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emotionallyattachednerd · 2 years ago

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Atoms Love ❙ TP Ratchet x f!robot reader ❙ NSFW 18+

Word count: 3000+ 😅

Warnings: Smut ( Touching, teasing and spike in valve ). NSFW 18+.

Notes: Been wanting to do one of Ratchet for a while now and was so thrilled to get this finished. I did change the title from the previews I had posted, I just felt this was more suited. Thanks anon for sending in this beauty, I had lots of fun with it. Sorry for the wait.

I'd like to add that when reader use to be Rachet's student she was of age, not underage. Just a simple rule that teachers shouldn't be involed with their students like in our world with collage/university. That's all. Hope you're all enjoy the sexy medic. 🥰

Your arrival on earth is greeted with a warm welcome from team prime. For so long you've been travelling planet to planet, searching for friends and perhaps a place to call home. While you didn't mind the ongoing travel at first, you were eager to settle for good. Earth was your next stop and you felt pretty lucky to find Optimus Prime and his team, but what got you even more excited was that Ratchet was there, your former teacher back on Cybertron way before the war started.

Through the coms of your ship you can hear the ecstasy from Ratchet, and you can't hold back your beaming smile hearing your favourite medic again after so long. Earth is to be your home now, that's what you decided. Sure, decepticons might've been hanging around but you could handle it. Your skills as a medic and through tinkering science will prove to be useful, all thanks to Ratchet who has taught everything he knew.

It's good to have Arcee around, you thought, so you weren't the only femme around, and she admitted that it's good to have another femme to join team prime. She is pretty cool, you thought, and such a skilled warrior. You two were going to get along.

The others were great as well, you even met these interesting humans they had around. Optimus expressed his appreciation to have you join them, and also added that Ratchet hadn't stopped talking about you since the comlink transmission. At first you were flattered, but hearing Ratchet fluster so quickly, struggling to explain himself did make your cheek plating heat up a little trying to hide your smile.

The moment was over, but Ratchet and you did spend a lot of time together, mostly talking about science and even doing small experiments of your own just for fun. The others saw all this but they didn't dare to say anything or interfere. Apparently Ratchet was pretty quick with his wrench if someone was to disturb him.

It's been a few weeks now since your arrival and it was going well. You feel settled and are surrounded by others who are almost like a family. You find yourself with Ratchet again, of course, you do spend a lot of time with him. Later that evening, you are both currently doing some tinkering and small experiments to pass the time together, measuring the right formulas and discussing the old times back on Cybertron.

"Oh but I'm serious. Out of all my students, you were one of the best. Someone with your intelligence deserved to be in the higher ranked classes, and I argued with those lug nuts in the higher grounds, but they didn't see what I saw." Ratchet goes on to say as you listen in.

"Well, it's a good thing that didn't happen, because I would've missed my favourite teacher. I only learned from the best, and it's because of you that I ended up here."

"Me? No, I'm sure there are other reasons." He tries to brush himself off but you shake your helm.

"There was much I believed from you, and I admired you, I still do, and I'm grateful I had a good teacher like you to help guide me through my younger learning time."

Meeting his gaze you saw him staring at you fondly as you return the same stare before he forces himself to break that small trance you thought you felt happening. It was quiet before you heard him vent out heavily and place his tinkering on the bench.

"May I make a confession to you, y/n?" His tone is deep, as if he's still wondering if he should keep talking to you about whatever is going on in his processor. "Just promise not to laugh."

"Of course you can. I've never made fun of you before, and I don't plan on it." You'll listen to him and hear what he has to say.

"Well, when you were my student, I did say a number of times how much I admired you and praised your skills, but what I never told you was that I admired you...affectionately."

This makes you stop what you're doing. He now had your full attention. "Putting it simple, you had a crush on me?"

Ratchet lets out a light hearty laugh but it's not because of what you said, but because of what he was confessing to you after all this time. "Yeah, that's putting it simple." Another vent leaves him, optics cast against the bench as he fiddles with the tinkers to try and avoid your own optics. You wonder if he is ashamed or embarrassed, but you want him to know that he doesn't need to be.

"How come you didn't say anything before?" You already knew the answer to that.

"Because I was your teacher and you were my student, it wouldn't have been right. You would've been kicked out and I would've been demoted from my position. So, I locked away those affections, and continued to be your teacher."

"That sounds sad. Doesn't sound like you wanted to do that, and you are making yourself sound like you haven't been happy for a long time."

"Oh I've been...content." He didn't sound very convincing to you. "Don't you worry, y/n. I might be older but that doesn't mean I haven't been happy. Regrets, yes, but that's only natural for anyone. I'm just pleased that you're here now, that's all that matters."

If only you knew, perhaps things might've been different.

To move on from it he tries to focus on his tinkering as you look down at your own a little, pondering your thoughts. Well, he did it first, you are only going to add more to this with no way out.

"I have a confession." He hears this from you as he locks his optics with your own. "When I was your student, I was...enamoured by you." You decide to use the fancy words like he does and look at the gadget in your servos a little, turning it for a better look and giving Ratchet the moment he needed to let this progress in him.

"You? I-I mean...you?" His confusion makes you feel a little amused. "How come you said nothing?"

"I was your student and you were my teacher, it would not have been right." You answer the same as his own. "Also, I did express my feelings, just not verbally."

"Well, you're going to have to explain that one to me, because I don't recall anything that gave me any signals that you felt like this towards me." He sounded a little miffed but not in a bad way, mostly with himself you think for not noticing.

"Those blue energon roses. One was left at your work station every week. They're hard to grow and need the right formulas for them to flourish which I did every week and presented to you. I never said they were from me but I watched from afar. You admired them."

"You?" He lays everything on the bench and leans himself against it as if his knees were growing weak. "Those were from you?"

"I learned from the best." You give a dainty smile. "You taught me how to grow them, and I wanted to express my gratitude and...affections, without either of us getting in trouble."

Perhaps if you both confessed your feelings for one another during those times, things might've been different. Sure, you might've been kicked out and he would've lost his position, but at least you would've had each other, right? That's the childish dream you had while being his student but you got over it, at least that's what you kept telling yourself.

"So, you felt the same way about me?" Ratchet wants to clarify once more from you. "Do those feelings still persist?"

