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commander-diomika · 3 years ago

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[Image ID: Screenshot of a tumblr reply from user @weareallfromearth saying “Holy shit I would V much like to know what you’d do with ZolfWilde.” End ID]

This was in response to me tag rambling that if Alex “I don’t Actually Have That Much Experience in Courtship” Newall and Ben “I just Realised I’m Too Straight For This” Meredith don’t know what to do with Zolf/Wilde, they should hand the ship over to me.

*rubs my gay little hands together.*

I initially characterized them offhandedly as Enemies-to-Lovers but that’s not quite it, is it? On reflection I would say it’s more of an Opposites Attract situation.

Oscar Wilde, as re-imagined in the RQG universe, is a homme fatale; a dangerous, attractive man, skilled in encouraging people to underestimate him, wearing different masks, never quite being able to trust or be trusted by anyone.

There is NO personal/professional line for Wilde. He lives his work, and his work is subterfuge and interpersonal manipulation. (whether or not he started this way in his field as a journalist, or was forced to become this way by the changes in his world, is another post.) He is a person who either cares very deeply what people think of him, or is has decided that manipulating what people think of him is the way to get what he wants, and from the outside it makes no difference.

Zolf Smith does not care what people think of him. He isn’t even skilled at being kind and empathetic to people he cares about; he has no time for emotional manipulation or genuine charm. He doesn’t even have a fantastic grasp on his OWN feelings, let alone other people’s. He’s grounded, disinterested in frippery or appearances. Which is why Zolf and Wilde started out so deeply at odds with one another.

Despite the differences in the interpersonal approaches, they have plenty of common ground.

They are both deeply dedicated to a cause. They care about their work to the exclusion of all else. They are both pragmatists who have their own internal moral code, and are willing to bend or break other people’s rules in order to get the job done. They are fundamentally good people. Despite their rocky beginnings, they can respect each other because of these things.

And they might have maintained their mutually disdainful, begrudgingly respectful working relationship and that could have been the sum total... Except then the world fell apart. The Meritocratic organisation was initially compromised, then disintegrated. The blue vein plague isolated everyone and made it even harder to trust supposed allies. The Cult of Hades was on everyone’s ass making their life difficult, the other PCs disappeared off the face of the planet. Zolf and Wilde ended up in a situation where they had no one else they could trust.

Familiarity breeds contempt, but maybe if the contempt is already there, it builds Something Else. Wilde was stripped of his magic in a way that made it much harder for him to keep people at a distance and (pardon the pun) project the illusion of the debonair playboy. Zolf would have had the chance to see through Wilde’s masks, and get a better understanding of what parts of Wilde were a calculated tactic, and what was his genuine self.

Whatever betrayal transpired that gave Wilde his scar and hardened him, Zolf was privy to. He was either there and saw it happen, or he was close enough in the aftermath to see Wilde properly vulnerable for the first time in their friendship. Hell, maybe Zolf was the one who rescued him and patched him up. That was a chance for Zolf to realise that this insufferable man is a friend who he cares about deeply. At this point, he’s cared for awhile, but has been too wrapped up with his own spiritual difficulties to have space to admit that to himself.

And Wilde, oh Wilde, he’s desperate to be seen and known and loved, but he’s never allowed himself. He’s never felt SAFE to. He doesn’t let people get close, treats every conversation as a battle to be won. His safety and his power lies in being admired, but never loved. So even as trust and fondness for Zolf blossoms within him, he won’t for a second allow himself to hope that the fondness is reciprocated

With all that out of the way, this is my version of events.

Wilde is a slut (affectionate), and Zolf is gray-ace, so if there’s any bridging of that gap in terms of physical intimacy, it has to be from Zolf’s side. Giving canon a tender massage into place, that first instance of Zolf grabbing Wilde by the collar changes. (This happens on the Vengeance after Zolf has taught Wilde to steer the ship). Zolf drags Wilde down to say “I’m glad to see you perked up.” That moment now involves a whiskery kiss on Wilde’s cheek, and the man would be absolutely FLOORED by it.

I’m talking slow-mo glittering lights as Zolf stomps off blushing, unsure what just came over him; Wilde touches his cheek in bewilderment for a stretched moment before realising he’s completely agog, and he let go of the wheel for a dangerous length of time. Every interaction, every moment they’ve spent together over the last two years is flashing before Wilde’s eyes and a new context is being applied rapid fire. I’m talking the italacised oh kind of moment.

(on top of Zolf being witness to The Betrayal, throw some other moments of almost-intimacy into said flashbacks. I’m talking late nights, Zolf doing his gruff-yet-kind caretaker thing, cooking for Wilde, maybe sharing quiet and rare downtime with Zolf reading a Campbell novel on a couch in Wilde’s office)

Wilde is realising, “Oh this is allowed, oh this is reciprocated, this is possible.”

And of course they don’t talk about it, because what’s a slowburn if they immediately go and TALK about their feelings? No, the kiss goes completely unremarked upon, and Wilde continues to needle and tease and get under Zolf’s skin, except now with an added warmth in his eyes because he finally gets it. He finally understands that Zolf cares, that Zolf loves him, he’s just not the kind of dwarf that knows how to express it.

And Zolf, frustrated by feelings he can’t express but is beginning to understand, can hear the undertone of “haha, you looooove me,” shining through Wilde’s deliberate antagonism. They continue their time on the Vengeance just a little easier and closer to one another.

And we continue on to the death/resurrection arc, and Wilde’s spirit pushes for Zolf to open up about his feelings, because if not when he’s literally past death’s door, then when? When Zolf finally manages his “I need you,” it’s like a dam has broken for both of them. The second collar-grab and “We’ll go on a holiday or somethin’,” is now followed by a full kiss on the lips, not particularly erotic but passionate, (it’s the epitome of kissing someone to shut them up) and Wilde makes a surprised and delighted squeak that he would be glad he can’t quite remember when he returns to land of the living.

Once returned, Wilde might not remember everything that his spirit said or did, but he remembers the kiss. The comfort and ease that the two of them share in 179 (Eat Drink and Be Merry) is there, only instead of the two characters still being in a place of questioning their feelings for one another, it’s been answered.

Whether or not this relationship is sexual in nature is kind of up to you and what kind of fan works you like to read/write. I think there are wonderful scenes to be written an explored in many directions.

Wilde allowing himself to enjoy sex for intimacy and closeness instead of using it as a tool/ Zolf not being one for sex but Wilde’s never slept more soundly than when he’s being held in Zolf’s arms/ Zolf realising that the unfamiliar feeling he’s been struggling to express is the desire to rail Wilde til he cries/ Wilde realising that if his partner doesn’t want it from him, he’s actually quite content without sex/ The two of them being mean, antagonistic bastards to each other while fucking but Make It Kink (of the trusting and RACK kind). There really isn’t a single bad interpretation.

So really, I’m not doing anything different with them other than reading between the lines, giving canon a little nudge, and sticking the landing. This isn’t to disparage the concept of queer platonic partners. (I’ve got one!) or to talk shit about Ben or Alex (I DO respect their craft).

It’s just to say I find these two characters , and everything they’ve been through, PAINFULLY romantic, tropey, and delightful. I’m looking forward both to how Ben and Alex play the QPP, the fanworks I’m gonna read and hopefully write, and the inevitable tragedy that you KNOW Alex is gearing up for.

#zoscar #zolfwilde #RQG #rusty quill gaming #zolf smith #RQG Oscar Wilde #hank talks #rqg podcast #rqg meta #feel free to reblog #and to talk to me about it

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ready-to-obeyme · 4 years ago

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[OM!] Mother!MC with Demon Brothers + Luke Headcanons

Scenario: Instead of a younger human, the Devildom welcomes a mother (with a 3-year old son in tow) into the exchange program.

intro + headcanons about how the brothers would interact with her

no romance… just uwu

bonus how the brothers would treat the son (why son? Perhaps because I too want a son)

Female reader!! (MC is referred to as she in this post)

bonus character: Luke :3c

I JUST WANT THEM TO FEEL LOVED OK

Lucifer wasn’t prone to believe in fate-- and the beginnings of the exchange program was just another reason why he did not. He let the breeze-- the wind pick a human applicant for him; and if he had gone through every application (though he wasn't completely sure he'd be sane by the end of it all) maybe this situation wouldn't have happened.

"What do you mean you can't be one of our exchange students?" Diavolo inquired, more curious than anything, an amused smile gracing his lips.

"I have a son," she said hesitantly. And there he was, peering around at the assembly room in his mother's arms that were wrapped protectively around him.

A mother and her human child, Lucifer thought blearily. One could only imagine what would happen if both of them remained here. (Which is why he never cut corners in anything he ever did ever because the one time he does, things go to shit. Damn Diavolo for enabling him.)

Lucifer

disgruntled by the adjustments made to accommodate a human child and his mother; mf will he ever rest

probably has to worry about babysitting duties delegated to his brothers

however, pleasantly surprised by MC's calm demeanor and reliable personality; finally another competent person in the house he doesn't have to really pick up after

...actually adores her and her son

accidentally does things to please her without really realizing it and hates the slight disappointment or worry he sees when he goes through sleepless nights or lashes out from anger

doesn't remember the last time he's been chastised, but he's as embarrassed as he can be when she fusses over him

the hell coffee she makes for him every morning and the snacks she brings during his breaks makes him lowkey wanna cry-- he doesn’t know how to deal with a selfless, unconditional love

is used to being a single parent ngl so taking care of her son is kinda… easy especially if the son is compliant

finds himself pressing a kiss to his forehead absently and catches himself only after he's done it (bonus points if Barbatos takes a pic of it and sends it into their trio gc)

“Barbatos, please delete this picture.”

“Oh, are you sure about that?”

“................”

ah he's attached, and so are his brothers, which kind of perturbed him a little but he’s kind of in the same boat after a short week or so

(if there was one brother who had a chance of harboring feelings for a mother mc, it’d be Luciiiiiiii uwuwuwuuwuuw; what can I say? He can’t resist the milf)

eventually, he opens up to her about the war-- because if there was any human he’d trust with his secrets, it would be MC

Mammon

he's crying

he doesn't think anyone has ever talked or held him as gently as MC

similar to the game, absolutely adores her and can't even lie about it

ok jk he's still a tsundere, but blushes every time MC looks at him with a knowing look because he can't lie convincingly enough that no, the head pats dont feel nice and no, he's just eating the lunch she made because it'll be a waste otherwise, ok?!

Her son definitely thinks he’s related to Mammon

Definitely the first one to accidentally call her “mom”

But hey don’t blame him-- he’s weak to how MC looks at him endearingly as she brushes hair out of his face motherly, like he can do no wrong

Nothing can compare to how Mammon feels when MC tells him she’s proud of him

feels legit guilty when she calls him out on his habits of stealing things to the point he remembers her voice when he tries to do it again-- basically his conscience ngl

she's like a cold hand to his feverish forehead, a cooling balm to the burn on his hand

when she defends him from his brother's insults, swears he'll protect her and her son

on that note, adores her son too and her son adores mammon!

surprisingly (or not) good with kids and treats them well; plays with them, very lively and dynamic

takes babysitting pretty seriously-- makes him consider the fact that he might actually want to be a father in the future if possible

not that he doesn’t have reckless endeavors with her son... they just end up okay so no one is none the wiser until it shows up on someone’s devilgram or spoken about through Barbatos/Diavolo

Leviathan

Honestly doesn’t know how to to react

A little miffed tbh that he finds it so easy to talk to her about…. Everything???

When he enlisted her (and her son) to get his money back from Mammon, did he expect to rant to her about all his animes and gush about his figurines to her because that was one of the first time someone’s allowed him to indulge in his hobbies and listen patiently?

No, and now he’s crying

And the fact she gently addresses his self-deprecating comments and urges him to see how she sees him (smart, witty, forgiving)---

Will probably do anything for MC and anything she says at this point; the pact is just a formality LOL

Listens to her and genuinely thinks the things she does for him is in his best interest

Had a hard time knowing how to deal with her son for a while, simply because he doesn’t know what he could do to actually entertain the child

Then finds out he could literally put up TSL or any of his favorite animes and the kid will watch it-- and ABSORB

Levi might as well be the kid’s best friend at this point-- dubbs him ‘Henry’-- which is really the greatest compliment MC thinks her son can get from him

Honestly volunteers to babysit him and proceeds to spoil him rotten

Satan

Slightly annoyed at how motherly she is at the beginning-- he takes her care and actions as if she treats him like a child

Finds it frightening how soothed he feels when he’s around her

There’s something about an older, calming presence that saps the anger from him and makes him feel like he can be himself around MC

Surprisingly the second person to accidentally call MC by “mom” probably an hour after he makes fun of Mammon for doing it (lol karma)

isn't one to seek out her attention like with levi, mammon, or asmo but is pleased whenever he does have time to spend with her because she always seems to have insight on everything and a strange wisdom that all mothers apparently do

has a lot of late night talks with her about her life, her career, what it's like having a child

often finds himself asking her for advice, and even if she doesn't have the answer, he always comes out of it thoughtful and clear minded

always willing to take care of her son; delights in reading him his favorite books and enacting the exciting scenes

always treats him like an adult to the point that their conversations are really funny to listen to

"So would you say the author's intent of the blue door was to convey the agony of grief?"

"I like the color blue."

"As did the protagonist; hm, you bring up a good point."

the son is Satan's partner in crime against Lucifer

"It's better if we do this, isn't that right?"

"Yeah!" MC’s child says, happily chewing on his favorite snack that Satan always gives to him and honestly not caring about the conversation at hand at all

"See? He agrees with me!”

And Lucifer just sighs bc he always loses in these arguments and Satan is unbearably smug

Asmodeus

similar to Satan, finds her presence in Devildom to be very pleasant and calming

she never seems to be disapproving of his past times, and Asmo is endeared by the way she never fails to say "stay safe" or "have fun!" or even "do you want me to leave the front lights for when you come back?"

the little motherly ways in which she shows she cares makes Asmo adore her

loves taking her shopping; always has a good time just gossiping, trying new clothes, or having a girls night out with self careeeee

when her son tags along, loves to have him dress up too or try on make up and it's too adorable NOT to post on devilgram

pretty sure MC's son has trended on devilgram before-- but that was the first and last time because Lucifer yelled at him for advertising the fact there was a human child in Devildom

which Asmo thinks is silly because he's pretty sure the caption under the selfie of the three of them ("So adorbs! I've only had MC's son for a day, but if anything happened to him, I would kill everyone in Devildom and then myself. Teehee!") would have deterred any demon from laying a finger on him

When Asmo has him for babysitting duties, always loves to bathe him and play with bubbles, morphing his hair into an afro or an equally fashionable hairdo

actually very attentive to the child!!

Beelzebub

Not much changes from how Beel treats MC, but does view her actions in a more motherly manner

I think one thing that would change is that-- considering MC is a mother of her own child, is actually very protective of the brothers and sensitive to their changes in moods

When Lucifer gets angry at Beel and Luke, MC is furious and furiously protective, not yielding one bit or hesitating to put herself in front of them because of her instincts-- Beel has never admired her more

Physical strength has always something he can easily understand, but it is the strength of wills and of bravery that surprises him every time

After Mammon and Satan accidentally calls you “mom” Beelzebub has no qualms with calling you by mom either-- I mean, what’s the shame in that? Everyone already thinks of you as their mother-figure anyways

MC helps him deal with the loss of his sister

With MC’s child… You know that one meme with the two ways dad deals with kids: one is softly kissing his child on the forehead as he sleeps and the other is carrying his kid by the leg with one arm

Both of them is Beel

carries the kid around in the weirdest ways sometimes, including on his head, in one hand like he's holding a trophy, upside down (dw the kid thinks it's funny)

main transport is on his shoulders though; thinks it's kinda cute how the kid puts his arms around his head

wouldn't love anything more but to nap with him, but Beel is afraid of hurting him when he sleeps

Is the softest with MC’s son--- he’s not used to being the older brother, so he takes this responsibility kind of seriously

Always makes sure the food that MC’s son eats is appropriate so he tastes/tries it first… and sometimes ends up eating all of it, but he always manages to succeed in feeding the kid so it’s all good

Belphegor

Wants to hate MC so badly the first time they meet when he’s in the attic

He’s supposed to HATE humans, damn it-- why the hell is MC trying to be so motherly and understanding, huh?? How dare she make him guilty after he lied to her like wlkjaflksjfkjasdlfj

Out of all of them, seeks MC the least; whether it’s from guilt or the fact that her presence reminds him of the things and resentment he used to hold against her

Takes a little more cajoling from MC to talk to her and explain how he’s feeling so they can move past it

He’d rather die than let anyone else know that he teared up when they talked about Lilith and how he felt about everything; urges Belphie to talk to Lucifer and seek reconciliation with him individually (because it may be a family problem, but the feud was between the two of them, don’t you think?)

Finally gets the redemption arc he deserves and feels a lot lighter knowing that everything that has happened is now in the open and he’s ready to start healing

In avoiding MC after the whole debacle, Belphie ends up spending more time with her son because he thinks Belphie is fascinating and Belphie has no clue why

Similarly to Satan, treats the kid like he would anyone else but does find it amusing if the kid chases after his tail like a cat

Always ends up napping with him whenever MC’s son takes a nap-- after all, what’s easier than looking after a kid if you’re BOTH asleep?

Keeps an eye on him by putting a hand on his torso as they nap together

Uses MC’s son as an excuse to not do something, especially when Lucifer tells him to do something he doesn’t like to do

Honestly the son is a part of his arsenal-- he knows how weak everyone is for this kid (and so is he tbh but more lowkey) so cute pics of him is like… currency (Mammon WISHES he thought of this first)

Bonus:

Luke

MC practically adopts him the moment she lays eyes on him-- how could she not? Luke may as well be her other son

Luke can’t say no, especially after she saves him from Lucifer

Definitely calls her mom by accident and the brothers tease him-- only for him to retort back that “don’t you ALL call her by mom?” and they shut up lol

Simeon still gets to tease Luke though heheh

Really really really tries hard not to refer to MC as mom, but it slips out sometimes and no one even bats an eye

Baking together is such a family bonding moment

Treats MC’s son most like his younger brother almost automatically and makes sure he doesn’t get into any trouble while he’s taking care of him (though he does anyways)

Kind of likes the responsibility of babysitting MC’s son; makes him feel trusted

(MC takes the cutest pics of them together when they fall asleep; starts thinking about maybe having another child wouldn’t be so bad)

#obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me belphegor #obey me beelzebub #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me luke #shall we date? obey me!

