#I’d like to do this with the workshop battle as well | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

incorrecttowerofgodquotes · 2 years

Text

Tower of God Season 2 24 Episode Layout

This is a predictive for fitting the first part of Season 2 into 24 episodes (or 23 episodes and one extra just in case we need more space). The reason why I finally decided on 24 episodes is that the first part of S2 and the Workshop battle have the same amount of chapters. And the Workshop Battle definitely needs at least 24 eps.

Episode 1: Prologue and Chapter 1

Important moments: Introduction of Maschenny, introduction of Repellista, Yuri gets Repel to look for Bam, name drop of the Prince of Jahad, introduction of Wangnan, introduction of Lurker, introduction of Nia, Wangnan and Nia’s talk, introduction of Viole

Episode 2: Chapters 2-4

Important moments: Introduction of most of Team Sweet and Sour, Viole antagonizes the group, Arkraptor and Horyang vs Viole, FUG name drop, Wangnan vs Viole, the Thyrrsa heals Bam

Episode 3: Chapters 5-7

Important moments: Passing the first exam, flashback to Rachel, introduction of Ehwa and Prince, introduction of Rapdevil, introduction of Love, Shinsu measuring test, Viole shows off the Flare Wave Explosion

Episode 4: Chapters 8-9

Important moments: The squad makes desperate pleas to Viole, Viole states that he’s a Slayer Candidate, Love proposes a game, Bath scene, Viole finds Wangnan’s ring

Episode 5: Chapters 10-12

Important moments: Introduction of yogurt auntie, the crew plays card games, start of the room test, Ehwa vs Viole, use of Reverse Flow Control, Miseng gets called out to by the yogurt auntie, Arkraptor goes to help her

Episode 6: Chapters 13-14

Important moments: Arkraptor and Miseng bond, Arkraptor vs yogurt auntie, someone comes to see Rapdevil, Goseng and Wangnan bond, Prince learns Rapdevil is dead, Viole meets up with Love

Episode 7: Chapters 15-16

Important moments: Karaka name drop, start of Viole and Love’s fight, Prince vows to kill Viole, Lurker is sus, the random five Prince a drugged drink, Love and Viole continue to fight, Love uses his techniques to push Viole down

Episode 8: Chapters 17-18

Important moments: Prince gives Ehwa the drugged drink, Love’s backstory, Viole copies Love’s techniques, Rapdevil is revealed to be alive, reveal of Nia’s betrayal, Nia’s backstory, Wangnan’s speech to Nia, Lurker kills Nia, Wangnan swears vengeance

Episode 9: Chapters 19-20

Important moments: Wangnan goes to get Viole, Horyang goes to help Prince, ending of Viole vs Love, Wangnan intervenes, some Wangnan backstory, Wangnan gives Viole the connector, Horyang kicks ass, Viole takes the parasite out of Ehwa, Horyang shows off the devil, Wangnan punches Lurker

Episode 10: Chapter 21-22

Important moments: Horyang defeats Rapdevil, Wangnan vs Lurker, Lurker backstory, Wangnan spares Luker, Viole is tricked and team Sweet and Sour wins, the group celebrates, Wangnan and Viole talk, Augusgus reveals he’s in FUG, Boy Scout Khun

Episode 11: Chapters 23-25

Important moments: Inteoduction of Dan, Dan forcibly joins the team, introduction of Novic, Khun and Rachel’s talk, introduction of the rest of the team, Khun reveals he knows Rachel is lying, Khun’s speech to his team, Rachel laughs like a bitch

Episode 12: Chapters 26-28

Important moments: We see how the team currently functions, Ehwa goes after Viole, we meet Hwaryun, introduction of Ha Jinsung, FUG meets Team Sweet and Sour, Hwaryun and Wangnan talk, Reveal Viole is Bam, Wangnan and Viole talk, we see part of Karaka, Team Sweet and Sour name drop

Episode 13: Chapters 29-30

Important moments: The squad takes the 21st floor test, they see and get in the Zigena, introduction of Urek Mazino, the squad sees the baby Zigena, Prince and Viole run into Urek

Episode 14: Chapters 31-33

Important moments: Miseng gets sent to get the Zigena baby, Urek and Horyang talk, Viole sees Urek, Viole challenges Urek, Viole and Urek talk, the fight begins, Miseng interrupts the fight, Viole gets injured, Urek leaves the Zigena, reveal that Viole scratched Urek

Episode 15: Chapters 34-35

Important moments: Jinsung tells Wangnan to leave, the group encourage Wangnan, Ehwa vows to correct her family, Wangnan gives Jinsung lollipops, introduction to Karaka, Jinsung and Karaka talk, Wangnan and Hwaryun talk, we learn of the Workshop Battle

Episode 16: Chapters 36-37

Important moments: Bam’s past with Jinsung, Jinsung’s backstory, Hwaryun encourages Bam, Lero Ro and Quant are on the 77th floor, they meet Hatzling, Lero Ro and Hatzling prepare to fight, Hatzling is told to watch Viole, Hatzling conscripts Lero Ro and Quant to help

Episode 17: Chapters 38-41

Important moments: Introduction of Emily, the 25th Bam gets put into Emily, Khun sees it, introduction to Quaetro and Chang, we see Cassano and learn he’s the “Devil’s Right Arm”

Episode 18: Chapters 42-43

Important moments: We get Horyang’s backstory, introduction to Sophia, Viole and Horyang fight, we learn something was implanted into Viole, Horyang leaves, Khun and co pull up to the Hand of Arlene

Episode 19: Chapters 44-45

Important moments: Viole lies to the group about Horyang, introduction of Xia Xia, Horyang goes to the hand, Ran separates from the group and destroys the lighthouse, Ran runs into Horyang, Horyang vs Ran and Novick, Miseng and Viole talk, Viole promises to bring Horyang back

Episode 20: Chapters 46-48

Important moments: Arkraptor and Viole talk, the squad gets together to get Horyang back, Cassano calls out to Horyang, Khun gets caught in a trap, Viole meets Xia Xia, Cassano vs Ran and Novick, Khun kills a dude, Horyang vs Ran and Novick part 2, Khun begins tracing, reveal of Apple’s betrayal, Cassano punches through Horyang, Viole arrives

Episode 21: Chapters 49-51

Important moments: Viole vs Ran and Novick, Khun arrives, Xia Xia reveals she planted a bomb and that she’s from FUG, Viole’s “Bad guy” performance, Viole reveals Reverse Flow Control, Xia Xia blows up the place, Viole calls out to Khun, Khun realizes it’s Bam, reveal of Micheal’s betrayal, Dan roasts Rachel, Team Sweet and Sour find the destroyed hand

Episode 22: Chapters 52-53

Important moments: Viole adds Ran and Novick to FUG team, Team Sweet and Sour find Khun, Khun wakes up and meets the squad, the squad find Gustang dead and Dan barely living, Khun thinks about Bam and Viole, Hwaryun shows up, S1 teams sees that Khun’s reportedly dead, Rak goes off to find Khun

Episode 23: Chapters 54-55

Important moments: Hwaryun reveals to Khun the truth about Viole, Dan and Khun talk, Khun vows to win the Workshop Battle with Team Sweet and Sour, introduction to Reflejo and Yuto, Viole has the thorn, Khun’s training is hellish, we see the group’s anxieties, the teams receive their invitation to the Workshop Battle

Episode 24: Just here in case we need more time

#I’d like to do this with the workshop battle as well #but that’ll take a lot more time #13 episodes really aren’t enough for this plot #maybe they could do 13 episodes up to Urek and then a movie for the Hand of Arlene #but I fucking hate anime movies that tie into the plot #so I hope that doesn’t happen #tower of god #tog

30 notes · View notes

kamaluhkhan · 4 months

Text

GUILTY AS SIN?

GLUTTONY — part vi of we'll write sins not tragedies

pairing: luke castellan x nemesis! reader (afab) word count: 3k summary: after a mission gone wrong, you unknowingly take the fall for a friend; you get drunk with the enemy; and you start to think that, if they’re going to crucify you anyway, you might as well indulge in a few fatal fantasies. warnings: set during the last olympian so spoilers for the entire pjo book series; luke + reader get drunk; mention of death + war + reader has some survivor's guilt; smut (unprotected p in v, oral f receiving, kinda sub!luke, brief allusion to knife kink — 18 + MDNI) + angst author's note: not sure how i feel ab this one but i've been workshopping it for weeks so i think her time has come !! also maybe got a bit too deep into book lore oops. also also ive been listening to this song an outrageous amount and i hope i did it justice ANYWAYS lmk what y'all think, thanks sm for reading ♥

♪ "guilty as sin?" by taylor swift

you’re well aware of how suspicious this looks, rendezvousing with the enemy at a sleazy dive bar in the heart of the city.

he walks in, and your heart starts to beat faster in anticipation. his familiar deep brown eyes are now striking gold, and a streak of gray is woven through his signature dark curls — evidence of the battles you've fought, on opposite sides, and an ominous reminder of a war that has yet to be over.

as he casually orders himself a drink and one for you, you keep a hand on your concealed dagger. it’s become an instinct of yours, whenever he’s around.

“i didn’t come here to fight.” he assures, catching the glint of your blade.

“and what about…..” you gesture broadly at him.

“we’re not entirely synched yet, so it gives him a break whenever i’m in full control,” he explains as though reciting from a textbook (something like how to betray your loved ones and overthrow the olympians 101). “it’s only me tonight. i swear on the river styx.”

a shiver passes through you.

about a year ago, luke tracked you down in new york. apparently, kronos was pushing him to do something extreme, and luke felt conflicted.

you thought it had to be some sort of cruel joke, because you could not think of anything more extreme than what luke had already done in facilitating a war between gods and titans. you had no patience for his crocodile tears, not after he played you so well the first time.

you told him as much, then told him to fuck off.

to be fair, you didn’t know that would lead to him bathing in the river styx and becoming a vessel for the titan lord himself.

luke wears the curse of achilles well: all strong muscles and sharp angles, his tan skin glowing ever-so slightly, and his body devoid of any fresh cuts or bruises despite surviving an explosion just a few days prior.

“so….what? you’re the pilot whenever kronos needs to take a really long nap?”

“i’d say timeshare is the closest way to describe it.”

“50/50 ownership?”

“more like 90/10.”

you scoff. “sounds like a scam.”

the corner of his mouth quirks up in amusement. it reminds you so much of old times, his boyish charm peeking through whenever a camper would try to pull a prank on him, and then complain when he’d beat them to the punch.

“it’s just me,” he repeats, but you didn’t need any more confirmation.

you know deep in your gut, from that mischievous smirk alone: it’s not the lord of time, but luke castellan next to you.

the bar is surprisingly busy for a weeknight. there’s a game being shown on TV, and people wearing sports jerseys occasionally groan or cheer or come to the counter to order another pint for their table while keeping their eyes glued to the screen. the jukebox in the corner plays music from the 70s and 80s as a group of friends starts to dance, tipsy after a deadly combination of jello shots and sangria.

for the first few drinks, you and luke are silent, letting these sounds of regular human existence fill the space between you. you half-expect him to ask about law school admissions, or the new tattoo you got on your upper thigh, or your band’s latest show — all fragments of your own mundane mortal life used to distract yourself from demigod realities.

he doesn’t, though. luke just stares at the hockey game, one you know for a fact he doesn’t care about because the rangers aren’t playing, as he sips his old-fashioned like he has all the time in the world.

“did you wanna meet so we could just sit here in silence or….”

when you had agreed to this meeting, you had a clear goal in mind: find out who the spy is and clear your name.

it might be too much rum or the crushing weight of recent events, but you no longer have the energy nor the drive to be strategic or even cautious around luke. now, you’re looking for a cure to your bone deep boredom and heartache.

"no. i’m here because….” he falters and runs a hand through his hair. “look, i heard about what happened at camp. and, with beck —”

“dying?” you finish, taking one last gulp of your drink. all the rage, resentment and grief you’ve been feeling has been lodged in your throat. you’d hope each sip of your dark and stormy would burn through it, but instead it comes tumbling from your lips.

“honestly, beck would probably still be alive if you didn’t join the dark side. i guess you’re kinda leading the dark side now, aren’t you luke? what’s that like?”

luke polishes off his drink, too, his cheeks flushed. he gestures at the bartender for a third round of drinks. or is it fourth?

“don’t be a dick,” luke sighs once a replenished glass is placed in front of him. “i obviously never wanted to hurt you — any of you.”

if you were of sober mind, maybe you’d point out that it’s too late; that luke already hurt all of you the minute he decided to side with kronos.

“i know i did, though,” he adds after swallowing a mouthful of his drink.

you know that if luke was of sober mind, he would never have admitted that. he seems to know better than to apologize though, hopefully recognizing that the damage has already been done.

it’s not like your hands aren’t bloody, too.

“it was supposed to be me, you know?” you let out a watery laugh. “i was supposed to go with percy on the mission, but beck offered to go instead because he thought — he knew — that it would….it would be hard for me to see…. you.”

luke pauses and turns away from you. “you couldn’t have known what would happen.” his voice wavers, too. “beckendorf was looking out for you — it’s what he does. did.”

“i couldn’t even go to the funeral,” you continue. “i feel like i didn’t really get to say goodbye, you know?”

“yeah,” luke hums sorrowfully. “mourning someone who fought for the gods isn’t really allowed where i am.”

again, you could point out the irony in what he’s saying. given everything he’s done, luke dug his own grave and clearly some for his friends, too.

tears sting your eyes, but you blink them away. the reality is that one of your best friends died because you couldn’t handle an encounter with your ex-boyfriend, the one you’re currently sitting beside.

you might not have done what they accused you of, but you’re nowhere near innocent. who were you to give yourself permission to cry?

in the dim neon light, you notice a tear slide down luke’s cheek before he wipes it away just as fast.

he clears his throat. “to charles beckendorf: a hero by any other name.”

you tap your glass against luke’s, and you both drink in honor of your lost friend. you drink to everyone and everything you’ve lost, too.

beckendorf is dead; chris has lost his mind; clarisse might start her own war with the apollo cabin over a flying chariot; and ever since the princess andromeda mission went terribly wrong, silena can’t go one minute without bursting into tears.

it was too easy for everything to fall apart, as though this was always what the fates had in store for you — the next generation of greek tragedies.

thankfully, there always comes a break in the tragedy, and it seems to be now: you and luke, getting drunk off whiskey and rum and old memories.

you remember countless times sneaking out to the beach after curfew, mixing store-brand soda with cheap alcohol smuggled into camp by luke’s half-brothers; hot summer nights spent fantasizing about existence outside of camp and returning to your head counselor duties in the morning with chiron and mr. d none the wiser. once you started dating, it became routine for the two of you to wander away from the group for some privacy, somewhere far enough away so that no one could hear you scream luke’s name.

those memories still make your skin flush, even as you’re here drinking cocktails at a bar in the city, with one friend gone to elysium and everyone else calling you a traitor.

“i can’t believe you don’t remember that night! mr. d caught a few senior campers getting drunk in his office? they stole a super expensive bottle of wine, threw up all over the carpet, and had to spend the rest of the night cleaning it?”

you continue shaking your head. you tip your glass back to capture the last drops of amber liquid before confessing:

“what i remember is spending the whole night jealous of malcolm pace because he got to slow dance with you.”

luke lets out something between a scoff and a laugh, then he’s silent for a few moments.

“i love this song,” luke muses, words blurring together. “i haven’t heard it in a while.” he finishes his drink and sets the glass down, holding his hand out to you.

your brain is a bit foggy from all the alcohol, so it takes you a few seconds to realize what he’s asking.

“you wanna dance?”

“yeah,” he answers. “make up for lost time.”

it’s not until you feel luke’s chest pressed against yours, his hands firmly on your waist, that you register what song is currently playing.

“downtown lights” by the blue nile — luke had spent so long trying to find the right song for your first time together.

you told him not to worry, teased him a bit for planning every detail so meticulously, but deep down, your heart swelled with how much he cared.

the empty hermes cabin during capture-the-flag, both of you pretending to be too injured from sparring practice to play. luke’s sweaty hands fumbling with the condom, you having to step in and rip the wrapper with your teeth. clothes being haphazardly thrown on so you could run back to the infirmary before anyone noticed. silent vows to do it again, and again, and again.

the more time spent exploring and experimenting, the more you got the rhythm of each other’s bodies, knew how to make the other squirm and throw their head back in pleasure — and that didn’t just go away when luke joined kronos’ army.

even when your loyalties were more clear, your consciousness was plagued with visions of you and luke together, ones that left your sheets burning, more than the blazing summer heat. you confided in silena about these once, and she assured you that there is no such thing as bad thoughts.

she did warn you, though: it’s when you indulge in these fantasies that they risk becoming fatal.

now, thinking back and forth between memories with luke and the events of this past very shitty week, you realize that maybe that’s why you’re here.

despite everything you’ve done, you supposedly betrayed people you consistently fight beside, fight for; you were thrown out of a place you once considered home and told never to come back.

you were doomed from the start — a daughter of nemesis, assumed to be wicked and revenge-seeking since birth.

well, if they’re going to crucify you anyway…..

once the song ends, you ask:

“you wanna go outside for a smoke?”

your hands start playing with the curls at the base of luke’s neck, hinting at what you were hoping comes next.

luke licks his lips, gold eyes darker than before.

“guess you’re itching to put that celestial bronze to good use,” he says lowly.

“only if you ask nicely,” you drawl.

luke blushes.

you pull away from him, start walking towards the back exit, and pray that he follows you.

—

this is why meeting with you was dangerous: there’s no one else in the world – god, titan, or otherwise – luke castellan would get on his knees for, let alone in the filthy alley behind a bar.

technically, kronos sent luke here to recruit you.

the scythe charm — the one used to communicate with silena — sits heavy in his pocket. it’s part of the reason why you were exiled from camp, why your friends don’t look at you the same way. why you can’t ever go back home, not really.

luke imagines you might resent those who threw you out of camp, but you would never betray them. he knew that you weren’t likely to join kronos’ army.

he’s thankful that, at the very least, you still have a penchant for breaking some rules.

the two of you are a tangled mess of teeth and tongue. luke tastes the spiciness of ginger beer and rum, mixed with sweetness from the clove cigarette you just smoked. you lock one leg around luke’s hip, and the brief glimpse of your lacy black underwear has him throbbing. one of your hands slips underneath his shirt to trace the contours of his abdomen. luke’s breath hitches when your hand reaches down even further.

“wait –” you pause your actions to let luke finish his sentence, and already he regrets voicing his hollow concern. “i….i probably should not be doing this.”