"I did." You confirm. "And they do."

Its then you notice you're both holding a deep rooted stare. Blue optic illuminating together in a stronghold, one and the other silently screaming for the other to do or say something, quickly, before it escapes. Ratchet catches it just in time.

"What's stopping us now?"

"Nothing."

It all happens abruptly, one moment you and Ratchet were tinkering away with experiments and the next, you find yourself in his private quarters. There's a growing fever as you run your servos across his chassis, up over his shoulder pads as you feel his own servos smooth over your waist. His warm lips are across your own in a deep, slow passion, his glossa coils with your own while you welcome his touches and kisses through pure ecstasy and eagerness.

Ratchet calmly leads you towards his berth where he sits himself and you straddle his lap as you keep the kiss hot and lasting between you both. It's him that eventually breaks the kiss, touching your helms together as your heated vents hit against each other.

"Would you like to try out a new experiment?"

"I thought we already were." You can't help but giggle faintly, regarding the humid moment you are both currently sharing.

"Think of it as an add on to our current one."

"Why not? Tinkering with experiments is kind of our thing."

Ratchet lets out a light chuckle that you grew to love so rapidly.

"Turn around, and settle in my lap again."

Following his gentle command you do that, sitting back down and pressing your back against his chassis as you feel his servos calmly move across your waist, cascading down over your hips and across your thighs, letting them linger there while he feels you under his touch. You let out a placid vent, feeling relaxed and a small boiling of desire creeping its way through your frame. He then touches his wrist and you catch onto a device being activated in front of your both.

"A hologram mirror?" You smile warmly in amusement. "Is there a reason that it's set up right in front of your berth?"

"Perhaps I like to admire myself." There's a hint of playfulness in his voice making you giggle faintly in return.

"Well, you're quite the sight."

"You're a better looking sight."

Ratchet turns your helm a little so he can kiss you gently before resuming his actions, servos ghostly running on top of your tights and inwards, close to your warm panel. His chin rests against your shoulder as he looks at the mirror, as you lock your optics on it as well, watching what he is doing to you. To see everything is very arousing for you both.

You spread your legs to give him more access, hanging over each of his as you settle comfortably in his lap and rest yourself back against him, letting out silent heated vents that slowly boil more within you. Your waist wiggles, rubbing softly against Ratchet's panel causing him to let out a silky moan.

"Let's have a look at you. Retract your panel, please."

Without any pause you do this, revealing your already soaked valve for you both to see through the mirror. You can feel Ratchet quiver against your back as he stares, servos moving even closer to your valve.

"Stunning." He whispers into your audio. It's your turn to moan when he touches a digit against your moist lips and delicate node, exploring and teasing you for his own pleasure.

You watch as he uses a second digit to open your lips to explore you more, and uses another with his other servo to gently push into your valve. Instantly you clench around to invading digit, a feathered moan lingering from your vocals. You can't help but rock your hips gently, both of you watching as he plays with you. "Ratchet." His name sighs from you while your servos rest against both his thighs.

"You're a rare beauty, y/n. You were always my favourite student." His charming words causes you to smile shyly.

"As you were my favourite teacher." Next, you got cocky. "Is this what you always wanted to do to me?"

Ratchet is quiet, optics staring at what he's doing while playing with your valve, digit pumping into you slowly. His response is by adding a second digit to join the first, and his other servo circles around your node, causing you to gasp and back arch, feeling the new buzz suddenly electrocute through your frame.

"This, and much more."

You weep softly through the burning lust that drifts across your entire frame, hips swaying in sync with his servos and digits against your valve before moving your servo up to touch the side of Ratchet's face as a way to hold on and keep him close as possible. Your optics never leave the mirror, fascinated by the sight of yourself and Ratchet's skillful servos on you, knowing very well that he'll more than likely want to try out other things in the future. After all, nothing is holding either of you back anymore.

You hear a faint click and you see his throbbing spike emerge from it's housing between your legs. His girth size was rather impressive, thick and throbbing, canvas up perfectly as small drops of trans fluid leaks from his tip and runs down his length.

He catches you from the mirror staring at his spike making him chuckle lightly. "I'm not that impressive."

"Liar." You comment back before gently wrapping you servo around his spike, hearing him letting out a hitched vent at your warm touch as his optics shuttered a little. "You're beyond impressive. You're phenomenal." It's your turn to moan again as he rewards you with a third digit in your soaking valve.

"You're too kind to this old timer."

"You're my old timer." You notice his expression change a little, as if he is touched by your words before giving you a soft beam against your shoulder.

Your servo slowly starts to pump at his spike, feeling every ridge along the base and every twitch given from him, digit rubbing at his tip and back down to moist him all over. You kind of feel like you're going to need it. His servos are kept on your valve, digits pumping into your stretched depths while rubbing still slow at your node. He doesn't want you overloading just yet. With all this happening both your moans and heated vents surround you both, growing more hotter and eager for more.

"Ratchet, please, I need you inside me."

"Stand up." It seems you both have the same thoughts. Once his digits are gone from you, you stand up on weak legs just a little. Slowly, you lower yourself back down, watching the mirror as Ratchet holds himself in position before finding your mark.

Your mouth hangs open a little while watching yourself sink down onto his spike, taking his thick girth inch at a time while tossing your helm back against Ratchet's shoulder. You can hear his tense grunts as you clamp around him tightly, and let yourself sink fully into his lap again.

"Y/n..." He says your name, almost sounding desperate, like he was begging for something from you.

"Ratchet." You return the same as you give yourself a moment to adjust. "You feel so good."

Carefully, you start to move yourself, watching from the mirror as you see yourself moving along his spike entering your valve over again. His servo wraps around your front and comes to your node again, rubbing at you as he has a firm hold at your hip as you ride him. You're obsessed with the sight, and you know already you're going to want to use the hologram mirror again for yourselves.

Letting out heavy moans you grind down against Ratchet causing him to let out a surprised moan himself, holding a tighter hold as he presses his lips into your neck, glancing at the mirror whenever possible. You hold onto him as you ride his spike, letting out more blissful sounds that slowly grow more.

"Oh frag!" You curse out much louder, unable to hold it in.

"Such language doesn't suit you." Ratchet can't help himself, causing you to give a giggle through your moans.

"Then what suits me?"

"This."