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andypantsx3 · 4 years ago

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war paint | 5 | hot water

pairing: Bakugou Katsuki / Reader

length: 27,765 words / 10 chapters

summary: Desperate times force you to disguise yourself and join the kingsguard. When a suspicious string of crimes strike the palace, however, Captain Katsuki Bakugou starts paying extra close attention. (spin off of in cinders)

tags: mulan AU, secret identity, romance, reader-insert

warnings: aged up characters, some violence, eventual smut

You laid low over the next few weeks, avoiding Captain Bakugou to the best of your ability.

You didn’t make eye contact during your drills, shifting behind Kaminari and Sero’s shoulders when you could. You kept to your bunkroom when you weren’t on duty, and ate quickly in the mess halls, leaving as soon as you were finished lest he come dine with his battalion. You left the palace grounds only to post your wages to your family, and hurried back quickly in case Bakugou came looking and found you gone.

You also steered clear of Nishimura and his idiot friend Hasumi, taking alternate routes when you saw them on the training grounds and saying nothing about the animals and bugs you continued to find in your sheets.

Your only relief was your continued patrols, especially when you were assigned to Sero or Kaminari. Kaminari in particular was good at getting you out of your funk, tripping over himself to make you laugh and forcing you to socialize with all his palace favorites like Hagakure the laundress or on one notable occasion, Ochako Uraraka, companion to the princess-to-be and wife of the prince’s trusted valet, Izuku Midoriya.

His favorite stop, however, continued to be Mina’s workrooms and you found yourself getting quite comfortable with her, relaxing into her bright and cheery presence. She kept you well entertained with easy humor and palace gossip.

“I heard Captain Bakugou told the prince he’ll have the thief in chains before the wedding,” Mina said one evening as you and Kaminari finished up your rounds. “But it’s hard to know where he’ll strike next. There’s no discernable pattern in the rooms he targets or the things he seems to take.”

“Wow, never thought anyone would be able to stump that guy,” Kaminari said, kicking his feet up on Mina's worktable. Mina growled, shoving his muddy boots off the bright fabrics. Kaminari overbalanced and only just managed to stop himself from face planting, grabbing her chair tightly.

He shot Mina a dirty look but continued. “Bakugou’s basically like a bloodhound. I thought for sure he would have sniffed the thief out by now.”

Mina sighed. “I know! And it’s giving the servants ideas now, too. One of them stole Lady Yaoyorozu’s best gown right out of the laundry rooms last Sunday. The housekeeper’s had a right time of it trying to track down the culprit.”

You thought back to your own patrol on Sunday, but it hadn’t taken you anywhere down near the laundry rooms. Nishimura and Hasumi’d been on that route and you wondered if the theft had occurred right under their noses, the pair of fucking idiots.

“If I were the thief,” Kaminari said, “I would steal an entire tray of those little cinnamon buns cook Rikido makes.”

You laughed. You had yet to try one, but from the way the other soldiers waxed poetic about them, you didn’t doubt they were worth stealing.

“Ooh, I would pilfer those sweet cakes he does,” Mina said longingly. She looked as though she was thinking wistfully of a long lost lover.

You thought to yourself. If you were any kind of thief, you’d steal money, most likely, to send back to your family. Or maybe something of the captain’s to burn. You wondered if he cared enough for anything that you could get him to beg you for it back. You quite liked the image of him on his knees before you...

A chuckle from Kaminari brought you out of your fantasy.

“Maybe we should take up a life of crime,” he said.

Mina eyed him. “Think of how fast Bakugou would figure you out and say that again. He’s the smartest person in this entire castle.”

Kaminari winced. “On second thought, protecting and serving is my passion. I’ve never so much as looked at a stolen pastry. If someone approached me with one I’d report them straight to the captain.”

You’d heard from Mina exactly how the prince’s future bride had bribed her way into the mid winter ball, so you weren’t buying it.

“In other news,” Mina said, “The new servants' baths are finished. You lot might get to try them! I heard they’re only waiting on an inspection from the steward to open. Hagakure said she already snuck in for a dip in the ladies’ baths and just about melted.”

Your interest piqued. You hadn’t had more than a rushed scrub down in weeks, and if the baths weren’t open yet, your chances of being disturbed were few.

“Where are they?” you asked, trying not to look as interested as you felt.

Mina described their location and dropped the tantalizing fact that they’d been built over a natural hot spring just south of the castle. Mentally, you could feel yourself rubbing your hands together with glee. Maybe tonight you could soak away all the stress from the past few weeks.

Kaminari yawned in disinterest. “No wonder you’ve got such a girly face, L/N. You’re basically as bad as Mina.”

You scoffed. “There is nothing wrong with being clean.”

He raised a golden eyebrow. “You even sound like Mina.”

Mina patted your arm sympathetically. “Denki was born to repel women, L/N, don’t hold it against him. A woman likes a well groomed man. Keep it up and you’ll have your share of ladies hanging off you when you grow up.”

You stifled a laugh. You certainly hoped not.

Kaminari, however, looked absolutely incensed and he bit out a retort at Mina, storming out of her office and bodily dragging you with him. You suppressed a smile and followed him through the rest of your rounds, trying to look appropriately chastened when he told you off for not defending him.

You felt lighter than you had in ages, though, and you looked forward to an evening spent in the baths.

Late that evening, hours after everyone went to bed, you crept out of the barracks and followed a worn path to the south of the castle. The baths proved tricky to find in the dark, but soon enough you stumbled upon the entrance. In case Hagakure was around for another illicit dip, you stuck to the men’s side, not wanting to explain to the laundress why her friend the soldier suddenly had sprouted a pair of breasts.

You lit a match and followed its light into the steamy heat of a dark room. You pressed it to a set of sconces set into the wall which, when lit, revealed an open pool sunk into the floor of the room. The light wasn’t enough to see the bottom of the spring by, but you could see steam curling off the surface of the water and you shivered in delight.

You quickly undressed, leaving your clothes and your breast bindings in a neat pile by the side of the pool, and climbed into the dark water. The heat instantly loosened your shoulders, and you could feel what must have been months of tight knots unraveling within your muscles.

You let out a sigh and sank in up to the top of your head, letting the water sluice over your shoulders and hair. You grabbed for your soap and washed down thoroughly, luxuriating in a feeling of total cleanliness that you hadn’t felt in months.

Then you let yourself float, feeling near ecstasy in every single nerve where the warm water touched your skin. The gentle lap of the water against the side of the pool and the steam curling up around your face lulled you into a stupor.

Until the scrape of a boot at the entrance reached your ears. Cussing, you ducked back down in the water, swimming over to press your chest up against the side of the pool, your heart beating frantically like a frightened rabbit.

Your stomach dropped when light caught on a lock of unruly blonde hair, and Captain Bakugou slipped into view.

“Interesting place for me to find a soldier who’s supposed to be in their bunk,” he said, smirking. His eyes were bright in the torch light.

You wanted to rush out of the baths and leap into your clothes, but you could only hold still in fear as he stepped closer. He looked like he’d come from his own bed, only wearing a loose linen shirt over a pair of soft breeches, his usual uniform conspicuously absent. You tried to ignore the peek of a well defined pectoral through the low collar of his nightshirt.

“Captain,” you said quickly, “I, um...I couldn’t sleep.”

He moved to the edge of the pool, staring down at you. “And you think that means you can just defy my orders, pretty boy?”

You flushed. “No, sir. I’m sorry, sir.”

He looked you over, scarlet eyes running over your wet hair and shoulders. “You look awfully comfortable in there. Not gonna get out?”

Your heart shot into your throat. You couldn’t get out, not in front of him. Not if you didn’t want this whole charade to be ruined right here, right now. You didn’t know if Bakugou would knife a woman, but you didn’t want to take your chances and find out.

“I’m, um, embarrassed to, Captain,” you said by way of explanation. You stared at his boots, not daring to look up into his handsome face.

“Well aren’t you delicate, princess,” he quipped. His boots shifted and all of a sudden his face was in front of yours. You startled, shooting back from the rim of the pool, water sloshing loudly around you. You covered your chest protectively -- you didn’t know how well he could see in the low light of the torches but you didn’t want to test it.

A gleam of interest came into his eye and his gaze picked over you again. He looked disconcertingly curious, his head cocked to the side, like a wolf considering which part of the prey to tear into first.

To your horror, his hand moved to his shirt. Before you knew what he was doing, Bakugou grinned and pulled his nightshirt over his head. You had a glimpse of strong arms and a defined chest with a mouth watering set of abs before you panicked and whipped around, staring hard at the opposite wall.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice coming out high and squeaky.

“The fuck you think I’m doing, shrimp?” he asked. You heard the mortifying sound of his belt being undone and the scuff of his boots as he stepped out of them. “I’m testing something.”

“C-captain,” you said. “You’re not coming in here.”

You heard a low chuckle. “Don’t wanna share, princess?”

“Th-that’s not it!” you gasped, spine locking up as you heard his pants hit the ground. There was a slosh and water rushed over your back in a small wave. “Captain, this isn’t right.”

His rough voice was coming too near. “It’s a communal bath. We’re communally bathing. You some kind of pervert or something?”

You certainly felt like one if the way your eyes had tried to stay stuck to his chest was any indication. “And if I am?” you asked.

There was another low chuckle, this time right by your ear. “Awful shy for a pervert.”

You stood still, hardly daring to breathe. Your thoughts raced wildly from one topic to the next. What did he think he was doing? How were you going to get out of here without him figuring you out? If you pushed him, could you make it out of the baths before he caught you? If he caught you, what would he do?

A broad, hard chest pressed right against your back and your brain froze completely. You stopped breathing.

What was this? This was beyond teasing. What was the captain trying to accomplish?

“Still embarrassed?” he rumbled in your ear. A shiver went through you and your arms tightened around your chest, praying he couldn't see anything over your shoulder.

“This is the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to me,” you blurted. You tried to will your mind to disconnect from the nerve endings in your back. He was so, so warm.

He snorted, and there was a moment of hesitation before he sloshed away from you again. You sighed in relief as the heat of his body left your back. “Not counting you getting your ass kicked in the mess hall.”

Irritation flashed through and you would have rounded on him if you could have turned around. “I wasn’t getting my ass kicked.”

There was a splashing sound from behind you. “Oh, were you only pretending to be losing spectacularly?”

You clenched a fist under the water. “Look, why are you here?”

There was a beat of silence.

“You ain’t the only one who can’t sleep,” Bakugou admitted roughly, surprising you. You chanced a look at him over your shoulder, only to whip back around, shame-faced. Yep, his abs were still there.

“W-why can’t you sleep?” you asked for something to say, voice a little shaky. You cleared your throat.

“Why can’t you?” he asked.

You frowned. “I asked you first.”

He let out a low chuckle. “You’re such a pain in the ass.”

You could feel your cheeks heat, and you tamped down on an indignant so are you. A soldier didn’t talk to their commander that way, nor a peasant to a marquis.

“I’ll tell you if you tell me, princess,” Bakugou said. His voice sounded smug, like he knew what retort you were clamping down on.

You thought for a moment on what you could tell him. You couldn’t exactly admit to waking in the middle of the night to bathe without having your gender revealed. You could be vague, though, and still tell the truth.

“My family,” you said. “There were some things that, uh, led me to the kingsguard, and I was thinking about that.”

Bakugou seemed to accept that. “I was thinking about how I'll kill that thief nice and slow when I get my hands on him.”

You shivered despite the warm air of the bath house. The thought was unsurprising, but Bakugou being kept awake by it was. “You’re more bothered about this than I would have guessed.”

A loud, gusty sigh echoed from the other end of the spring. “They’re fucking with my territory. And they’re bothering the shit out of Shouto and his dumbfuck valet.”

“The prince?” you asked, surprised.

“He’s a...friend,” Bakugou admitted. You were somewhat shocked by the admission that Bakugou had anything like friends. You wondered what the prince was like, to be so unbothered by Bakugou’s rough manner. Or maybe Bakugou didn’t try his usual tack with a member of the royal family.

“I’ll kill anyone who fucks with him,” Bakugou growled quietly, “Or that green-headed little snot rag.”

You guessed he meant Midoriya, the valet. He sounded oddly protective for someone he called a name like snot rag. You wondered wildly if, despite the disturbing terms in which he spoke of them, he considered the prince and his valet something like family. It would explain why he was so bothered by the thief when he was normally so unflappable.

“I hope you find them,” you said, the sincerity in your voice surprising even you.

“Oh, I will,” he promised darkly. You shivered again.

A loud splashing from his end of the spring distracted you and you looked back over your shoulder, only get an eyeful of a very chiseled butt leaving the pool. You yelped, covering your eyes.

“What are you doing?” you gasped.

Another low chuckle reached your ears, along with the rustle of fabric. “Leaving. Didn’t you want that, princess?”

You took a breath. “Well--yes.”

There was more rustling. “I’ve had my fun with you,” he said, and you heard the scuff of his boots as he pulled them on again. “Don’t let me catch you out of your bunk again or I’m fucking discharging you.”

You nodded, heart beating wildly. Had you really gotten away with this? “Yes, sir,” you answered dutifully.

Bakugou let out another derisive snort. “Get to bed,” he said imperiously, and then he was gone.

You turned to stare after him, listening to the tread of his boots grow further away. Finally, as the sounded faded, your knees gave out and you sank back under the water, feeling horribly relieved, and yet more confused than you had ever been before.

You'd escaped, but...what the hell had just happened?

#bakugou x reader #fanfic #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #boku no hero academia #bakugou katsuki

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qvid-pro-qvo · 4 years ago

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vi. the call.

ocean’s eleven au. for funsies. aaron hotchner x female!reader. george foyet x female!reader..

word count: 1311

rating: e for everyone, because even the best of us have felt the sting of betrayal (no trigger warning. some slight violence in the beginning).

i. // ii. // iii. // iv. // v. // vi. // vii.

aaron feels the fist connect with his stomach just as the door to his holding room flies open.

he coughs, shaking his head, even though there’s nothing to clear. he can see shiny leather shoes in the corner of his eye, ahead of two pairs of boots, but gives himself a moment to catch some air before saying anything.

“foyet,” he mutters. swallows. clears his throat, so it can echo in the room. “george. how was the match?”

he doesn’t lift up on his own. refuses to, with the pettiest part of himself. if foyet wants to look him in the eye, he’ll need to work for it.

“let’s get up, aaron,” the man says tightly, and aaron has to fight a smirk again as he’s lifted by some extra muscle.

aaron groans with it. some added effect, shakes his head, pops his neck. he looks a mess, he knows, hair usually so carefully styled a mess on his head, something smudged on his cheek, sweat on his brow. but he still looks foyet in the eye, lifts his chin because he can.

“was this you?” foyet asks. he’s standing tall, hands on his hips, and he pushes on his toes as he looks at aaron, to match his height, to really look him in the eye.

“was what me, foyet?” aaron asks, coughing again. catching his breath.

there’s something burning in foyet’s gaze, something dangerous, a challenge that aaron meets with a single raised brow. the man takes a step closer, so that they’re almost nose to nose. “i won’t ask you again, hotch. was this you?”

there’s an answer he’s looking for.

it’s one aaron can’t give.

“foyet,” aaron sighs out, gives his best look of exasperation through his heavy breaths. lifts his hands to gesture to the nearly empty room. to stephen, who’s been beating the snot out of him for a minute or two. “i have no idea what you’re talking about.”

there’s a beat. a pause. george foyet measures up aaron hotchner with a look, and crosses his arms over his chest.

and then he hums.

“all right,” he mutters. still measuring aaron up, still doing his best to read the unreadable. “fine. you didn’t have anything to do with it. so, then. i guess you’re free to go, then.”

the door opens. the hallway is stark. white. bright. aaron winces at it.

“show him out.”

your heels can’t click on carpet. instead, it’s a very light thunk you hear as you pace, your eyes on your hand as you chew lightly on a nail.

watch television. that’s what rossi had said. but something keeps you from flicking the tv on, something makes your hand drop from your mouth and wring in your other one.

oh, god. who are you kidding? you know what the something is. you know who the something is. the same person who kisses your cheek to slide a phone into your pocket.

and george. you’re worried for him. even with the dismissal from before. something is happening, tonight, and you feel your chest tighten at the thought of something happening to both of the men –

no.

the man you care about. so… deeply.

you ignore the way that sentiment barely settles. shake your head. and then the phone rings, and you’re there, lifting the phone to your cheek.

“hello?”

it’s a cheery, bright voice, one who seems to delight in the development. “hello, darling. turn on the tv. channel 88.”

“who is this?” you shoot back. immediately. but just as soon as you say it, you know it’s moot. there’s no one else on the line, and you’re left with a choice.

it’s an easy one. you feel the remote calling to you, and your dress swishes around your ankles as you reach for it, lift it up, press the power button and 8-8 with sure fingers.

the picture is clear, but it’s not a tv show you’ve ever seen. your eyes narrow at the sight, because there, in front of you, are the two men on your mind, a hallway between them.

and all you can do is watch.

“what happened, foyet? someone rob you?”

it’s a taunt. it’s unlike aaron, the way it comes out, confident, cocky. his charisma is a silent one, but foyet doesn’t know him, no matter how much he pretends to in this moment.

“hold it” is what george says, and the two bodyguards stop, arms out to block aaron from going any farther.

on his heel, aaron turns, almost too ready for it. but it doesn’t matter, because that’s not what foyet sees. all foyet sees is his brow lifted on his head, the mild shock on his face from being told to stop so abruptly.

foyet crosses the hallway in long strides. it’s no time at all before the distance is closed again, with him looking up at aaron with that same calculating look.