“me neither,” you concede, breathing steadily.“but, they already think i’m guilty.” with your other hand, your thumb dances over his kiss-swollen lips and luke feels something ignite in the pit of his stomach. “maybe i am, with how much i think about you.”

luke knows what’s at stake for him, if anyone finds out, but in a booze-soaked haze and with you looking at him like that, he can’t seem to care.

it’s coming back to him now: that endless cycle of waking up sticky and drenched in sweat over dreams of screaming your name and going about his day like it wasn’t a paradox to be leading kronos’ army and still wanting someone aligned with the enemy to devour him.

when he agreed, however reluctantly, to be a vessel for kronos, luke had to lock those desires inside a vault deep inside his mind.

this might very well be luke’s last chance to satisfy his cravings, once and for all. tonight, he’s in full control of his body and mind.

he’ll happily yield his power to you.

soon enough, your teeth gnaw on his top lip as luke messily thrusts into you, your underwear hastily pushed to the side. he tries to savor every part of this, of you — the heel of your combat boot digging into his back; the sting of your nails where you grip him; the familiar scent of your skin, sickly sweet cherries and burnt vanilla; the hoarseness of your voice, encouraging him to go faster, harder. following your orders, luke wraps both of your legs around his waist and digs his fingers further into your hips to keep them secure.

it’s a religious experience, watching you throw your head back against the brick wall as your orgasm crashes through you. luke follows a few seconds later, pulling out just in time to paint the inside of your thighs with his cum.

luke grins as he watches you come down from your high, eyes closed, chest heaving, neck engraved with the outline of his teeth.

“sorry, didn’t mean to give you a concussion.”

you open your eyes just to roll them at luke, who’s tucking himself back into his jeans.

“you’re such an asshole,” you jest through labored breaths, registering his shit-eating grin. you fix the hem of your leather skirt and pout dramatically. “and you had to leave a mess behind, didn’t you?”

without another word, luke kneels in front of you.

he leans his head back to admire how your lips curl into a bemused smile at his antics. your fingers press into his pulse point, no doubt feeling how reckless his heartbeat becomes underneath you. once more, your thumb prods at his lips; this time luke grants access, the cold metal of your ring burning on his tongue.

“is this how you pledged loyalty to your titan king?” you taunt.

luke shakes his head, still sucking your digit.

he did have to bow, but not like this. the only entity he’d worship this desperately is you.

“i’m honored,” you coo. luke bites back a whimper when you remove your thumb from his mouth, instead tracing the scar on his face, up his cheekbone. “i have to say though: i miss your brown eyes, pretty boy.”

his whole body is on fire with how you touch him, but your passing observation feels like a knife to the gut. wanting to be good for you, to prove he’s still your pretty boy, luke pushes up the bottom of your skirt so it bunches around your waist.

“luke!” you attempt to scold, concealing a moan when his teeth graze your clit through the damp fabric of your underwear. “someone might see.”

“it’ll be fine, baby,” he assures. “is this new?” luke is mesmerized by the fresh ink on your thigh, fingers trailing over swirling black lines.

you hum, a goddess gazing down on her disciple. “do you like it?”

luke nods. he replaces his fingers with his tongue, journeying across your skin, tasting salty sweat mixed with his cum drying between your legs. he hears your whimpers for more. he complies and plunges two fingers beneath the lace until you reach your peak. luke places one last kiss to your core, before getting up again.

you crash your lips onto his, and you’re kissing him the way you did back when you really loved him, chaotic and feverish. your fingers snake through his curls, and you tug on them just enough to make luke’s head spin.

you’re somehow more intoxicating than however many drinks he downed earlier.

he sees something simmering behind your eyes, when you ask if he wants to come back to your apartment. you both know you shouldn’t, but honestly — in the grand scheme of things, what’s one more sin?as the two of you are tangled beneath your bedsheets, you decide to frame it differently, as a mutual vow: maybe just one more time will satisfy this hunger.

#we've only got two sins left idk how this happened....#thank y'all sm for reading!!#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan #luke castellan x you #luke castellan smut #luke castellan series #luke castellan x nemesis!reader #pjo fanfic #saf writes

357 notes · View notes

feirceangel · 10 months

Text

Imagine | Gifts (Nico Robin)

Imagine getting Robin a gift and she returns the favour.

Warnings: fluff, hugs, kisses

Word Count: 1,310

(Not my gif!)

Days on the Thousand Sunny could be very peaceful when the weather was right and the sea was calm. With the sun shining brightly and everyone done their chores, it’s wonderful to have some downtime.

You could always find Zoro napping somewhere next to a bottle of sake, Sanji in the kitchen, Franky tinkering away in his workshop.. you get the point.

Right now, it’s looking like a peaceful day. But you can’t seem to rest, your eyes glued to the figure of Robin as she sits and peruses the latest newspaper.

Not in a creepy way, of course! You just happened to notice her seated on deck, sipping some tea. And you just couldn’t seem to look away.

She’s wearing a lovely purple dress with a lace collar and black fishnet stockings. Sanji’s already peppered her with compliments, and you agreed with him wholeheartedly.

Clutched tightly in your hand is a book. It’s one you picked up at the last island in a rickety old bookstore. You had merely glanced at it but something made you revisit it and realize that it looked very interesting.

It was a very old book on the history of the island, and you knew just who you would buy it for. The only problem is you haven’t given it to her yet.

You’re nervous.

Sure, you’re both part of the crew, and you get along fabulously, but you can’t stop feeling slightly intimidated by her. She so accomplished and educated, and you’re, well, you’re smart and you have skills, but it’s nothing compared to her.

Often, on calm days like this, you sit with Robin and read next to her. That’s a nothing thing you have in common: books.

You love books! In fact, you used to work in a library before you ran into Luffy and became a pirate. Robin loves reading too, so it’s something you do together.

It’s serene to just be next to her, enjoying your own book as you share the same space on the ship.

What if she doesn’t like the book?

A sudden tap on your shoulder startled you. You yelp and turn to face whoever poked you.

A hand waves at you from the railing you were leaning against and then points to where you were staring.

Your eyes meet Nico Robin’s as she smiles knowingly. She motions for you to come over to her.

So you do.

Shaking the nervousness away, you slowly walk over to the table and sit next to her.

“You were staring,” she glances at you over the newspaper.

You duck your head in embarrassment, “Ah, sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“It’s alright, Y/n. I was wondering why you were taking so long to come see me.”

Deciding to just go for it, you place the book on the table and push it in front of her. She sets down the paper and picks up the old tome. Casting a smile at you, she flips to the first page, “What is this?”

“It’s for you! I wanted to give you something and I thought you’d like this,” you blabber. “It’s the complete history of the last island we were on. I can get rid of it if you don’t like it-“

You’re silenced by a finger pressing against your lips in a shushing gesture. Surprised, you blink.

Robin gently sets the book down and leans towards you.

“Thank you, Y/n. Anything you get me is a treasure,” she smiles and presses her lips to your cheek. “You don’t have to worry.”

You can’t stop the heat from rising to your face. Shoving away from the table, you grin and wave your arms about.

“I hope you enjoy it! I have to go now, I promised Luffy I’d help him!”

She watches you run away, bumping into a confused Luffy in the process.

“Cute,” she hums as she watches you dash away.

There are days which are not so calm.

Gone is the tranquillity of the sea, the beauty of peace.

Instead, you’re facing down a battle you weren’t prepared for.

This island had seemed alright and Luffy gave the okay to go explore/gather supplies right away. So, you bustled off, enjoying the scenery and trying to find anything helpful for the rest of the crew.

What you found was in fact not helpful.

A small child, sobbing as a man attacked his mother with harsh slaps.

You jumped in without hesitation, punching the man in his stupidly smug face before yelling at the lady and her kid to get lost.

To your relief, they left without problem.

To your irritation, more men approached and it turned the odds against you. There were five of them altogether and normally, you’d be alright to handle them, but you weren’t prepared and foolishly left your weapon on the Sunny.

As you dodge a blow from the first man, you berate yourself for being a forgetful idiot.

“Seis Fleur!” The sound of a melodious voice cuts through the noise surrounding you.

You look up from elbowing a man twice your size to see Robin glaring at your attackers. She is brutally efficient, taking down three of the men in no time.

Kicking the man who you were fighting, you grin as he collapses to the dirt. Robin takes out the last man and you rush over to her with a huge grin.

“Robin! Thank you so much, I was sure I was in for a beating,” you laugh.

Your jolly mood dissipate as you register the fact that she’s not smiling.

“Robin?”

“Y/n, are you okay?” She looks you over for any wounds.

“Oh yeah, I dodged all his attacks! And you showed up right in time!”

You spin around, “See? Right as rain.”

She steadies you by planting her hands on your shoulders, “You could’ve been hurt, where is your weapon?”

Wincing, you scratch the back of your head.

“Y/n,” she says again.

“Well you see, I was so excited to get off the ship, I might’ve forgotten to take my weapon?”

She sighs and shakes her head, reaching her arms around you to bring you into an embrace. You hug her back, heart thumping loudly.

“I, I’m sorry, Robin,” you say, “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

She slides her hand over your hair, somehow tightening her hold on you.

“Say, how’d you know I needed help?” You ask, puzzled.

She pulls away from you with a sly smile, “I actually just wanted to talk to you.”

“Really? Talk about great timing!”

“Here,” she takes your hand and places something in it. “I wanted to give you this.”

You stare at her in awe. Her eyes sparkle with mirth now that the threat to your health has been dealt with.

Looking down at your hand, you find a beautiful necklace. It has a sturdy chain that supports a pendant of an open book inlaid with a purple jewel.

You gasp, “Robin! It’s beautiful.”

“I couldn’t resist, it reminded me of you.”

“This reminded you of me?” You ask in disbelief, “But it’s so gorgeous!”

“As are you, silly.”

She takes the necklace and moves your hair from your neck to place it on you.

You stiffen as you feel her hands move against your neck. She huffs a laugh and leans in close. So close that you can feel her breath on your neck.

She places her lips on your neck, “You deserve this, and so much more.”

You turn once she draws back.

“I love you Robin,” you smile, wrapping your arms around her.

“I love you too, so be more careful.”

She presses a kiss to your head, you tilt your head upwards so that your lips catch hers.

“I’ll be careful.”

“And don’t leave the ship without a weapon or without me.”

#female reader #imagine #reader insert #x reader #fanfic #fluff #one piece #one piece x reader #nico robin #nico robin x reader #robin x reader #robin op #op x reader #one piece reader insert #one shot

117 notes · View notes

unreadpoppy · 10 months

Text

workshop

Dad!Phael x Gwen (although she only appears in the end)

can be read on it's own and as a continuation of An heir is born

A/n: This is just a small something of Raphael being a dad. Guess also counts as soft!Raphael as well. Also, the parts in italics are parts where he is reading something.

Tags: @lemonandhoneytea @bg3fan @mjuuuk (cause you guys left comments when i first mentioned writing something about dad!phael, it feels only fair tagging you)

Natahlia had recently celebrated her third birthday, and everyday, she looked more and more like her father. She had red skin, only a few shades lighter than Raphael’s, his nose, and he recently noticed how there were another pair of horns starting to grow on her head.

Personality wise, Natahlia had taken after her mother. She was a very vocal and active young girl, playing around with Scratch and making the nannies (who, more often than not, were some lost soul that was in Raphael’s debt) lose their minds, since they could barely catch a break.

But most important was that Natahlia was Raphael’s shadow.

Whenever he was at home, she would immediately run to him and follow him around. In fact, the times when she was around him were the only times she’d calm down. Raphael could talk for hours and hours, going over the most tedious subjects, and she’d listen. He doubted he understood half of the things he said, but that did not matter.

Raphael had someone who gave her undivided attention and he loved it. And he was using his little listener to put back practice into an old hobby of his: writing.

In truth, after conquering the Hells, Raphael hadn’t had all the time in the world to write his plays, songs and books as he used to have. But now, most of the dust had settled, Raphael could finally finish his more artistic work, and who better for him to show and workshop his material than his own daughter?

“We now enter act three.” He began reading out loud, while Natahlia was sitting on a chair far too big for her, hugging a stuffed animal Gwendolyn had given her.

“Our hero, the charming Raphael, is looking up at his devilish father, the Archdevil Mephistopheles. Just another step in the path towards greatness.” As he spoke, Raphael started doing small gestures, as if he was acting out the scenes himself. “‘Your time has come to an end, dear father’ Raphael snickers. ‘I have the crown now. The son you have longed ignored is now going to be your demise!’”

Raphael stopped for a moment and looked at her. Her big blue eyes stared at him, her mouth slightly opened. “What do you think?”

At the question, Natahlia smiled at him. “I like it! More!”

He chuckled at her reaction and continued his dramatic reading. “The Cold Lord said nothing, looking at his son with disdain. He stands up from his seat and walks towards the cambion, smirking. ‘If you think you have a chance against me, boy, I’d like to see you try.’ As he finishes talking, the two enter a bloody fight.”

Raphael then went into the explicit detail that he had written about this battle with his father. The play he had written was a recount of how he had fought each archdevil and gotten the title of Lord of the Nine Hells. It was supposed to be a continuation of a previous one that had already been performed long ago.

Raphael tried to keep most of the story true to what had transpired, however, he gave himself artistic freedom to change whatever he saw fit. Afterall, it wasn’t as if Zariel, Mephisto or Asmodeus were alive to contest his version.

As he read the fight out loud, Natahlia laughed, especially when he talked about the more gory portions. He couldn’t help but be proud. She may be a tiefling and only three, but the girl already showed a strong spirit and a lack of fear. She’d need that if she was to carry on his legacy.

Raphael had been so entertained by this reading that he failed to notice his wife, Gwendolyn, appearing on the door, until she said. “I don’t think you should be saying those things to a child.” The tiefling woman crossed her arms over her belly - she was halfway through her second pregnancy.

Raphael looked back at her. “My dear, she’s enjoying it. Look!” He pointed towards their daughter, who was smiling brightly. “Besides, she is my daughter. She needs to know the story behind her father’s greatness.”

The little girl cheered as Gwen shot him an unamused look. “And I know very well how true to reality these recounts of yours are.” She sighed. “Just…try not to focus too much on the violent part, please.” She put a hand on her stomach.

Raphael walked towards her, covering her hand with his. “For you, I’ll try.” He leaned forwards and kissed her forehead.

She smiled at him and then looked at Natahlia.“Good. Now, Natahlia, come, it’s time for your bath.”

The girl shook her head. “Want to hear daddy’s story.”

“You hear the rest once you’re done.” Gwen extended a hand towards her. “Let’s go.” The girl huffed but obeyed. Raphael rushed to her and helped her down the chair.

She hugged his leg. “Thank you, daddy!” And ran towards Gwen, holding her mother’s hand. As they left, Raphael could hear the girl already talking about every new thing she had learned. He let out a small chuckle and shook his head, sitting on the chair and getting back to working on the play. Once she was back, he’d have new material to show her.

#dad!phael #raphael bg3 #raphael baldur's gate 3 #fanfiction #raphael the cambion #raphael x gwen

41 notes · View notes

mykey-and-bobby-koopa · 9 months

Text

A Little Crossover

| Versión en español |

((This is a small crossover between my versions of the koopalings and the versions of @thekoopalingsandstuffs. My kids will be highlighted in purple and hers will be in pink. I hope you like it. The drawings are made by me))

____________

Bowsy: hey, hi, you must be like me, great!!

Junie: Hello, how are you? I'm Bowser Jr., but you can call me 'Junie'

Bowsy: nice to meet you, you can call me 'Bowsy'

Junie: cute nickname

Bowsy: thank you, that's what one of my friends nicknamed me and I really liked it.

Junie: They must be good friends.

Bowsy: oh yeah! Of course, my brother Larry is the one I spend the most time with, and even though we get into arguments, we get along very well in general.

Junie: how envious! My stepbrother Larry can't stand me, as do some of my other stepbrothers.

Bowsy: oh, really?

Junie: yep. But luckily I get along well with others. Ludwig was the first to give me a chance, as was Lemmy, being the one I had the best time playing with, It's fun. Roy and Iggy like me too

Bowsy: well, it's something (giggles) I like you, I don't understand how anyone could hate you

Junie: Thanks, Bowsy.

Bowsy: (giggles) Hey, would you like to play something? What do you like to play?

Junie: I like ‘Battle Ship’, I play that a lot with Lemmy

Bowsy: great!! Dad just bought me that a few days ago, do you want to play?

Junie: Sure.

Bowsy: and then we could go to my workshop to draw and color. My friend Mykey got me some very beautiful colors and I want to try them out

Junie: I would love to!! Although I'm not good at drawing, I find it fun (giggles)

Bowsy: That's the spirit, Junie (giggles) By the way, how old are you?

June: 6 years old

Bowsy: aww so cute, I'm 11

Junie: Wow, you're bigger even though we're almost the same height.

Bowsy: (putting his right hand on his back and raising his left arm) If it's any consolation, I'm taller than Lemmy (giggles)

____________

Larry: so you're like me. I am 12 years old and you?

Larry: 10

Larry: tell me, do you like video games?

Larry: even the question offends, of course it does!! And let me tell you that I am very good at Fortnite

Larry: oh yeah, I've heard that game, but it doesn't catch my attention

Larry: really? And what games do you like?

Larry: Super Strike Bros.

Larry: I've never heard that one, what's it about?

Larry: oh my, my… you're missing out on something really good. Let me show you what it's all about…

(Moments later)

Larry: and what did you think?

Larry: Looks amazing!! Maybe later I'll give it a chance.

Larry: yes, yes!!

Larry: okay, okay. Only where I'm from that game doesn't exist.

Larry: well come over here and play it with me

Larry: I'd like to

Larry: I like that game because I can also play it with my best friend, Bobby, and my younger brother, Jr.

Larry: at least you have someone to play it with. Of my siblings, almost no one wants to be with me

Larry: any reason?

Larry: I don't know, everyone ignores me except Morton, he's very cool, the ONLY cool one of them all

Larry: I used to admire my brother Ludwig, but now I hate him

Larry: what a coincidence! I hate my brother Ludwig too, all because he chose my favorite color wand.

Larry: In my case it's because he caused me to fracture my wrist.

Larry: oh! Many people make bad jokes on me. I once had my butt set on fire, that's why I have a scar there.

Larry: oh wow...

Larry: It wouldn't be the only time. Many times they put pins in my chair, or glue, paint… or even burning ash… you can't imagine how much that hurt. I'm already used to it and that's why I prefer to be alone in my room playing

Larry: It's bad that you go through that, but you know? If you want you can come here and play with me, not only video games, also tennis

Larry: I… I’d love that very much.