He grabs hold of you tightly and thrusts his hips up against your movements at a rapid pace, causing you to let out a mewl. Looking at the mirror you are obsessed with the sight of you sitting against him, riding his spike, as he thrusts into you, causing the berth to start creaking under your harsh movements.

"Touch yourself."

You do that, using a free servo to bring down to yourself as you rub your node, digits skipping across the base of his moist spike as he enters you over again. Your thighs are spread wide, hanging across his own legs as you hump against his movements and moving in sync together. At this rate, you know you won't last too much longer.

Ratchet seems to read your mind. "Go on darling. Overload with me. Let yourself go."

That is all you needed to hear. Letting out a loud lingering mewl you fall apart and overload hard, watching yourself as your juices pool around the spike and under the both of you against the berth.

His heated vents against your shoulder turn into grunts before he lets out a harsher gnarl and you feel his warm trans fluids soak your depths. hips stilling, keeping inside you as you both sag against one another and the berth. With your optics still cascading at the mirror you are enjoying the sight while letting yourself vent and cool off as he did the same.

"That experiment was fun." You say through a giddy smile.

"Fun indeed. I have more ideas and experiments for us to try out for the future." The very thought makes you hum in delight.

"I look forward to all of them." You gently remove yourself from his spike and turn around, straddling him again and giving him a tender and loving kiss.

He kisses you back just as tenderly before your helms rest together.

"You think you can handle this old grumpy fool?"

"Absolutely." You answer while caressing his cheek plating.

"Fantastic."

There is nothing stopping either of you now.

Also, just to share because I can, this is the position that they had going. Let that invade your mind and consume your thoughts. 😍

#transformers #prime #ratchet #valveplug #ratchet x reader #reader insert #fanfiction #writing #smut #older mechs are always the best #ratchet has a thick spike and skillful servos #sugarrusheag

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frostedclock · 8 months ago

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Deerly Dreaming Alastor

Chapter One: Soft Melody

WARNING 18+ MATURE THEMES

Pairing: Alastor x Jane Doe (Reader)

Your shifts were often monotonous. Same shift different day of the week. The same old faces came and sat at the booths everyday at almost the same time, and would always order the same thing. You've memorized most orders at this point, and it was nearly infuriating to you. Though there has been a small wave in the still pond that was the Ruby's Diner. A new regular you might call him now. You didn't know his name and he hadn't spoken past what he wanted to order. It was always the same and so simple you memorized it by the third visit.

A black coffee with an order of grits and butter that a few pieces of toast accompanied. No sugar.

The neglected cigarette that hung from your lips dropped a log of ashes as thoughts began to swirl about like the smoke. You realized your five minute break must have been run out at this point and you tossed the cigarette into the damp ground under your feet and you smashed the butt with the end of your flat slip on shoes.

The diner was mostly empty - the only soul being the cook in the kitchen - when you returned, the yellow lights flooded the beige, white and black interior. The sound of the coffee machine and the sizzle of the flattop in the kitchen were the only sounds in the restaurant. It was early morning on a Sunday, so you knew that meant a slow start to only get slammed right after church had let out for the day.

You hummed and went to the radio sitting on the bar counter near the machines that kept the coffee warm. The static filled the air as you clicked the switch on and began to fiddle with the dials. You smile as you settle on a station and let the music drown out the grating silence of the diner.

The soft tones of a saxophone and the accompaniment of a trumpet pushed it's way into your ears as you picked up a damp rag and began to clean up the hardwood tables, even if they were already cleaned. You hummed to the tune as you moved shakers out of the way and put them back.

You almost didn't hear the soft bell of the door.

" Go ahead and have a seat where you like, hun. I'll be right over. " You spoke before you looked over.

Black Coffee and Grits himself stood at the door. It must have started to rain again because his ruddy brown coat was damp and dark in spots as he began to shed of the layer and drape it over his arm. He stood tall, the boots that made a sharp tap with each step didn't help. His light brown vest was completely dry and so was his white button down shirt. The sleeves rolled down for today with the chill in the air from the cool spring shower that rolled through the night. His brown eyes met yours for a moment then he glanced about the diner.

His steps were nearly drowned by the sound of the station on the radio switching to a more upbeat jazz tune. He made his way over to a booth to take a seat, his coat placed in a folded position next to him.

You blinked out of your stupor and headed to the coffee pot behind the bar. You began to hum again as you gathered a simple white mug and checked the cup for cracks and leftover dust before you placed it on the tray next to the pot. The soft jazz tunes always perked up your morning, and sometimes you got so lost in your own world when the right song was playing. You poured the black liquid caffeine into the porcelain cup, filling right below the top.

You leaned over the window counter where the orders were placed when they were finished. " Johnny could you fire up the grits, two tabs of butter and no sugar? "

Johnny, a man in his late fifties, was portly and his face showed years of laughter that had left deep lines in the round face of his, his eyes just two dots of stormy grey under bushy salt and pepper eyebrows. " Sure, take about ten minutes. " He said as he rubbed the flour and breadcrumbs off his hands and onto the stained greasy apron he wore.

You smiled and stood back flat on your feet. Your hands gripped the metal tray off the counter with the cup of coffee and began your way over to the booth where the man was waiting. His brown hair had been smoothed down now that he had settled into the seat and the flecks of water that had been on his hair and his glasses had dried by the time you came over with the coffee. You set it down in front of him, your eyes caught the scraps of paper in front of him had little rough drawings, sketchy and messy in nature but not in recognizable.

His gaze met yours as you approached, his eyes were dark brown, almost black behind his glasses. The smile on his lips was the one he always seemed to have, like it must be his default expression. But you don't think you've ever seen it reach those dark eyes of his. They didn't leave you as you set the cup in front of him, it was almost unnerving.

" Did you want your usual?" You asked after you realized you had been standing there for a moment without speaking.

His lips twitched and he reached forward to take ahold of the mug. " Yes, that would be lovely as always. " His voice was always smooth, and his tone even. Polite might be a word for it, if you had to pick one.

You relax your posture some and you give a gentle smile as you spoke . " Good, it won't be long then. You enjoy your coffee, and if you need me, I'll be around. Just give me a holler. "

He made a hum in his throat. " I will keep that in mind. "

You turn and head back to start back at your busy work while you wait for the inevitable ding and shout to tell you the food was done. You bustled from the milkshake station to the coffee station to restock the little things before the lunch rush arrived in a few hours. A new song came on the hissing radio and you wiped the barstools off with a damp rag as you swayed slightly to the song.