“so. know something after all?” he asks, and aaron simply blinks. foyet scoffs at the look, but shakes his head. “one more chance, hotchner. did you have something to do with it?”

aaron lets his tiny smirk play this time, pairs it with narrowed eyes. “i could get you your money back. if that’s what you’re asking.”

he’s caught. foyet smiles, puts his hands on his hips.

“and if it is?”

“then you know the price.”

it’s left like that. in the air. because however much foyet thinks he knows, aaron gives it to him on a silver platter.

“your old flame,” foyet purrs, and the sound is nauseating. but aaron perseveres.

“what would you say? if that was the offer?”

there’s barely any hesitation. foyet just smiles.

“i’d say yes.”

it hits you like cold water, poured over your head. it soaks you, from head to toe, and you’re let almost gasping at it, a little opened mouthed as you stare at the television screen.

the offer had felt ridiculous. you’d almost scoffed at it, shaken your head, but george – he hadn’t blinked.

he hadn’t hesitated.

he’s still standing there, after all. entertaining it. a smile that you’ve seen before, the smile he gets when he thinks he’s won. it makes your stomach churn, and you’re moving without thinking, without needing to think.

you grab your clutch. you put on your coat. you straighten and stand tall. and your steps carry you out the door, even as you hear aaron’s voice drone on, as you hear george’s sharp reply. it’s not real words to you, just background noise, as your heels finally get tile to click on, the elevator as you press the button down, down, down.

it’s aaron. it has to be. all of it, every last minute of it. but it doesn’t matter, in that moment. nothing else does but getting out of there.

the first floor arrives with a flourish, a gentle voice telling you so. the doors slide open, with ease, and your gaze lifts from your painted toe nails to the sight of george standing before you. he looks murderous, looks furious, and your presence only dims it somewhat. but he seems to get that your eyes don’t warm when you look at him, that you hand on your clutch tightens in a white-knuckled grip.

you feel weak, almost for a moment. but then you see something like realization on his face, something like recognition of the absolute shit he said, and it’s oh, so easy to stalk past him.

he says your name. once, twice. intense, urging, but you only turn to meet his eyes, to give him a smirk that shows your teeth.

“you always tell me that in your hotel, someone’s always watching.” you can’t help your little empty laugh, the way you shake your head and turn away. “why did you think you’d be the exception, george?”

tag list: @crazyshannonigans // @quillvine // @hurricanejjareau // @winterscaptain // @writefasttalkevenfaster // @ssaic-jareau // @altsvu // @tamarastevie // @megans-txmblr // @anotherspencerreidblog // @mijop // @1234-angelika // @kelstark // @nuvoleincielo // @wanniiieeee // @arianmock13-blog // @averyhotchner // @barbasbodaciousbeard // @xxlovingfandomsxx

want to be tagged when i post a new fic? here’s the form!

#my fic #ocean's eleven au #george foyet x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #george foyet #female!reader #criminal minds #ocean's eleven

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veliseraptor · 4 years ago

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2020 Fanfiction Round-Up

I do one of these every year! And have since I think 2016. Can’t break a tradition even if it’s been a clusterfuck of a time and filling this out was in some ways an exercise in remembering the ways I have failed myself as a writer this year.

But oh well!

Total Year-Long Wordcount: I’ll post the final final number tonight after I finish the writing I want to do this afternoon (and plan to do this afternoon), but it’s currently 451,803 words written this year. Guessing I’m going to land somewhere around 453,000ish. (AO3 claims a higher number than that but that’s because it is counting the entirety of fics where I posted chapters this year.

This year I wrote and posted: I wrote a fair number more than I posted (there are five fics finished but for various reasons unposted on my hard drive) but based on Tumblr I posted 78 posts in my fic tag, which, not including chapter specific updates and three sentence meme answers (but including at least two Tumblr-only longer fics), probably comes out to about 60 or so “full length” fics that saw the light of day in 2020.

Overall Thoughts

Looking back, did you write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you’d predicted?

Well, I wrote more than I did last year, which is sort of a surprise to me (all things considered) but also maybe not, because I was doing a lot less of most other things that could’ve been occupying my time, including two hours daily of commuting.

But still less than I did in 2018. Which is fine.

What’s your own favorite story of the year?

Lord, I don’t know. It depends on when you ask me. Lately I’ve been in a bit of a “I hate everything I’ve written ever” state of mind, so that makes it sort of hard to do any kind of...reasonable assessment.

I know I’m proud of With Absolute Splendor but I have all these reservations about it and I can’t reread it for the most part because I always notice new things I wish I’d done differently. I feel pretty good about efforts in a common cause but something about it still makes me cringe, which I suspect has to do with my general self-consciousness. I have a hard time feeling unreservedly proud about...anything I wrote this year, really.

I feel like the closest I get is maybe nor autumn falter which I am pretty pleased with and also which does hurt me a lot personally. Or I did end up overall pretty pleased with what came out of By Proxy.

But also the more I look at this question the more I start hating all my own work, so...guess this is kind of coming at a bad time.

Did you take any writing risks this year? What did you learn from them?

I mean, I started writing in my first non-English fandom in many years, and specifically one where I was trying to engage more with the cultural background of the setting (in a way I wasn’t with, say, Death Note, when I was writing Death Note fic). So that was a risk. And I learned that it’s very stressful and there’s so many ways to make mistakes and I am, in many ways, a coward. But also I think I’ve learned a fair amount thanks to a lot of very patient people on the internet, so...there’s that.

Otherwise...I mean, I got ambitious with a few projects this year (the Big Bang fic and With Absolute Splendor stand out), but I’m not sure how much I really tried new things.

I feel like I had to fight myself a little on writing straight up bad sex for By Proxy - I planned on it being hot, and it really wasn’t. It was mostly just miserable. Which made for a better fic, but was a new experience for me as far as ‘I thought I was going to write porn and that isn’t what I wrote.’

From my past year of writing, what was….

My most popular story of this year:

By far, With Absolute Splendor. In fact, it has now become my second most kudosed fic of all time, behind only fuckin Life in Reverse. So like. That’s a thing.

(It is still less than half as many as Life in Reverse, but for context Life in Reverse has been around for going on eight years.)

Most fun story to write:

Most fics where I feel like “I’m having so much fun writing this!” also go through a “oh god I hate this it’s terrible” phase which makes this sort of hard to assess. But I did have overall a lot of fun writing Mutual Friends despite all my frustration with the canon-wrangling I had to do to make it work in my head.

But also I feel like both Retributive Justice and Embedded were in different ways deeply iddy fics that were just fun to write. That actually goes for a lot of the Whumptober fics. That was a very self-indulgent month. Excited to do it again in February (hopefully, if I can write things in a timely manner at all).

Story with the single sexiest moment:

I feel like the beauty of your repair might be my personal favorite smut I posted this year, but I think my personal favorite that I wrote is in the big bang fic nobody will see until January.

I feel like most of the sexiest moments I’ve written this year are in the porn fics I’m going to start posting in January also. But just generally I feel like the beauty of your repair is the sexiest thing I wrote and posted.

Most “Holy crap, that’s wrong, even for you” story:

I mean, I Come With Knives is definitely up there. It’s not that wrong or anything, but it got pretty intense in some ways I wasn’t expecting. Mostly in how much blood got involved, which was actually more than I’d had it involved in a sex thing before! Kind of surprises me that I haven’t previously done more with bloodplay stuff but. Well. First time for everything!

I don’t think this was a year that really had any “wow, what the fuck, Lise” things in it. Nothing on the level of last year’s winner. I’m almost disappointed in myself.

Abattoir was definitely the story that generated the weirdest conversation and creepiest search questions, though, so it does get points for that.

Story that shifted my own perceptions of the characters:

I feel like the writing of everyone else is spring bound was a lot of...me thinking through my Jiang Cheng feelings and specifically my Jiang Cheng post-canon feelings.

the martyr, the victim was pretty formative in shaping how I think about both Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji and their relationship with each other. It was the first fic I wrote that really dug into them in any way, I think, and definitely one that informed how I thought about writing Lan Xichen later.

Hardest story to write:

I was thinking it was the one that I haven’t posted yet but I did technically finish, aka my Big Bang fic, the terrible threesome fic, the massive “I’m gonna keep everyone in the Yi City arc alive” AU that I started shortly after finishing The Untamed and finished in December. So I spent most of the year writing it.

But then I was like - no, I’m going to have to go with we live until we die even though it’s technically been ‘in progress’ for five years and really kicked into gear in 2019 and I just finished it and posted it this year, because that fic was like. The culmination of a big arc in an enormous verse dealing with a whole lot of balls in the air and trying to tie up a whole lot of threads. It was ambitious and the stakes were high and it was full of plot and action which are not two of my strengths...frankly I’m still amazed I pulled the damn thing off.

Biggest Disappointment:

I think it is better if I refrain from going too in depth on this because it would just end up as me listing a bunch of my perceived failings. But I think off the top of my head I’m frustrated by the fact that I still haven’t really managed to write a XueXiao smut fic that quite hits the spot for me, myself. I’ve written two and for various reasons I don’t really like either of them.

Biggest Surprise:

The fact that my Jiang Cheng fic took off the way it did. Legitimately did not see that coming! At all! I mean, I’m delighted by it but it wasn’t what I saw happening as far as “niche I’d find in this fandom” or “thing I’d write that people would really enjoy reading.”

Particularly with By Proxy. That fic got a lot more attention than I would’ve expected.

Most Unintentionally Telling Story:

I feel like every fic I write with Xue Yang in it tells you something about me and most of those things are things that make me, on some level, deeply self-conscious, but I try not to think about that too much.

I feel like the most telling story is maybe we all drift sometimes because I literally wrote it out of a depressive episode about a bad brain day but that wasn’t unintentional.

Favorite Opening Line(s):

1. So it turned out that if you touched the tendons of a dead person’s wrist and channeled a little bit of spiritual energy just right, it made the fingers twitch and curl like they were still alive. (Abattoir)

2. Here’s the thing: your Daozhang is glorious when he kills. (tear out all your tenderness)

3. Turned out that a sect leader’s head came off like anyone else’s. (Unnatural Selection)

4. The first hint that anything had gone awry was the letter from Lan Wangji (His Excellency Hanguang-jun, pardon me) that simply said have you heard from Wei Ying? (some good mistakes)

5. What Jiang Cheng wanted to do, more than anything, was to go home and take a nap. (everyone else is spring bound)

Favorite Line(s) from Anywhere:

I usually keep this to 10 but because I’ve been in such a :| place about my own writing I indulged myself this once.

1. Sometimes it felt like all he had done since descending the mountain was shatter his own dreams and accumulate regrets. (nor autumn falter)

2. It felt like she was holding all the components of a bomb in her hands, half assembled. If she moved the right way they would stay just that: components. But if she moved the wrong way… (til my judgment day)

3. He should have killed him. Should have been the one to strike that blow, in revenge for Jin Zixuan and their sister and everyone else dead for Wei Wuxian’s pride. Maybe then there would not be this gnawing, aching thing embedded in his chest; this itching, unfinished feeling. Maybe then he would not feel torn in two, sometimes like he should have reached out with his other hand and sometimes like he should have struck truer and sometimes both, in the same moment. (Interstitial)

4. He owed Wei Wuxian more than he could ever give back in this lifetime. Forgiving him felt like betraying his sister’s memory. Not forgiving him felt like trying to walk with a thorn in his foot. He was just - stuck, caught like a demon in a spiritual net.

Jiang Cheng thought of the way Wei Wuxian looked at Lan Wangji, with warmth and trust and love, and the aching, sick jealousy he had no right to feel returned. He felt a little like a child watching someone pick up a toy he’d abandoned and suddenly realizing that he wanted it back. (everyone else is spring bound)

5. You close your eyes and think about how he looked back in that town, Shuanghua slicing clean through a man’s neck, opening it to the spine, and think dizzily that he could open you like that and it’d be good, as long as it lasted. (tear out all your tenderness)

6. When Wangji loved, he loved with his whole being, without reserve. And now he had been placed between the rock of his convictions and the hard place of his devotion to Wei Wuxian. (the martyr, the victim)

7. He spent a week turning the idea over in his head. Studying it like a corpse he was going to dissect, poking at it, cutting it open and examining its insides. (dead reckoning)

8. When the world hurt you, that was the only thing to do, after all. Hurt it back, harder, worse. Spill rivers of blood for every drop it squeezed from you.

And when the end came, never go quietly. (the blood in your mouth)

9. I would stand with you through the end of the world, said Loki’s voice in his head, and Steve’s heart wasn’t in his chest anymore, was somewhere off on another planet where Loki was lying dead in a ruined city. (we live until we die)

10. Was it always going to be like this? Stumbling into traps, tripping over familiar skeletons, slicing himself open on the edges of old hurts. Was there really such a thing as leaving the past behind? He still felt stuck in it, unable to move, and every time he thought he might be finally dragging himself free something pulled him back. (With Absolute Splendor)

11. His chest was full of poison. His throat was full of grief. And he was still a little drunk.

Jiang Cheng went to his room, sat down on his bed, put his face in his hands, and cried until he couldn’t breathe. (By Proxy)

Top 5 Scenes from Anywhere You Would Choose to Have Illustrated:

I think the scene from nor autumn falter of Xiao Xingchen just crying his heart out over Xue Yang’s dead body would be up there.

The Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian hug from the end of With Absolute Splendor.

Okay, just gonna say it: Xue Yang and Jin Guangyao having sex by the table with Nie Mingjue’s headless corpse on it. So sue me.

The scene in the blood in your mouth where Song Lan has stabbed Xue Yang and Xiao Xingchen is following the line of Fuxue to the latter. I have a very clear visual of it in my head and if I could art I’d art it.

Xue Yang with the hallucinatory Xiao Xingchen from liberate spirits, liberate souls.

Fic-writing goals for 2021:

Finish Walking Far From Home.

Maybe I’ll finish some of these MCU WIPs? I’d kind of like to, on an abstract level if nothing else.

Become a more well-adjusted human being about the relationship between my productivity and my self-worth.

#fanfiction round up #confessions of a frustrated writer #you'll get my fun statistical analysis nonsense later

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kanene-yaaay · 4 years ago

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Go Virge, go!

Kanene’s note: TODAAAAAAAAAY IS A SPECIAAAAAL DAYYYY!!! DO YOU KNOW WHY?? THAT IS RIGHT! BECAUSE TODAY IS @why-not-a-tickle-blog BIRTHDAY!!!! Gooooosh!!!! I know I already did a whole speech before, mah friendo, but you’re just so amazing and lovely! Aaaaaa I’m happy for being your friend! <33

Okay, I got a little carried away! Enjoy the gift! x3

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* This characters don’t belongs to me! They all belong to Thomas Sanders and his series Sanders Sides!

* This is a SFW Tickle-Fanfic, so, if you don’t appreciate this kind of content, please, look for another blog. There are a plenty of fabulous arts in this site!! ^w^)b

* Oneshot. Something around 3.800 words.w-)b. Lee!Virgil and Ler!Patton in Human AU.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any and every advice is very very welcome! \(-w-)/

* Since it’s a gift: Essa fanfic não será traduzida, mals. Thankys for reading, my lollipops, especially you, Livvy!! Have a wonderful and incredible day just like you!

[~*~]

Patton was confused. A lot.

And that wasn’t even a whole brand-new thing in his life.

Patton got confused quite frequently, being honest.

He got confused when he accidentally fell asleep on the couch and woke up four hours later with all his house painted in the dark of the night and without a single drop of memory about where he is or who he is for some minutes. Patton got confused when his attention was caught in some adorably adorable video of kittens being the best thing in the world and quickly ran to Virgil’s room just to show them to him, not understanding why his friend can’t stop looking at him quizzically until Virgil finally asks why does he has a spoon in the knot of his cardigan and Patton jumps because HIS COOKIES ARE IN THE OVEN AND HOW MUCH TIME HAD PASSED-

Oh. Wait. That is not what he was talking about. Focus, focus!

Anyway. Life is confusing, feelings, thoughts, actions, trying your best, keep going, look at the refrigerator just to realize you have no idea of what you were supposed to be searching in the first place, humans…

Yeah, especially humans.

Patton stared at the figure of his friend laid on the couch, absently looking at his phone while a piece of smile adorned his face. The movie both decided to watch paused in the background as the one currently in the kitchen waited for the popcorn get ready, his hand held lightly his chin and a frown rest peacefully in his features, mirroring the same expression he always saw on Logan every time he was confronted by a problem whose solution seemed impossible to find.

It was The Pose of all the incredible genius in the world, right? Therefore, in some moment about now the answers of all his questions should magically pop before him, unfolding and refolding in logic patterns just like in all the mystery series and books.

Right about noooow…

…

Now?

…

Well, it didn’t work.

Patton pouted, turning to pour the warm and probably delicious snack in big bowls that both would pretend they wouldn't be able to finish before even getting in the middle of the so expected movie. He grabbed the bowls and headed to the other room, reprising the entire day in his mind, a faint echo of Logan saying that could help basing his decision.

Everything started in the morning with Patton arriving at their breakfast table only to find Virgil, but not his usual Virgil.

That was a Virgil without his hoodie.

Not that it was a totally strange thing! Usually by his free mornings he would prefer to wander in the house on his comfortable pajamas, however the thing today is… he wasn’t on his pajamas. He was prepared to fight the world – actually Virgil was just going to work, but he said this sounded more badass - on his black Slipknot shirt, jeans and the hoodie nowhere near to be seen.

Besides that, today was predominantly cold. Cold enough for the one wearing glasses end up missing his favorite cat cardigan by the time he arrived their house, searching for the so dearly craved cloth in every little corner until Patton came across the scene of his friend - his best edgy, lovely friend cutely wearing it and being equally playfully bratty when tried ask it back, pulling out his tongue out as his form dazed in a chase the moment Patton’s promise of ‘physically fight for it!’ – which was a lie, obviously. He gave up the vestment the very moment his eyes locked in a Virgil playing with the cat ears sewed in it – flew from his mouth.