Larry: and if you want we can play Fortnite a little, it is better to play in a group than alone

Larry: It's a deal, but know that I'm very good, and if I win I'll do the dance

Larry: whatever you say, but in SSB I will beat you without a doubt (putting both hands on his neck)

Larry: we'll see, it's a challenge (pointing up)

____________

Morton: (seeing someone enters the door) WELCOME... (notes little visiting Morton) HELLO! (whispers) oh, right… hello, nice to meet you. This is Morton (covers his mouth)

Morton: what? I can’t hear you

Morton: (uncovering his mouth and whispering) it's just that... Morton screams and doesn't want to make anyone uncomfortable.

Morton: don't worry, it doesn't bother me

Morton: THANK YOU… FEEL WELCOME

Morton: I will. Thank you very much

Morton: (offers some cookies with jam to his partner) THESE ARE MY FAVORITES, I HOPE YOU LIKE THEM

Morton: thanks (eats them) oh, wow... that's where they come from

Morton: HAVE YOU ALREADY TRIED THEM?

Morton: Yes, occasionally I and my siblings get these cookies in the mail. They are delicious

Morton: A FRIEND MAKES THEM, HE ALWAYS GIVES THEM TO US WHEN WE FEEL SAD

Morton: great! I like to eat, so much so that I have learned to cook many things. My brothers like my preparations

Morton: SOUNDS INTERESTING. DO YOU HAVE A RECIPE BOOK?

Morton: yes, they gave me some, but… it's not like I can use them

Morton: THAT’S WHY?

Morton: (he puts his hands on his back looking down) ……. I have dyslexia

Morton: WHAT IS THAT?

Morton: in short, it is difficult for me to read and write, I am 12 years old and it is too difficult for me, my brothers or someone else helps me with that...

Morton: OH... WELL, I UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU FEEL... MORTON NEVER LEARNED TO READ OR WRITE, OR EVEN SPEAK, THAT'S WHY HE SCREAMS, AND HE'S 13 YEARS OLD.

Morton: then we are not that different

Morton: AT LEAST YOU UNDERSTAND ME (giggles)

Morton: (giggles) you’re very nice.

Morton: THANK YOU (blushing) AND WHAT ELSE DO YOU LIKE TO DO?

Morton: Well, I like to paint landscapes. At home I have some very nice canvases that I have painted.

Morton: DO YOU WANT TO PAINT SOME?

Morton: Yes, I would like to, but where do I get a canvas and paint?

Morton: DON'T WORRY, I'LL BE CONCERNED (giggles and leaves)

(After a moment, Morton arrives with painting materials)

Morton: I GOT THIS FOR JR., YOU CAN PAINT WHATEVER YOU WANT

Morton: Wow, that's great!

Morton: MORTON WILL ACCOMPANY YOU WITH SOME COOKIES

(After a while, the Morton painter finishes and raises his brush)

Morton: how is it going?

Morton: (thumbs up while he eats cookies) IT LOOKS AMAZING

____________

Wendy: Hello, dear. Welcome

Wendy: hello, how are you?

Wendy: Fine. So you are like me

Wendy: It seems so. Well, we both look divine

Wendy: we agree on that. I'm the only girl here; you already know how difficult it is to find a moment of peace

Wendy: you’re right. Almost all of my brothers are a pain, especially Iggy, but luckily I put them in their place when they get on my nerves, which would be almost always.

Wendy: and what do you do about it?

Wendy: I kick them “there”, you know, although more with Roy, Iggy and Larry, the others make me feel a little sorry, I'm not such a beast

Wendy: if I'm honest, sometimes I would like to fix everything with violence, but my nails would be ruined, with how difficult it is to maintain them

Wendy: good point.

Wendy: you know? It's nice to talk to someone who listens.

Wendy: yeah, don't get used to it; it's not that I'm very sociable so to talk. I prefer to be on my cell phone

Wendy: yes, I understand you. Would you like something to drink?

Wendy: since you mention it, I’d like strawberry lemonade, very acidic the way I like it.

Wendy: okay, give me a moment. Feel comfortable

(Ten minutes later)

Wendy: (taking a sip) and as I said, at 13 and a half years old I have hit Roy more than a hundred times, it is very de-stressing

Wendy: (taking a sip of her blackberry lemonade) and how did you do that?

Wendy: because he told me that men are stronger than women, but I proved to him that a man cannot bleed for seven days in a row unlike us (laughs) so I kicked him “there” and it's not like he resisted any longer ten minutes with the pain. Since then he stopped being so stupid with me.

Wendy: I guess that was a good lesson. I am very polite and feminine, but if someone gets on my nerves, I get angry and attack. At 14 I already give myself respect.

Wendy: you tell them, sis (giggles)

____________

Iggy: so we are equivalent, huh?

Iggy: I guess so, but you're taller. You are older?

Iggy: I guess. I’m 14

Iggy: so, you're younger, I'm 15

Iggy: well you don't look that old, but at least we are similar

Iggy: It doesn't matter how old we are, at least I found someone just as crazy as me

Iggy: what do you mean?

Iggy: you know, like a mad scientist and with the strangest occurrences

Iggy: well, something like that.

Iggy: do you like energy drinks? I do and I drink them at night before sleeping next to Roy

Iggy: no, they make me sick. I drank one as a child and didn't stop feeling sick to my stomach for three days. I usually drink more coffee

Iggy: oh well

Iggy: but at least I still like to get into mischief

Iggy: oh, and what kind of mischiefs? I feel curious

Iggy: nothing, mostly creating bombs and traps mechanisms, and sometimes my siblings fall into it, Ludwig and Roy more. Lemmy is the one who falls the most (laughs)

Iggy: ow, I thought you would be more daring

Iggy: for example...?

Iggy: I don't know, that you had an affair with a boy, things like that

Iggy: nah, I like girls, and I already had a bad experience because of one of my brothers. I take things easy

Iggy: meh, how boring. I am gay and I am excited to meet more people. Right now I'm with someone, but things haven't progressed much. We even went to a funeral together and there was nothing, it was the most boring

Iggy: What did you expect?

Iggy: well… nah, forget it. What else do you have? Do you have a pet? I have an adorable girl called Nibbles, the cutest Chain Chomp there is.

Iggy: I also have a pet Chain Chomp, he is male and his name is Charlie

Iggy: that's great, if he had known he would have brought my girl so they could meet

Iggy: It would be a good idea, bring it next time. She is welcome. Do you know how to behave?

Iggy: of course, he only has “accidents” if he hears loud noises

Iggy: I understand

Iggy: well, how about we go find a boy? (stands on one foot in a feminine manner and moves his tail, placing his hands in a heart shape)

Iggy: I'll accompany you, but I don't promise to find anything interesting (shrugs and sticks out his tongue)

____________

Roy: oh, here we have another guy with good taste in fashion

Roy: oh, hello!

Roy: how are you? (hugs his counterpart) oh, sorry, it was unintentional...

Roy: nah, it doesn't bother me. I find it very adorable. My brothers usually hug me too, other kids too.

Roy: I imagine you are very lovable

Roy: You have no idea. Many girls have fallen for my charms, but there is one who has left me in awe, a bunny named Harriet... but lately things haven't been going very well. On the other hand, her brother has comforted me like a great friend.

Roy: friend? Maybe it's something more than that

Roy: I don't think so; I'm straight, as far as I know (looks away confused)

Roy: (shrugs) you would be surprised, but don't worry, I know how insecure you can feel, you know, things in life.

Roy: It's true. I'm almost out of school and I still don't know what to do with my life.

Roy: there are two of us now. Wait a minute, are you almost done with school? Well, how old are you?

Roy: already 18 years old, you?

Roy: fifteen

Roy: oh wow, I thought you were the oldest of all just like me, because of how strong you look

Roy: oh, well thanks but no. I'm one of the oldest, so I got in shape to protect my brothers

Roy: Indeed. I already left my time as a bully behind, now I want to be the example to follow, even if Wendy continues to hit me “there”, you know…

Roy: ouch... well, I was a bully too, I felt insecure about what others thought of me, but now I'm different, more or less, because according to Jr.'s words, I'm still a mastodon, but one in which can trust (laughs)

Roy: well, I barely know you, but I feel like I can trust you

Roy: thanks, I say the same about you

(both do a fist bump)

____________

Lemmy: oh, another Lemmy

Lemmy: What's up?

Lemmy: everything is calm, and you?

Lemmy: I don't know. I got here. I guess we are the same

Lemmy: apparently yes. Tell me what you like?

Lemmy: I like movies in Russian, bats and knives, in fact I have a lot of these

Lemmy: oh my, that sounds interesting, scary and curious

Lemmy: a little, and what about you?

Lemmy: I like rainbows, balloons, circus shows, but most of all big rubber balls. I like to climb on them to feel high

Lemmy: Yeah, I guess they're great when you're a kid. I'm 6 years old, but I find that a little corny.

Lemmy: (shrugs) there are those who enjoy it regardless of age. I'm 15 years old and I still like childish things.

Lemmy: that's what I'm talking about, only children enjoy that and... w-wait... y-you're 15 years old??!! Really??

Lemmy: yes, I'm serious. I love these things, no matter how “corny” they may sound.

Lemmy: oh… I didn't expect that, but you don't look like a teenager even though you're my brother Iggy's age.

Lemmy: yeah, many tell me the same thing, they have even told me that I look like the youngest of my brothers. At first that detail bothered me, but over time I started to don't care. Now I am who I am and I enjoy the things that make me happy, just like you with your knives

Lemmy: (takes a knife out of his pocket and looks at it) ………… yes, I understand you

Lemmy: would you like to join me and swing on a rubber ball?

Lemmy: well, I... yeah, why not?

(Both take out their wands and summon a rubber ball, standing up and lifting one foot to balance)

Lemmy: this is so funny

Lemmy: right? The advantage of being light is that you have better balance (he crosses his eyes, looking in opposite directions and sticking out his tongue)

Lemmy: you're right (smiles as he swings)

____________

Ludwig: okay, you must be the Ludwig from that time. Be welcome to my home

Ludwig: th-thank you, I… I'm very happy to see you again

Ludwig: oh yeah?

Ludwig: yes! You are nice and taller

Ludwig: nah, just a little. I'm 16. When you're older you'll reach this height.

Ludwig: I… I'm 17

Ludwig: oh, really? I did not expect it

Ludwig: (shrugs) things in life, I guess.

Ludwig: well, sorry if that bothered you. The truth is that I have not been very sociable and I still find it difficult

Ludwig: Don't worry, everything is fine. After all, Roy treats me very lovingly. He is one of my favorite brothers

Ludwig: how envious, I used to have a favorite brother, but we fought and now we haven't talked again

Ludwig: oh, I'm sorry to hear that. I hope things work out

Ludwig: (sighs) me too but I can't force it. He told me that he preferred someone more as a brother than me.

Ludwig: yes, I know what you're saying. My brother Larry doesn't want to make peace with me even though I have wanted to get closer to him many times, but nothing. On the contrary, he usually makes fun of me, that I am fat or about my more… personal problems.

Ludwig: Like which ones?

Ludwig: uh…

Ludwig: You can trust me, I won't tell anyone. And if you tell me, I can tell you a secret of mine

Ludwig: o-okay... (takes a deep breath, somewhat nervously) I have problems with urinary incontinence and... (starts to shake a little) it has given me many moments of embarrassment. Everything gets worse when I feel a little nervous or stressed, especially because of a lot of things that have happened in the last two months. Luckily almost all my brothers accept me as I am... except Larry

Ludwig: (sighs) it seems like both Larrys are a complete nuisance (shrugs)

Ludwig: so it's your Larry that you get along with badly?

Ludwig: yes, and he's not the only one, but he's the one who hurt me the most

Ludwig: I understand…

Ludwig: well, I'll tell you a secret, but promise not to tell anyone

Ludwig: musician's word

Ludwig: well... (whispers to him) listen: there is a boy with purple hair who is very friendly, but I am not convinced by his complete friendship and I think he is hiding something...

Ludwig: okay...?

Ludwig: well… I'm having a little crush on him, but I'm not sure. He has me a little confused and it's not supposed to be like that. He is a little older than me and he happens to be your age. This sensation is quite strange and sometimes it doesn't let me sleep.

Ludwig: oh yes. I know that. A year ago I also felt like this, until with the help of my brothers I came out of the closet and declared myself to someone.

Ludwig: and what happened next?

Ludwig: well, first I told him about my problems and even with that he accepted me

Ludwig: I see

Ludwig: don't worry, your secret is safe with me (giggles) but if I'm honest... if you like that boy, you should meet him, spend time with him and leave your prejudices aside. It's just a little advice between Ludwigs

Ludwig: (blushing slightly) y-yes, th-thank you...

Ludwig: in any case, I am not an expert either, but know that you have my support, as they gave me at the time.

Ludwig: I thank you very much. You know? You are quite nice and tender. I would like you to visit me again another time. Maybe there I'll tell you how he went with... what I told you (laughs) although I don't promise that everything will go so well (he places his hands on his waist and smiles slightly)

Ludwig: (blushing with his hands behind his back) whenever you like (giggles)

____________

THE END

((I hope all of you liked it. There will be more projects like this later. There will also be new characters))

#koopalings #crossover #fanart #sketches #art of mine #thekoopalingsandstuffs #english #my au #text #bowser jr.#larry koopa #morton koopa jr #wendy koopa #iggy koopa #roy koopa #lemmy koopa #ludwig von koopa #fanfic

16 notes · View notes

dropout-ninja · 1 year

Note

The Hollow Knight, Bretta, Nightmare King Grimm

One of these is solely because I want to see you admit your favorite ship on main, I cannot stop myself

I think I need to not attempt ask games because I am too talkative and make long ass posts help

The Hollow Knight: What was the saddest part of the game for you? Which ending is the most sad to you?

All of it

But seriously, so many moments. I’ll throw the Nosk Den out as one, alongside the Abyss. A lot of the settings give feels, like the empty basin. The White Palace’s everything always makes me feel Emotions. A lot of the ghosts make me sad. MARMU. Agh.

Which ending isn’t sad? That said, I am going to go with Sealed Siblings as the worst feeling ending. It feels like the one that has the most damage caused and the least hope. Dream No More is a ‘good’ ending, though, but it gives many sad feelings (just of a different nature than the long scream of SS/THK ending)

Bretta: Favorite Hollow Knight ship? Favorite fanfic?

Why you do this

I have so many ships, because I’m the type of person to read what looks like a crackship and if it’s written with crunch then now I’m shipping it (hi grimmnet). It doesn’t take much and I don’t tend to have notps, my personality is a continuous shrug (me out here sometimes reading pale nightmare and causing you unknowing psychic indigestion)

Grollow was my first HK ship and I’d probably call it my favorite. I also really like Pale King/White Lady. Some of the more cursed ships I favor are Pale King/Radiance (or PK/Radi/WL) and Radiance/The Hollow Knight, exceptionally messy and toxic. There you go, Ashe, get me on main saying it all.

All of yours are the answer XD (I mean it). From Eyes to W&G/Red Sky to Butterfly, sorry not sorry. Other favorites are Soul of God, Form of Moth by @basilbellona, which has been my favorite HK fic since April 2022, and In Defiance of Time (and associated oneshots) by @ganondorf--apologist.

Now for a list of absolutely random things I’ve got in my bookmarks, which are excluding the multiple HK fics I have open but am still reading. I’m going to make too long a post just because I always want fics to get more love. Some of my other non-Ashyr favorites from bookmarks (no specific order and genre) are: Captivated, Until Dawn Shall Break, Not Too Late for Second Chances, Hold The Future With Silver Hands, Camouflage of Great Renown, It’s All Well Above Wonder Anyway, The Clock Stopped Ticking Forever Ago, Pale Revival, A Tribe Betrayed, Void Given Focus, Workshop Safety, To Reclaim A Dream, To Love A Lamprey, Moving Onward, Will Terribly, If You Will At All, I Swore I’d Have No More Knights In Shining Armor, We’re So Close But So Distant

Someday I’ll have even more to recommend when I finish reading the fics open in my tags (hi Tori fics, hello)

Nightmare King Grimm: Which boss battle was the most intense for you? The most satisfying to defeat?

What if I said Nightmare King Grimm

Each one I came across the first time I played faskfsdaf. I’m going to go with Absolute Radiance just because I remember the noises I was making on stream when I accidentally beat her in P5 the first time. But in terms of my favorite boss fight/the one I’m most satisfied about my skills in, I’ll go with the cliche of the NKG fight XD My one skill in this game is being able to absolutely bully the man and kill him hitless before the best part of his song plays. I put all my irl XP points into getting good at him. Other favorite fights are Sisters of Battle, and probably Pure Vessel even though they are gatekeeping me so hard in my all bindings P4 run and so I cry.

#ask game #fic rec #fic rec too I guess #that's what this spiraled into #oh boy #gonna flee into the swamp after this one

12 notes · View notes

7serendipities · 1 year

Text

The Morrigan’s Call Retreat 2023

This past weekend, I attended the Morrigan’s Call Retreat in person for the first time. (Blog followers with a keen memory may remember that I had a presentation slated for the 2020 retreat, but that one ended up being virtual, for good reason!) It was also the first time I’d ever really been to New England (at least I assume Manhattan doesn’t count?), and the first time I ever met Morgan Daimler in person, so it was a weekend of firsts in a lot of ways, for me.

I had two presentations, and I’ll be uploading the notes from those to my Patreon for supporters as soon as I manage to find the time to finish editing them (but my time is a bit constrained now that my child is out of school for the summer, so patience is appreciated!) Anyone who was at the retreat but didn’t make my workshop is also welcome to email me to ask for the handouts or notes for either “Working with Deities of Battle” or “When the Morrigan Goes Quiet”.

I hadn’t been sure how I was going to get to the retreat itself as I don’t drive, but I trusted in Na Morrigna and it worked out — one of my sorta-local friends was also going and we rode up together, which was a really nice way to start the weekend. (Getting stuck on the train between DC and Baltimore was less nice, but all’s well that ends well.) We arrived on Friday during orientation, but the nice folks at registration and the regulars we ran into at lunch all helped us get oriented properly. I also first ran into Morgan at lunch, and met the whole crew in one pass! I got unpacked and prepped for my first workshop, “Deities of Battle”, made my introductions to the local Fair Folk, and then wandered over to the pavilion.

