thank you 💜

💜 @snarkyship thank you so much! draco is an odd one😂

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#dorthyannwrites #whatever you want draco malfoy #WYWDM #drarry #fanfiction #drarry fanfiction #harry potter #draco malfoy

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 3 years ago

Text

Kind of (?) a Theory on Rook and the Hunt Family

Using the short tidbits of Rook lore we got in Endless Halloween Night and the recent chapter 6 updates, I scraped together this mess of a crack theory to share with y’all 😂 dbksbdjswj Don’t take this too seriously, I’m just rambling and throwing around ideas as per usual this is just an excuse for me to word dump about Rook—

(Special thanks goes out to Guac, Lem, and Piano for fact checking for me!)

***TONS of spoilers ahead!!***

Firstly, I will first state relevant points that we canonically know about Rook. From that, I will theorize on what these details could mean in the grander scheme of things when they are all put together.

Rook is very secretive—both about himself, as well as his family. You’ll notice that while he is often talking excessively about others, he almost never talks about himself. On the few occasions that he does, he usually gives very little and very vague information. When he is asked about what his family does (in Endless Halloween Night), he gives an evasive response and is able to avoid talking about it because Trey senses Rook is uncomfortable with the topic and distracts Sebek for him. The most we know is that Rook is a middle child, with 2 older siblings and 3 younger ones, and that is it hard for the family to arrange meetings (but when they do, they are lively gatherings).

The most detailed stories we’ve heard from Rook involve his childhood, not present day. He talks about how he used to have trouble expressing his emotions as a child, but that theater helped him improve on that aspect of himself (specifically, he saw Neige in a musical). He also tells Sebek and Trey that he once got lost in the jungle as a child (when he was just 6 years old) and had to survive in the wild until a rescue squad came for him. Referring back to the first bullet point, Rook is extremely hesitant to divulge details of his present day self and family.

He is extremely good at spying on others and avoiding detection while doing it. If you look at Rook’s room, he literally has an entire wall of photographs (most likely that of his classmates), which is poorly concealed behind wallpaper. He is also noted to be swift and able to approach without being noticed. Rook himself also implies that he takes precautions/has preferences which lean toward not being easily detected. For example, he dislikes smelly food like garlic and avoids perfumes because smell can give away his presence. He also has the ability to control his metabolic signs (heart rate, breathing, etc.) so as to not give away any fear or nervousness he may actually be experiencing.

His family is wealthy enough to afford villas all over Twisted Wonderland. Furthermore, these villas are equipped with warp pads. According to Epel, you need border clearances just to install said warp pads, as they allow for instantaneous teleportation from one location to the next (which can span across different countries).

Rook’s Unique Magic, I See You, allows him to “tag” subjects with a spell, thus allowing him to later track down what is “tagged”. The only limitations on this magic seem to be that he cannot track something that transcends dimensions or in places that block magic, as his “tag” requires a spell.

Alright, so... My theory is this: Rook and the Hunts are actually a family of international secret agents. Spies? Even assassins or hitmen, if we want to go the darkest route. Something along those lines. I know it sounds a little far-fetched, but HEAR ME OUT HERE.

(I’ll be the first to admit that we have very little information to go off of, so this theory is relatively shaky, but HEY 😤 I think a secret agent Rook AU would be cool and I’d like to write one anyway, so I might as well explain the thoughts that led to it!)

The most damning piece of evidence here is somehow, Rook’s family has houses all over Twisted Wonderland with warp pads. The warp pads are extremely important here. As Epel states in chapter 6, you need special clearance to even be allowed to install warp pads.

This implies that Rook’s family must somehow be enough of a high status to warrant that clearance—however, they must not be celebrities, royalty, diplomats/politicians, or other public figures. Why? Well, why else would Rook be so secretive about what his family does? If they were wealthy or important public figures, surely someone at NRC would know about them. Whatever the Hunt family does, it is a 1) important work (important enough for that coveted ward pad installation clearance across multiple countries), 2) it crosses the borders of multiple countries, therefore their work is global in scale, 3) said work is done in the shadows and 4) may require a… certain skillset.

Let’s now consider Rook himself, as we know the most about him of the entire Hunt family. Rook boasts immense strength and survival abilities even at a very young age. He also is shown to use his ability to modify his own behavior to manipulate how others perceive him. Do note that he is a normal human, so having such skills in his youth is less likely the result of genetic disposition and more likely the result of teaching and training (similar to Sebek and Silver’s warrior boot camp with Lilia in the Briar Valley). Now, why would his parents feel the need to teach Rook these kinds of things as a child? Maybe they are just an innocent family of huntsmen—but why would they teach Rook how to hunt as a 6 year old? Why would they teach Rook to hunt obviously dangerous (and perhaps endangered) jungle animals? Maybe the Sunset Savanna is an inherently more dangerous place than other areas of Twisted Wonderland. However, if we assume that the Hunts are as wealthy as they are implied them to be, wouldn’t they have the resources to ensure Rook is protected and taken care of at all times? There must have been a good reason for Mama and Papa Hunt to buff baby Rook up, and I think that reason is twofold:

1) If the Hunt family is, indeed, tasked with doing international agent work, they must have enemies that want to find their identities and to take them out/dangers in their actual field of work. It’s better safe than sorry for the Hunt children to be able to protect themselves if they are ever kidnapped or somehow threatened.