And, after getting tired out, they cuddled! Okay, this wasn’t nearly a strange occurrence between both, albeit was one of those rare moments when Virgil was the one who initiated it, laying on his lap with a pout and a sharp look, as if he dared the other to say something (and Patton didn’t!! He swears!! Squeals. Do. Not. Count. As. Words.), feeling comfortable enough to even start a Poking War as they were accommodating themselves on the cushions, rays of giggles, squeaks filling the place for some heartbeats before both decided to metamorphose their last bit of routine into a movie night.

Which was exactly what they were doing!

Now, don’t get Patton wrong. He was absolutely delighted by everything! Knowing Virgil felt comfortable, safe enough to act nonchalant around him was so heart-warming he could almost feel himself melt in happiness!

….But…

But there was this signal in the back of his mind. A particularly different gleam in the other’s eyes he had already seen before, however couldn’t quite place its meaning yet. Some words unpronounced amongst his lightly snarky demeanor. Some little thing that made Patton feel playful and happily bubbly as well, except he couldn’t really grab the exact information, the exact why or the exact memory.

Not yet, at least.

[~*~]

Virgil was about to fucking quit it.

No, actually, he was about to fuck quit everything when he woke up of his incredibly, horrible, wonderfully teasy tickle dream. The tingles of the dreamy tickles still ghostly buzzing on his body as he quietly giggled, burying his face in the pillows and kicking about everything on his bed, eyes firmly closed as the memories bathed his mind in a flow made to increase awfully his lee mood.

And then one of his favorite artists posted some new things on Tumblr, which obligated him to see all their new posts and, who knows, accidentally click in the tag ‘My arts’ of them, which end up with him re-finding other works he had already forgot about, path that consequently leaded to some more reblogs and therefore another bunch of tickle blogs which, of course, made his lee mood at work almost unbearable.

At least he had the cold to blame if someone questioned about the persistent blush spread on his features.

After everything, finally: The calm and quiet of home, broken by his determined decision to try to make – somehow - Patton tickle him. His friend was soft and playful by nature, and he already knew Virgil liked tickles (quite of an interesting story involving a meme, a movie and the power going out. Heh. Do not ask about it.) so, I mean, the worst part was already gone, right? It wouldn’t probably be that bad. Virgil would just act naturally, smoothly following a few advices he found in some blogs discussing this topic and hope, for the sake of his life, the Universe wouldn’t follow Murphy's Law for ONCE.

Of course, that didn’t happen. OF COURSE.

Virgil tried first to be a bratty. He stole Patton’s cardigan and even ran across the house in an attempt to maintain his new possession. He stretched while laid in Patton’s lap: no hoodie, ticklish spots right there. In the last shot he even let himself giggle every single time his mind wandered to the dark corner designed especially for the subject. The one wearing smudged make up even started a poke war!! A poke war!! What kind of poke war doesn't evolve to a tickle war where he would, so sadly and despise his best efforts, lose spectacularly??

He crossed his arms and DID NOT pout, blowing grumpily some strands of hair that fell in his vision’s field.

“I would sell my soul for a tickle.” Virgil growled, his usually careful façade crumbling under the quite persistent thoughts of fingers spidering on his ribs, counting each one of them before lazily dragging the tip of the nails to his quivering tummy, dancing and poking unbothered by his squi-

“What was that?”

Virgil squeaked, jumping some centimeters in the air when the voice of his approaching friend filled the room, the words getting stuck in his throat, his head shooting in the other’s direction, wide eyes.

“What.” He eloquently offered.

“I was too far, didn’t hear what you said, sorry. Could you repeat, please?”

Virgil tried – failing - to not blush. Patton was… actually being serious, right? That wasn’t any kind of tease, even if the traitor little demon he usually called brain unhelpfully unlocked all the memories of all the tickle fanfics he read that began with that exact same words. “Nothing. It was nothing.” He promptly ignored the way his voice came out slightly high.

“Oh, okay!” Patton kindly smiled, putting the popcorn on the coffe table and looking for some space on the couch to lay down while Virgil pressed play, the show’s opening quickly filling the air and silence hanging between both. Patton stopped. Suddenly Virgil felt a shiver run across his whole body, his gaze turning to his friend, only to find the one wearing glasses staring at him intently.

“You like tickles.”

The word only was enough to jolt his body back to a sitting position, butterflies starting to wake up, proceeding to fly the most desperate as possible in his stomach, his brain fuzzing, crumbling for answers of How and When and What the Fuc-

“What? NO! I mean, yes but how- when did you just…”

“Oh!” Patton gasped and Virgil felt his whole face in flames once the realization of the shiny gleam in the other’s eyes, almost as literal stars shining, hit him. Maybe… Maybe something he had done before finally work? “That is why you initiated a Poke War? Were you trying to make me tickle you? Vee, you just needed to ask!”

Yep. No. Nope. No way. That was definitely worse.

Virgil tried to hide himself in his hoodie, deciding he could very much rather perish in his Lee Mood than stare at the pure love and awe gazed right in his direction. His lips curving in a shadow of a smile for a second when he pressed himself further on the furniture, noticing with a grumble leaving his mouth the only armor he owned was the cat cardigan. Hood pulled up and his face firmly pressed on his knees, he ignored the way his excited giggles started to bounce and dance in his throat, resulting in his own body bounce a bit.

“Knock knock…” Virgil felt a light tapping on his knee.

“Fuck off.” The hissed answer ran without letting he even think about it, too much occupied in pretending to not notice how much this position left his entire tickl- I mean, sensitive torso vulnerable and how much not seeing what was happening increased second by second the tingles and shivers crazily racing in his skin.

“Gasp! Virgil!” The one dying in the cat cardigan internally rolled his eyes at the literally audible gasp his friend vocalized, almost being able to see the playful mood taking over his expression as it always has when they swore around him. “I should tickle you for this, Mister Potty Mouth!” Yes. Yes!! Come on, come on! “But I won’t.”

Hey now, what.

“What?!” His head shot upwards absurdly fast, a fact which, obviously, he would deny it to the end of his living and non-living days.

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to hide or ignore your desire for tickles every time you have them! Especially…”

‘Please – see? I know how to use some freaking good words. - Please don’t say what I think you’re going to say, Patton. You’re cool, you’re a funny guy, you have good intentions but you have any ideas of what the fuck will happen??’ Virgil found himself almost pleading, the sentences already running in his head, but his lips firmly gripped in the fear to let out more than these simple words.

“… Since I’m totally okay in tickling you! Oh, wait. Did you just squirm? Aww, Virgil!! That is so, so adorable! You’re blushing, too! Awwwwww!!! Okay, okay, okay, I’m… Imma gonna die of cuteness. You’re truly the most precious being I’ve ever met!!! Wait, what I was just saying…?”

‘I will die! No! I’m already dying! See? You already accomplished what you wanted!! Let’s move on to the next damn part!’

“Oh right!” Patton lightly hit the side of his head. “I’m glad to tickle you! Truly! All you have to do is…”

‘Dude, Patton, Pat-Pat, Popstar don’t…’

“Ask me! Please, please, please!!” Virgil stared him dead in his eyes, crossing his arms, his cheeks so hot that he was surprised his face didn’t melt yet. “Aw, don’t give me that look, kiddo!” Virgil just narrowed his eyes further. Patton pouted, his ‘Puppy Eyes�� expression – more like an unfair weapon - showing and nailing cracks on Virgil’s resolution.

They stayed like this for a while, until Patton abruptly lifted his hands, his fingers wiggling on Virgil’s direction, the movement so out of blue that catched his friend out of guard, a true yelp jumping from him before he grumpily growled and let himself fall on the cushions.

“I can’t.”

“Of course, you can, kiddo! I’m rooting for ya! Wanna see?” And then he started to fold and unfold his fingers, approaching them to Virgil inch by inch “Go Virge, go! Go, Virge, go! Goooo, Virgeyyyy, go!” Inch by inch. Close and then even closer. The boy with a wobbly smile in his face felt like he couldn’t tear his eyes from the movements, the butterflies seeming to freak out in his stomach in the rhythm of the cheers.

He hides his face behind his hands. Patton was going to be the end of his existence.

“Stohop it.” Dammit. He was breaking.

‘Come on, guy! You can do this!’ He internally whined.

“Ooh, is that a beauty giggly giggle what I hear? The cheering should be working then, don’t you think?! We believe in you, Virge-poo! And we can’t wait for when we…” Virgil dared to spy the scene between his fingers, only to see Patton’s hands barely touching his sides, his fingers positioned in a claw shape. “… getcha, getcha, getcha, getcha, getcha, getcha!!” They suddenly moved, clawing unbearably away and terribly close at each couple of words.

No. Virgil did NOT squeal nor squirmed closer to the fingers. Fuck you. Nobody asked. That is none of your business anyway.

‘Just… just don’t think about it! Pull it off. Like… I don’t know! Like a stupid band aid!’

“It is going to be so much fun! I didn’t even tickle you yet and you’re already giggling excitedly! Think in all your wonderful, beautiful laughter flying everywhere when I finally tickle, tickle, tickle, tickle you silly!! You’ll be giggling up a storm! Happy gasp! Pun inserted!”

Virgil obligated himself to take a deep breath and not stare the warm, teasy hands which were oblivious of the intern turmoil caused as they rested on his sides. Their tips very lightly, almost impossible to feel and – even more difficult to ignore - poking the ticklish skin, as if they simply couldn’t bring themselves to stay still. The one laid on the couch and yet hiding his face felt the urge to kick just to get off all the pleasantly nervous energy building up in his body.

“Virgey-wiggly-wiggley…~”

“TICKLEMEPLEASE!”

Patton squeaked excited, the teasy grin immediately giving space to the joyful smile. “Of course!” He grazed his fingers up his sides to his ribcage, the nails lightly drawing circles around each one of the ribs, receiving a quick tasering in the middle of them before going up to the next one, letting for a piece of moment Virgil’s bubbly and more high-pitched giggles fill the room alone.

The cat cardigan owner ran the tip of his fingers up and down, up and down, up and down his sides, watching in complete awe the way the other squirmed at each infinitesimal move. He stopped the movement on his right side, his eyes gleaming behind the lenses as accompanied Virgil adorably wiggling away from the reminiscent tickles, as if he tried to escape from the evil fingers scribbling in that exactly spot which connected his left side to his tummy and leaded cute, sweet titters escape from his gigantic smile.

A devious plan shinned in his head.

Patton ceased the tickling in order to give him a breath, smiling at the pout that didn’t take too long before blooming in the other’s features.

He quickly poked his left side, immediately hearing quiet, bubbly giggles dance across the air as Virgil wiggled to his right, only to be warmly welcomed by scratches of one single finger on his lower back, making his breath stop so fast a snort escape. Virgil widened his eyes, his hands automatically clapping in his mouth at the same time a big, gleaming grin took over Patton’s expression. They stared at each other, fingers never stopping, squirms never ending.

“No.” His voice was slightly wobbly, giggles beginning to intertwine his words as his friend scribbled softly again. “No no no! You are a- dON’T!- such a dork!!! No!!”

They initiated the cycle again. Every time Virgil squirmed to escape from the left tingles to the right tickles one more finger was added to the attack, soon leaving the blushed poor victim kicking sporadically when the ten fingers resumed their light, tickly attack. “I’m going t-t-to kick you!!” and then was subdued to the snorts and squeals painting his fast titters.

The one who wore the cat hoodie which moments before had slipped from his head in the ““fight””, now showing clearly the red strongly flaming his cheeks and the tip of his ears shook his head from side to side, the frown he tried to form being immediately won by the smile taking over his features. Virgil let himself embrace the feeling completely over, laughing freely, almost doesn’t believing this was actually happening.

That it didn’t matter how much he tried to escape nor squirm, the tickling just followed his movements, just as all his (fake) protests didn’t stop the excited, evil teases pouring from the other’s mouth. Not to tell how only the big, happy gaze from Patton was definitely not helping in the slightest his current state at all!

He was certain. There was no way out of this. He was going to melt and d i e.

And he was loving every single second of this.

“Aww! Tickle, tickle, tickle, Virge!! Look at the happiness shining in your face!! Someone really, really loves some tickly-tickles, am I right? But don’t worry, Virgey-wiggley! I will give you all the tickles you could ever want! Like here!” He booped Virgil’s bellybutton “Here” A couple of fingers slid on his waistline “And here, and here, and here and everywhere!” Fingers flew quickly, traveling on his hips, collarbone, sides, behind his ears…

The incapacity to know where Patton would strike next killed every single drop of coherent thoughts of his mind, which could only focus on the tickling and how much it was unbearable and everywhere and it t i c k l e d . His giggles grew to chortles, his hands flying from his own face to lightly push Patton’s, dislocating his glasses and freeing surprised chuckles mixed with his own squeaks.

“Virgil!!” Patton ceased the playful attack in order to retire the other’s hands off his face, before both knew they’re wrestling, laughter cutting their acts and weakening their movements. “Virge!! I will go to another spot this way!”

In a blink of an eye one of his friend’s arms hugged his sides and Patton felt a malefic grin crawling his lips without even noticing its presence. Very much different from Virgil, who in the same heartbeat realized his mistake, using the opportunity of the instant of distraction to lightly push the cookie lover off him, quickly dashing across the house. All his instincts gleaming and sparkling the sign of ‘Survive’ in his veins.

The only reason of what Virgil forgot about the numbness from spending so much time laid on his legs, resulting in trips that definitely made him lose some crucial speed as he encircled the couch, capturing with the corner of his eyes the scene of Patton jumping of the cushions and following his escape route. The crackling dancing in the air owned by nobody specific.

His heart beat faster, the joy raced his nerves and made his tummy tingle in advance just for imagining the exact moment where two arms would hug him firmly yet gently from behind and his ears would be set on fire the very same moment Patton would say-

“Gotcha, Giggly Storm! I gotcha, gotcha ya!!” Patton dug his thumbs right above Virgil’s hips, the remaining fingers clawing the poor, sensitive skin in his back, leading belly laughter to took over his friend’s sentence, his knees buckling and legs uncontrollable kicking as Patton sat with him on the floor, pressing his back on his chest and resting his head on his shoulder.

“Patton!! Pahahatton, come on, no!” Patton just hummed, two fingers calmly walking on Virgil’s waistline. “Don’t you dare!! Don’t you fuckin- gah!” The nails began to slid in the length of the belly, going from a side to another as elected soft snorts and bouncy giggles.

“Tickle, tickle, tickle, Virge!! Did you thought you could run away from the Tickle Monster? Poor unfortunate soul ~. Now the Tickle Monster has to give you a bunch of more ticklish tickly tickles just for this, don’t you think?!” And then Virgil felt the tickles speed up to scribbles and clawing and wiggles delivered in every inch of his tummy. Going in random patterns, drawing forms on his sweet spot, up and down, from a side to another, over and over again. Quick enough to make him sporadically squirm and kick, a rain of squeals, yelps and squeals flowing from his lips, yet soft and light enough to let him rest his head on the other’s chest and just enjoy the feeling.

“Awww! Look at how much shaking your tum-tum is! It is probably so happy in receiving its so much craved tickle tickle tickles, right, Virgey-poo?” The answer was only a blushy Virgil hiding his face on Patton’s neck, giggling nonstop.

“Nonono!! It’s not!” And, if that move only led to a now very exposed neck to be gifted with some special scratches? They both pretended it wasn’t on purpose.

Patton just rolled his eyes, playfully exasperated, quietly chuckling when the other jumped with the quick squeeze delivered on his hip.

It didn’t take long before Virgil let out his first ‘Stop’, which Patton happily obliged, don’t having the heart to move when he realized Virgil’s breath becoming calmer, his eyelashes closing as he snuggled closer to the one wearing glasses.

The duo knew very well they would probably regret napping on the hard, cold floor later, yet none of them managed to bring themselves to care, especially when Virgil’s quiet snorts with the second tickle dream of the day lullabied Patton to an equally peaceful dream.

[~*~]

Random non-said thing: Patton only remembered that information because the movie they’re going to watch was one of the trilogy they were watching when Virgil gathered up enough will to tell him he likes tickling.

#Happyyy dayyyyy <333 #Sanders Sides tickling #Kanene's fanfic #Kanene's Au #Lee!Virgil #Ler!Patton #I just realized the title sounds like that cartoon Go Diego go. Not changing it looool xDDD #Ticklish!Virgil #Soft and Playful tickles #Cute #This is so cute because they're precioooous #Tickle fic #Tickle fanfic #Kanene's Art #Sanders SIdes Human AU #<3 #<33 #I really liked writing this one <33 #Sanders Sides tickles

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daleisgreat · 4 years ago

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Shawn Michaels: The Showstopper Unreleased

WWE has release a few Shawn Michaels DVDs over the years, but continuing on the theme of my last few wrestling-centered entries, WWE Home Video stuck with their “unreleased” brand of DVDs in 2018 with the three-disc release of Shawn Michaels: The Showstopper Unreleased (intro - I could not locate a trailer for this anywhere!). In that clip Shawn quips that the producers deserve an award for finding previously unreleased matches. I believe the criteria for this release is still similar to previous “Unreleased” collections where they may have aired on television (and thus likely in the WWE Network archives) or long discontinued VHS tapes, but this DVD will mark the first time the matches are available on disc. Also included is a new interview with Michaels that they broke up in several parts and sporadically inserted throughout the collection. The first disc is something special as it essentially is a “Best of Rockers” DVD. The first two matches are from Shawn’s rookie year in 1985 for Mid-South in quick enhancement matches for Hector & Chavo Guerrero and Jake “The Snake” Roberts. Matches serve their purpose, but it is nonetheless fascinating to see how Shawn had that already apparent potential in him way back in 1985. The remaining 11 matches on the first disc are all Rockers matches, with the first three tag matches being from their Midnight Rockers AWA days with two bouts against Doug Summers & Buddy Rose and one more with Brian Knobbs & Dennis “I’m not booked” Stamp. The two Summers & Rose matches are show-stealers that had exhilarating beginning/middle/end structures, and was fun to watch the 1980s crowd go nuts for.