Way more people showed up than I expected, and it turned out that I hadn’t brought enough handouts. Whoops! People were pretty accommodating, though, sharing with neighbors and taking pictures on their phones, and I handed out a lot of business cards for folks to email me afterwards. It seemed to go over pretty well - even when I took a Deep Dive into UPG with a side dish of Extreme Woo, including the discussion of the Otherworldly War I mentioned here previously. I was really nervous about its reception, but when I later walked in on a conversation on how to use some of the types of battle sorcery I’d mentioned against A Certain Florida Man currently playing at Governator, I knew I’d found my people. Na Morrigna might not pick political parties, but They do stand for sovereignty, and right relationship, and I find most devotees take a stand against oppression and bigotry. After dinner I went to the first ritual, despite feeling a bit like my energies were tapped out. (Shout out to a tylwyth teg ally of mine for helping me actually stay upright through that!) It was pretty good, but I was focused a little too much on staying upright to get much of anything out of it. And, to my extreme disgrace, my attempt to turn off my phone earlier had apparently not taken — it was still on the “shut down or restart?” screen when the alarm went off at the very end of the ritual. Not the best omen! At least it was a pretty tinkly musical alarm and not blaring beeps…

On Saturday, I went to Morgan Daimler’s workshop “Offerings 101” and then Sionnain McLean’s workshop on “Spiritual Self-Care” and thoroughly enjoyed both. Morgan’s was a little oriented towards beginners but also had some fun anecdotes and a few things I hadn’t thought of. I think Sionnain’s flowed nicely into mine, on the topic of fallow times, and there were certainly some common themes. That workshop I’ve done a couple times before, and it opened up nicely into a discussion and sharing session where attendees were addressing each other and it really felt like we were building community. After lunch I went to “Pagan Priest/ess Work” also by Morgan, and got some great advice and also a little bit of validation for my own path, which is more spirit-focused than human-community-focused, though I still do work for the human community around me. Then my friend Katie and I just… stayed. We talked to Morgan and Mel for probably the next two hours, missing the ritual and instead going in deeply into some personal practice stuff and also veering into the weeds on a fair few other topics! It was probably more what I needed — sitting still, for one, as my spoons still weren’t quite full.

There had been a Kindred Crow concert planned for that night, but with Caine in the hospital and Irene deep in grief, that was not to be. (I share the grief, but our friend was not so central to my life, nor I so central to hers, though I miss her sorely and will be at the memorial service tomorrow.) I did attend the bonfire circle that night, though, and so was there to witness and take part in a raising of energy for the members of Kindred Crow, and managed to capture a small clip of it to send on. I also managed to finally connect with the land deeply that evening, and received a profoundly personal message — including the awareness that I was about an hour too far west to be on the land of my indigenous ancestors.

The next day, partly because of my intense experience leading to not-great sleep (and the suddenly chilly weather didn’t help) and partly just due to my energy expenditure, I spent most of the day just chatting with folks in the dining hall. I was a little disappointed at not feeling up to the ritual and workshops, but I wanted to be able to make it back to my friend’s house without fainting and that was already a tall ask. It was nice to connect with folks, though, and I managed to bond with people over my chronic illness, and over butterfly raising!

When we left, my friend graciously agreed to take me an hour east for me to greet the land my ancestors lived on when the first colonists arrived, and that was a complicated and powerful experience — one that I will probably be processing for a while. It is enough to say here: I was recognized, even as diluted and as distanced as I am. In so many ways, the Morrigan’s Call Retreat was a homecoming for me.

#na morrigna #ancestors #fair folk #morrigan's call retreat #morrigan #event #workshop #witchcraft #fallow times

5 notes · View notes

duckprintspress · 2 years

Text

Our monthly “created works round-ups” are Duck Prints Press’s opportunity to spotlight some of the amazing work that people working with us have done that ISN’T linked to their work with Duck Prints Press. We include fanworks, outside publications, and anything else that creators feel like sharing with y’all! Inclusion is voluntary and includes anything that they decided “hey, I want to put this on the created work’s round-up!”

Check out what they’ve shared with us this month…

Hold it together by Era JM Couts

fiction || naruto || no ships, platonic or familial || teen & up || no major warnings apply || 940 || complete

summary: Hold it together had been Sakura’s mantra for far too many years. Existing for others, surviving a war, forcing her mind to endure just one more day, just one more mission, just one more battle.

But as Naruto and Sasuke fight their final fight, Sakura slowly has no more reasons to hold it together.

Sakura’s pov of manga chapters 696-699. As per my view and poetic liberty.

other tags: Final Battle, POV Haruno Sakura, Angst, Chapter 696-699 (Naruto), Building anxiety, Sakura’s pov of the Final Sasuke/Naruto fight.

TUMBLR – AO3 – INSTAGRAM

I’d Call As You Climbed by Puck Malamud

fiction || arcane: league of legends (2021) || platonic or familial, f/f || caitlyn/vi (league of legends) || teen & up || no major warnings apply || 5,639 || complete

summary: > “You’ll have to excuse Vi,” the skinny kid with big eyebrows drawled. “She’s a punch first, ask questions later sort of girl.”

Caitlyn goes down to the undercity after Jayce’s workshop is destroyed and meets Vi and her gang. This doesn’t change anything. But then again, it might change quite a lot.

Written for Fandom Trumps Hate 2022

other tags: Alternate Universe – Canon Divergence; Alternate Universe – Different First Meeting; Arcane: League of Legends Season 01 Act 01; POV Caitlyn (League of Legends); Pre-Relationship; Pre-Femslash; Enforcers (Arcane: League of Legends) – Freeform; background Caitlyn & Jayce; Team Up; Privileged Character Unlearning Biases; Making Bureaucracy Work For You

TUMBLR – AO3

thinking (about last night) by Rhosyn Du

fiction || red, white & royal blue || m/m || alex claremont-diaz/henry fox-mountchristen-windsor || explicit || no major warnings apply || 18,743 || complete

summary: “I hope you know that I am literally never going to stop reminding you that you said that. I’m going to, like, take out an ad in the student paper. Maybe hire a skywriter or something. I am definitely telling Pez.”

“I hate you,” Henry tells him.

“Lies,” Alex says, still laughing. “You know you love me.”

Henry lets out a heavy sigh. “Well,” he says softly, “that’s rather the problem, isn’t it?”

“What, you think we’d be better off if we still hated each other?”

“I think,” Henry says slowly, “I’d be better off if I could figure out how to stop being so stupidly in love with you.”

It takes a few seconds for the words to really register, as distracted as Alex is by the heat of Henry’s breath and wondering how much it would cost to actually hire a skywriter. Once they do, it takes a full minute before Alex can move. Can breathe. Can think.

Finally, he forces out a whispered, “What?”

When that gets no response, he tries again. This time, his voice actually cooperates. “Wait, what?”

The only response he gets is a soft snore and Alex realizes that Henry, the utter fucking asshole, has passed out on his shoulder.

other tags: Alternate Universe – College/University, Roommates, Drunken Confessions, Communication Failure, Idiots in Love, Pining, Jealousy, Light Angst, References to Depression

AO3

Castles in the Sky by Shadaras

fiction || 全职高手 – 蝴蝶蓝 | quánzhí gāoshǒu | the king’s avatar – húdié lán || platonic or familial, queerplatonic f+m (just in case: this is distinctly separate from the platonic relationships!) || queerplatonic chǔ yúnxiù & yè xiū, chǔ yúnxiù & shū kěyí, chǔ yúnxiù & team misty rain || general audiences || no major warnings apply || 36,613 || complete

summary: Here are two truths and a lie:

Chu Yunxiu is Misty Rain’s captain.

Chu Yunxiu is dating Ye Qiu.

Chu Yunxiu is happy to have the Shu twins on her team.

Of course, a lie can become true if you believe in it enough…

(A Chu Yunxiu character study.)

other tags: Aroace Characters, Mostly Canon-Compliant, Post-Canon, Team Feelings, Women-Centric, Fake Dating to Queerplatonic Marriage

AO3

Fledgling Bonds by Tris Lawrence/tryslora

fiction || teen wolf || poly (one gender: male) || derek/stiles/jackson || teen & up || no major warnings apply || 6,143 || complete

summary: When Jackson’s ambo is called to the building where he lives, he’s terrified it’s Derek. But no, it’s the guy next door, who has crowds of noisy people over all the time, and plays his TV loud enough to bother Derek into getting noise-canceling headphones. Jackson and Derek are more than a little surprised to discover exactly who that person is.

other tags: Panic Attacks, Canon Divergence, Future Fic, Polyamory Negotiation

AO3

All of this month’s shared works are fanfiction – so if you’re in the market for something new to read this New Year’s Day, why not check them out?

Who We Are: Duck Prints Press LLC is an independent publisher based in New York State. Our founding vision is to help fanfiction authors navigate the complex process of bringing their original works from first draft to print, culminating in publishing their work under our imprint. We are particularly dedicated to working with queer authors and publishing stories featuring characters from across the LGBTQIA+ spectrum. Love what we do? Sign up for our monthly newsletter and get previews, behind-the-scenes information, coupons, and more

#duck prints press #creator spotlight #tris lawrence #era j. m. couts #puck malamud #naruto #teen wolf #the king's avatar #league of legends #red white and royal blue #fanfiction

6 notes · View notes

im-no-jedi · 1 year

Text

MLWTBB: Master and Commander

Part 11 of the “My Life With The Bad Batch” series, a (mostly) canon compliant self-insert story set in “The Bad Batch”

rated: T warnings: descriptions of food and eating, implied self-harm, gun violence relationships: Hunter/self-insert, Omega & self-insert (adopted siblings), The Bad Batch & self-insert chapter word count: 1900+ words

✨MLWTBB masterlist✨

summary: when Hannah’s already hectic life becomes almost too much to bear, Master Gildish gifts her a new companion to help ease the burdens, as well as give Hannah a new friend to live with. however, the Bad Batch are not so thrilled with Hannah’s new robotic ally, which causes major tension in Hannah’s relationship with Echo and Hunter.

notes: I made myself cry again with this one haha. I have no problem admitting a lot of my inspiration for Clank came from the movie “Short Circuit”. my love of robot characters in general is because of that movie, so I guess Clank (and Buddy and Gildish) is my little love letter to it (and all equally lovable robot characters, like Wall-E, the Iron Giant, and of course, the other droids in SW, just to name a few) 🥰

also, if you squint and look, this particular chapter was greatly influenced by a specific episode of The New Adventures of Winnie the Pooh; that’s all I’ll say 😜

A/N: this story has not been proofread by anyone other than myself. so apologies for any uncaught errors 😬

previous chapter

Chapter 9: Just A Dumb Droid

______________________________________________________________

It was a sad time. The gloomy, cloud-filled skies of Ord Mantell made the already unpleasant atmosphere even more off-putting. Despite being in the early afternoon, the streets were dark and had a sense of despondency that would make even the most hardened individual uncomfortable. For some, that would manifest as fear or dread. But for others, it would simply put them in a downcast mood.

Clank was already in that place. His long, snout-like head hadn’t lifted since leaving Cid’s Parlor, and his flat, cone-shaped hat drooped over his round black eyes, casting a dismal shadow across them. Had anyone wandering the streets known he was a Battle Droid, perhaps they would’ve been intimidated by his shadowed appearance. But he kept the cloth that had been fashioned into a cloak wrapped tightly around his body, if only to give himself some sort of comfort. He honestly didn’t care if anyone recognized him, despite Hannah’s warnings.

It all made sense now why she wanted him hidden in the first place. He was a killer, after all.

The market was still fairly busy at that time of day, which made it easier for Clank to blend in with the crowd. He wasn’t actively looking for trouble, but with everything Hannah had warned him about, it was only a matter of time before some sort of trouble found him first.

“I’d deserve it,” he told himself after questioning if someone might attack him on the street.

How many of these people would try to kill him once they found out what he was? The only thing keeping him from finding out was pure fear. The aggressive looks he’d gotten from the Clones were enough to terrify him into keeping his identity hidden. For now, at least.

A small gust blew past and rustled his cloak, which he still clung to protectively. His other hand grabbed the rim of his large hat to keep it from blowing away, and he gave a low sigh once it had passed.

“What am I even doing out here?” he questioned himself.

But he already knew the answer. He had nowhere else to go. The only other place he thought of going was back to Master Gildish’s workshop, but he had no idea of how to even get there.

Maybe someone would be kind enough to give him directions. Not that he deserved their kindness. But it was still worth asking, if only so he wasn’t bothering anyone else wandering the streets with him.

“Excuse me,” Clank said after coming up to one of the stalls.

The stall-owner turned around and greeted Clank with a smile. Clank recognized them immediately from the day before. “Oh, hello again!” they cheerfully replied. “How’s that hat treating you?”

“Oh, uhh, fine! Great, actually! No problems with it so far!”

“Well that’s wonderful to hear. I knew that one would be a perfect fit for you.”

“It certainly does fit me perfectly!” Clank adjusted the hat for emphasis.

“You know,” the stall-owner said as they placed a few stray hats on a rack. “I have to thank you, honestly.”

“For what?” Clank asked, curiously cocking his head.

“I don’t often get a lot of business, much less business as pleasant as you are. It really was a breath of fresh air working with you yesterday. I’ve never had anyone so enthusiastic as you come ‘round here!”

Clank turned a bit sheepish and grabbed the back of his long neck shyly. “Aww... well you were very helpful, so thank you too!”

“Oh, it was my pleasure.” The stall-owner gave Clank a cheerful smile, which only made him turn more bashful. “You let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you, ok?”

“Ok!” A few seconds of silence went by before Clank remembered why he was there in the first place. “Oh, by the way, do you know the way to Master Gildish’s workshop?”

“Ol’ Gildish? Yeah, he’s a ways down from here.”

The stall-owner gave Clank directions to the workshop, and Clank kindly thanked them for their help before making his way in that direction.

“What a nice person,” Clank thought to himself as he walked. “It’s too bad I probably would’ve killed them during the war...”

Despite the nice interaction, Clank’s thoughts still lingered on his own transgressions of the past. How could anyone be so kind to something that was created for destruction? Granted, they didn’t know what he truly was under that hat they’d given him. And if they did, would they still have been so kind? So what if he had been friendly to them first? He was only that way because Master Gildish had wiped his original programming... right?

Something suddenly bumped Clank in the foot as he was walking, and it knocked him out of his thoughts. He looked down to see a small round object lying next to his foot.

“Oops! Sorry!” A shrill voice called out to him. Clank turned to see a young girl, even smaller than Omega, meekly standing off the side of the street. Several other children were gathered near her, equally sheepish. Their clothes were quite dirty, which wasn’t surprising considering the filthy state of the streets.

After staring at the orb for a moment, Clank bent down and picked it up. He gave it a good look over to make sure it wasn’t damaged, then called back to the girl, “no problem! Here ya go!”, as he held out the orb in her direction.

The girl seemed a bit nervous at first, but after some encouragement from the other children, she walked over to Clank and enthusiastically took the orb from his hands. “Thanks, mister!” she said, staring up at him with a grateful smile.

“Happy to help!” Clank gave her a small salute, and the girl giggled before skipping back to the other children, who waved at Clank as he walked away from them.

“Such sweet children,” Clank internally mused as he heard the sounds of the children laughing behind him. “I’m sure I would’ve tried killing them during the war too...”

The more Clank thought about the war, the more he wondered exactly what his purpose was back then. He knew he was a Commander, but of what? Other droids? And what were his commands? For all he knew, his sole purpose was to kill anything and anyone that stood in his way. That’s what the Clones had indicated to him anyway.

Was that really his sole purpose? To kill? To destroy?

What else could he do?

Some rustling in a nearby alley suddenly drew Clank’s attention. At first, he thought it was a person getting ready to pop out and attack him. He instinctively pulled his cloak tighter against his body and took a defensive position. Nothing was coming out of the alley, although there did seem to be some movement around a stack of crates.

Upon closer inspection, Clank discovered a few rodent-like creatures rummaging through the crates. One of them had a piece of rotted food in its mouth, and Clank let out a sigh of relief.

“Boy, you really gave me a scare there, little guy!” he said to the creature.

The little rodent stared at Clank curiously for a moment, its tiny pink and brown nose twitching. Then it scurried off the crate and into a dark corner with its mouth still full of food.

Then Clank heard some soft squeaking noises coming from one of the other crates. Another rodent creature was perched at the edge and frantically wiggling around, like it was anxious about something. Clank watched it for a moment and saw that it kept peeking inside the crate, so he did the same.

To his surprise, another rodent creature was lying in the crate, unmoving, but shivering like mad. Claw marks lined the sides of the crate, like something had been trying to get out.

“Aww, you poor thing,” Clank said as he peered down at the shivering creature.

Very gently, Clank reached into the crate and cupped his hands around the little rodent. It continued to shiver as he pulled it out, while the one perched on the edge was squeaking like crazy at him.

“Don’t worry,” Clank reassured the anxious one. “I’m just helping your friend get free. See?”

With that, he unfurled his hands to reveal the shivering creature to the other, who began squeaking more at the sight of it. Clank very gently sat the creature down on another nearby crate that was shut, and the squeaking rodent hopped over to greet its friend excitedly. Although still a bit shaken, the newly freed rodent hobbled onto its feet to give the other a few sniffs before the two rodents curled around each other with happy squeaks.

“Awwww,” Clank cooed at the sight of them. “Glad you’re together again! Stay safe, little guys!” He gave the rodents a salute, then headed back out into the street again, listening happily to the contented squeaks behind him.

“I wonder if even those little guys wouldn’t have survived the war,” Clank pondered to himself. “Probably not, considering how terrible I was...”

Clank had fully convinced himself by then that there was no hope for him. The war was over, and he no longer had a purpose. What does one do after no longer serving the purpose they were created for?

Hannah knew. She had told him already. “You’re really not much different from the Clones,” she’d said to him the day before. Clank asked what she meant by that, and she very plainly said both he and the Clones were created for war purposes. “Forced soldiers”, she’d called them, made to fight in a war they had no real opinion of. And now, that war didn’t even exist anymore.

The Clones had been able to find a new purpose for themselves, so why shouldn’t Clank be any different?

The words of the pale Clone with a scomp arm began to fill Clank’s memory now, like a holovid changing from one scene to the next. “Nothing will change the fact that that droid was a killer.” A “dumb droid”, he’d called him. And that’s really all he was. He’d messed things up with Hannah’s family, like the dumb droid he was.

Hannah didn’t need him. She had her family to take care of her, after all.

And if Hannah didn’t need him... did anyone really need him?

It wasn’t that far to Master Gildish’s workshop by then. But Clank didn’t feel a need to go there anymore. What good would it do? All he would do is be a bother, a nuisance, a “dumb droid”.