" I walked the streets of New Orleans, " You hummed gently out with the song as you picked up the cloth placemats and wiped under them at the bar, " with a girl of my dreams..."

Alastor watched, he only had taken a few drinks of the coffee. Even with his head facing forward, he could see you. He could watch you live in that little world that surrounds you when the music seemed to take a hold. The first time Alastor had come to this diner, it had been on a whim in truth. It had been a humid morning and he had not slept just yet from his nightly activities.

A hunt always did make him a bit peckish. Normally he would have waited till he reached his home and cooked himself, but whims and flights of fancy often took him when his distaste for the mundane had peaked. Ruby's Diner had been one of those. Despite being a busy morning that day, you hadn't let the smile leave your face as impatient people vied for the chance to order. You didn't ever seem like you where in a soured mood when he arrived to eat here in the visits after. You looked just about the same as you had that day. Your curls tucked into a bun with only a few strays that fell as you moved about , the soft blue cotton dress you wore to wait tables went to your calves and your stockings came up to where the dress ended. The same pair of ragged flats you always wore made Alastor think you must not make enough working here to get a decent pair, or perhaps you liked to only wear rough shoes to work.

Alastor found if he came here early on a morning he knew would be slow, he would have the diner alone to listen to the soft songs you often sang when you had delved to deep into your own corner of reality. It was quite amusing. He picked the mug up and took a drink before setting it back down. Your melody had been interrupted by the ding of a bell from the direction the kitchen. Alastor sighed, and knew his personal concert was over now that the food was ready. Soon your presence was next to the table and a bowl and a small plate was set down. Alastor gazed at the bare hands that lingered as they placed the breakfast onto the hardwood surfaces. You skin looked soft but the small scars over your knuckles and the sides of your fingers told Alastor you must cook in your spare time. No ring or jewelry, he never seen you wear either and today was no different.

" Here you go, sweetie. " You spoke, your tone was always gentle and soft, the drawl to your words told Alastor that you grew up a little farther west then New Orleans. " Did you want anything else? "

You even refilled his cup even if Alastor had only drained a few drinks from it. Fresh steam rose from the mug and you set the metal coffee pot back onto the tray that was expertly perched between the crook of your elbow and your hand that held the edge.

Alastor felt his lips twitch again. " No, nothing right as of now mon cher. "

You give him that smile that made his stomach churn and twist. Your cheeks held the dust of pink across your skin, such warmth in that gaze. Alastor could only remember one other woman that held such a radiance to their expressions. And they have been gone for a few years now.

" Alrigh', well let me know if you change your mind. "

You went about your business after that. Alastor ate his breakfast at his leisure, it wasn't the food he came for anyhow. It was adequate to him, he could make it better but then he would lose out on the melody he so enjoyed. Your dulcet tones were to him like some bird songs were to others. Soft and not meant for anyone's ears intentionally. That is what he came for. When he had first heard you, it made him forget the thoughts he had been plagued with that day.

Alastor took the cloth napkin to his lips and wiped any crumbs that might have lingered. He couldn't overstay his time, he knew that. Soon this diner would be filled to the brim with people. He placed a few nickels on the table and stood up from his seat, picking up his coat. He could see you in the glinted reflection of the diner window, the shine of the sun peeking from the clouds gave a mirror effect to the thick glass. You were looked over your shoulder from behind the bar, but when he turned with his coat on properly you had looked back to whatever task you had occupied yourself with.

Alastor walked towards the door and when the bell sounded as he creaked open the wooden door, he heard your voice call from behind him.

" Oh you forgot something ! "

He heard the taps of your feet on the tile as you came up. He turned around to face you. " Hmm?"

You had the little messy drawings he had scribbled and left behind. You held them out for him to take, the papers held in such a way so you didn't crumple them. " Don't you want these?"

Such a small thing.

Alastor's teeth flashed in his smile, not motioning to take them. " Why don't you keep them? "

" Oh... " You sounded a bit puzzled, but your lips kept a lopsided smile to them. Then it softened as your gaze fell down at what you held in your hands. " Well... Okay. "

When you looked back up from the messy pen strokes, the door was closed and the sound of the bell remained.

" What an odd fello'. "

#hazbin alastor #human alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x jane doe #hazbin alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #fanfic #deerly dreaming alastor #i call the reader Jane Doe cause i think its hilarious

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empiresgleam · 1 year ago

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Sneak peak of the forthcoming Chapter 8 of Empires Gleam, in which Merlin has gone back in time to save them all, and ended up in a friends-with-benefits situation with Arthur. Mutual pining while having sexy trysts all over the place... chef's kiss.

----

"Ready? Pull!" shouted Arthur, drawing his bow.

Merlin flicked a hand and a clay disc ricocheted into the air. Arthur took the shot and felt in his bones that it was flying true towards the target. But at the last second the disc zinged out of the way and the arrow landed harmlessly in the grass.

"Sorry? Should I go easier on you?" asked Merlin, with an innocent smile.

Arthur glared. “I can't handle anything you’ve got, Merlin.”

Merlin smirked and crooked a finger to pick up Arthur's arrow and float it back to him.

"Again," sighed Arthur. "Ready? Pull!"

This time, the arrow hit the clay disc dead on, but Arthur knew enough about Merlin now to anticipate the second surprise disc. He whipped a dagger out of the top of his boot and threw it, managing to hit the second target mostly by sheer luck.

Merlin's jaw dropped open.

"Arthur, ye gods," he said.

"That's what happens when you’ve been trained to kill since b-" said Arthur, but was cut off by Merlin's mouth landing hotly on his.

Afterwards, when they were lying on the grass, letting the night air cool their heated skin, Merlin asked, "Do you want to tell the others about this place?"

Arthur looked around the aerie, at the neat acres of mossy grass, the high stone walls covered in thick ivy that looked a hundred years old, the blossoming trees, the cozy outbuildings. He took in the whole massive arena, ringed with iron braziers, a fire burning merrily in all of them, giving a warm tone to Merlin's skin that matched his eyes, which were more often gold than blue here.