2) If we assume the theory is correct or somewhere along the right path, then Rook may one day take on the same job(s) as his parents. In that case, it would be better to get his training started early, when his mind and body are still pliable.

Speaking of being pliable, let’s talk about Rook’s UM, I See You. His Unique Magic, in of itself, is highly suspect. We know from looking at other characters’ Unique Magic that both nature and nurture play into its development, as well as what kind of UM manifests. For example, Riddle’s harsh home schooling/magic training allowed his UM to develop faster than others’. Additionally, because of the stringent focus on rules and imposing them on him, Riddle’s UM became one that also imposed his will on others by sealing their magic and this silencing defiance. Deuce’s UM develops when he finally embraces who himself, even the dumb and reckless parts, thus allowing him to exceed his own limits. Personality and childhood experiences should have also played into Rook developing his UM.

We know that Rook is athletic and has survived in the wilderness from a young age. He also knows a lot of tricks to help him better conceal himself to his prey. Heck, he can even know things like people’s heights just form one glance, and he excels at collecting information on that which interests him. This easily lends itself to the idea that he developed a “tracking” UM because it plays into his whole “huntsman” schtick (and his “NRC weirdo” schtick too). I do believe this to be the case, but consider this: if Rook is supposedly such a skilled huntsman, what would his need for his UM be? Wouldn’t he be able to track down his target and have the element of surprise without the use of magic? Yet Rook regularly stalks classmates of interest without using his UM. Then look at chapter 6–Rook readily cast his tracking magic on Vil before the STYX agents flew off with him. Clearly, this UM is not limited only to animals (as one might think for a “huntsman”), but to actual people as well (humans, too, are “animals”). It makes I See You suspiciously double as a convenient tool for tracking human prey, even as they flee across Twisted Wonderland. The fact that Rook also immediately thought to utilize his UM in such a way tells me either he thinks and reacts fast and/or that he is used to doing this, which is why it was the first thing that came to his mind in such a charged moment.

Another component of this UM that is kind of suspicious are the limitations. Rook states that his UM cannot track something that transcends dimensions or in places that block magic, as his “tag” requires a spell to be cast. Thinking about it, what normal “animal” would think to escape to a new dimension or to go to a place that blocks magic unless it was by total accident. It makes more sense for a creature of reasonable intelligence (like a human target, for example) to do that than a woodland creature. Of course, this could just be a natural limitation of the UM to not make it too overpowered but when you’ve got so little information to work with, I’m forced to extrapolate—

Warning: from hereon out, it’s just me throwing around my own wild ideas with little to no basis in the actual canon 😂

While we may not know much about Rook and his siblings, I think it would be interesting to throw them into the equation as well. I have previously pitched another crack theory where I suggested that Rook and his siblings were named after and represented chess pieces (as the point values line up with Rook being the middle child). IF we take the Hunt sibling chess theory into consideration, then the youngest sibling is the “Pawn”. And do you know what a Pawn can do in chess? They can promote to any other piece (excluding King) if they reach the other side of the board.

How cool would it be if like... when a member of the Hunt family comes of age, they need to pass a test before they’re allowed to officially take on missions like the rest of the family? Maybe the youngest sibling is really struggling to prove themselves because of that. This would actually play nicely into Rook oddly being open about his childhood memories, but not about his present day self. It’s because (going by this logic) Rook technically hadn’t proven himself yet, he hadn’t been promoted to the full status of being a Hunt agent, so he could still enjoy aspects of his childhood—

Okay, okay... It’s way more likely that Hunt family meetings are hard to have because the older siblings and parents have jobs and the younger siblings have schoolwork, but it’d just be more fun if it was actually because they’re all over the world caught up in international espionage or something.

LIKE.

JUST PICTURE A CASUAL PHONE CALL LIKE THIS:

“Kids, I’m so sorry, but your maman and I will be home a few hours late! This target is giving us a bit of trouble—but don’t you worry, there’s some leftover meatloaf in the fridge you can heat up when you finish your own work!” — Papa Hunt

AnOTHER THiNG???? I mentioned in my Hunt siblings chess piece theory that it would be weird if each sibling was literally named after a chess piece, but maybe they’d make more sense as agent names. Maybe “Pawn” is just a blanket term used to refer to any Hunt member that hasn’t passed their test yet, and they “promote” to an actual agent name when they do finally pass! ... But Rook, being Rook, is flashy and just flaunts it as his actual name anyway because he doesn’t care 😂

Overall, the Hunt family and Rook himself are one massive pile of S U S and I would very much like to learn more about them, TWST devs 🥺

#Rook Hunt #twst theories #twst theory #twisted wonderland theories #twst #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #notes from the writing raven #idk don’t take this one too seriously #it’s a lot of circumstantial evidence #and extrapolation #spoilers #Riddle Rosehearts #Deuce Spade #Trey Clover #Sebek Zigvolt #Neige Leblanche

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