So instead, Clank meandered off the beaten path into another dark alley. Garbage littered the ground, and a few of the rodent creatures scurried away as he approached. A crate just big enough for him to sit on sat in the darkest and dankest corner of the alley. With a heavy sigh, Clank sat down on the crate, letting his hat droop over his face solemnly.

“I won’t bother anyone here,” he said to himself in a sluggish tone. “I just hope... Master Hannah... will be happy again...”

The alley went quiet, save for the soft rustling of the rodents in the garbage. A gentle wind blew through and rustled the cloak wrapped around Clank’s body. But he didn’t move. Clank’s body now sat motionless, like a statue positioned on one of the crates.

Like a soldier with no war to fight in and no purpose in life.

[next chapter]

#the bad batch #star wars the bad batch #self-insert #selfshipping #if anyone knows the episode I'm referencing I'll write you anything you want #and no Ham this doesn't include you LOL #star warz #my storiez

3 notes · View notes

jee-eun · 2 years

Text

The Cost of Victory: 04

Thingol was less than pleased to see the state Fingon was left in after his battle with Gothmog. Although he did not outright say anything, it was written on his face and Fingon recoiled at the contempt and judgment he saw there.

“Your highness. I’d get up but,” Fingon gestured to his overall state of being.

“Please, do not aggravate your injuries on my account,” Thingol allowed.

Maedhros resisted the urge to fight the High King of Beleriand.

“I do believe we have much to discuss,” Fingon began, “But first, you must know, Maedhros is to be my regent upon the battlefield for the foreseeable future. I am currently unable to be anything but a liability upon the field right now.”

“I understand,” Thingol nodded, but his face told a different story. Maedhros could hear him wondering to himself why Fingon would trust a kinslayer of all people to lead his people, no matter the circumstances. He seemed to forget that Fingon himself was a kinslayer who slew at Alqualondë.

“I’m sure you want to know who we count among our allies,” Fingon continued, “Among my people are the Ñoldor of Hithlum, Turgon and his people from Gondolin, Gwindor and his people from Nargothrond, some of the Falathrim, the men of Dor-lómin, the men of Brethil, and your two marchwardens and their men. Maedhros commands the Ñoldor of East Beleriand, the Easterlings of the tribe of Bór the Faithful, and a number of the dwarves of Belegost.”

“A great number then,” Thingol said, his face carefully neutral, “With the addition of my people, our numbers should be bolstered. Does Orodreth intend to join with the forces of Nargothrond?”

There it was. Thingol was intending to search for some form of disunity among the Ñoldor, an excuse not to join and to leave the Ñoldor to their folly. He did not understand the true danger of Morgoth and likely would not until it was too late, hiding behind his maia wife.

“Orodreth does intend to join us and is making his way here as we speak,” Maedhros answered neutrally.

“Of course,” Thingol smoothly accepted the new information, “Then we do have other things to discuss. I will not commit my troops to this fight until punishment has been laid upon Celegorm Fëanorian and Curufin Fëanorian for their unjust capture and attempting taking of my daughter.”

“The two have already been stripped of their titles and any benefit they may have. However, they bring a much needed physical presence to the battlefield. I’m afraid any punishment that may be added must wait until after the war is over,” Fingon attempted to appease the king.

Naturally that was when Orodreth entered the tent as well. Maedhros’ headache grew.

“Your highnesses,” Orodreth greeted, “Lord Maedhros.”

They exchanged greetings once more before they returned to the topic of Celegorm and Curufin.

“I will not deny that my brothers deserve further punishment, however, I cannot give you any more than what you want until Thingol answers for the crimes of one of his own,” Maedhros put on his most diplomatic voice.

“What crimes have any of mine done to yours?” Thingol asked, his tone bland but his eyes betrayed his incredulity.

“Your kinsman, Eöl, had captured Aredhel, princess of the Ñoldor, and held her against her will. He married her against her will and forced her to bear a child,” Maedhros stated, “Then he attempted to kill his own child, but killed her instead.”

A dark look crossed Thingol’s face, “Eöl has not been heard from in years, his home and workshop abandoned.”

“Because he is dead, executed at Turgon’s hand,” Maedhros said, “But one of yours has done much worse to one of ours than ours have done to yours.”

Orodreth, who was hearing all of this for the first time, looked upset at hearing the news of a family member’s death but rallied quite well.

“While I do believe that Celegorm and Curufin require punishment, I cannot say that they require harsher punishment for the treatment of Lúthien after hearing what my late cousin has endured by the hands of your kinsman,” Orodreth stated, “The physical punishment proposed for after the war sates me.”

“But not I,” Thingol looked calm but his eyes were murderous, “The two need harsher punishment.”

Just as Maglor had predicted. His friendship with the Lore Master and musician of Doriath, Daeron, had proved very useful throughout the years.

“Then I propose this,” Maedhros began, keeping a watchful eye on Thingol, “I will allow for the banishment of Celegorm and Curufin to the hunt for Morgoth after we take Angband under two conditions. One is that they will be allowed aid from those who wish to give it and two being that I will temporarily be given the silmaril in your possession. I will return the silmaril to you, but the completion of even part of the oath will drive us all towards Morgoth entirely.”

Thingol looked thoughtful, not completely disliking the idea, but not completely open to it either.

“What exactly would this banishment entail?” Thingol asked after a moment of deliberation.

He had already discussed the details with Turgon, Fingon, Maglor, and the two elves in question and they were all in agreement that it was a just punishment but one that the two wrongdoers actually wanted.

“They, and any others who may wish to join them, will hunt Morgoth to the ends of Middle Earth, never giving him a break and never letting him rest. They will hunt evil until either they are released from their duty or they are no longer able to hunt him or they have managed to oust him from this world. Any who join them or choose to give them supplies do so of their own free will and those who join the hunt may leave at any time,” Maedhros stated, “They will never know peace or rest and will be unable to enjoy the material pleasures of life as long as they carry this burden.”

Thingol looked contemplative for another moment.

“I agree to your terms, Fëanorian. I will give you the silmaril and you will return it or this deal is off. My troops will join yours in this march against Morgoth.”

Thingol reached into an inside pocket of his tunic and pulled out a large bundle of cloth and metal. He unwrapped the bundle to reveal a large stone, glowing a bright, brilliant white. A light that hasn’t been seen since the Two Trees were destroyed.

Thingol handed him the stone and he held it for but a second before returning it. It was uncomfortable to hold now, for he had slain, though unmeaning to, at Alqualondë to defend his brother. The silmaril knew that, for it was hallowed by Varda herself. But holding it for one second was enough.

“I, Maedhros Fëanorian, bequeath to you, this silmaril to have and to keep. It is yours and me and my own will not be beholden to our oath to take it from you,” Maedhros spoke as he returned it, the words somehow coming to him, “With Manwë and Varda as my witnesses, hear this Eru, a part of our oath is done.”

The effect was instantaneous. The oath was like a terrible band around him, holding him against his will and turning him into a puppet. It spoke to him, haunted him, corrupted him. It was a dark and evil thing, growing in the back of his mind.

By reclaiming one of the silmarils, a part of it shattered and broke. Its power lessened, part of him broke free of its hold. The voice it spoke to him with quieted and some of the corruption faded. He felt more like himself than he had since Morgoth was released from Mandos.

And now the oath was hellbent on Morgoth himself.

#silm #silm fic #silmarillion #silm au #fix-it #nirnaeth arnoediad #fix-it of sorts #ao3 #maedhros #maglor #turgon #elu thingol #angst #silm angst

4 notes · View notes

redpandaramblings · 3 years

Text

A Matter of Admiration Alpha Gang Orca x Omega f!Reader

Hello Hello! Here is my very VERY late submission for the SFW portion of Spudcorner's Valentine Blood and Chocolate Collab. This was meant to be a two page drabble. 13 pages later it's a bit more than that. Regardless, I do hope you enjoy!

Sequel/Epilogue Here

Content Warnings- Omegaverse, SFW, Insecurities, Misunderstandings, Pining, Fluff, Lots of food mentioned, Kugo being very down on himself, very minor mention of blood and stitches needed.

“Really? Again?”

The large alpha seemed to shrink under your judgemental glare.

“I am sorry, Y/N. The fight got intense and it slipped off. Someone must have stepped on it.”

You sighed heavily, your gaze turning to the workbench where the shattered remains of your creation sat. This was your seventh attempt at outfitting Gang Orca with a communicator headset. It was dangerous for him to keep fishing for a handheld during the heat of battle. Unfortunately, his lack of outer ear made keeping a headset on him difficult. Shaking your head, you gave a small smile.

“Not your fault, Sakamata. We knew this was going to be tricky. Though at this rate I’m tempted to just glue a headset on you and call it a day.”

Kugo snorted, his posture relaxing. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did. I hate to see your hard work go to waste.”

“It’s not a waste if I learn something from it. This one lasted a couple weeks of normal patrol work, so that’s an improvement. We just need to figure out what was different about this fight. So, sit. Talk.”

Kugo shook his head with an amused huff. He admitted he had been slightly dubious when you had first come to his agency. He’d encountered many hero support workers claiming to specialize in mutation quirks that seemed to be looking for lab rats for their creations. However, you always listened to what he said, and made suggestions that would actually make his job easier. You made sure your support items not only were functional, but comfortable at well. If the few years you had worked for him, he was pleased to say you had become good friends.

“I can’t right now, Y/N. I need to get cleaned up, then complete my report before I forget the details. I’ll come back first thing tomorrow.” You frowned, tapping your foot. Kugo fought to keep a neutral expression. You’d never forgive him if you knew how much he enjoyed your expressions when you were annoyed.

“Alright. Fine. First thing tomorrow. But make sure you get some rest tonight, you’ve been working too hard lately!”

Sakamata waved a hand in answer as he walked out the workshop door. He’d try to follow your request, but a hero’s work is never done.

~~~~~

Gang Orca shuffled through the door to his agency with an aura of gloom about him. In the past five days, he had broken five more communicators, gotten into several serious fights, and had allowed a villain to escape. And that was just his work life. Some of his friends had set him up for a speed dating session. He didn’t blame them for trying, but it ended exactly how he knew it would. Most of the omegas who had been present were scared of him, and those that weren’t were clearly only interested in his pro hero paycheck. Kugo trudged toward his office, his thoughts gloomy. A man with a quirk like his would never have a normal courtship. It hurt sometimes. How nice it would be to come home to a sweet smelling omega. What wouldn’t he give to home filled with pups, and laughter and love? He sighed softly as he swung his door open. Such a life was not meant for him, so no point in even dreaming. On autopilot, he hung his coat on the coat rack, and turned to set his briefcase on his desk. However, the desk was already occupied. Kugo tilted his head as he stared at the object resting on his desk. It appeared to be a large bento box, wrapped in a rather feminine handkerchief, patterned with some sort of flowers. Kugo set his briefcase down on a chair before coming closer to investigate. Gingerly, he untied the knot, setting the cloth aside as he looked at the contents curiously.

First and most obviously, was the strawberry shaped sticky note attached to the top. “You looked like you had been having a rough week. I hope this can make it better!” The writing was… painstakingly cute. The “i”s were dotted with little hearts. Each letter having just a little bit of flourish, while still being legible.

Kugo hummed quietly to himself. Clearly this had been left on his desk by mistake. A bit awkward, considering his name was on the door, but there was no other explanation. He drummed his fingers on the desk as he considered his options. He could take a guess at who the bento was for. There were several popular alpha heroes working for him that got their share of gifts from admirers. The soft omegan scent coming from the handkerchief that had wrapped the bento was a solid clue the gift was likely meant for one of them. But really, there was no way to tell for sure who it was supposed to end up with, and he really didn’t want the hard work to go to waste. Yes. Best thing would be to eat the bento, and place the box in the break room with a note inside the box apologizing.

His course of action decided, Kugo opened the bento, quietly sucking a breath as he saw what was inside. There were sausages cut to look like little octopi. A large slab of teriyaki salmon. Rice balls shaped like teddy bear heads, complete with little seaweed faces. He tried to tamp down his delight at seeing over half of the bento was dedicated to tamagoyaki. While he lived up to his stereotype of loving fish, the egg dish was a secret favorite of his; something his mother had made for him whenever he had a bad day when he was growing up. The second layer of the bento had even more. Rice, vegetables, and surprisingly a small but adorable piece of cake. Kugo put the bento back together with a small smile on his face. Perhaps it wasn’t meant for him, but it had been a long time since he had been able to enjoy something like this- cute and homemade, clearly filled with a great deal of care. He couldn’t quite feel guilty as he looked forward to lunch. He could pretend, just this once, that a sweet smelling omega had put so much care into something for him.

~~~~~~

Later that day, when most of the day team had left, Kugo made his way to the common break room. He carefully cleaned out the bento box in the sink, setting it to the side to dry. He folded the handkerchief it had came in, and placed it next to the box before sighing. He was in the process of scribbling a brief apology note when he heard a cough. He glanced up to see y/n leaning against the doorway.

“You okay, chief? Thought your shift ended an hour ago.”

Kugo nodded as he placed his note on top of the handkerchief. “Yes, just had a few things I needed to wrap up. What about you? I know you were supposed to be done several hours ago now.”

You fidgeted, embarrassed, shrugging your shoulders as you glanced away. “Had an idea for how to improve a few items and, well, you know how I get when I have a project. But what have you got there? You never struck me as the homemade lunch type.”

It was Kugo’s turn to look uncomfortable as he shuffled from foot to foot. “It was left on my desk this morning by mistake. I had no way of knowing who it was actually meant for, and I didn’t want it going to waste, so I ate it.”

You frowned as you walked into the room, opening cupboards and starting to retrieve things to make tea. You held a mug up toward Kugo in a silent question, grabbing a second one when he nodded. You were quiet for a few moments, going through the motions. After a while you asked “How are you so sure it wasn’t for you?”

Kugo snorted, leaning back against the counter and gesturing at himself. “Omegas aren’t exactly lined up around the block. I don’t place high on the ‘heroes that look most like villains’ list every year for no reason. Some unfortunate omega got confused about whose office was whose. It’s a shame I couldn’t give it to whoever it was meant for, it was a beautifully crafted bento.” Kugo doesn’t mention the note. Kugo especially doesn’t mention the note had found its way into his desk drawer to save as a memory of how nice it had been to receive the bento, even if it was an accident.

You laughed, passing him a steaming cup of tea, made just how he liked. “Sakamata, don’t talk down about yourself like that. You’re big, strong, and prime alpha material. You’re one of the top heroes! And even more importantly, you’re a gentle kind man that any omega would be lucky to have. I’d bet good money that that bento absolutely was made just for you.”

“A nice thought, but I doubt it. You’ll see. In a few days I bet a bento will make its way to who it was meant for.”

~~~~~~

Kugo stood stock still in the doorway to his office. Sitting on his desk was another cloth wrapped package. Once was a mistake, clearly. But two days in a row? Why on Earth was there another bento on his desk? He approached the desk and slide the bento to him. He untied the scented fabric with care. A cat shaped note greeted him.

“I’m sorry if it wasn’t clear before, Sakamata. I wanted to make this for you because I admire you so much. I’m not always great at saying my feelings, so I hope my cooking says enough.”

This was… for him. The bentos… were for him? He sat in his chair, leaning his head against his hands as he regarded the innocent looking lunch. If it wasn’t a mistake, then what could it be? Probably a fortune hunting omega trying to get in his good graces, if he went off his past experience. Though usually those types of omegas were more likely to offer favors of a different sort. Kugo winced as another thought occurred to him. There was a good chance this omega pitied him. Ugly, intimidating, unmatable. Someone had seen him and decided he needed looking after because clearly he’d never get someone on his own. Yes. That had to be it. He should leave the bento in the break room and end this farce as soon as possible.

His mind made up, Kugo picked up the bundle to do exactly that. The subtle smell of the contents hit his sensitive nose, causing him to salivate. Tempura? Definitely egg. Well, it would be a shame to not even look inside to make sure.

Clearly just as much care had gone into this one as the last one. The rice balls were shaped like little cat heads, to match the note. An assortment of tempura seemed to be the main dish, cute cat shaped food picks stuck in some of them. There were even paw print shaped gummy candies for the dessert. Every inch of the lunch was absolutely adorable. And it was all done for him. There was no way Kugo could let it go to waste. It hurt to know it was a gift given out of pity, but maybe, just for a while, he could pretend there was someone out there who loved him like this. The omega would grow tired of this eventually. Until then, he’d let himself enjoy this.

~~~~~

It was surprising how easily this had become routine. Every day when Kugo walked into his office, there was a new bento waiting for him. And every day he’d unwrap the bento, indulging a brief moment in the cutely patterned handkerchiefs. Every bento was unique and cute. They seemed to show a good understanding of his tastes and preferences. It was a pleasant break on the quiet days and a welcome comfort on the rough days. Each day there was a sweet written note that Kugo gently stored in his desk drawer. It was perfect.

Until it wasn’t.

~~~~~~~

Kugo hated attending charity events. It wasn’t the charities, he always supported good causes. It wasn’t the dressing up, or the fancy atmosphere. It was the people. While a few of his friends were around somewhere, there were many many others who didn’t know him well. Others who were intimidated by his appearance. Others who apparently had no idea just how sharp his hearing was.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe Gang Orca is here.”

“I know! Well, I suppose he is a hero. Allegedly, anyway.”

“Did he come with anyone?”

“Of course not. I mean ew. Look at him. Can you imagine cosying up to that at the end of the day?”

“I know! And those teeth! If he tried to bond someone, he’d take their head clean off!”

“As if anyone would want to bond with that.”

“I don’t know. He’s in the top ten pretty often. He has to be loaded, right?”

“Would have to be a lot for me to even consider it.”

“It could be all the money and I still wouldn’t!”

“Oh don’t say that! Poor bastard can’t help he’s unmatable.”

Kugo walked away from the refreshment table as he tried to tune out the unkind comments and mocking laughter. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t heard before. He knew full well what he looked like. He had had enough failed courting attempts to know exactly what omegas thought of him. But it still stung. Stung more than usual, actually. The daily bentos with their scented cloths and cute little notes had almost made him forget. The only omegas who were interested either pitied him, or wanted his money. He could never forget that.

~~~~~

What he could forget, apparently, was that the number two pro hero was scheduled to be at his office the morning after the charity gala. Kugo stifled a sigh when he saw the red winged hero waiting outside his agency’s door. Of course he’d have to deal with this on a day when he wasn’t in the best of moods. “Orca! My man, good to see you again!”

Kugo nodded as he held the door open. “Hawks.”