"Not right now. But eventually," he conceded. "Only because it seems a shame to let all your hard work go unappreciated."

Merlin pressed his face into Arthur's shoulder, pleased as a cat at this simple compliment.

"But not now, right?" Merlin said. "It's too– too– convenient to give up."

"Right. Exactly," said Arthur, with a shiver. Convenient. That's all it was.

------

Then there was the quiet summer morning when the unicorn stepped out of the trees.

Merlin looked at Arthur's raised crossbow, looked at the unicorn, remembered a labyrinth and a beach and a riddle of poison.

Arthur put a finger to his lips.

Merlin tackled him into the dirt.

“Wow, unnecessary,” said Arthur. “I wasn’t going to shoot it. I remember the story of the prat and the unicorn.”

“Couldn't risk it,” said Merlin. “Can't rest my whole fate on whether you are or are not a prat.”

He was lying heavy on top of Arthur, panting.

Arthur said, “You know, I’ve heard that unicorns only appear to virgins. If you’re so worried, we could make sure that neither of us ever sees one again.”

He grinned, thrust his hips suggestively, and reached up for a kiss.

Merlin tasted salt on his tongue and remembered the smell of the sea, sitting across from Arthur, two goblets between them, deciding who would die to save Camelot from the unicorn’s curse.

Tomorrow, instead of making a noble sacrifice for each other’s lives, they would probably trade furtive kisses in the armoury.

And– momentarily– horribly– Merlin wished he’d let the unicorn die.

“No!” Merlin pushed off Arthur and got to his feet roughly. “It’s getting late. Let’s get back.”

He felt the pressure of Arthur’s gaze, but avoided it all the way home.

------

New chapters coming soon to Ao3.

#merlin #bbc merlin #merthur #snippet #empires gleam #merlin/arthur #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #fic rec

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the-mountain-flower · 5 months ago

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I WANNA HEAR MORE ABOUT UR AURORA OCS THEY'RE SO COOL!!

AH!! 😃😁😁😁

OK SO,

Aimie (she/her) is young adult mostly-Unadapted Human with some elven ancestry, and the youngest of a not-rich-but-well-off family. She is adventurous and intelligent, yet clumsy and scatterbrained. She's an experimental researcher, and a dual mage with the ability to use Wind and Fire magic. She does a lot of travel, but she kind of has a talent for finding trouble and getting hurt. It's basically a miracle she's still alive, though only Siodha knows how (presumably).

Xynn (they/she) is a young adult coyote Shifter Ferin with Wind Elf heritage. She's frankly badass, and has picked up a lot of miscellaneous skills over the years of supporting themself and her younger sibling (he/him, early/mid teens, still coming up with a name for him... haven't found one that seems right yet), as they were both orphaned at a young age. Despite being extremely competent in most areas, they've had trouble finding work due to most people's treatment of Ferin.

When Aimie's parents (two dads btw) started looking for someone to hire to keep their daughter safe (and alive) on her travels, Xynn is the one they end up hiring. The pay is enough for Xynn to send back to their sibling, who is now old enough that Xynn's job taking her out of town for days or sefs on end isn't a problem.

When Aimie found out about that, she was initially abrasive, insisting that she "doesn't need a babysitter!" but relents after her parents just to try it once and see how it works. After a couple attempts to lose Xynn during their first time traveling together, it became clear that she wasn't gonna get rid of them that easily. Well, they're not bad company, so it's not long before she gets used to it.

Xynn quickly finds out just how accident-prone Aimie really is, to the point where they become very familiar with where the first-aid kit in Aimie's travel bag is. They're also admittedly impressed with how willing and comfortable she is sleeping on the ground with nothing but a single blanket.

They really warm up to each other during an incident when Aimie is startled awake by a snake, and Xynn casually picks it up and assures that it's just a little grass snake and it's not venomous. Despite their attempts to hide it, Aimie learns that Xynn loves snakes. When Xynn starts to try and tone down their excitement, she insists that she doesn't mind one bit, and goes out of her way to make sure they know that she's not going to shame her for it or anything.

During this journey, they both end up infodumping to each other a lot. And when one does, the other listens intently. (ISTG so many of my original character romances consist of one infodumping while the other(s) listen with heart eyes.)

When she's back home, Aimie pleasantly surprises her parents with how cool she was with the new travel arrangement, and that she approves of Xynn coming with her regularly.

Xynn's little sibling asks if the new job is good, and she replies that yes, it is. And they think they like it quite a bit.

Perhaps due to extended amounts of time spent traveling together, perhaps because they genuinely enjoy each others' company, it's not long before they become really close friends.

Xynn quickly figures out her own feelings for their travel companion not long after they start turning into what she considers a problem. They try to distance herself emotionally for a bit, but fails to get their relationship back to what would be considered "professional". They consider quitting for a bit, but she really, really doesn't want to bc they really do like their adventures together. Eventually she makes peace (sort of) with the fact that yes, they're in love with her travel companion, but that nothing would come of it...

In contrast, Aimie doesn't really know when she started to fall for Xynn. She doesn't even realize it for a while, until one day she finally puts a name to her new feelings, but doesn't have the first clue as to how to handle it. She feels like acting on those feelings would be taking advantage of Xynn, especially since by now she knows how much they need this job, so she keeps quiet.

At this point Xynn's told Aimie a fair bit about their sibling, though she's never met him, and Xynn has expressed she doesn't feel comfortable with Aimie knowing where they live. She's not ashamed or hiding it, just doesn't want to show her the barely-held-together shack they call home. Until one day, when Xynn's sibling goes missing, and Xynn asks Aimie for help.

An investigation and a wind missive leads them to find that he has been kidnapped. Pro tip: don't piss off a badass and protective coyote-shifter, and a Wind and Fire mage with very little regard for her own safety. The kidnappers get their asses beat, and Xynn's sibling is brought to safety.

After the rescue, it becomes clear that their previous living situation isn't viable for them anymore. Aimie arranges for them to live with her family, insisting that it's really not a problem, and when Xynn mentions that's not part of the deal she made with Aimie's parents, Aimie insists that it would've been if they'd known how much Xynn and their sibling were really struggling. She brings it up with her parents who are hesitant at first, but do a complete 180 when Aimie tells them about how they were living before and about the kidnapping thing, and suddenly Xynn and her sibling have a new, better place to live. Xynn manages to wait until she and Aimie are alone before she finally breaks down, into a mess of tears and "thank you"s. Aimie tells her that, given how often Xynn has saved her ass during their travels, it's only fair.