The first disc is almost all AWA & WWF Rockers matches!! For the eight WWF Rockers matches, they consist of almost an all-star lineup of a golden age for WWF tag teams where they square off against the likes of Demolition, Brain Busters, Hart Foundation, Natural Disasters and Legion of Doom. The sad thing about The Rockers back then is that as charismatic and agile as they were back then, they mostly made other teams look good in their WWF run and that is the case here as they lose six of those eight WWF matches. Even worse is the two matches they win is a DQ win against the Rougeaus after Jimmy Hart’s megaphone is used, and a countout win against the Orient Express. That said, a lot of the other matches are pretty damn good, with high honors going to the Brain Busters bout, two Demolition matches and surprisingly working in a lot of good stuff against Legion of Doom. Worth pointing out is another good match against the Hart Foundation where it seems noticeable the teams missed their cue to go home because the match starts to feel there is no end in sight when out of nowhere during an abdominal stretch a bunch of wrestlers run in and an awkward impromptu brawl ensues and the match is declared a draw.

Disc two has 12 matches from Shawn’s first singles WWF run from 1992-1998. Some highlights from this are an unsurprising technical showcase with Mr. Perfect, oddly having a positive dynamic with Bret Hart to team up against the Blu Brothers in 1995 and predictable-yet-high quality formula matches during his first WWF Title run against 1-2-3 Kid and Steve Austin. Disc two has a disappointing triple tag elimination match with Shawn, Diesel and Undertaker against Psycho Sid, Tatanka and Kama filled with lots of stalling and headscratching booking for the eliminations. There is also a questionable match against Vader a month after their controversial-yet-excellent Summerslam match, where in this match Shawn takes 95% of the offense and quickly squashes Vader in three minutes. There is also a fascinating bout against Yokozuna from the summer of 1996 in Kuwait, when Yoko is nearing the end of his WWF run due to him putting on excess weight, and the match kind of expectedly plods along, until something must have clicked for Shawn to motivate Yoko into a pretty watchable match in the back half, and the two show respect afterwards which was awesome to see….until Yoko suddenly darts off to the back like he really has to go to the bathroom. The third disc consists of 10 matches from Shawn’s return run to WWE from 2002-2010. All the matches here are from RAW, so that means they follow the formula that still holds true for WWE TV main events today where it is either a cobbled together tag match, or a really good one-on-one match with interference or a hokey finish. There are a couple exceptions with worthwhile clean matches against Ric Flair during a Japan 2005 tour and against Christian in 2004 when he was building momentum with Tyson Tomko by his side. HBK’s matches against Rob Van Dam, Kurt Angle and Chris Jericho are the highlights on disc three, but all three contests have varying degrees of interference to effect the finishes, and in some cases it actually benefits the match as is the case with Angle with the story they were telling. I was delighted to see a post-RAW dark match included with Shawn teaming with Batista against Triple H and Edge. WWE is notorious for usually doing a fun untelevised promo or bonus match for the fans after the cameras go off the air with some quirky moments that would never fly in a televised match. That is the case here with Triple H doing lots of exaggerated selling and fun jawing with the crowd that absolutely ate it all up for a fun time.

Shawn didn't disappoint in his 21st century run, with matches included here that don't disappoint against Ric Flair and Kurt Angle. A couple of promos are uncovered like Shawn doing an open Q&A with the fans when Sensational Sherri was managing Michaels early in his singles run. Another amusing bonus promo is Shawn and Diesel doing a Times Square workout session to hype up their upcoming WrestleMania 11 match with the one-and-only Todd Pentigill hosting. The several interview clips inserted throughout the DVDs has Shawn hitting on certain parts on where he was at that stage in his career and reflecting on the infamous Barber Shop break-up with Marty, his 2002 return, rebooting a less edgy, more goofball version of DX in 2006 and retiring in 2010 (this was filmed before his ill-fated Saudi Arabia return match). From these series of introspections, it was fascinating to hear Shawn think back on why he was not all-in for teaming with Jose Lathario in his WWE Title run, and hearing him settling on being a family man in retirement and turning down multiple

WrestleMania return matches. There are also a few sets of interviews with NXT talent commenting on how lucky they are to have Shawn as a teacher at the WWE Performance Center. Shawn comments a few times here too on being proud of passing on his knowledge, and it is obvious he is genuine on his passion for his new role building talent in NXT. WWE has once again amassed another recommended collection of un-vaulted matches. I am digging this format following the Piper and Macho Man sets where they break up the action every few matches with a set of interviews. Wort mentioning is about a quarter of the 35 matches here have no commentary because they were either dark matches, or from arena shows WWE use to film at regionally in the 80s and 90s and never recorded commentary for and/or lost the rights for the commentary. While there are some skippable matches, the good-to-bad ratio is largely in the positive here, and the not-so-good bouts usually at least have an entertaining backstory or era they emanate from. This all adds up for Shawn Michaels: The Showstopper Unreleased being another must-have installment of the Unreleased branding. Past Wrestling Blogs Best of WCW Clash of Champions Best of WCW Monday Nitro Volume 2 Best of WCW Monday Nitro Volume 3 Biggest Knuckleheads Bobby The Brain Heenan Daniel Bryan: Just Say Yes Yes Yes DDP: Positively Living Dusty Rhodes WWE Network Specials ECW Unreleased: Vol 1 ECW Unreleased: Vol 2 ECW Unreleased: Vol 3 Eric Bishoff: Wrestlings Most Controversial Figure Fight Owens Fight: The Kevin Owens Story For All Mankind Getting Rowdy: The Unreleased Matches of Roddy Piper Goldberg: The Ultimate Collection Hulk Hogans Unreleased Collectors Series Impact Wresting Presents: Best of Hulk Hogan Its Good to Be the King: The Jerry Lawler Story The Kliq Rules Ladies and Gentlemen My Name is Paul Heyman Legends of Mid South Wrestling Macho Man: The Randy Savage Story Memphis Heat NXT: From Secret to Sensation NXT Greatest Matches Vol 1 OMG Vol 2: Top 50 Incidents in WCW History OMG Vol 3: Top 50 Incidents in ECW History Owen: Hart of Gold Randy Savage Unreleased: The Unseen Matches of the Macho Man RoH Supercard of Honor 2010-Present ScoobyDoo Wrestlemania Mystery Scott Hall: Living on a Razors Edge Shawn Michaels: My Journey Sting: Into the Light Straight Outta Dudley-ville: Legacy of the Dudley Boyz Straight to the Top: Money in the Bank Anthology Superstar Collection: Zach Ryder Then Now Forever – The Evolution of WWEs Womens Division TLC 2017 TNA Lockdown 2005-2016 Top 50 Superstars of All Time Tough Enough: Million Dollar Season True Giants Ultimate Fan Pack: Roman Reigns Ultimate Warrior: Always Believe War Games: WCWs Most Notorious Matches Warrior Week on WWE Network Wrestlemania III: Championship Edition Wrestlemania 28-Present The Wrestler (2008) Wrestling Road Diaries Too Wrestling Road Diaries Three: Funny Equals Money Wrestlings Greatest Factions WWE Network Original Specials First Half 2015 WWE Network Original Specials Second Half 2015 WWE Network Original Specials First Half 2016 WWE Network Original Specials Second Half 2016 WWE Network Original Specials First Half 2017

#Wrestling #Shawn Michaels #the rockers #wwf #WWE #awa #marty jannetty #ric flair #kurt angle #Christian #Bret Hart #diesel #psycho sid #dennis stamp #jake roberts #mr. perfect

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silentauroriamthereal · 5 years ago

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Five favourites

So, @totallysilvergirl and @anindoorkitty and at least one other lovely person (I’m so sorry that I’ve forgotten who you were!!!) tagged me in a thing that I wasn’t going to do it, because picking only FIVE favourites out of EIGHTY-SIX fics feels like an unusually cruel task to set before me, but I’m caving to the pressure. I thought about rebelling and doing ten, because I do have a significant output here (just tipped 2.3 million words!!)... but then it gets even harder to choose! This was still just so, so hard. If someone asked me “if I could only read five of your stories ever, which five would you prefer that to be?”, I GUESS I would give them these ones. And yes, I can count. It’s six. Deal with it.

Against the Rest of the World. I mean, you knew this would be on here. It’s my longest story (in this fandom, at least), clocking in just below 152,000 words. It took me four solid months of working on it daily to write. It’s in first person voice, which is something I’ve almost never done for any other character apart from Sherlock, but writing it that way made it feel like I was living directly inside his head for those months. I missed him when the story was over. It’s the fic upon which my unpublished novel is based. It took me more location research than anything else I’ve ever written. Every single place in there, be it a street, restaurant, hotel, store, etc, is a real place. Much of this story was set in countries that has not (yet?) permitted google maps access. That added to the challenge for sure. It’s not perfect and may well not be my best writing ever, but this thing was a beast to write! I was updating with new chapters on average every six days. I never want to live like that again, which is why I never post unfinished WIPs anymore - I can’t handle the pressure! I might post it in chunks, but it’s always finished first.

Bridging the Ravine. I just found this universe so much fun to live in! It has a record number of named OCs (over 20, I believe!), some of whom are fully-fledged people who come back in the sequel, etc, plus the luxurious atmosphere of the spa-like retreat centre, the added bonus of getting to write Sherlock and John some much-needed therapy following series 4, the need to pose as a couple for the case anyway (fun fact: this was my first time ever knowingly writing a known trope!), the unabashed romance of it... yeah. It was fun. :)

The Wisteria Tree. For sheer emotional impact alone, I think this is some of my best writing. Multiple readers have told me that they cried throughout. I hadn’t even known that “amnesia fic” was a Thing was out there, in my sheltered little life over here! The concept of this story is that Sherlock suffers memory loss spanning over five years and wakes up from a coma to discover that, in that time, he and John got married. His furious attempt to retroactively catch up to the person he had become is both painful and, I hope, romantic as John struggles with having lost what they had, too. But they find their way.

Scars. If you want to see how dark my writing can go, look no further. There’s a scene in this story I finished writing, stood up even as I was closing my laptop, put on shoes and walked out of my apartment. I just had to get physically away from the fic. I did a heap of research on this one, too, specifically following the questions of: was Mary’s behaviour toward John in series 3 (this was written before series 4 aired) gaslighting and emotionally abusive? And if it was, how does that behaviour typically play out in female->male spousal abuse situations? I talked to three different therapists, only one of whom had seen Sherlock. I showed the other two the opening scene between John and Mary in HLV and without hesitation, they both agreed that it was absolutely textbook gaslighting. I asked all three of them how, if left unchecked, abusive relationships of that nature typically progress. This story goes there, and it’s ugly. It gets to a good place by the end, but there’s a journey you have to endure first. I’m proud of this one notwithstanding, particularly of a scene in chapter 5 (where Sherlock finds out the full extent of what happened). But omg, read the warnings first if you haven’t read this one and are thinking of trying it!!

Vena Cava. I have written so very many series 3 fix-its. I love all of them for their own reasons, but if you put a gun to my head and made me choose my favourite of them, it would still be this one. The dual hurt-comfort structure (Sherlock is suffering physically from Mary’s shot; John is suffering emotionally from it), the fact that it’s all set within HLV, and the bathroom kiss scene just put it up there for me.

The White Lotuses. A classic example of a SilentAuror domestic comfort fic! So much good food in this story, plus a delightful (I hope!) slow burn. A go-to for a bad day that needs salvaging. :)

Honestly, ask me again on a different day and I’ll give you five (or six!) totally different stories. This is too hard!! Seriously, so mean. Lol.

#writer stuff #sherlock #johnlock #silentauror

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knittingdreams · 4 years ago

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Fireheart - Chapter 6

Short and sweet update today! The rest of the chapters are easy to find on my blog, there’s not many posts up yet n_n And remember, you can read more on Ao3, I uploaded a new chapter there today too! :D

CHAPTER 6

Reminiscing

The days turned into a week, and Celaena wasn’t any closer to finding out anything about what had happened with her family. She had managed to settle into a good routine, her body was almost used to daytime, and a little golden glow was starting to show on her cheeks and hands as well as her legs, the only parts of her body that were seeing the light of day.

She was making up a plan to sneak into the top floor, where Dorian’s father's penthouse was, when she heard the front door of her suite creaking open. She stood up slowly and moved over to the wall, pressing her body behind her bedroom door, waiting. She listened to the light steps on the hallway getting closer, and her legs flexed a bit without even thinking about it. She had no weapons in hand, but she didn’t need any. She waited, crouching, listening.

As soon as the steps were on the threshold, they stopped, and Celaena could see the shadow of a man lurking, looking around the room, probably surprised to see it empty. Had Arobynn sent someone to check on her? Or had anybody found out about her? She didn’t have time to think about it because the figure jumped into the room, closing the door behind him in a quick motion and leaving her without cover.

“Gotcha!” A known voice yelled, and Celaena’s fist stopped mid-air as a palm collided against it.

“For fuck sake, Cortland!” she screamed. “What the fuck are you doing here? And why would you sneak up on me like that?” She took a step back, looking at Sam up and down and frowning as he let go of her fist.

“For fun?”

Celaena pressed her palms against her face, not able to believe this intrusion to her privacy. Once the shock was gone, she walked over to her bed and dropped into it again, resuming her relaxed position from only a minute ago.

"So, are you going to explain what brings you here?" She asked, nonchalant, as Sam still stood by the door.

"Thought I'd check on you. We've been in school for two weeks already, you made it into the cheer squad and you start training on Monday, I'm just wondering what you're going to do about…" Sam looked lost for words and looked down, red colouring his cheeks.

"Are you worrying about me wearing the uniform? Why don't you mind your own fucking business, Cortland?!" She said outraged, standing up and walking right past him and out of the room. Sam trailed behind her, and she could almost feel the apology stuck in his throat.

"Sorry," he said once Celaena reached the minibar and pulled out a can of cream soda.

"Why are you even here? What if anybody saw you coming in? Dorian could be around-"

"Do you think I'm that stupid?" Sam cut in. "No one saw me, I can get in and out of this building without a single pair of eyes catching sight of me, and you more than anyone should know that!" He almost growled at her.

They were standing right in front of each other now, anger burning their skins and flushing their cheeks. It was a stand-off, one that Celaena didn't plan on losing.

"I don't need your help," she said for what felt like the millionth time.

"You can't always do everything on your own, Celaena," Sam said, his voice turning softer as he said her name and took a step back. He turned his back on her, running a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry for what happened that day, I could never apologize, you keep shutting me out, and I… I was only trying to help-"

"Out!" Celaena growled. "Get out of here before I rip your throat out." Tears were threatening to come out, burning behind her eyes.

Sam turned around slowly and looked at her with such sadness in his eyes, that she almost broke.

"Now," she said, a bit softer. It was a plea, and she could tell Sam knew how she felt. After all, they had been close enough to know each other as no one else did.

Sam nodded once, slowly, and made his way to the same door through which he had entered merely minutes ago. Before closing the door behind him, he peered in and looked at her turquoise eyes.

"I really am sorry, I will forever feel guilty for what involvement I had in what happened, and I know I could never make it up to you, but I wish I could." And then he was gone, the door now closed between them.

Celaena breathed in deeply, trying to avoid the memories from that night from catching up with her. She had been so close to getting out, so close to success before Arobynn's men had found her. She had been stupid, and reckless, and she had been fully aware of the consequences her actions could have brought. But no, it had been so much more, it had been torture, humiliation, and so much pain.

Her hand mindlessly moved to her lower back, rubbing the harsh skin close to her tailbone. The worst of the scarring was low enough to be hidden by high-waisted pants, and she thought, hopeful, that she could adapt the uniform to hide them too. She went back to her bedroom, grabbed the cheerleader uniform off the dresser, and tried it on.

"I can work with this," she told her reflection. She could raise the waistline without any problem.

She dropped back on the bed and opened up her computer, thinking about checking up the blueprint of the hotel again. She wanted to work out the best way to get to the penthouse on the floor above so she could set up some hidden cameras. To her surprise, she found a bunch of messages on the screen instead.

Nehemia: Are you going to the party? I would love to see you there my dear friend!

Dorian: I'll have a cocktail made in your name if you delight me with your presence tonight.

Lysandra: Party at Dorian's tonight, it's Friday, and you're part of the hive now, so I expect to see you there.

Celaena wondered if that was the real reason Cortland had shown up at the hotel. Maybe he wanted to see if she was going to Dorian's party. She was absolutely sure the guy would have gotten an invite too. He had become a pretty popular kid, even if he didn't mingle with the same crowd she did. Sam had befriended almost everybody at Adarlan Elite High in as little as two weeks. He was the one every single girl was dreaming about, like a new toy that they wanted to possess. She could see the appeal, there was no denying that Sam was really good looking.

There was a rough history between them, one that was a bit like a broken rollercoaster ride.

Celaena still remembered the day she had arrived at Arobynn's mansion. He had carried her broken and tired body up the stairs, and had nested her in a bed with warm blankets. A doctor had come over to check on her, and multiple people had tried to ask what was wrong with her, what had happened. She couldn't talk about it, she couldn't get herself to express out loud what she thought had happened.

In the middle of that first night, she had woken up screaming, terrified. She had had a nightmare about the plane crash, she had felt the collision against the water again, she had seen her parents disappear under a mass of water as her mother had pulled on the tag of her safety vest. The young version of herself had held her breath as soon as the water had filled the plane’s cabin, and her body had shot up through the surface, her shoulder bumping against the wreckage as she soared up. In reality, she had made it out, but she had dreamed of water filling up her lungs and flames engulfing her world instead.