“Didn’t get a chance to talk to you at the party last night. You know how it is. Go to one of those things when you're single, and you get swarmed.”

Kugo gave a non committal grunt. No, he didn’t know. He just wanted this morning to be over with. He perked up slightly as he saw you hurrying down the hallway toward them. Hawks gave a low whistle. “Who's the babe?” Kugo half growled. “That is Miss Y/N. The support item engineer you allegedly came here to see. You will be respectful and refrain from flirting with my staff.”

Keigo held up his hands and laughed. “Hey now big guy, don’t mean any offense. Just saying you’re lucky to get to work with that every day.”

Kugo jerked his head in an abbreviated nod. You slowed down your quick walk as you got closer, not wanting to interrupt the heroes’s conversation. Kugo waved you closer. You smiled at him so brightly as you joined the group. Yes. He was lucky to work with a friend such as you. Kugo’s nerves started to cool a bit as he introduced you and the three of you began to make your way to his office. Hawk’s casual questions were more inquisitive than flirty, and Kugo knew from long experience just how much you enjoyed being able to talk in depth about your work. He was smiling by the time he opened the door to his office, ushering the two or you in. Hawk’s next words hit him like a bucket of cold water to the face.

“Dang! Either you got one hell of a cafeteria service at this agency, or Gang Orca has himself quite an admirer. Delivered right to your desk, pretty bold, man! That’s exactly why I keep my door locked. There’s only so much lunch a man can eat, am I right?”

The bento. He had forgotten about the stupid bento. There it sat, as always. The handkerchief was especially cute today, some sort of pattern with teddy bears hugging and kissing. Any other day, the sight would have calmed him. Any other day he would have sat down and quickly poked through to see what surprises lay inside that day, would have read the note meant just for him with a smile.

But today was different. Others were in his office. The number two hero, handsome and popular. His support engineer, pretty enough to probably have plenty of suitors of her own. And then there was him. Large. Scary. Consistently told he looks like a villain. Has never had a relationship that wasn’t pitying or profiteering. Kugo remembered the whispered remarks from the party. Usually he’d be able to brush off Hawks’s commentary. But today…

Kugo snarled, his scent agitated as he swept his arm across the desk, knocking the bento roughly into the trash. “They are a nuisance that need to cease! I’m so tired of some desperate piting omega shoving their unwanted, unneeded efforts at me! Enough is enough!” At the end his voice was raised to a shout. He was dimly aware of his nails digging deeply into his palms. Kugo leaned on the desk, breathing deeply as he tried to calm himself. He could hear the others shuffling behind him awkwardly.

“Come on,” You murmured and lightly tugged on Keigo’s sleeve. “How about I show you my lab and take some measurements before we get started.”

“Yeah. Um. Yeah.” Keigo allowed you to lead him away. You softly closed the door behind you. Kugo remained, hunched and breathing raggedly. It took him several minutes to calm down. It took him a few minutes beyond that to gather the nerve to make the trek down to the support lab. He slipped into the room as inconspicously as a man with his fram could manage. You were taking measurements off of Keigo and muttering to yourself as you tapped out notes on your tablet. Keigo noticed Kugo’s entrance and greeted him cautiously. “You good?” Kugo nodded. “I… apologize. It’s been a rather trying week, but I should have composed myself better.”

Keigo waved him off. “No worries, man, no worries. Y/n was just telling me she thinks that she’ll be able to rig up something for me that would help slow my fall in situations where my wings get damaged.”

You hummed an affirmative, taking a few more measurements before you started describing your process. Kugo couldn’t help but notice you didn’t look his way. You looked at the ground, at your tablet, at Keigo, but you were clearly avoiding Kugo’s gaze. He mentally winced as he settled onto an out of the way stool. It was rare for him to have that kind of emotional outburst. It probably could be heard even from outside his office. He’d make sure to apologize to you better when he got the chance. But for now, it was looking like it would be a long, awkward day. Goodie.

~~~~~

Kugo growled under his breath the next morning when he saw the cloth wrapped bundle sitting on his desk. Yesterday’s embarrassment was still fresh in his mind as he stalked forward. His thick fingers quickly untied the surprisingly unpatterned piece of fabric. There, under the cloth, on top of the box, was a note as there always was. Kugo’s anger was cooled by confusion when he saw it, however. The paper was a plain yellow post-it note. Instead of the painstakingly cute handwriting with the heart dotted “i’s, there was a clearly hasty scrawl.

“I’m sorry. I never meant to annoy you. This will be the last one.”

Kugo frowned, shifting in his seat. Clearly the bento maker had heard about his outburst from yesterday. That was… unfortunate. But perhaps for the best, since he had no way of directly telling them to cease their nonsense. Unconsciously, his hand balled up the handkerchief and as he had been doing for a while, he scented it.

The cloth had a slight smell of salt to it. Tears, Kugo realized uncomfortably. The smell of tears slightly diluted the normal soothing smell of whoever had carefully packaged these bentos. He had little appetite as he looked over what was there. Tempura. Salmon. Vegetables. A large portion of tamagoyaki. But the part that caused an uncomfortable weight to settle in his chest was the little red box, filled with slightly clumsy, clearly homemade chocolates. Kugo closed his eyes, sighing as he set the box to the side to wait for lunch. This was good. This was what he wanted, to be left alone instead of some kind hearted omega taking pity on him. He had lived a long time without homemade bentos and little notes. He certainly didn’t want the small offering of chocolates. When lunchtime came, he certainly didn’t linger over the food longer than usual, savoring each bite. He tried to tell himself that this was for the best. That this was what he wanted. He refused to think about why he tucked the handkerchief and the box of chocolates into his desk drawer instead of leaving them in the break room as usual.

The next day as Kugo opened his office door, he looked toward his desk out of habit; searching for the lunch that had been left. His chest gave an uncomfortable lurch when he found the desk was bare. He shook his head in an attempt to clear it. This was fine. This was what he wanted. The sooner he forgot about all this nonsense, the sooner things would return to normal. He settled into his chair and began sifting through the paperwork he had to deal with. No better way to take his mind off his troubling thoughts and distract the whine of his inner alpha. He was certain. Things would be back to normal soon.

Two weeks later, Kugo listlessly picked at the limp lettuce of the poor excuse of a salad that he had picked up at a convenience store. He sighed, putting the lid back on the barely touched meal resolving to throw it away when he next passed a garbage can. He didn’t like to admit it, but he missed the carefully planned meals. Wondering what cute surprise was going to be next. It was nice that someone thought he might enjoy seeing animal shaped onigiri and cheesecake flavored kit kats. His alpha whimpered when he thought about the contented omega scent that gently perfumed every handkerchief, except the last. But just as the note had said, he had received nothing since that last bento. His thoughts remained gloomy as he entered the agency, quickly making his way into his office, locking the door behind him. He knew better than to hope as he looked towards his desk. Bare, once again. Sighing heavily, he slumped into his chair. He gently pulled open the bottom drawer of his desk. Carefully nestled into it was the cleaned, empty bento box from the last meal, the small box of dwindling homemade chocolates, and that last precious handkerchief.

Kugo carefully removed the handkerchief. He brought the cloth to his nose, inhaling deeply. Stabbing pain shot through him as he realized the scent was barely there anymore. The faint scent of tears almost completely overpowering the last lingering trace of distressed omega. His hands clutched the fabric tightly, squeezing until he realized the stress he was putting on the fabric. He quickly placed it on the desk and tried in vain to smooth out the wrinkles. After a minute of fussing, he gently refolded it and placed it back in the drawer. Kugo stared at the contents, unblinking before slowly sliding the drawer closed. It was almost gone. Everything was almost gone. And he didn’t know how to get it back.

With a low growl, Kugo pushed himself up. Today was a rare day where he hoped for trouble on his patrol. A fight would certainly take his mind off things, and just maybe calm the whining alpha that echoed throughout his entire being.

~~~~

He really needed to be careful what he wished for. Kugo winced as he limped toward the support lab. He had gotten a fight alright. He had gotten three fights, a twisted ankle, and a once again smashed communication headset. It wasn’t his fault that he had gotten thrown backwards into a rather solid concrete wall. Y/N was going to kill him.

Kugo pushed the lab door open, stepping inside. His forehead creased in worry. The lab felt off. Wrong in a way he couldn’t immediately place a finger finger on. Well, he’d have to think about it later, he decided as he made his way to where you were sitting. You were at your workbench, tapping your pen on the table and staring at nothing when he settled down on the stool next to you. You glanced over as Kugo sat down, did a double take and let out a small noise of surprise.

“Sakamata! What happened to you?”

The large man shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. “The usual. Villain didn’t behave exactly how I thought, and I paid for not being vigilant enough. Nothing too bad. Twisted ankle and roughed up a little. Unfortunately though…”

Sheepishly as a scolded schoolboy, Kugo pulled the shattered remains of his latest communicator out of his pocket and placed them on the workbench.

“Kugo!”

He couldn’t help but smile. He loved the times when you got worked up enough to call him by his first name. He watched as you gingerly sifted through the sad shattered remains.

“What did you do, hit it with a rock?!”

“Concrete wall, actually.”

You stilled before turning to look at Kugo, sharp and suspicious. “And I assume you were wearing it at the time?”

Kugo had the decency to look embarrassed as he nodded. Suddenly he was being fussed over, gentle hands touching his face and turning his head this way and that. An exclamation and curse left you when you found a large, sluggishly bleeding gash on the back of Kugo’s head.

“You! You Alpha!” You huffed as you started digging through the pockets of your lab coat. Kugo got a brief glimpse of colored fabric before the handkerchief was softly dabbing at his wound. Kugo hissed, only half listening as the scolding continued about how knot headed alphas needed to learn to go to the medical ward first before worrying about stupid replacable tech. He was brought back to the present when a hand, so much smaller than his own, grabbed his hand. You easily maneuvered him so that Kugo was now firmly holding the handkerchief over the cut. You hummed, satisfied for now.

“Now Sakamata, please hold that there until you can get medical to look at it. Doubt a hard headed man like you has a concussion, but might need stitches. I’m not exactly an expert. Don’t worry about the headset. I should be able to get a new one to you before my replacement takes over. And if not, I’ll be leaving some blueprints behind anyway.”

What?

“Replacement?”

You stilled, looking away from him. “Yeah. Yeah, sorry. I just… I never found the right time to tell you.” You fidgeted, rubbing your thumb over your knuckles. “I’m going to be going to America soon. I’ve gotten a good offer to work with a few heroes over there that need someone specialized in mutation supports. It would do a lot to boost my career…”

Kugo reached out, grabbing your hand, and stopping your nervous motions. He tried to find words in his stalling brain. “This is really sudden, Y/N.”

“Yeah. Sorry.” You wouldn’t meet his gaze.

He gently shook his head, giving your hand a squeeze. “Not scolding you. Just, is everything alright? Is something going on?”

You pulled away, digging your hands into your hair with a sigh. “You know me too well.”

Kugo gave half a smile. “I would hope so. I like to think we’re friends. Is there anything I can do? Are you in trouble in some way?”

You shook your head. “No. No, nothing like that. It’s kind of embarrassing. Just… A courtship that really didn’t turn out well. And I just… I could really use some time away to get my head back on straight. Eagle Pride’s office has mentioned wanting me to go over and collaborate with them for a while, and what better time than now?” Your laugh sounded bitter.

Kugo sat silent and stunned. He hadn’t known you were courting. Being courted? Honestly, he wasn’t even sure of your dynamic. If you weren’t beta, then you certainly hid your scent well. He cleared his throat before speaking hesitantly.

“I certainly won’t stop you if you truly wish to go. It is an excellent opportunity. Might be a step in having your own support company if you wish. And if not, you’re always welcome here, Y/n. You must know that.”

You give a small smile, finally looking him in the eye. His chest tightened when he saw tears there. “I know, Kugo. You’ve been nothing but kind to me. You’re a good friend for putting up with me.”

“There’s no putting up with. I enjoy your company, always.” Kugo reached out slowly, but you turned away and wiped your eyes with your sleeve. He frowned, placing his hand back in his lap. “And you sure you’re alright, Y/N? No one is threatening you, are they? Someone unsafe taken an interest in you?”

You snorted, “Nothing like that. And people think I’m the dramatic one. No. I just got rejected is all. I miscalculated. Thought they were interested, but they made it very clear they aren’t.”

“Then they’re an idiot.” The words escaped Kugo before he even realized what he was going to say. But it was true, he was sure. You were beautiful, kind, smart. Anyone would be beyond lucky to hold your interest. On the rare days he allowed himself to dream, he often thought he’d love to have someone like you as a mate. Someone who knew him well and cared for him as much as he cared for them. He felt pains in his chest and his eyes widened as realization hit him in the face like a wet mackerel. Oh. He was jealous. He was jealous of whoever it was that y/n had tried to court. And he was angry. Furious that some fool had rejected her. Hurt her. But he was glad she was still here. Yet she was going to leave. Going to leave him here alone. His thoughts swirled and tumbled, and he swayed slightly in his seat. And hand on his shoulder stilled him and he looked up into your concerned eyes.

“Hey, you’re not looking too good. You really should get to medical. Do you need me to help you?”

“No. No. I can make it down a few hallways, thank you though.”

Kugo stood, and tried to give back the cloth he had been pressing to his head. You pushed it back, gently scolding him. “I said leave it there until someone can look at it. If you insist on returning a silly old rag, you can wash it and give it back later.”

Kugo nodded and mumbled out a goodbye. He had a lot to think about as he slowly made his way to medical. So. He liked you. The more he thought about it, the clearer it seemed to him. He’d liked you for a while. Things were always easy with you. But now, you’re leaving. He couldn’t stop you, and wouldn’t even if he could. You clearly felt like you needed to go.

He was still ruminating on his thoughts as the doctor ushered him to a bed. He was poked and prodded. Kugo managed to mumble out what must have been coherent answers. In the end, he did end up needing a few stitches. And just like that, he found himself fixed up and back in his office. He snorted a laugh at the absurdity. How can a day like this somehow manage to be just another day? Kugo sat in his chair and twisted the cloth in his hands absently. He brought it to his nose and sniffed out of habit. Oh course, the scent of his own blood was the most dominant. But underneath that was the usual calming scent of omega. His shoulders relaxed as the tension ran out of him. He pulled that cloth away, idly looking at the pattern. It was cute. Floral. Reminded him of the cloth that the first bento had been…

Wait.

He hastily brought the handkerchief to his nose again. There was no mistaking it. He knew that smell. He had missed that smell for weeks. It was faint. But it absolutely was there. Omega, soft and sweet. Not any omega. His omega. His bento maker. His y/n.

Y/n.

Y/n who had seen him toss her courting gift in the trash, who thought he had completely rejected her, and who was moving to America.

Kugo was on his feet in an instant. He’d never made the trip to the support lab that quickly before. You jumped when the door flew open, hitting so harshly that the doorknob dented the wall.

“Sakamata! What?”

He dropped to his knees before you, arms wrapped tight around your waist and his head pressing against your stomach.

“Kugo?” You asked softly, hesitantly stroking along his fin. “Kugo, what’s wrong?”

“You’re the best thing life has ever given me. Please don’t leave. Please.”

You made a soft, wounded sound. You kneeled slowly, and took his face in your hands. Kugo leaned into your touch like a man who had been starved of affection his whole life. You stroked your thumbs over his cheeks.

“Kugo, I’m going to need you to speak plainly, so I’m sure I don’t misunderstand. What’s going on?”

His large hands came up, taking both your hands in his.

“I’m an idiot.”

You snorted and tilted your head, confused. He met your gaze as he continued.

“I’m an idiot and I love you.”

You inhaled sharply, looking at him in disbelief. He pulled the crumpled, bloodstained handkerchief from his pocket.

“I’m an idiot because I love you and yet I never even noticed that you loved me too. You showed me every day. You knew I like eggs just as much as fish. You cared enough to make them cute. You gave me extra sweets on days when I was working a double shift. I loved every bento you made me. I have every note saved. And I might be an idiot, but I’d be an even bigger idiot if I let you go without saying something. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, and I love you and please don’t go.”

“Kugo.” You smiled sadly. “I’m sorry. I already promised I’d go.”

Kugo inhaled a shaky breath, his eyes lowering to the floor.

“But,” you used your hands to lift his chin. His gaze snapped back to yours. “It’s just for six months. Six months, and then I’ll be right back here. With you.”

“With me?”

“Mmhmm.” You gave his nose a quick peck. “Always. You’re the best man I know. I don’t think there’s anyone else in the world for me.”

Kugo groaned and pulled you close, burying his face in your neck. From here, although it was very faint, he could smell your soothing scent. “You can’t say things like that and then tell me I can’t have you here for six months!”

You chuckled as you hugged him close. “Well, we have two weeks before I leave. We have a little time. And once I’m back? We’ll have all the time in the world.”

“Even that won’t be enough time to spend with you.”

“Dork.”

He hummed his agreement. “But it’s true. Eternity would be enough time to spend with you.” Before you could protest, he pulled you in for a gentle, but determined kiss.

#gang orca #gang orca x reader #kugo x reader #kugo sakamata #kugo sakamata x reader #Alpha gang orca #Alpha kugo #omegaverse #bnha omegaverse #reader insert #bnha reader insert #female reader #omega reader #omegaverse reader insert #collab piece

765 notes · View notes

bokunosimpfiction · 3 years

Text

Yandere!Karl Heisenberg x Reader Pt. 2

You could read this as a stand-alone fic, but there’s some more context of the situation on the first one.

Usertags: @fandomtrashgoddess

Synopsis: Some fluff/hurt slash comfort after and escape attempt. tw:kidnapping (implied) tw:physical abuse (implied)

You sat on in the bathtub, facing the wall, head leaned back, while Heisenberg sat on the toilet seat behind you. You counted the little dots and indentations in the ceiling while he repaired your injuries.

You tried not to hiss when he poked around your face, checking your wounds and scratches for any metal debris or splinters. Your eyes watered when he would pull one out, no matter how gently he did it (or tried to), it made your eyes water. You pretended to be strong.

After a little bit you feel a warm, damp cloth pat your skin. It doesn’t sting as much, and if anything soothes the burn.

“I told you not to try and escape,” he mutters, “look at what you did to yourself… You’re lucky I found you when I did.”

“Who was the one that set up the traps that almost killed me?” Your voice was hoarse, dry, and tired from screaming, and your body was sore from running and kicking and screaming. You lost the fight in you an hour or so ago, and here you were being cleaned up from the mess that was made. The mess that you made.