It's not long after this, that they finally, finally, admit their feelings for each other.

Xynn and Aimie travel together as partners (also Xynn's position with Aimie's folks transfers from hired help, to basically family).

Fun tidbits:

Aimie's magic channels are unevenly sized, her Wind one is higher-capacity than her Fire one (which is fairly small). She's also come up with ways to make larger flames than is natural for her by getting creative with her combination of magic abilities. (She has definitely found an large, empty space with nothing flamable nearby to figure out how to create a small fire tornado. Yes, she did get burned. On the bright side, she learned that awesome new spell.)

Alongside her first-aid supplies, Aimie keeps a small Life lacrima in her travel bag for emergencies. She's had to use it less often when Xynn started traveling with her, both because they help prevent a number of accidents and because she can do first aid for Aimie when she can't do it for herself.

One time Xynn saved Aimie from getting bit by a venomous snake, but it resulted in them getting bit instead. When Aimie is taking care of the wound they reassure her that the poison won't be fatal, especially to a ferin, and she'll recover in no time and it'll be fine. Aimie asks how they're feeling, and at this point Xynn is comfortable enough with her, to admit that this is kind of the coolest thing to ever happen to them.

Xynn got a gift from Aimie that was a book she found about snakes. Xynn freaking loves it.

Aimie, affectionately: "where would I be without you?" / Xynn, equally affectionate: "dead, probably"

Aimie joins Xynn's sibling as the only ones allowed to cuddle coyote Xynn

#I didn't realize just how excited I was to talk about my girls #but then I drew them and got really excited and then you asked and evidently got excited enough to type this whole thing lol #I think I'll share some of my writing about them in the future :)#long post #comic aurora #comicaurora #aurora webcomic #aurora comic #aurora #aurora ocs #comic aurora ocs #ocs #original characters #mountainous flowery rambles

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sroop · 2 years ago

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chomper (i)

She's a good actress, even when she was an inch away from a heart attack, Joel thinks.

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader (no y/n)

Warnings: suggested danger, potential for violence (none actually happens), aggressive behavior from an animal

Summary: Joel sees a woman struggling with her dog as a strange man approaches, and steps in to help before things escalate.

No outbreak au and Joel has both his daughters :D

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It's dark, mostly, and usually Joel likes it like that because it feels safe and familiar, but he just feels bad about it now. He wishes he could switch on that broken streetlight that the city's been refusing to fix for months now, if only so it would help the girl across the street from him feel a little better.

She twists her head around her shoulder. No one there, not that they can see, but her dog is growling and snapping at the empty road anyway. Joel can hear her muttering reassurances and pleading with the animal to let it go and hurry home instead, but if anything it only encourages the dog's snarling. She's starting to pull at the leash now.

From where he's standing, he can see a figure shift from far away. It slinks closer and closer until it's standing under the glow of a lamp further back, casting a stark contrast of light and shadow on the silhouette of a lanky man. He's tall, maybe taller than Joel, and stares straight ahead. At her. His pace is steady and unwavering, a straight march towards where she stands, tugging desperately at her half-mad dog. Joel thinks the animal is right about its instincts, just not about staying and fighting. He stays right where he is, just in case.

It's when the man begins to slow down, just before the girl and her dog, when he hears her voice crack with fear, that Joel crosses the street. It must have frightened her even more, to see two unfamiliar men stalking towards her in this time of night, because she skitters away from them and jumps when her back reaches a chain link fence behind. The dog, to its credit, snaps ferociously at them.

"Darling, I've been looking for you," Joel sighs, doing his best impression of the tone he takes with Sarah and Ellie when they've been late out. "Do you know we had dinner thirty minutes ago?"

"I- sorry, she wouldn't go back until we reached the park. I didn't realize it was that late," the girl says. She's a good actress, even when she was an inch away from a heart attack, Joel thinks. She even goes so far as to smile sheepishly at the man and apologize for the way the dog tries to lunge at him. "Let's go, puppy. We gotta go."

The man crosses the street and disappears down some other shadowy part of the neighborhood when the girl shifts her attention to Joel.

"Thank you," she says stiffly. She's scanning his person, subtly, but enough for Joel to recognize from his years of service as someone who knows they're still in danger. Her dog, at the very least, has calmed down.

Joel gives her his best gentle smile and says, "I'll just walk with you for another block or so. In case he's still watching." It seems reasonable enough to her, and she nods her assent.

They end up walking three, the first in silence, the second in amiable small talk, and the third exchanging stories of the dog Joel had when he'd been in school and the dog, Chomper, she was watching for a friend for a few months. The night was pleasantly cool enough for him to offer her his flannel, though he felt strangely warm despite its loss as they arrived on his street.

He taps her shoulder gently.

"This is actually me. If you feel ok walking back alone from here, I think I'll go inside," Joel says, his smile lopsided and a little sheepish. He's wondering if this is rude, stopping mid way, but he doesn't want to get to her house and have her feel afraid that he would know where she lived. It wasn't ideal, but it was enough. She waves away his worry.

"You've done more than enough. Thank you, Joel."

The kiss she lays at his cheek flutters through him violently, all shut eyes and short inhale. He thanks the city for not fixing those damned lamps because if they were on, he was sure she would be able to see the way he flushed red from a goddamned kiss on the cheek.

He clears his throat and gruffly replies, "Anytime."

Joel shuts his door and slumps onto his couch a little numbly, unable to suppress the smile at his lips as he recalls the events of a few minutes ago. He feels excitement bubble in his chest. It was just all so... pleasant, the way she smiled as she took the flannel and told him about all-bark-no-bite Chomper and poked fun at how much of a grumpy father he sounded like. Joel doesn't realize he's grinning at his shoes in a dark living room until Ellie snaps the lights on.

"What're you doing?"

Joel jumps to his feet, rubbing the back of his neck and says, "Nothin'. Get back to bed, it's late"

"It's te-"

"Too damn late f'you to be up."