She had woken up sweaty, screaming, and had found a pair of small hands steading her, a little voice telling her everything was going to be alright. For a moment, she had thought it was Aedion by her side, but this kid hadn't had blond curls, but short light brown hair instead; and his eyes weren't bright turquoise as hers, they were the color of honey.

"It's okay, you're okay, it was just a nightmare," the kid had said.

"Who are you?" She had asked, feeling lost and confused.

"I'm Sam, I live here, with Arobynn... The man who found you," he explained as the girl Celaena had been back then, had looked at him wide-eyed.

She had remembered then that a man had found her on the shore after who knew how long. She had expected him to take her to the police as they did in the movies, but there had been no patrols, no lights, no ambulances. Just a black car with tinted windows taking her into a big house.

"Where are my parents? Where's mum?" She had asked the boy when the memories had hit her all over again, her eyes still soaked with tears.

"Girl," he had said softly. "Your parents are dead."

She had cursed and screamed and yelled, and through it all, Sam had sat there patiently, waiting for the tantrum to be over while he tried to comfort her with soft words.

"It will be okay, you get used to it after some time.” He had said after she calmed down. “My parents died years ago, and I don't even remember them much." The young blond girl had thought he didn't sound as sad as he should have been about their deaths.

"You know nothing!" She had spat on his face. "I'm not like you, and I will never forget my parents!"

That had been the start or the turmoil. The first few weeks at Arobynn's place she had been so angry with the brown haired boy for implying such horrible things that she had stayed away from him, or insulted him whenever they crossed paths. Eventually, young Sam had stopped trying to befriend her.

When they started training in combat by the age of 12, they automatically became rivals, like it was meant to be. There were other kids around, others that came and went, but the two of them were the best ones, the ones that were constantly in the spotlight of Arobynn’s attention. They pushed themselves to beat one another, and that’s why they had become the best. That was the same reason why they had come to know each other so well.

Celaena laughed at the memories, lying back on her bed.

Their relationship had gotten better by the time they became teens as they had no other option but to work together. They had to learn how to fight side by side instead of always against each other when they had joined a few illegal tournaments as partners. It had helped them learn about teamwork and tolerance, but Celaena had still kept her distance.

Teen fighting was something they had endured for the past three years. Arobynn was one of the biggest gamblers in the scene, and he had made a lot of money out of the pair.

The rules were few, but they were inflexible:

-No punching on the face, as no one wants to bring the authorities’ attention to a heap of kids with black eyes and broken jaws.

-Last kid standing, wins.

-Only kids under 17 years of age allowed.

Simple and efficient. The fights always took place in underground basements that looked more like dungeons in the middle of the night, and that had been most of Sam and Celaena’s lives for the past years. The fighting had only been interrupted by break and entry, and a few espionage missions. Just your typical teen life, Celaena thought and laughed to herself.

The guild though, was at another level. They were Arobynn’s most trained and elite fighters, the ones that formed his inner circle.

Celaena thought about the tournament Arobynn had talked about. She knew good money would be involved, and she couldn’t lie to herself, she enjoyed the fighting. She wondered why she hadn’t been selected for it. Truth was that there had never been any females in the guild, but Celaena had always been hopeful that she could be the first one, that she was strong enough to make it into Arobynn’s team of most skilled and profitable fighters. But that had been all before the incident.

Suddenly pissed off, Celaena closed the computer and stood up from the bed, walking over to her dresser.

“Fucking Sam Cortland,” she muttered as she ruffled through her clothes.

Not only had he taken her place on the guild, but he had gone and fucked everything up a few months back. He had betrayed her, and it had cost her greatly. Not only physically, but her relationship with Arobynn was now strained, and she couldn’t help but blame her lack of involvement with the guild for what had happened back then. Arobynn didn't fully trust her anymore but she needed as much money as she could, she needed to solve her parents’ murder to make sure she could pay him back what she owed him, and move along.

She was ready to buy her freedom. But Arobynn’s fees were high.

She put on her black leather leggings, the ones that had net cut outs and transparencies on the upper tights, and then laced up her black high heel boots. She found a V neck dark purple top with long sleeves, and then rolled them halfway up to her elbows. She stood in front of the mirror for a moment, putting on her contacts back, touching up her makeup and adding some deep purple lipstick.

There was a party she needed to attend, and an office she wanted to break into.

#throne of glass fanfiction #tog fanfic #fireheart #sam cortland #celaena sardothien #arobynn hamel #dorian havilliard #chapter six

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daisylincs · 4 years ago

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Hi lovely people who follow me,

As many of you will undoubtedly know, the school year has started up again - which means it’s time for me to throw myself wholly back into my teaching.

This time of year is always absolutely crazy for me, what with the whole rush and rigmarole of getting to know my new students, getting re-acquainted with the old ones, figuring out where everyone’s at, who needs extra help, who’s ahead, how I’m going to structure everything this year, and so on and so forth.

As a result, I’m probably going to be a lot less active here on Tumblr - but I just want each and every one of you to know that I am still here, even though I might go offline for a few whole days on end when I’m feeling particularly overloaded. I still want to talk to you guys, and gush with you, and play tag games with you, though, even if it does take me a whole lot longer to actually get around to it all.

My inbox is always open, and so are my DMs - so if there’s something you’d like to share, or thought I might enjoy, or even if you just want to say hi, you are so welcome!! Tag me, ask me things, come yell with me - I might be a little less active, but I still love you guys to absolute pieces, and nothing could ever persuade me to give up these things.

Another super sad side effect of this all is that I’m going to have to close all prompts and requests for the time being - because while I absolutely adore hearing from you all (in fact nothing makes me feel more flattered and happy with myself) I also have this teensy little problem of Too Many WIPs™, and realistically I just... can’t add anything else to my plate. This year is just already such chaos, you know, and unfortunately time is not on my side.

But that doesn’t mean I’m not writing!! I am, and I’m loving every slightly-rushed second of it. To do a quick run-down, here are the projects I’m working on at the moment:

Agents of Birthdays

A.K.A. my quest to write all my fandom friends a special ficlet fic for their favourite ships on their birthdays. For obvious reasons, there’s no update schedule for this one - it’s just whenever someone has a birthday. I’m also very proud to announce that this is the one series where I have, to date, been on time every single time!! And I really do plan to keep it that way.

(For an idea of the birthday schedule, see the amazing @bobbimorseisbisexual‘s Celebrations page. For fic teases, DM me and I will HAPPILY provide ��😏😏)

Danny Boy & Quake

Sky’s the Limit

Spider-Dorks

I’m going to do the little explain-y thingy in one for these three series, because they all form a part of my 100 Followers Celebration! 😍😍 Gosh, I still can’t believe I’m this far over a hundred followers - LOVE YOU GUYS!!

Anyway, anyway, anyway. So, in these series, I created three AU settings and asked you guys for prompts - and I got some really fabulous ones, I’m delighted to report!! I’m working on all three of these series on the side (slow but steady wins the race) and it’s my hope to have them all mostly completed and ready for posting by or around this December.

Spideychelle Week 2020

Oh, boy, this event finished literal months ago, but here I still am, just barely half-way through. *cringes* I am still working on the next few fics for this, somewhere... vaguely productive in my brain. Does such a place exist? Ahem. I wish I could tell you when I’ll actually get around to writing the next lot, but as it is - the link for the series on AO3 is here, and who knows, maybe I’ll surprise you all and myself and actually finish it this year. WHO KNOWS. I can live in hope, though.

AoS Season 7 Countdown

I should really change the description of this to “LATE,” because good heavens, is it ever late!! This was meant to be a series for BEFORE the seventh season of AoS, and now season 7 is over and the series is... not. I can’t bring myself to say I’m done with it yet, though, because I do actually have the fic plans for the last three days all figured out!! So I’m just going to say this is a series for me now, instead of for the official event, and I am not quitting on it yet. One day, it will be completed. One day. We can all live in hope together - also, the AO3 collection is here.

...

Okay, whoa, this post got awfully long-winded!! I swear I only meant to write a hundred words - I swear it. How does this always happen to me???

Anyway, TL;DR: I love you all to pieces, and I’m signing off with the biggest load of virtual hugs sent out to you all!!

~ Lily xx

#lily update

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carewyncromwell · 4 years ago

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Hey guys! Normally I just jump right into my gameplay posts and then put in additional notes at the end, but for this particular set of gameplay posts I plan to do, I think I’ll need to do the notes first.

This upcoming series will be based on the Quidditch sidequest “Quest for the Quidditch Cup.” (And will be tagged thusly!) Normally the game HPHM sets this in our first year playing Quidditch, circa year 2...but not only am I well past year 2, but I’ve written some lore about Carewyn and her relationship with the Slytherin Quidditch team that goes against this particular side quest’s plot line. Here are bullet points!

Carewyn was introduced to Quidditch Friendlies in third year through Penny, and also received training from Skye. She even played as a substitute Chaser in Slytherin’s match against Hufflepuff in her third year.

After Skye made up rumors about Erika Rath, however, Carewyn and Skye had a pretty substantive falling-out, given Carewyn’s over-sensitivity to bullying. Not wanting to cause further drama for Orion’s team but not wanting to stand by Skye’s behavior, Carewyn quietly withdrew from the Slytherin Quidditch team, allowing the original Chaser to take back their spot for the last two matches of the season.

Carewyn has continued to play in Quidditch friendlies as a Chaser (often against or alongside Ravenclaw Keeper Andre and Gryffindor Seeker Charlie), but has not tried to take back a spot on the Slytherin Quidditch team again.

Orion -- who Carewyn is incredibly fond of, partially because of how much he reminds her of her brother Jacob -- has every-so-often tried to bring Carewyn back into the fold, but Carewyn has been reluctant to commit, partly because of her hyper-focus on the Vaults and partly because of her strained relationship with Skye.

Age-wise, I have written Murphy, Skye, and Orion as all being a year older than Carewyn (hence why we don’t see them in any of her classes). These gameplays will take place toward the end of year 6 well after that certain Redacted event, even though I haven’t reached that point in the game yet, because Carewyn is currently in year 6, but the last game of the Quidditch season would have to take place in the spring. This is also why Orion isn’t two years ahead of Carewyn -- if he were, he’d be graduated already! I do see him being born toward the end of the year, though, so he would still be the eldest of the three Quidditch characters. XD; Because of the timing, Carewyn will have just completed her character arc where she’s learned to open up a bit more to her friends at this point too and is no longer shutting her friends out of what’s going on with R or the Cursed Vaults. I also fortunately don’t have much interest in writing any further Quidditch plotlines with Carewyn, so I won’t have to worry about writing any contradictory season 2 gameplays. (If nothing else, Carewyn would be a GOD-AWFUL Beater.)

With all this out of the way...let the games begin!

~x~x~x~x~

[Carewyn had had to deal with a lot of unexpected things that year, but one thing she certainly had not been expecting was receiving an owl from Orion Amari. The Slytherin Quidditch Captain would reach out to her sometimes when she was playing in Quidditch friendlies or otherwise visiting the Quidditch Pitch, but they almost never collided in the hallways of Hogwarts themselves, partly because Orion was a year older than her, but also because Orion just seemed to operate on his own schedule. Carewyn sometimes wondered if he Broom-Surfed through life, rather than walking like ordinary people did.

Regardless, when Carewyn arrived in the Great Hall to meet Orion, she found him already there, sitting at the end of the Slytherin table with Quidditch commentator Murphy McNully.]

Murphy: “Been a long time! I haven’t seen you since the final Quidditch friendly last year -- reckon your team would’ve had only a 0.5% chance of victory, if you hadn’t been able to hit the Quaffle past the Keeper with your broom just before the opposing Seeker caught the Snitch...1% at the most...”

“(politely) It’s good to see you too, McNully.”

[Carewyn turned to Orion, looking a bit more serious.]

“I heard about Skye’s injury. What happened? I heard some people say Rath hit Skye with a Bludger...but I just can’t see Rath doing something like that on purpose: she could get banned from Quidditch for actively trying to target an opposing team’s player like that.”

[Orion nodded solemnly, his gaze very pensive.]

Orion: “Your thought process has some merit, Carewyn...but I’m afraid we really can’t know for sure. We have only two witnesses to the event -- Rath and Skye -- with two versions of the truth. One says it was an accident, the other purposeful.”

“(frowns) But those two things contradict each other. They can’t both be the truth.”

Orion: “They are both their truths. In any case, the result is the same, and our Chaser was injured.”

[Carewyn couldn’t entirely agree with this -- she would feel a lot better knowing it was an accident rather than Rath getting away scot-free with hurting one of Slytherin’s players...but really, such a sentiment was pretty typical for Orion, and there was a lot more to discuss.

Her gaze drifted down to the table in front of her absently as she leaned her arms against the wood.]

“...Is Skye all right?”

Orion: “Physically, yes -- Madame Pomfrey says she’ll make a full recovery. Emotionally, however, I would not say so, given that Madame Pomfrey also has said she will not be well enough to play in the match.”

[Carewyn’s heart clenched.]

“So she’ll miss the Quidditch final. Your last Quidditch final, ever.”

Murphy: “(grimly) The math would seem to suggest it. At present I’d say there’s only a 23% chance Skye would be able to play, and about 19.9% of that factors in Skye actively ignoring Madame Pomfey’s instructions. And if she did that, I’d say Slytherin would only have a 3% chance of victory.”

[Carewyn felt a wave of empathy wash over her. She may have had her differences with Skye, and she didn’t regret distancing herself from her...but at the same time, she knew how much Quidditch and especially the Quidditch Cup meant to her. Slytherin had been knocked out of the running for the Quidditch Final several times the last few years, largely by Gryffindor, since their team had Quidditch prodigy Charlie as their Seeker. But this year, Charlie had not had his head in the game (for rather obvious reasons), and so Slytherin had finally gotten the opening they needed. But facing Ravenclaw in the Quidditch Final would be no easy task...and, Carewyn thought, Skye had to be absolutely miserable, being stuck on the sidelines at the exact moment when Slytherin finally had a chance to earn the Cup they’d fought so hard for.

Murphy glanced at Orion out the side of his eye critically.]

[Orion gave a single, slow nod.]

[He turned to Carewyn with a wry smile.]

Orion: “...And she is sitting with us at this moment.”

[Carewyn blinked in surprise. Murphy brightened up instantly, looking at Carewyn with a large smile.]

Murphy: “Yes! That’d be brilliant! With your high record of goal scoring and your overall speed, Carewyn, you’d easily improve Slytherin’s odds by a good 31.6%!”

[Despite Murphy’s enthusiasm, Carewyn couldn’t make herself smile back.]

“I don’t know...”

Orion: “(seriously) Carewyn...you have dismissed me several times in the past, but I urge you to hear me out fully before you make your decision. You first left our team because of a personal dispute with Skye, and although I lament it, I also respect that you wanted our team to succeed, and you thought that withdrawing with grace would be the best way to do that. Now, however, we are in dire straits. We need someone who can fill Skye’s role on our team. You trained with Skye. You have consistently played well in every Quidditch friendly you have participated in. And you also more than embody the integrity needed both to lead and to follow -- to place the good of your team over glory for yourself. It’s the reason I asked you to choose our strategy in the match against Hufflepuff three years ago...and it’s the reason both Skye and I believe you should be our third Chaser, in this match against Ravenclaw.”

[This took Carewyn completely aback.]

“Skye said I should?”

[Orion smiled, his dark eyes twinkling with an oddly soft glint.]

Orion: “She urged me to try to convince you. Believe it or not...Skye has lamented the loss of you on our team even more than I have.”

[Carewyn’s narrowed blue eyes drifted off vaguely in the direction of the far wall as she took this in.]

If she felt that way, she should’ve made things right with Rath, then.

[Despite the stubborn irritation lashing at her insides, though, she couldn’t help but feel slightly touched, all the same. To think that Skye would’ve insisted Carewyn fill her spot -- Carewyn knew full well how much Quidditch meant to Skye...so her trusting Carewyn with her spot on the team, right before such an important match...]

I know how hard it is to trust others. It hasn’t been easy for me...even now...it’s not easy, for me. If Skye trusts me that much...if Orion and McNully trust me that much...

[Meeting the Circle of Khanna in the Three Broomsticks and feeling their expectant eyes all on her rippled over Carewyn’s mind. It brought the feeling of responsibility back down onto her shoulders -- that heavy weight that nonetheless made her want to stand even taller, so as to meet that burden.]

I can’t turn my back on them, when they need me.

[There was a new strength in her posture and shoulders as her gaze rose to meet Orion’s.]

“...All right. I’m in.”

[Orion’s dark eyes lit up like stars. His face broke into a large, bright smile and he reached across the table to take hold of Carewyn’s arm, squeezing it affectionately.]

Orion: “It will be a privilege to fly alongside you in my final match at Hogwarts, Carewyn.”

[Carewyn smiled in return, her blue eyes softening visibly. Murphy looked delighted as well.]

Murphy: “Not to mention how exciting it’ll be for my final match as a commentator! Carewyn Cromwell, swooping in just in time to nab Slytherin the Quidditch Cup for the first time in ten years!”

[His expression then turned a lot more business-like.]

Murphy: “We won’t get that great story, though, unless Slytherin wins.”

[Carewyn frowned deeply and nodded. She was well aware -- Gryffindor had opposed Ravenclaw in the Quidditch Cup Final just about every year she was at Hogwarts, and it was largely thanks to Rath smacking Bludgers at Charlie so hard that he was sent to the Hospital Wing that Ravenclaw had won.]

“Rath is not someone to be underestimated. But we have two days before the match -- I’m sure we can come up with a plan by then. In the meantime, I’ll set aside some extra time to practice with the rest of the team.”

[She glanced at Orion for approval. The Slytherin Quidditch Captain inclined his head in a single nod.]

Orion: “This is a time for celebration and hard work. Let us concentrate on coming together as a team and on supporting Skye.”

[Carewyn’s eyes drifted off, landing on the doorway out of the entrance hall.]

“...Maybe I should go see Skye, then...just for a talk.”

Ha! That’s a loaded question...