“I wouldn’t have to set up traps like that if you stopped trying to escape.” He takes a cotton pad with saline solution on it and lightly dabs at the cuts all across your face. “These are going scar, sweetie.” You can feel the sarcasm and hostility at the end but chose to ignore it. “You’ll be beautiful no matter what, of course, but you get them through pain, and I can’t stand the thought you ever being hurt.”

“Okay boomer.”

“What the ever-living fuck is a boomer?”

“Google it.”

“How did you even get wifi here?”

“Not telling.”

He sighs and begins to gently apply aloe to the cuts. You’d never use those words to describe Heisenberg. He’s big, bulky, strong, and intimidating, but for some reason his rough and callous covered hands managed to be so nimble and delicate on top of being bulky and strong. It has to do with his tinkering and building, you suppose.

He places a kiss on your forehead, above one of the bigger gashes and leans your head off of his lap. “Alright, I think that’s the last of them.”

You still sit in the tub, covering yourself with your left, covered in gauze and bandages. The other one in a sling with ice inside. It hurt terribly, some of the worst pain you’ve ever felt. You remind yourself to NOT dislocate your elbow.

You felt so exposed, in nothing but an oversized tank-top and your underwear. He had put you in one of his shirts to have easier access to your arms and such. You were exhausted, and just needed sleep. But you knew that you had a punishment ahead of you, and that you needed to endure a little longer.

He tilts your head up, to look him in the eyes. There was so much more emotion than you could comprehend: anger, sadness, betrayal, love, there were too many and he was clearly conflicted on what to do.

He scoops you up bridal style, easily, and holds you close. “I think you’ve learned your lesson for now, being chased by propeller man is more than enough excitement for today, we’ll worry about the consequences tommorow.”

You just nod your head. “Thank you, Dr. Doofenshmirtz.” It’s a quiet statement, and despite the exhaustion, you still are able to maintain a bit of snark. You refuse to be fully submissive, and in moments where you don’t have the energy to fight physically or battle it out with yelling insults or witty comebacks, you have to resort to statements like these.

“I told you to call me Karl.”

You pretend to consider it for a moment. “Hm… no.”

“I might change my mind and spank you now.”

You yawn. “You don’t have the nerve.”

Still, he carries you gently into the shared bedroom. The kink-sized bed with beige sheets and a comforter folded at the end of the bed. It was yours mostly because it’s always cold at night. Heisenberg always found his way under it or wrapped around it somehow, and by morning he was either dead asleep with no way to escape or in the workshop, waiting for you to come visit him in your pajamas.

“You’re not going to be able to change tonight by yourself.”

“I’d like to try.”

“Well, you won’t.”

“Don’t act so tough, Schwarzenegger.” All of this snark is tiring you out, but you refuse to give up what little control you have left: freedom of speech. Thank God for being an American because lord do you know how to use it.

“I’d imagine you’d learn to shut your mouth after all the times I’ve gagged you but apparently not.” He sits you down on the poorly made bed and slips his shirt off you. The cold nips at your skin and perks your nipples, which he ogles at for several moments before going to the shared dresser.

He doesn’t ask how cold you are, just grabs the short-sleeved slip-on night gown from its place in the draw and a pair of underwear. He lifts your legs and slips off your current pair. It’s been a while since you last shaved, but he shows no disgust or even disinterest. He wants to lean closer, smell you, taste you, feel you, but he restrains himself. Your shaken and tired enough as is, no need to worsen that. He slides the new pair back up, lifting your ass with his hands while he pulls the briefs up to the small of your back.

He slides the sling off your arm, and carefully maneuvers it through the arm hole. “Keep it still, okay.” His voice is soft and gruff, and for a moment, you melt, before you remembered he kidnapped you. You’ve had more domestic moments, ruined by the circumstance in which they came, but for some reason, you feel his caring nature come through more.

He slides your other arm through the arm hole and tugs the dress down over your head. It’s bunched at your hips from you sitting, but there’s not much he can do about it besides move you, which he doesn’t plan on doing.

“Heisenberg?” You call out softly, pulling him out of his train of thoughts, “I’d like to go to bed now.” Why the hell do you have to ask for his permission? But you do anyhow. He pushes you back onto your side of the bed, and rests your head on the pillow, that’s almost flat enough to be replaced. Almost. He pulls the covers from under you, and tucks you in up to your chin, just like how you would a child. You see him walk to the end of the bed, his coat moving behind him as he pulls the comforter up. He leans down, and you look in his eyes a moment before kissing you on the forehead.

“Goodnight pumpkin.”

“Goodnight Zoidberg.”

“Goddamn it.”

#yandere #yandere resident evil #yandere karl heisenberg #yandere karl heisenberg x reader #resident evil x reader #tw: kidnapping #tw: physical abuse #not beta read #resident evil village #resident evil 8

230 notes · View notes

sugardaddytonystark · 3 years

Text

Love Bites (Love Bleeds)

author: sugardaddytonystark pairing: vampire Tony Stark x Reader word count: 4000+

*Explicit*

🔊 Love Bites

At thirty-eight years old, Tony Stark was bitten.

That was ten years ago, and he’s been either blessed or cursed to live out eternity in that same body, hidden away from the light, from people. Few know that he’s fallen victim to the virus. Rumors say that he’s just a shut in, an eccentric, only leaving the house when he’s in his armored suit. But you know better.

You have been his court-appointed guardian for a few months now, and you’ve spent more time with Tony in that short time than most people have in the last decade. You two were getting close, but lately he’s been distant, holed up in his basement workshop. And that’s the one place you don’t go, his private sanctuary.

You have free reign of the rest of Tony’s house, it being your home now as well, and you make good use of it. It’s dark now as you make your way down the stairs in a half-stumbling, middle-of-the-night daze. But you know every step by rote, every creak and every corner. So, even though there aren’t any lights on in Tony’s Malibu mansion, you can navigate it just fine.

You do turn on the light when you round the bar nestled into an alcove in the sitting room. You don’t feel like walking all the way to the kitchen, and you know that the mini bar will have stocked some kind of juice for making cocktails.

As you sip on your drink, you look out into the darkness of the living room and see two shining eyes staring right back at you. The glass slips from your hand as you startle, and in your panic, you step directly on the broken shards.

“OW! SONUVA B—”

Before you even realize what’s happening, you’re off your feet, cradled in a pair of strong, solid arms. You look up and it’s Tony, brows furrowed above concerned, blackest-brown eyes. He tries to give you a little smirk when he sees you staring up at him, but the space between his eyebrows is still pinched, the look of worry on his face.

“If you wanted to join me for a nightcap, honey, all you had to do was ask,” he says, voice low and smooth as he carries you into the adjoining living room.

You clench your jaw, trying not to show how much pain you’re in. “Well, you know me,” you say, “can’t do anything without a little flair.”

“Something we’ve got in common,” Tony replies as he lays you down on the couch. He gently places your head against the arm before getting a throw pillow from the chair and placing it behind you. He sits down on the other side and puts your feet in his lap.

“Here, drink this,” he tells you as he leans over your legs to pick up a glass from the coffee table. “Your nightcap.”

You take the drink and just hold it for a moment, letting the cold radiating from the glass sink into your fingertips. You bring it up to your lips and catch the scent of whiskey, of citrus. You didn’t even know Tony could drink alcohol.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he mutters, looking at the sole of your foot, “next time, a little less flair.”

“Yes, sir,” you reply, the glass perched at your lips.

He looks up at you beneath thick eyelashes, a flash of crimson in his otherwise dark eyes. He places two fingers under the glass and tilts it up. “Drink,” he tells you. “You’ll thank me later.”

You tip your head back as you down the rest of Tony’s drink. It goes does smooth, heating up the back of your throat, the warmth blossoming in your chest. You hand the empty glass back to Tony and he sits it on the table.

“Are you ready?” he asks.

You nod your head and close your eyes, fists balled and nails digging into your palm as you prepare for the pain. You can feel Tony’s grip on your ankle tighten, and when he pulls the shard of glass out of your foot, you have to try your damnedest to suppress a scream.

His grip tightens even more, managing to ease the pain a little, slow the flow of blood, as he gently slides your bloodied sock off your foot.

“Shit,” he says, dropping the sock from his one hand and your ankle from his other.

Tony grabs the hem of his shirt, brings it up and over his head. He presses it to the sole of your foot to stop the bleeding and you hiss at the pressure, recoiling at the touch. He wraps his palm around the fabric, keeping his shirt tight against the wound, fingers curled up and over the wounded appendage.

His hold on you is tight, forcing you to stay still. His other hand is stroking your ankle, up your shin - a soft, soothing motion. His eyes are cast downward, fixed on the place where you’re bleeding into his wadded-up shirt.

You watch Tony as he works, trying to distract yourself. He’s nice to look at. More handsome in person, even, than in pictures. He has a lean build, slender but with strong muscles under cool, winter-pale skin. His eyes are the darkest shade of brown, flashing with crimson when they hit the light. They’re big and round and warm, making him look innocent and young, even younger than his everlasting thirty-eight years. His hair is dark, his beard slightly longer than stubble. His lips are flower-petal pink.

The angle of the light from above the bar casts half of his face in the shadow, highlighting the slope of his nose, the curve of his cupid’s bow. A glow emanates from the metal embedded in his chest, and now more than ever, you’re reminded that Tony is part man, part myth, and part machine.

He is truly incredible, you think, and not for the first time. He glances up at you, catches your gaze, then quickly averts his eyes.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks.

“I just… feel like I haven’t seen you in a while,” you reply, feeling like velvet – throat dry, head thick and fuzzy. You don’t know if it’s the blood loss, the drink, or just being in Tony’s presence, but everything is starting to feel slow-moving, like you’re stuck in a daze.

The corner of Tony’s mouth turns up in a smirk, but still, he doesn’t look at you. “Have you been missing me, honey?” he asks.

“Yes,” you tell him, unabashed.

He huffs out a quiet laugh, shakes his head, but he doesn’t respond. Instead, he gently peels his shirt from the sole of your foot, inspecting the damage. It must be bad, because you can see his brows furrow again, his nostrils flare.

“Shit, you’re gonna need stitches,” he says. “I’m gonna call the Doc, alright?”

“Wait, Tony,” you say, before he can stand up. “Can’t you just… you know?”

His grip tightens on your ankle. “No,” he says sharply, but he doesn’t try to stand up again.

You’re tired and weak and in pain, so when you whine, “Why not?” you don’t even feel bad about sounding so infantile. “You can heal me in a minute. If not, I’ll be limping around here for weeks.”

Tony, being what he is, can heal a wound almost instantly. His saliva mixed with his blood, and whatever science or magic that is involved, can keep you from being bedridden for however long it would take your wound to heal on its own. You wouldn’t ask normally, but he’s here and, well, you’re curious, not to mention that you’re not ready to be without his touch once again.

“I don’t know if I’d be able to control myself,” he admits to you, softly, as if ashamed.

“I’m bleeding everywhere and you’re controlling yourself now.”

“Do you think this is easy for me?” he responds, almost a growl, his voice deep and low. “I wouldn’t call how I’m feeling ‘being in control.’”

“Maybe not, but you’re doing it!”

You two just stare at each other, neither of you budging nor relenting. It’s not even awkward, just tense, this silent battle of wills. But you know that Tony is more stubborn than you, so finally, you give in.

“Fine,” you say. “Just get someone to sew me up.”

But Tony doesn’t move. He just looks at your wounded foot, your ankle still in his painful grip. His stillness is almost unnerving, his dark brown eyes unblinking, his pale face statuesque against the darkness of the room.

“Tony,” you say, nearly frightened. “Please, do something. I’m bleeding!”

“I know,” he replies, his voice soft again, as he seems to shake himself from his stupor. “I know you are.”

Slowly, hesitantly, Tony lifts your leg and presses his nose against the inside of your ankle. He breathes in and closes his eyes, rubbing his cheek against the side of your foot, his short beard brushing over your skin.

“You have no idea how incredible you smell,” he says, so low you barely hear him. “How tempting you are. It’s not that I don’t want to…”

And as he speaks, your hands curl into fists beside you, his words shocking you into near panic. It’s too much, this quick shift, this sudden change in atmosphere. You’re suddenly too caught up in the scene playing out before you to manage any coherent though, let alone words. Do it, you want to tell him, but you can’t, heart pounding, voice caught in your throat. Do it.

“...it’s that I want it too much.”

Tony brings up one of his knees to kneel on the sofa so that he’s turned toward you, between your legs, your ankle still in his hand, your other leg resting across his thigh. He eases up on the pressure around your ankle and you can feel the blood start flowing to your foot again, wet heat running down your wounded sole.

You watch him, enraptured, as he wipes his mouth across the bottom of your foot. You don’t even flinch from the sting of it, too fascinated to move. But you can feel him trembling, his breath coming out ragged against your skin.

When he lifts his mouth from the arch of your foot, there’s a smear of dark blood against his lips. And then, behind, sharp teeth shining white and deadly. His eyes flash with a nocturnal sheen – deep, deep burgundy all but glowing in the darkness. He looks dangerous and feral and like nothing you’ve ever seen before in your life.

You barely register that the pain in your foot has faded, the wound now a mere memory. You can only focus on Tony’s lips, painted red, and the intense pounding of your own heart. Never have you been more aware of the blood rushing through your veins. Or the reality that you’re living under the same roof as the person who would desire it the most.

Tony doesn’t relinquish the hold that he has on your ankle, but the other hand lightly grabs hold of your calf on the same leg, and then slowly, slowly, you feel his palm slide up to the back of your knee. He doesn’t stop. He keeps moving up, palm sliding across the inside of your thigh, his hand squeezing your flesh and staying there.

In the stillness and in the quiet, you can feel your pulse pounding beneath his palm.

Tony then sets your ankle on his shoulder, his hold giving up its claim. He smears blood from his lips up your ankle, kisses the side of your calf. From behind coal black eyelashes he looks up at you, mouth hovering above your skin.

“Aren’t you gonna stop me?” he asks, placing his lips on the inside of your knee. He kisses you there and you shiver, almost tickled by the soft touch against your sensitive skin, overwhelmed by him worshipping places that no one else has ever even cared to touch.

You slowly shake your head no and he closes his eyes, dragging his cool mouth up the inside of your trembling thigh. You arch your back as he moves higher still, planting a line of kisses up your delicate flesh.

“There are places where you smell the most you,” he whispers, almost absentmindedly, lips grazing your skin as he speaks. “The back of your knee... the inside of your elbow... your throat, your hair… your cunt.” He buries his face between your legs and inhales deep, moaning. “You should really tell me to stop.”

“I don’t want you to stop,” you tell him, your voice hardly even a whisper. “Don’t stop, Tony.”

“What do you want?” he asks, mouth hovering over your pussy, those shimmering black eyes looking up at you from behind dark lashes.

You roll your hips up. “I want you to bite me.”

He rears back so fast that you jump in surprise. You sit up and grab his arm, afraid that he’s going to leave. You must have gone too far this time. Too far too fast and now you’ve pushed him away.

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” he says, voice hoarse and rough. “You don’t really want that.”

You lead him closer by his arm, then wrap your other hand around the back of his neck. You lean your forehead against his and you hear him take a shuddering breath. You close your eyes and savor the feeling of him being so close to you – forehead to forehead, the sides of your noses resting against the other, your fingertips against his flesh and his hands noticeably absent from your body. You shiver, chilled at all the places that you two are touching, his skin cold against yours.

“I do,” you tell him. “I want you, Tony.”

You stare at him, waiting. He stalls a heartbeat before he tilts his chin, angling for a tentative kiss. He presses his soft lips against yours, wraps his arm around your waist. You cup his face in your palms, thumbs running across his cheekbones. He nips softly at your bottom lip, not even close to breaking the skin, before soothing the spot with his tongue.

It should disgust you – having Tony’s mouth on yours after he licked up your blood – but you only taste a slight metallic tang, mostly masked by the whiskey that both of you drank. It’s intoxicating, Tony’s cool mouth, his sharp teeth against your sensitive lip, his taste, yours, the sharp sweetness of the alcohol.

“More,” you moan. “Please.”

“Impatient,” he chides, then plants a kiss on the side of your mouth. “Greedy.”

Tony turns his head and kisses the inside of your wrist, your hand cupping his cheek. He runs his tongue over the delicate veins, and you gasp, trembling in anticipation. He doesn’t stop, though. He keeps moving, kissing up the inside of your arm, his mouth leaving a trail of goosebumps on the surface of your skin.

He moves his arm from around your waist, bracing one hand against the couch behind you as he slides his other hand under your shirt and up your stomach. His fingertips are cold and soft against your body, the temperature almost a shock, and you’re torn between moving away and arching toward him. But the sensation is nice, you’ve never felt anything like it, and you know you won’t be forgetting it any time soon.

Tony’s lips touch your bare shoulder, once, slowly, and then once more, lingering against your skin. He moves upwards and your breath catches when you feel his open mouth against your neck. He sucks the blood to the surface of your throat like he can taste it through your skin, marking your soft flesh with soon to be tender bruises that you’re sure will last for days.

You can feel your pulse in your throat, hear your quickening heartbeat. Tony is saying something, but it doesn’t register in your mind, you’re so caught in feeling of his lips against your skin as they move.

“Where –?” you sigh, echoing what you think you heard.

You groan as Tony pulls away from you, and when you open your eyes, he’s staring down at you, half-smiling. “Where do you want it?” he asks again, cocking an eyebrow. “The throat is conventional, but –"

“Yes,” you reply, impatient. “I – anywhere. Everywhere. Just… please.”

You want him to devour you, consume you. You want his lips against your body, to feel his teeth sink into your skin. You’ve dreamt about it almost every night, giving yourself to him, him having his way with you, doing whatever he wants to do with your body.

Tony’s smile grows wider, and he bites down on his bottom lip, sharp white teeth gleaming in the low light. He bends down, chest to chest, and kisses you again, his cold skin melting against your warm body, the two of you separated by just your shirt. He makes quick work of that inconvenient piece of fabric, his lips leaving yours just long enough to pull it over your head and throw it out of the way.

His mouth moves down your throat, slowly, across your collarbone, down your breast to latch on to your hard nipple. His tongue licks across it, then he lets his teeth graze the taut peak, his hand coming up to pinch and pull at your other one.

The chill of his fingers has you shivering, arching your back up toward him. Your eagerness must spur him on because he grabs your breast in his palm, almost too rough and desperate, fingertips digging into your flesh.

Too soon, Tony moves between your breasts, then kisses down your stomach. You roll your body to meet him at every place his lips touch – sternum, then stomach, then hips. He grabs the waistband of your shorts and panties, pulling them down your legs as he sinks to his knees on the floor.