Ellie raises a brow, but shrugs and leaves, muttering something about how the rules in this house changed whenever Joel liked them to. He laughs scoffingly at that too, until he realizes, suddenly, that he'd never even asked her her name.

He puts his hands on his hips.

"Damn you, Joel. All these years and Tommy is still better with women than you."

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thanks for reading and lmk what you think!

#joel miller x female reader #joel miller fic #the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel and ellie #tlou

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stranded-ziggy · 2 years ago

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Ziggy's Beginner Oil Painting Tips (Part 1)

Despite being far from a master oil painter, I'd like to do what I can to try and make this amazing medium easier to access for all artists in the wake of AI, NFTs and the current culture of art being seen as "content" rather than something timeless.

I'm far from a spiritual person in any sense, but there is something completely unique about holding an oil painting you created in your own hands. I've yet to be lucky enough to see any of the old master's paintings in person so all I've seen are my own but despite my inexperience there's a depth to my oil paintings that my digital art can't begin to compare with.

Disclaimer: I take a very relaxed approach to oil painting and have never sold a painting before nor do I have any intention to start selling them any time soon so if you want to create museum quality pieces this is not the guide for you.

This is a guide to help people start experimenting with oil paints and putting paint to paper/canvas.

Contents:

Paints

Gesso

Mediums

Paints

I'm primarily a portrait painter so the palletes I recommend will mostly be useful for painting people.

My favourite pallete:

Titanium white

Yellow ochre

Dusty pink (optional, I just got it for quickly mixing skin tones but burnt sienna and white will do the same; provide a base which you can then cool down/darken/hue shift as you want

Vermillion hue

Burnt sienna

Burnt umber

ultramarine blue

Basically it's the Zorn pallete with a bit of customization, but that means if you want some tips for painting with this pallete you can just search "painting with the zorn pallete" and find a lot of helpful resources.

(Note: You may note there is no lamp black or Ivory black, that is because I prefer to mix burnt umber and ultramarine blue. This dries faster in my experience and also lets me cool it down or warm it up as I want.)

Budget pallete:

Titanium white

Yellow ochre

Vermillion hue

Alizarin crimson

Viridian hue

(Note: in this pallete alizarin crimson and viridian hue can be used to mix a grey/black)

Gesso

Despite my laziness in nearly all aspects of life I do like to gesso my painting surfaces even when they are pre-primed (if you are using a surface that hasn't been primed already such as paper priming is very important).

Usually I buy packs of cheap canvases for around $6 AUD so I feel as though the least I can do is add a few extra layers of gesso to them to help stop the paint from sinking right in and beginning to look dull and matte.

Honestly I don't have a brand to recommend, I have used the liquitex gesso and it's good but despite paying a lot for it I only had enough for a few canvases so for the most part I use the type you can get at craft stores for less than $10, so I say go for whatever is within your budget.

Mediums

I avoid solvents completely in my painting, sacrificing my health any more than I already do by leading the Sedentary Artist Life (tm) isn't worth it in my opinion.

I use Liquin primarily but I also enjoyed using Gamlin's solvent free fluid until I stopped being able to open the cap...

Linseed oil is probably the best medium but you will wait weeks for your painting to dry between layers verses the day, maybe 2 days you will wait using Liquin.

Brushes

There's really no reason to buy super expensive brushes, at least not for me, I paint in a way that's very loose so they don't have the longest life span. I still use brushes that have lost their shape for loose hairs and interesting textures though.

You'll note there's usually "oil painting" brushes in art supply stores, these are good for starting a painting and scrubbing paint onto the canvas when you are trying to work lean over fat (as in layers with more oil on top as they dry slower, this helps the painting to not end up looking cracked).

However, water colour paint brushes serve me well for details as well as acrylic painting brushes.

It's all up to experimentation on you, the artist's part.

As for washing your brushes, as long as you don't leave them lying around with paint on them for so long that it drys completely using a bar of soap will do, or if you can afford it buying some brush cleaner/ restorer is great, solvents like turpentine are not necessary at all.

#art #oil painting #artists resources #painting #tips #resources #painting on a budget #expert oil painters will probably disagree with all of this but this is advice from someone with adhd and not a lot of money haha #just trying to have fun here yo

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alovelyburn · 2 years ago

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Rambles about the Millenium Falcon Arc Part 5

...long time no see.

I actually did start writing this a month ago, but it took a bit to get my brain back in the right place after so long away. BUT I’M BACK hi.

Rambles about the Millenium Falcon Arc Part 5

Even though I do think Isidro is meant to evoke Guts he’s obviously not a 1-to-1 comparison, like he’s much more of a chaos imp than Guts ever was. Also he’s scrawny – I do wonder if he should focus more on ranged combat given how good he is with missile attacks. This doesn’t matter at all, but I’m warming up, lmao.

One of the things Miura talked about when he discussed the reason for the reaction for whatever such and such a character was this idea of designing characters to bring out different shades of Guts in order to make him a more multidimensional character. I think this is something he really excelled at – it’s interesting to see his more mentorly side coming out, not to mention the difference between the way Guts treats Isidro and, say, the way Gambino treated him does highlight Guts’ generally better... nature.

And that’s interesting because I’ve talked a lot before about how post-Eclipse (and pre-meeting Griffith) Guts had taken on a lot of Gambino’s traits and attitudes... which is arguably not the best way to navigate the world. But that’s a side of him that comes out mostly when he’s alone and frustrated – when he’s a kid on the road, for example, or after the Eclipse but before meeting Puck. Which is to say, it’s a self-defense mechanism for when he feels lost or angry and lonely without a lot of outlet. When he has people around he chills out considerably, which makes his attempts at being a lone wolf feel a little self-destructive.

I just love how Guts is completely disinterested unless there’s some kind of fight involved. More than that, though, as a pretty straightforward person I suppose he doesn’t have a lot of interest in interacting with people who are wearing a civil mask and carrying ulterior motives.

As for Serpico, it must be odd watching her change so quickly and so completely. This is the beginning of a longer subplot with him watching being weirded out by it and I guess kind of jealous and kind of saddened that Guts and their companions were able to change Farnese in ways he was unable to and thus make her a much healthier and less troubled person.