[She frankly didn’t want to even think about how uncomfortable the reunion between her and Skye would be like, given how they’d ended things and how little they’d subsequently spoken over the years...

Despite those feelings, Carewyn -- true to form -- put on her prettiest, most confident smile.]

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #gameplay #quest for the quidditch cup #skye parkin #orion amari #murphy mcnully #carewyn cromwell #charlie weasley #erika rath #roleplaying

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coffeebeannate · 4 years ago

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Taken from @werebearbearbar

Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 5 favorite works (fics, art, edits, etc.) you’ve created this year and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you’ve brought into the world in 2020. If you don’t have five published works, that’s fine! Include ideas/drafts/whatever you like that you’ve worked on/thought about, and talk a little about them instead! Remember, this is all about self-love and positive enthusiasm, so fuck the rules if you need to. Have fun, and tag as many fellow creators as you like so they can share the love! <3

I started writing fic years and years ago. And have done so in other fandoms before taking a long hiatus from the writing world in general. I stuck with written roleplay only. For what I assume to be around four or five years, I did not write a single fic. (I also wrote short stories in childhood, teen years and young adult years)

(I want to point out though that this absolutely does not negate roleplay writing, and that writing with another person, or in a group is a lesser form) My break from fanfic came with one of the worst periods of my mental and physical health, and everything I had written was purged from my Ao3 account in a single night.

I started writing for The Old Guard in August, and below, are the things I like a lot that I’ve written for it. To do this, I decided to use the criteria of ‘fics I like the most’ instead of what seems to be the most popular to read. For me, if I really love a piece of work, I recall the creative process fondly, and have lines and bits of dialogue I truly adore within it.

1. Precision Mission Fic. Gala. Post-Movie. Current Group (Nile, Andy, Joe, NIcky)

Rated M (Mature) 4846 words

My second fic for the fandom that I published, but the first I actually conceptualized. This one is just..so special to me. I have phone notes typed at five am. I can recall the excitement as I was so eager to share this story and get it off the ground. I wanted to see this complete so bad. I loved nearly every second of writing it, and it’s always going to hold a special place in my heart as a result. There’s so much overdone clothing talk and I can only think of it with fondness.

Excerpt:

None of them are comfortable. Except Joe, it seems.

Joe makes it look easy. Simplistic, even, judging by the way he effortlessly glides and charms his way through the expansive ball/congregating/entertaining room. Something that never failed to fascinate Nicky was the way Joe could integrate himself almost seamlessly into any scenario, situation, or environment. Neither Andy nor himself had that ability. Not when it came to cavorting, anyway. Nicky more quietly reserved, Andy lacking in the ability to care enough to fake it.

Nile seemed to be more in the middle. She did not appear overly comfortable with the mingling, but she had enough personal grace and adaptability to make it seem somewhat effortless to have a decent time.

All their eyes remained sharp on the surrounding area, awaiting the arrival of their target. And for all his schmoozing, Nicky knew Joe’s surveillance was tack-sharp, multitasking to a degree no one he was currently conversing with could have possibly noticed.

“You going to move at some point, or have you taken up permanent resident status here?” Nile asks, appearing at his side where Nicky has spent the last half-hour molded to the furthest left corner of the solid black bar. “I know you have an excellent view, but.”

Nicky snorted, though only Nile could actually tell, “Why waste a good opportunity?”, momentarily ceasing his Joe watching to stare back into the depths of his glass, which currently contained some horrifically shocking pink abomination, Nicky’s second drink, since he was letting the bar tender dictate them, too utterly distracted to care what was touching his lips, and curious with the way the bar tender had delighted in being given free reign to make whatever he desired.

To be fair, it didn’t taste that bad-something frighteningly sugary and weirdly noxious smelling, but it’s not exactly ‘crime against humanity’ levels of alcoholic nightmares.

2. Old

Post-movie. Current Group. (Andy, Nile, Joe, Nicky) Mortal Andy. Character study.

Rated T (Teen and Up Audiences), 2903 words.

My first attempt at Andy-centric writing. Andy is a character I consider a challenge to write, and that makes me want to write her more. This fic centers mostly around her and the others trying to come to terms with how much has happened, within day to day life and taking the comfort that they can in one another.

I really like this fic. A lot. Sure it’s short. Sure maybe not much happens, but Andy’s character fascinates me, as does her relationship with her family.

Excerpt:

Old.

Old

So motherfucking old.

Someone is calling out to her, her hearing and senses long fine-tuned to knowing. It’s Nicky- she can easily pretend she can’t hear him, he knows when she doesn’t want to talk to anyone, after all.

She’s being petty, and she knows it’s unfair. That the nearly untouched plate and nights spent not sleeping gives them reason to be at her. But facing them with that fact feels about as ideal as jumping into a flaming volcano right about now. They’re just worried. It makes her stomach turn, sour and vicious. Venom in the gut, acid in the heart.

Said volcano would be kinder.

3. Spice it Up (Or Not)

Joe and Nicky. Pre-Movie. Fluffy Lovings

Rated: E (Explicit) 3030 words

This one was just fun. I am such a sucker for banting, and the most established of established relationships that Nicky and Joe have going on. This one is indeed not safe for work, and honestly, the opening paragraphs are what came first, and I actually had to build the story around it.

Something that I think makes this fic fun to me as well is that, just because something that sounded like a good idea fails, it doesn’t make it an ending. Healthy communication, knowing each other..it’s so blissful to think about.

Things aren’t always perfect, but that’s okay. And it’s not always a threat. Oh and because this is me, what was supposed to be fairly light hearted gets all sappy and reflective mid-way.

Excerpt:

He knows Nicky in every way. He knows his scent from battle, from sex, from showers and from sleep. He knows his eyes in darkness, in light, in dread, excitement and worry. He knows his grief, his love, his sadness, and adoration. Excitement, passion, fear, and pain.

He could count each tear that Nicky has shed, could recall each tone of his voice in every language they know. From the first he heard to the current. The sweet harmony of song and the rough gasp of drunk intoxication. He’s heard him yell, heard him scream. Heard his shouts and his cries.

He knows how Nicky tends to favour his left shoulder even though there’s no reason beyond psychological to do so. A spot Joe stabbed so long ago. So far back in another life. He knows how he likes to pause and do surveillance before they enter any new location. Knows he likes vehicles that move fast and has a fondness for roller coasters.

He’s seen those hands, so large and skilled break bone, wield a sword and cut vegetables and fruit. Seen them card through his hair, felt them map out each knot and ridge in his spine and ribs, felt them so deep inside himself he can taste it. Rolling into it. Demanding, needing.

“Yusuf.” Nicky’s not calling him back, Nicky’s just as far gone. So often they seem to share thoughts.

Nicky knows Joe in all ways and more. Knows that Joe still sometimes seems to speak ancient by-gone languages in his sleep. Knows that he tends to carry the strongest personal scent in the dead of night. That no shower, no soap, no life experience or battle has truly ever masked the delightful musk he has to himself. There could be a cologne out there that would modify it, and Nicky would bite and lick it away. Demanding and asking, why take this from me? How dare you try to alter what I know and love so furiously?

4. Touch Before Heart

Historical Kaysanova. Early Years. Pre-Movie. Getting to Know Eachother.

Rated E (Explicit) 5030 words

As is pretty obvious by now, I write a LOT of early years Kaysanova. A lot. I am addicted to it.

This one..I love it. This might be one of my favourite pieces of writing of all time. If I was doing these numbers strictly in order preference, then I’d put it as number one I bet.

I think the summary I made for it sums up well just how much I love it. And maybe why.

The first moment they’re able to have a bath, they resolutely do not look at each other. Picking opposite ends of the small stream bed, backs turned to one another. A strange show of both trust and distrust; their backs were exposed, but it was up to their tentative mutual agreement to not partake in the opportunity to stab each other for it.

The..idea that they had so much to learn, so much to understand. So much confusion, anger mistrust..I just really really adore this fic and I think I did a good job with it.

Excerpt:

He curses in unison with Nicolò, both holding fast and steady as the thing finally rights itself, Nicolò letting out a slow, shaken breath of relief.

“Are you alright?” Yusuf asks, both to break the silence and mend the irritating gap they’ve created for themselves.

“Better. Thank you.”

Yusuf wants to scream.

He wants to grab Nicolò, shake him until he can do nothing but give him answers.

Why do you drive me to the brink of madness?

Why do I know your touch, but not your heart?

Why do you tempt me, consume me?

What does it mean?

Why are we here?

Why!?

It is an unfair desire; he’s hardly given the man any more clarity.

5. Curated

Post-Movie. Current Group (Nile, Andy, Joe, Nicky)

Rated G (General Audiences) 1807 words

Alright, I admit it, I had trouble picking number five. I picked Curated because it’s just..so fluffy. But it’s so sweet I always feel so sugary when I think of it. The softness that I tried to convey, and I think I succeeded.

Nile is another character that fascinates me, that I just do not explore enough, and this is all the comforting goodness I could ever hope to create.

Excerpt:

She’s grown used to the easy intimacy they all share, but the sight before her, Nicky’s eyes half-lidded, face a perfect serenity she rarely see’s on it, Joe lost, far-away in reciting but still wholly present, creates an odd, near-throbbing ache in her chest. Something powerful and raw. It’s hard to imagine that people who have been alive this long can be this content.

Everything they’ve seen, experienced and done. All the stories they’ve regaled her with. All the prep, the anxieties, the concerns, and curiosities. None of it seems to exist in these moments. Joe speaking in a language the world might think dead, the true master of softness within the room.

And there we have it! I have so much more I want to write, I have so much more I want to explore, and I thank you all for sharing in these journey’s with me. May there be more writing in our future!

#nate does writing #end of year fic thing #self positivity #things nate has written #long post

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agent-aurelie · 5 years ago

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I’ve had a lot of spare time on my hands recently between the nervous breakdowns and not working and I’ve been feeling super inspired by this fandom. I’ve been creeping through art tags and doing little writing exercises/drabbles inspired by different sketch dumps and fan art I’ve loved, and sometimes they’re okay enough to post.

The first one I’ll share is inspired by this post by @roninreverie of Resistance-era Jacen trying to recruit some new pilots for the cause. Hera is furious.

Thank you so much to @roninreverie for letting me gush over her work and share this little ficlet.

The Recruitment Holo (1538 Words, no beta)

Hera is still seething after her rant at Jacen when the hatch to her cabin hisses shut behind her.

She has always considered herself to be a good parent, even when things weren’t easy. And there were plenty of times across not one, but two galactic wars, when being Jacen’s mother was the furthest thing from easy. At the very least, she was an attentive parent, opting more often than not to carry her small son on her hip to everything from command briefings to X-Wing pilot training exercises. When it simply wasn’t safe to take her child with her, Sabine or Zeb would always outrank the other eager pilots who were more than willing to take a shift to watch General Syndulla’s son, and they’d travel from multiple systems to do it. Jacen had a wider support system than any child she knew, which is why his latest stunt was so kriffing stupid that Hera has to take stock in where things had gone so wrong.

She is glad she retreated to her cabin to calm down before confronting Poe Dameron, and then Lando Calrissian, both of whom Hera is absolutely positive had some influence in Jacen’s little filmmaking project. A few weeks back during a fairly grim briefing, Hera noted how dire their pilot situation was becoming - she recalled the early days of the Rebellion when finding cells to band together to defeat the Empire was daunting, stressful work. She never dreamed she’d have to do it twice in her lifetime, and the Resistance desperately needed pilots.

“We’ll figure it out, mom,” Jacen had said confidently that evening at dinner, “I can take Chop and the Phantom for a recruiting spin if we’re really that hard up?”

Her son is an adult now, a handsome, charming, talented pilot of an adult. He inherited all of the best parts of Kanan, his bravery, his tactical mind, his good looks (for better or worse, Hera was learning), and the parts of Hera she’s most proud of, her love of the skies, her kindness and her determination and loyalty. But Hera still has a hard time letting him off world without her nearby. The all-encompassing devastation of the loss of Kanan never fades, and Hera is positive she can’t handle losing Jacen, too.

Hera almost wishes she’d let him take the Phantom instead of finding him half naked, taking recruitment matters into his own hands in front of a holo-vid recorder.

Hera Syndulla was going to kill Poe Dameron with her own ungloved hands, and Lando Calrissian, for good measure.

“Some tactician Jacen is, Kanan,” Hera mutters to the empty cabin before flopping back on her bunk, “Though I meant what I said - you probably would have done the same, and I’d have been run ragged training every sentient being who saw your holo-vid to become a pilot for the Rebellion. I just thought he was smarter than that.”

Kanan was a master at finding solutions. There’s always another way, he’d say, and his blue-green eyes would flash with delight as he unwound a solution to whatever narrow odds the Spectres found themselves in. Jacen inherited Kanan’s drive, those same problem solving skills that will make him an asset to the Resistance. She just wishes for her sanity, that he hadn’t also inherited Kanan’s relentless flirtatiousness, that handsome smile and that talent for charming his way out of every tight situation. Truly, he was Kanan Jarrus’ boy.

Hera’s mind drifts back to Gorse, so many years ago now, and how the secondhand embarrassment radiated from her when she heard the story of how Kanan had asked an Imperial captain over the Expedient’s com what she was wearing. She remembers how easy it was to play to his flirtatious nature to all but steal his Moonglow ID badge from around his neck. And she remembers how willing he was to follow her around - even after she explained she could investigate Vidian on her own - because he thought there was a chance of a physical reward at the end. Kanan had fallen into a lot of unnecessary danger because of his attitude and his libido, and while they’d both escaped mostly unscathed (and of course that mission led to the best years of Hera’s life) the recklessness of that time in Gorse could have been fatal to anyone but a Jedi.

She sometimes feels the Force still lingering in the Ghost, she likes to imagine it wrapping itself around Jacen for protection. But her son has not shown any particular sensitivity to it, and she’s almost positive that won’t materialize now to protect him in such dire situations.

Hera would not let Jacen make the same mistakes. There is truly no safety net for him.

But he’s going to make mistakes, Hera, she can hear Kanan’s voice in her mind. Sometimes in the most challenging moments of being a single parent, Hera can feel Kanan there with her, standing silently behind her as she doles out a punishment to their son or tries to impart some hard-learned wisdom to keep him out of trouble.

It’s just so hard that he isn’t actually there. And it never gets any easier.

Hera swings her legs off her bunk and pulls a change of clothes. She wants to speak to Jacen as mom, not as General Syndulla, and that means a quick change into leggings and a long tunic. She wraps her lekku in a soft scarf and slips out of her cabin down the hall towards his.

Kanan’s.

Hera knocks on the hatch and she can hear his footfalls headed towards the entryway as the doors slide open.

“Mom, I feel bad enough, I don’t need another lecture -- and before you say anything it wasn’t Poe, it was my own idea, we saw an old holo of Lando and he shouldn’t be in trouble for something he had nothing to--”

“Can I come in?” she interrupts, asking permission to enter a bunk in her own ship.

He steps aside and lets her pass. He shuffles back to sit on the edge of the mattress and scrubs his hands through his mop of green hair. Hera sinks to the ground and crosses her legs, facing her son.

“You’re better than that stunt, Jacen,” she says softly, no anger in her voice this time. “You’re more talented, more creative and far smarter than relying on your body to do something your brain can do just fine.”

He doesn’t say anything, she knows he’s embarrassed. Not just at being caught, but at the fact that her own reputation could have been affected by something so stupid, so reckless.

“Your dad,” she goes on, and it hurts, sitting in this room and talking about Kanan, but she pushes through the tightening of her throat, the pain that never leaves, because this is more important than her own comfort, “Your dad didn’t have it so easy when he was your age. He did a lot of stupid things too. I was there for some of them, and I was mad at him then. But he experienced loss and fear and anger that I don’t think I ever could fully understand. If we, “ and Jacen knows she means the Spectres, his family, even the ones he never met, “if we weren’t there to help your father… I don’t know what would have become of him, really.

“I’m here to help you, Jacen. I’m here to help you see past a short term gain and think smarter. What kind of pilots did you really think you were going to recruit that way? Think more strategically, more long term. Think like the Jarrus and Syndulla you are.”

Jacen knows she’s serious when his father’s surname enters the conversation. His elbows are propped on his knees and his head hangs, and she can all but feel the tension and tightness in his shoulders and back. He doesn’t raise his eyes to meet his mothers, and it breaks Hera’s heart that her son is upset, but she knows he hears her. She slides a little closer to her boy, and slips a hand under his chin, raising his face to hers. “I love you, Jace. I want you to help me find more pilots, but we’re going to do it the right way.”

He nods and she kisses his cheek. “Tomorrow we’ll take the Phantom. I have some intel on a small group that might be worth looking into.”

“Alright,” he says, and she can see a little more light coming into his eyes at the promise of taking to the skies, “I’ll fly?”

Hera rolls her eyes, but smiles. “Sure,” she agrees and stands, and cards her fingers through his hair affectionately as she heads back towards the door. “But we’re leaving early, so don’t waste your whole night on the holonet. I won’t hesitate to leave you behind and take Chopper instead.” The threat is empty, but it makes him smile.

“I love you, mom,” says her son, and Hera feels a surge of warmth in her stomach.

“I love you too, Jace.”

Good work, Hera, she hears Kanan’s voice and slips out of the cabin before the loss threatens to hit her again.

Poe Dameron and Lando Calrissian will live another cycle.

#Agent Aurelie Writes #Hera Syndulla #Jacen Syndulla #Art Prompt Ficlet #roninreverie #Star Wars Rebels Fanfic #SWR Fanfic

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thestarkerisobvious · 4 years ago

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Dream Of A Starless Sky

inspired by @starker-sorbet

moodboard by @von--gelmini aka @starker-stories

A snugglefic for @mrstarksbabyy

With great thanks for the betaread by @mrstarksbaby

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At 13, Peter made friends with the Thing that Lived Under the Bed. But things change. Nothing stays the same (not even 2000 year old demons.)