His hands grip the back of your knees and pull your legs apart, opening you up to him. The way he’s handing you now is neither gentle nor shy, maneuvering you so that he can get his shoulders between your thighs, his face level to your cunt.

It’s jarring, to realize that you’re naked on Tony Stark’s living room sofa, with Tony himself below you, in just his sweatpants and socks. That his blood, no matter how little of it, is inside of you now. Your blood in him. This joining seems irreversible, more momentous than you would have ever imagined. There’s no possible way that you will ever be the same after this, regardless of what happens.

What has happened will have been enough to change you completely.

And then Tony tongues the sharp point of one of his deadly teeth, a strange glint in his dark eyes, and you are thrust back into the present, aware and frightened of what you’ve asked for.

Tony no longer seems hesitant, not when he grazes the tip of his nose against your clit. Not when he inhales your scent, moans on the exhale. And certainly not when he covers your clit with his mouth, lips and tongue shockingly cold against your hypersensitive flesh.

“Tony!” your practically scream. “Fuck, Tony!”

And he moans at the sound of your voice saying his name, the noise vibrating against your pussy, making you squirm. Your hands find his hair, soft between your fingers. Having something to grab on to is somewhat grounding, but you can feel him move against you, your hands not guiding him but just touching, and that only adds to the realization of what you’re doing. Only makes you that more desperate.

There’s no build up to get used to the sensations. Tony starts immediately licking and sucking your clit like he can’t help himself. Like he’d want nothing more than to eat you up here on his sofa. And you’d let him too, let him have all of you if that’s what he wanted. More than just your blood or your pussy. You’d let him devour you whole.

Your body arches and you push against him, making him bury his face harder against you. Tony flattens his tongue and licks at your clit, then moves lower, and lower, tongue lapping at your entrance, then, the sensitive spot between your pussy and asshole.

You’ve wanted this, dreamed about it, and now that you have him, it’s so much more than you could have ever imagined. And when he slides a finger into you, easily with the aid of how wet you are for him, you can barely hold yourself together.

Tony pumps his finger in and out of you, slowly, while his tongue plays with your clit, explores your folds. You could cry, you feel so good, and when he adds another, you do. Tears spill down your cheeks as his fingers fuck you, pressing against your soft inner walls and curving just right.

As he pumps into you, the inside of his knuckles rub against a spot below your clit that you never even knew was there, and you can feel that pressure building, that feeling growing low in your belly.

Tony’s mouth leaves your pussy and his thumb finds your clit, his strong, dexterous fingers touching you in all the places that you need. He kisses your inner thigh, licks at the skin there, sucks, nips, and you jerk at the sensation. His works at the soft skin, sucking a bruise into your flesh.

You couldn’t stop it if you wanted. You come. Hips rolling as you fuck yourself on his fingers. You hands still gripping his hair tight. Your eyes are pressed closed, the wetness of your tear still lingering on your cheeks.

And then – he bites. And it’s euphoric. There’s ringing in your ears like the aftermath of a scream, and maybe you did, your voice rough and raw as you call his name, as you plead for something that you don’t even know you want.

Everything is black, your entire body narrowed down to his fingers filling you up and his mouth sucking your blood. You can’t even hold on to him anymore, your hands drop from his hair as you come down from your orgasm, Tony still sucking on the tender and bruised skin of your punctured thigh.

You feel weak, only moving when Tony wipes his mouth on the inside of your thigh. And then he lifts up, face to face with you and you make a feeble attempt to kiss him, instinctively. You can smell the bitter copper scent on him as he turns his face to the side, nuzzles his cheek against yours.

He’s warm now, such a drastic difference than from before. Warm, pink cheeked, thin lips red and slightly swollen. You could mistake him for human.

“Let’s get you to bed,” Tony says. “Can you walk?”

You nod your head, but you sway as you stand. Without hesitation, he picks up like he did before, and carries you effortlessly up the stairs and toward your room. The walk is peaceful, silent, and you let the lull of his footsteps calm you. You close your eyes and almost as soon as you do, you are in your bed, warm and comfortable under the blankets.

Tony stands above you and you hold onto his hand, then run your fingers up his arm, from his wrist, softly, to his elbow. How long will you be able to touch him like this? Now that you’ve had him, you’re not sure you’ll be able to let him go.

“Will you come see me?” You ask. “Tomorrow night? Please.”

Tony gently takes your hand off of his elbow and brings it up to his lips. He kisses your knuckles, almost chaste. “Goodnight,” he says, eyes shimmering in the darkness of your room. “And sleep well. You’ll need your rest for tomorrow.”

if you’ve got love in your sights,

watch out, love bites

#tony stark #tony stark x reader #tony stark imagine #vampire tony stark #marvel imagine

167 notes · View notes

ghoste-catte · 3 years

Note

I was curious what advice would you give to someone new to writing fics? I've been wanting to get back into it but haven't seriously written something since high school. I hope this isn't an annoying question or anything!

Not an annoying question at all! I'm just a little worried that I won't have terribly good or useful advice. To be honest, I also sort of stopped writing in earnest right as I finished high school, and didn't pick it back up until my late 20s. It's certainly an adjustment! But I think the few things that really helped me get back into writing fic as a hobby and something I spend quite a bit of time on would be:

Write for yourself first, then find your other motivations. My original inspiration in getting back into fic writing was that there just were not that many fics I liked for my favorite pairing, and I wanted more of them, and I especially wanted more with the tropes and characterizations I wanted to see. I think at the very core of anything you need that internal spark that drives you. At the same time, for me at least, if I just relied on my own drive, I would not get much done; I need some external guardrails. So having people send prompts, or writing for particular events, or writing stuff for friends really helps me to get my ass in gear and finish stuff. That may not be the perfect motivator for you, and that's fine! You just gotta figure out what is.

Be open to inspiration. Anything and everything can be spun out into a story with the right tweaking. Obviously stuff like music is a classic inspiration source, but I've also pulled ideas from poetry, from memes, from Reddit threads, from YouTube videos, from rambling conversations on Discord and from real life to make fics out of. So many times, someone will post a silly Twitter screencap, and I'll think, There's a fic in this. And a lot of the time, there is! Research is a wonderful thing, but so is serendipity. If you're out there actively looking for ideas, eventually one that you like will stumble past you.

Find your community. I can genuinely say I never would have finished more than one fic if I didn't have fandom friends to talk to about even stupid headcanons, to bounce ideas off of, and to encourage me (and to encourage them in turn!). Discord has been a godsend, and some of my closest online friends are people I met in the GaaLee discord server. As I've gotten more comfortable as a writer, I've also joined general writing servers and Reddit communities and have found them immensely helpful on both a motivational level (bingos, sprints, owe-me challenges) and on a craft level (plot workshopping and writing ethics and live grammar help). It's a lot easier to think about fic ideas and hash through problem moments when I have a constant stream of fandom-related chatter coming from the little people who live in my phone! Ao3 is an amazing website, and it's great as, well, an archive, but it isn't social media by design. If you want conversation and human connection and cheerleading, you've gotta forge out and find it.

Make it a habit ... If you want to produce anything longer than a couple hundred words, you really have to set aside time for it. And writing is just like knitting or dirt biking or painting little model figurines: the more you do it, the more easily it comes. When I was first getting back into the proper swing of things, I committed myself to 30 minutes of writing per week. Just 30 minutes. I didn't even hit that goal every week, but there were tons of weeks I got on a roll and went over that amount, and by the end of the year I'd written over 200,000 words. I used to spend an hour laboriously tip-tapping out 200 words, but now I can easily blow through 1k in a 50 minute sprint. It's all about training that muscle.

... But don't make it a chore. With fanfic, you aren't doing this as a job, and you aren't ultimately doing it for anyone other than you. That means you can take breaks when you need them, you can set deadlines and then fail to meet them, you can write stuff and then decide to never post it. When you start getting burnt out, when the practice loses the joy and energy, stop. There's no 'hustle' here. In our capitalist society we're so trained to push past our limits and keep going even when it hurts us, but the hobby you do for connection and relaxation and whatever else shouldn't be like that.

Ignore metrics. Sometimes stuff isn't gonna get hits, or kudos, or comments. There are some basic 'rules' as to the stuff that does and doesn't get traction, but every time you post something it's a roll of the dice. If you're focused on watching that kudos counter tick up, you will get bummed out fast. And any writer will tell you that the stuff you think is your best work will never be the stuff that gets the most accolades. So you have to find something else to give you a sense of success. For me, it's watching my wordcount go up in my stats and those occasional comments where someone has a lot to say and that one person who always leaves me a <3 emoji (and, shout out to @egregiousderp, having someone to have long one-on-one conversations with about the stuff that never made it to page).

Don't strive for perfection. It's really easy to want your first ever fic to be a complete showstopper, the best fic fandom has ever seen, hitting all the tropes and the ideas and the characterization that you just know fandom is missing and would be everyone's top favorite if only it was written. This is a trap. No one fic can be all things. Most people who want to write an epic as their very first venture will not see the end of that epic, because they haven't put in the practice hours to make something on that scale work. That's not to say you can't start out with a big, sprawling multichap, just don't expect it to be the greatest thing since sliced bread if you're just starting out, and be okay with abandoning it for greener pastures if you get to that point. Think of the first time someone makes a vase out of clay or bakes a loaf of bread. That's never their best vase or their best bread. If they keep up with it, they'll make more and better vases and loaves. Likewise, your first fic is probably not gonna be your best fic. See it for what it is: your launchpad.

You can't edit an empty page, but you can over-edit a full one. This kind of spins off of #7, but if the words aren't there, you can't fix them. Daydreams and headcanons are fantastic (and god, how many times have I wished for a speech-to-text engine that projected my falling asleep thoughts onto a Google doc for later perusal), but they aren't fic. If you want to write fic, you've gotta get comfortable with the idea of sloppy outlines and rough first drafts. You can't build a house without a frame and you can't build a man without a skeleton (I mean, you can, I guess, but he'd be one floppy man). The nice thing about fic is that it doesn't matter if that frame is structurally unsound or the skeleton has 18 too many bones, you can clean that up in the editing process. But you can't start hanging curtains and arranging furniture in something that doesn't even have walls. That's the process. But! Also know when to set down the editor's pen and say, "Okay, this is good enough for government work", and call it done. ("Done" doesn't have to mean "posted", but it does mean, "I'm done picking at this for now, and I'm gonna go write some more stuff".) Over-editing can make stuff seem laborious and forced, and it prevents you from actually improving. To continue belaboring the house metaphor, you can spend your whole life rearranging furniture in just one room, but the end result of that is a pretty narrow existence and a room with a lot of footprints and tracks in the carpet.

Write shit down. When you have ideas, jot them down--in a notebook, in a Google Doc, in the Notes app of your phone, in pen on the back of your hand. You think you will remember that brilliant line of dialogue or sparkling snippet of narration or genius plot that came to you in a dream, but you Will Not. Write it down. Write it down. Write it down! There have been so many times when a fic was completely saved by past!me having written down my shower thoughts about what happens next in the fic, that present!me had completely forgotten about and was floundering over.

Have fun with it! Try different stuff. Try stupid stuff. Try experimental stuff. Do stuff you've never done before that you aren't sure will work. It's important to get comfortable with your niche (for example, I know I'm never going to be the sort of person who writes intricate plots of intrigue or super long 100k epics or detailed battles), but you can't find that niche unless you explore lots of different niches! Figure out what you love and what you absolutely hate, and then keep doing the stuff you love.

Okay, so that was actually TEN things, but ... I hope you still found this helpful. Feel free to send another ask if any of this was confusing or unclear. Good luck with your fic writing and, if you want, send me a link to what you've written once you've written it! I'd love to read it.

#answered #anonymous #writing advice #i guess?#am i qualified to give this?#no #but im doing it anyway

82 notes · View notes

ruinaimagines · 3 years

Note

(I mean true, but the pivotal moment in the fuckers life that took my nugg from "probably going to handle spreadsheets for a workshop" to "key part in the biggest threat the city has seen yet" was because a typo in records assigned him to HQ by accident.)

For a RQ you can handle in any way you want, take a sephrot of your choice, have nug woken up by 'em after abno battle releases them from the book. If you want make the nug a romantic partner.

That sounds like a really fun concept to play around with. I mean, upon learning of the situation he was probably both very excited and concerned. On one hand, hey you’re basically getting a free promotion! And your pay is probably better. On the other hand, you’re probably not qualified for the work.. I’m assuming he was successful to stay long enough in the company for the fall though. Makes me wonder about the poor person who was meant to get the position, if there was one. Some grade 1 fixer stuck doing office paperwork instead.

As for the headcanons I went ahead and wrote for Hod, because I feel as though she would have a sweet reaction:

Hod Waking up Nugget S/O:

Everything is as though it’s in a state of limbo. Like a deep sleep. However, even if subtly, there are things that linger in your mind in this dormant state. The last memories you hold before it all went dark, thoughts and feelings floating in the empty space without a conclusion.

It’s a weird feeling. Imagine the moments just before and after when you’re put to sleep before an operation. You know you’re existing, and that there’s something happening, but you’re too drowsy and out of it to really get a grasp. You don’t have the energy or strength to question anything, just let it happen.

When you’re finally woken up, everything comes flooding back and there’s a moment of clarity. It’s actually pretty overwhelming, and you have no clue what’s going on. I mean, you have a vague idea, but even with that idea it’s just a lot to gain your sense back all at once.

In the moment of clarity after a long numb experience I’d imagine everything becomes extremely and almost painfully vivid. You notice how the air smells; if it’s slightly stuffy, clear, cold, warm, lukewarm, and how the smell of pages lingers in it. It’s kind of a pain for your eyes, the lights no matter how bright they are will still be blinding because you haven’t seen any in so long. Any sounds also immediately pick up.

You also feel EVERYTHING, which is especially unpleasant when you wake up sore because you haven’t stretched your limbs in who knows how long. Your mouth is dry too and you’re hungry.

It’s a bit of sensory overload, and you have to take a moment to remember the skills you learned back in Lobotomy Corporation to deal with abnormalities that influence and cause panic in your mind.

At long last you manage to get a hold of yourself and decide to try and figure out where you actually are. You awoke on hardwood floors, and are surrounded by brown bookshelves and bright teardrop shaped lights hanging from the ceiling.

Alright, well these definitely aren't the long corridors of Lobotomy Corporation. It doesn’t seem super threatening as well, so you might not be in immediate danger. It’s important to be careful anyways though, if working with abnormalities has taught you anything it’s that appearances can be deceiving.

So you stand up, feeling weak in the arms and legs and like you’ve rosen from a coffin after 5,000 years.

There’s this unmistakable voice you hear. A soft tone, one that’s unshakeable from your memory. Either you’re hallucinating or that’s your sephirah.

And when you turn around to see, instead there’s a person? You blink, and you’re really confused now. Did you really just hear that in your mind? Can this person mimic voices? You don’t think you misheard but honestly now you’re starting to consider it.

She looks like she’s in charge of this place, at least you’re assuming so from the professional outfit looking unlike any E.G.O gear you’ve seen your colleagues wear, and the theming of your surroundings.

She hurries over, apologizing and checking on you, “I’m sorry… I didn’t know you would wake up in this part of the floor- it was probably a lot to take in, especially on your own.”

Alright so who is this stranger apologizing to you and why does she have your boss' voice?? You’re starting to connect the dots but you really can’t tell if you’re right, so you just sort of stare at her in bewilderment.

The gears start to turn in her own mind, and she smiles softly “It’s me, Hod. Angela gave me a human body, there’s a bit of explaining to do.. But let’s focus on you right now okay?”

Oh my lord it actually is her. A giant grin comes to your face, and suddenly you find yourself having the strength to engulf her in a giant hug. It’s so good to see some familiar faces, let alone hers.

You know there’s probably a lot going on, and judging from the mention of Angela and the uniform you seem to have manifested, you’re far from done with working, but at the moment you could care less.

Even if you could leave, what would there really be to return to?

Hod is taken aback by the sudden gesture, and you can tell as she tenses up in surprise. It’s probably a lot different to be hugged in a fleshy, feeling body rather than a metal box. You know it’s appreciated too because she gently pats your back.

Suddenly you’re feeling way better, and back to normal.

You back up once more after the hug, staring at her and using the moment to take in that this really is Hod. The one you know and love, and now she’s no longer a robot. Just saying to those machine manufacturers, they did well on the appearance, because if you hadn’t woken up in a suspicious place and were just told ‘this is your boss’ you’d probably believe it.

You seem to be staring for a minute too long because she tilts her head to ask “Is everything alright?”

Everything is absolutely fine, and you find yourself accidentally blurting out. “Yes, it’s just you’re… really pretty.” Yeah you’re definitely enamored, and if the words coming out of your mouth doesn’t show it, then the sideways smile on your face definitely does.

She’s flustered by your words, raising up her hands from where they usually rest to not in front of her face, but just below. You can tell she’s trying everything in her willpower not to hide, but she really wants to.

She thanks you, but not after stumbling over her own words and trying to figure out how to return the compliment. It’s something along the lines of “...you also look nice- I mean you always do but especially so right now, I’m sorry- is that too forward? Oh, now I’m rambling, sorry- but thank you.”

Note made: before complimenting Hod, give her a half hour of preparation time to figure out a response.

You wonder if she’d have made the same expressions and reacted in the same way as a robot, but was unable to because she lacked the facial expressions for it.

It’s actually so sweet to see her though, and in a form with more mobility too. In Lobotomy Corporation it was sort of hard to be affectionate when she’s confined to basically her office and occasionally walking down the hallways to speak with other Sefirot.

And now you can actually hold her hand instead of three robot fingers!

So even if you’re back to work, you really don’t mind because now you’re alongside her more than ever. She helps explain some things such as what you’re there for, you get to meet some old colleagues and friends which was pleasant to reunite with, and finally get some food and drink for your mouth that’s dry as a desert.

The library isn’t that bad too, sure there are many downsides, but it’s a lot more homey and less rigid compared to the company. And, you don’t have to worry about dying, cause you’ll be right back.

You kind of miss being able to venture around the city and visit restaurants, stores, rivers, parks, and other places but in the very least you can at least manifest almost anything you desire.

If you can find a book for it stowed away in the library that is.

Still, it’s not really the same as being able to physically go to those places. Things can’t be perfect though, and you weren’t really expecting it to be. Best you can do is just be optimistic as much as you can, because from what you’ve heard Angela isn’t changing her plans anytime soon, so it's not like you can do anything about it.

It looks like there’s still a long journey to go, and even though you quite literally already have a lifetime of experiences, something deep down makes you oddly excited about the possibilities.

26 notes · View notes