SEVENTEEN

Chapter 4 Dream Of A Starless Sky

(Soon, Amado)

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TAG: fisting (well sort of)

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Later, Peter realized, it was because he had been talking to Tony while also waiting for the rain to fall.

Outdoor work had been humid and miserable, but every distant roll of thunder made Peter smile. Stormy nights meant he would dream of Tony.

But the storm simply wouldn’t happen. As he sat on his bed, working on “the books” (really a single notebook with rows of columns that he wrote in with black and red pens, just like Aunt May had showed him) he had been complaining to Tony about money.

It seemed the whole summer had been about money.

No money for the trips to New York City. No money to fix the electricity in some parts of the house so those parts just remained dark. No money to fix May and Ben’s bathroom so now they both bathed in the same bathroom as Peter. Which was exactly the same as it was in New York City, only now it seemed wrong. At least their toilet still worked on their side of the house. Otherwise they’d have to move into one of the bedrooms in Peter’s hall (he HATED that idea because all those rooms were his ‘offices.” He tried to discourage them by insisting the room across from him was “really truly haunted.” Even after all this time, that’s where the strange noises still came from.

Peter didn’t have real money problems, of course. He now had more spending money that he’d ever had in his life. But worrying over the numbers, somehow, made him feel more grownup.

“I just can’t maintain a terrarium budget and buy all these books and afford a long distance call to Ned,” he complained to the silence. “And I have to have those terrariums before school starts if I’m going to feed you snakes. And any day now I’m going to catch a snake, I came really close today, Tony. Really close. But what’s the point when I don’t have anything to put him in, let alone feed him. But it’s so much easier now that they aren’t running from me. And it’s so easy not to be afraid of them when I know they're not venomous, when I know they’re trying not to be afraid of me. I’m getting really good. But not fast enough to do it by hand, not like Mr. DeSlaughter. Not yet.

“And there’s no point in trying to build a rabbit hutch until I learn how to build a damn fence…” he groused, subtracting $10 from the column marked “Rabbits” and moving it over to “Phone” with a frown. It seemed the more that went wrong inside the house, things that Ben knew he couldn’t fix, the more outside projects he decided needed doing outside. He had tasked Peter with building a pretty fence around the patch of flat ground right outside the kitchen where Aunt May planned to plant a garden someday, a frustrating task given that Aunt May never seemed to get around to planting and Peter’s fence kept sinking. Even now he turned his head and glared at the room across the hall from him. The room they were now calling the “Noisy Room.”

The “noisy room” was technically one of his “offices” but he had never put anything in there. The carpet, along with the uneven wallpaper, was spectacularly ugly. He didn’t even store his extra books there. The sole piece of furniture was an old bed that Aunt May had made once and forgotten about. The only other thing in that room was a huge, uncurtained window that, if you stood in the right place, could look at the “sunny patch.” Peter glared through the walls at the noisy room and the window that looked out on his failures. The “sunny patch” was a better place to make plans for than to actually work on. Secretly Peter hoped May would never get around to planting that garden. He had envisioned putting up a different kind of fence and raising a goat there.

“That’s it!” he said finally, tossing “the books” aside and flopping down on his bed. “It won’t work! I just can’t afford to call Ned!”

He fell asleep just like that, angry at the world, angry at the constantly sinking fence, angry at his sudden loss of privacy now that Ben and May both had to make one nightly trip each down his hallway, but mostly angry at the distant thunder that meant the storm would never ever come.

“I don’t wanna’ piss off any Post Sisters, Tony,” he remembered murmuring before he fell asleep on top of the covers. “But I’d really love to find one of those spellbooks on how to find treasure right about now. I know I’m a boy and boys have cooties and all but… damn finding a buried bucket of money would help a lot right now.”

* * *

He was more than a little confused to wake up with Tony standing, silently, by his bed. There was plenty of grey around his temples and he looked pale, but not as drawn or grizzled as Peter had seen him before. But he was silent, and that was unnerving. He had a tight, determined look on his eyes that reminded Peter very much of the night he had received his witchesmark in Franeknstines’ lab.

Still, it was Tony, and he was more grateful than anything else. So when Tony reached out and took his hand he gladly went with him.

Tony silently led him into the woods and to the path that led to the lake. Peter realized quickly that he was dreaming because he was still barefoot. Still, he held onto Tony’s hand. Holding Tony’s hand and following him into complete darkness had always ended well for him.

The lake in the moonlight was lovely. From there Tony led him steadily up the ridge, the dead oak’s black branches reaching out to caress the night sky. They passed under the oak until they came within sight of the Lone Chimney.

Only it wasn’t a Lone Chimney anymore, it was an entire little house. Peter gasped with delight, letting go of Tony’s hand and running towards it. It was charming. It was more than that -- for the first time Peter understood how the word “charming” could be used to describe a house. It seemed to be laid out the same way he and Mike had envisioned it, but they never could have envisioned the beautiful sash windows or the ornate wrought-iron patterns that decorated the wide porch. It was delicate and feminine and so very romantic. It could have been a picture in a storybook. Peter and Aunt May had passed bed-and-breakfasts that wished they were this charming. It was surrounded by an elaborate garden of hedges and neatly trimmed trees. There must have been flowers, Peter could smell roses, but in the darkness he couldn’t tell. He could only make out the finespun, ivy covered gates and the dark shapes beyond. If anyone wanted to go on a honeymoon, they would come here.

“Did he… Tony this is lovely. Is this… did Tom Dylan make this house? For her??” It took Peter’s breath away. All of a sudden he could see it, so perfect and complete: A labor of love. A charming, picturesque miniature house, far away enough for complete privacy but close enough to walk over for a family dinner. And the ivy-covered gates and the swing and the loving planned romantic garden, arranged like a flower bouquet. Arranged like a bouquet to be presented to someone own true love. It was absolute art.

No wonder Tom Dylan Post was furious when Laura Foster wanted to live there, married to his little brother instead of with the man who had made it for her.

Suddenly, absurdly, Peter found himself wishing Missy were here.

When he turned back to look for Tony, he understood the wish. It was romantic, tragic ending aside. The dark roses. The charming secret cozy castle with the cozy bed inside. And the handsome man, wearing a handsome black dress-coat and a grey vest, standing silently in the moonlight. It made Peter’s heart skip a beat.

Tony reached out one hand, but Peter didn’t take it right away.

“This is a dream, this is a dream,” he said, his eyes firmly closed. It was a risky move, something he never attempted in his normal meetings with Tony, but right now he longed for it with his whole body. It was worth the risk.

Twice he tried it, closing his eyes and then opening them again. The second time, it worked.

He was no longer wearing a baggy t-shirt and boxers. He was wearing a billowy white nightgown, tied with ribbons at the neck and at the wrist. (It wasn’t a womans’ nightgown, he had seen men wearing the same thing in books. Still, he felt.. pretty.)

He was also significantly shorter. He padded up to a confused-looking Tony, proud of his accomplishment. Since he turned 16 he was usually eye-level with Tony’s nose but now he had to stand on his tiptoes when he lifted his face for a kiss, draping his hands over the back of Tony’s neck.

Tony looked down at him curiously in the moonlight. Then he smiled, understanding. With two gentle hands on Peter’s waist, he leaned down for a long, tender kiss.

For several moments they stayed that way, kissing in the silence of the night. Then Tony pulled Peter closer, wrapping one long arm around Peter’s slight waist and scooping him up off his feet. “Take me inside,” Peter whispered into the kiss, picturing the cozy bed that would be there. It was a dream, and whatever happened in the dream...

But Tony was shaking his head between kisses. He sank to his knees and laid Peter out on the earth.

Tony had done things to him in dreammeetings that had felt wonderful, but nothing prepared him for the thrill of feeling the weight of Tony’s body on his. He whimpered as he clutched at Tony’s back and remembered, quite suddenly, that he was dreaming.

And what they did in dreams didn’t count.

Although that was hard to remember as Tony’s eager hands pulled up Peter’s nightgown up to his waist and Peter felt the hard earth on his bare skin (had he really forgotten to dream about underwear??)

Tony’s hands on his ass was not a familiar sensation, but the fingers were knowing and thorough. Peter relaxed in Tony’s arms, looking up with wide eyes at the starless sky.

He panicked and tried to keep Tony with him when his friend tried to rise, clutching at him desperately, but Tony was stronger than he was. Firmly he moved Peter’s arms away from him and rose to his knees.

Peter whimpered and flinched, his hands flying out, when Tony parted his knees and moved to kneel between them. His face was calm, but unreadable, and Peter was reminded again of the Tony he had met in Frankenstein’s laboratory. Then the face was gone, and Tony lovingly scooped his right arm under Peter’s shoulders and kissed him gently again, letting the weight of his body press down upon Peter’s.

Peter moaned as his stiff cock was pressed against the rough fabric of Tony’s vest. It shouldn’t have felt so natural, laying this way, naked from the waist down underneath Tony’s body as Tony rocked against him, over and over again. But here they were. Peter opened his eyes again and let the tension build in his body. He would be coming soon, suspended in this strange place between the black earth and the night sky, moaning Tony’s name.

Then Tony pulled away again and, with the same determined look on his face, slipped his forefinger into his mouth, wetting it slowly.

Peter whimpered as Tony reached between Peter’s legs and, gently but firmly, slipped his finger into the earth.

The earth yielded without comment.

Peter, however, moaned and flinched and looked between his legs in confusion, then moaned again. What Tony was doing with his finger in the earth looked even more obscene than when he had put it in his mouth. Then he pulled his finger free and inserted his middle finger into his mouth, watching Peter’s eyes as he wet it. Gently but firmly he reached between Peter’s thighs and pushed both wet fingers into the earth, pulling them out and easing them back in again. Peter could no longer see, his eyes were closed, but he knew. He hid his face in Tony’s arm, keening when Tony wet his third finger, then the fourth. Peter couldn’t bear to look down and see Tony’s four fingers working themselves tenderly in and out of the earth, but he felt every inch of it. His legs were trembling. His breath came out in sobs.

“Nononono…” he cried out when Tony wet his thumb.

“Shhhhh…” Tony crooned. It was the only sound besides Peter’s panicked breathing. He pressed his face back into Tony’s arm. He tried to lay his feet back on the ground, tried to relax his aching legs. But his legs kept pulling away from Tony’s hand and what Tony was doing with it.

“Please… please Tony… please I’m so close…”

“Soon, amado. Soon.” His voice was thick and determined and sounded far too urgent to be comforting.

Peter’s arms flailed out when Tony’s hand had sank in up to the wrist. His left hand came into violent contact with the brick wall beside him, and he looked up in surprise to see where they were laying. He hadn’t noticed before, but directly above him, looming in the darkness, was the chimney. Tony’s hand was now buried past the wrist, and he was making a strange, panting noise that Peter had never heard from him before.

The pain in his fingertips made it easier to focus. Pressing the back of his skinned fingers solidly against the brick wall, Peter wrapped his other arm around Tony’s back and watched his face. Tony had always taken him to bed with such patience and gentleness. Tonight he didn’t look patient or gentle at all. He looked lost. Peter watched with wonder even as he pressed his aching erection against the rough fabric of Tony’s vest over and over again.

“Yes Tony, yes,” Peter whispered as Tony thrust his body down with a final grunt and a choked-off moan. He kissed Tony’s face over and over again, the clenched eyes, the slack jaw, even as he jerked his body desperately against Tony’s until he finally came between them. They lay together on the ground, panting and holding each other in the darkness. Peter hid his tears in the sleeve of Tony’s coat. Tony’s arm, buried up to the elbow, remained in the earth between Peter’s thighs.

* * *

Peter woke and changed the sheets of his bed. He put bandages on his scraped fingers and got dressed. Grabbing a toaster waffle and a shovel he headed out to Chimney Hill.

He had plans to find the spot by using the length of his arm. The spot would be exactly where he stood if he could press his knuckles to the bricks of the chimney. But there was no need to measure. The hole was already there, marking the spot, exactly the same size as Tony’s fist.

Peter started to dig.

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The LAST chapter (and the big reveal) will be posted tomorrow.

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The Master Post (not that one, the other one)

as always please direct comments, questions and constructive crit to @witchwayisright

#The Thing That Lives Under The Bed #Demon!Tony #TheWitchwayWritesStuff #Von's Moodboards #Tony Stark/Peter Parker #Starker

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astrogone · 4 years ago

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❝ @ mutuals, send me a 🍓 and I’ll compliment you! ❞ / pt. 2

🍓 @sinisteraugurey: Maya, you are?!?! Brilliant!?!?!? Beyond than that!?!? You are truly one of the most kindest and funniest people I’ve EVER met. You are always shining on my dash and I always take the light from you as a gift sent from the Heaven! Every time I see you on my dash, I just go “!!! It Maya !!!” and get so giddy... It’s very chaotic but very soft of me because! Honestly!? You’re an extremely easy person to interact with, and really, with my anxiety, it says a lot and I do want you to know that your kindness will always cherished and taken with full gratitude and appreciation. It still warms my heart deeply remembering you welcoming me with open arms and I could imagine you would have a big smile on your face typing these texts while I was reading them. You are definitely one of the reasons why I decided to stick around the rpc for the long term and I can never thank you enough for that. With Delphi, my goodness, I already said this to you, but truly, you are the best roleplayer of her. Even though I don’t know the play she’s from, you have so so soo much passion for her, so I just know from the bottom of your heart, this Delphi of yours would be beyond than what the play had written of her. I highly adore learning and reading everything about her. You and your Delphi are the blessings to my heart and soul. <3

🍓 @theseancekid: Ash, oh my goodness, I am in absolute love with you and your blog!? We haven’t even interacted oocly just yet, but the moment we do, you fucking BET that we will instantly rule the world together ( this is a way to tell you to come to my IMs because I did say I would come to you but!? I have so much in my pan af hands bUTT DON’T LET THAT STOP YOU!!! )!!!... You have such a lovely and chill personality from how I see your OOC posts and how you interact with others, and like, every time I see you on my dash, I get so happy and hope you’re doing okay. You are such a delight to be in my dash and I am beyond grateful to have stumbled across your blog. Everything about the blog is so SO good and I always look forward to seeing more from you from aesthetics to writings to graphics and so forth. With Klaus though, dude, I honestly don’t know how isn’t the team of U.mbrella A.cademy not hiring you, like, that’s illegal. The way you write Klaus in IC posts and metas and such?! Holy fuck!!! Always, do I see life in him, and that is a big talent to have. To look into a character and create so much more in them? It’s amazing. No matter what, from your deepest passion of him ( which is too relatable lmfao ), you will always make Klaus mean so much more than what the show / comics ( I had only seen the show, but ) would give. <3

🍓 @sinnedfirst: Moth, aaaa, what a beauty you and all of your muses are. Every single one of your muse is so full of your passion, as everyone holds the right equal amount of love from you and I find that so so amazing. I always adore the ideas that you would come up with and how you would transfer your emotions and thoughts into your writings. I will always find the joy in reading everything you share to us. Seeing you when you are at your most comfortable and happiest state makes me beyond joyful because you deserve all of the good things in the world. You are so sweet and fun to be with, and I always get so excited every time I get your message / reply. You have such a chaotic and wonderful soul that I adore dearly much and I can never get enough of you and your Aries energy. Despite my anxiety, I do hope to interact with you more in the future when you are such a delight to be around with. I may look like a softie at times, but please keep this in mind that I will literally fight someone with my 5′0″ dumbass for you. We are the iconic duo like Eve and Atlas are together and anyone who would think otherwise can come to me and my fists alone, <3

🍓 @ebonhalo: Oceana, we haven’t interacted much just yet, but!? Hi!?!? You and Drakoris!?!? The instant winners of my heart and soul!?!? There’s not much content of Drakoris, but literally just by what you wrote about him in your blog and his document, truly, I find him so fascinating and I want to learn so much more about him and the universe he came from. I absolutely love that you had Drakoris as someone who was once an “ordinary” being before a huge consequence occurred and made him become so much more as than the universe itself. I just find that kind of character so interesting to see how would the drastic change affect the individual themself and those who would be associated with them. How it would shape them and what would they do with all of this new and different powers and influences. Please, PLEASE, you are always more than welcome to scream to me about Drakoris and the universe you have beautifully crafted so far anytime anywhere! Everything about your blog is magnificent and I can not fucking wait to see more from you. Plus, you have a pretty chill vibe that I can go down with easily, so! Know that I am so so SO looking forward to interact with you and Drakoris more! <3

🍓 @saveveryone: Besa, if you think I wouldn’t have much more to say after what I said in the tags of your promo, uh, you are! So! Wrong! Honestly, you deserve all of the love and appreciation and care, even when you feel that you do not. Believe it or not though, I will believe that you do deserve every good things in the whole wide universe for you. The way you wish to spread nothing but kindness and love and softness on everyone’s dash. The way you take no bullshit from any assholes and stay resilient, no matter what. The way you pour so much light into your beautiful May. You are incredible, friend. In every little ways you give, you give me the softest reminder that despite how terrible this world can be, how much so with Tumblr, you never stop shining. I want to take this chance to say thank you so much for giving the time and effort and energy to bless our dashes because, yes, indeed you are magnificent to have around and I truly can not imagine having you on my dash, or, really, anyone’s dash. To lose you would be like looting the brightest star in the universe. Just as anyone should be, I am beyond grateful to have find your blog in a community so massive. I adore the way you spill so much of yourself in your creations with your May. This love, this care, they make May so real and so beautiful. I always get excited seeing content about her on my dash. I want to learn about and and see more of her because my gosh, how you hold her with so much passion is amazing. Never ever stop shining, friend, no mater what. Despite anything, this light that you are willing to give to this dark world will always be taken with nothing but appreciation and gratitude. <3

#( I am but a soft and sleepy bean )#( and being soft and sleepy at the same time just brings a deeper but more distorted side of me )#( so I hope any of this makes sense )#( but hi everyone I love you all so so so much )#( truly the blessings to the world and my dearest heart <3 )#( happy happy strawberryday to all! )#tbt.#sinisteraugurey #theseancekid #sinnedfirst #saveveryone

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