Okay so as a sidenote, I do really get tired of this. I understand that Casca and Farnese are the most helpless in the group, but the thing where they are constantly the ones targeted for danger is a little meh. You could argue that in the case of trolls it makes sense – given what we later learn about their actions and breeding habits – but it’s still repetitive because they end up being swept up and pulled into troll haven or whatever together again in the future, so like maybe a different plot point? Like the trolls’ presence could have been announced with a battle scene and then Casca and Farnese could have been separated from the group later without eliciting a kind of “oh this again?” type of response, I’m just saying.

Anyway, you know the deal, me and fight scenes are like, eh.

The introduction of magic definitely changed the tone of Berserk. Miura did mention that he made it difficult to manage and slow to start up for balance reasons, and I do think the balance has been largely maintained but it obviously did change the scale of the series and the battles – same with the Berserker armor, for example. This isn’t actually a problem for me in theory but I think the one thing I wish he had done is... I guess better foreshadow the existence of all these things, right?

Like I don’t expect him to have witches in the BSM arc for example – he hadn’t even thought of it yet, he didn’t even know what the main conflict of the story would be until volume 3. But it would have been cool to have more of a buildup leading into Flora and Schierke’s introduction.

Anyway it doesn’t bother me that much, it’s more like the existence of the Hawk prophecies – a missed opportunity that was probably missed just because he hadn’t thought of it yet.

I wonder if Ivalera is going to like, make more of an impact on me during this readthrough. Because honestly, this is volume 24 right? She’s been with them for almost 20 volumes, and I never remember that she exists.

Ah, Schierke. It’s almost fitting that the kind of lighter/less grim tone came in with her because the anime vibes kind of did, too – green hair and all that. I should clarify that I don’t actually mind the lighter tone or the magic or anything, I just think it’s interesting how quickly Berserk went from like grim gritty low fantasy that borders on horror to like epic fantasy adventures. This arc is kind of a transitional point since the trolls are very old Berserk, but obviously the introduction of Schierke and Ivalera really bridge into new Berserk.

Okay this is a little bit of a tangent, but it’s something I was just thinking about today.

So Casca is, for me, uhh... so many a series has a character in it that’s like a major part of the story but you just can’t warm to them and kinda wish they weren’t there because they feel kind of like baggage. That’s how I feel about Post-Eclipse Casca. Like during the Golden Age she served a narrative purpose right, she’s a foil for Guts and then his love interest and then one of his greatest losses. Cool.

Post-Eclipse though I’m just not sure. Don’t get me wrong, I know she’s involved in the story, like half the story is about getting her to Elfhelm. But – and im not sure whether I can articulate this properly but I’m trying – I feel like even though the story revolves around her, she is nonetheless an extra appendage to the plot. She’s a MacGuffin. Her existence causes people to run around trying to do things but she herself is not involved in those things or even really important to them and there’s no purpose she serves in the story that couldn’t be served by something else without much of a change to the core of the plot.

Guts could get to Conviction any way – he could just go there because of the revelation from Griffith, he could get dragged there by Farnese and then escape, he could just be led there by fate – there’s nothing inherent to the Conviction arc that requires him to be chasing Casca. You could say her biggest contribution to the plot post-Eclipse is as a Griffith-obsession-meter, like if he doesn’t care about her, then he’s in full Griffith-fixation mode, and if he’s focused on protecting her, his Griffith obsession is waning.

I don’t know. There is a large part of the fanbase (most of it in the English speaker quarter, in fact) that perceives her as the third protagonist and really puts a narrative weight on her but I honestly think it’s mostly headcanon and cope, lmao. She’s a MacGuffin.

Anyway the reason this section kinda set me off on it is because Casca gets kidnapped or spirited off to Trollhaven twice in this one arc, and she was sexually assaulted twice since Conviction, and she was sexually assaulted and pushed around and used as a MacGuffin for most of Conviction and while this is somewhat true of Farnese as well at this point (the troll thing anyway)... Farnese then becomes a much more formidable person under her own power whereas Casca languishes, gets her memory back, has multiple unconsciousness-inducing flashbacks and then gets kidnapped.

Hmm, I guess the gist of this rant is just “Casca is a character Miura randomly decided to hook up with Guts for drama and then kept around so that Guts would stay mad, and it shows.”

And of course it helps that Casca ends up spending more time with Farnese than Guts so that relationship isn’t’ really emphasized very much outside of a “what is she to you? Oooohh I think I know....” comment every like 8 real world years.

Anyway if she turns out to be crucial in a way that is unique to her later, I’ll be relieved but for now I’m eh.

/rant mode off

So one of the things I really enjoy about Berserk is this feeling that Griffith’s presence, or even the promise of his arrival, inherently changes the world. Before the Eclipse, apostles became more active, and after it they were obviously more present than they had bene before. And after Griffith’s reincarnation, the barrier between the physical and the astral planes start to blur a bit, bringing the monsters out and strengthening the magical gifts of people like Sonia. His presence is such that he changes the world simply by being there... in various ways. Obviously things like bringing the trolls into the world aren’t great, lmao.

And, of course, Guts understands what’s going on even if no one else does yet.

Establishment shot! I’m sort of fascinated by Flora’s mansion if only because it doesn’t actually exist in the physical world.

Now that I’ve gone into that whole rant about Casca, I will take a moment to say it’d be cool if there turned out to be a reason she randomly went digging in the golem – an instinct through her connection to the Moonkid/Griffith, maybe, or just an instinct in general. It’s not something I expect to come up, to be clear – she’s probably just being a curious child since she’s mentally a toddler. But you know, wishful thinking.

This image really sent me off on a death spiral into one of my more obscure theories, which I’m not going to talk about because I hate being wrong about things I’m not ready to be wrong about. But anyway I did look a bit into the meaning of the pentagram which told me... first of all that the use of the pentagram seems to precede any of the meanings we know to ascribe to it, which make sense. But also, that the points of the pentagram represent either the wounds of Christ, the senses, or five elements.

This sent me into a rabbit hole of reading up on elements as understood in different cultures. What I found interesting was like, it seems most places (most) have the same four elements we still talk about today at least to some degree (like it might be wind instead of air, but you know), but there’s sometimes a fifth thing – spirit or heart, for example, in the case of neoplatonic elements, or void/emptiness for Japanese philosophy.

And then I thought about the way Miura liked to combine the philosophies and religious tenants from different cultures instead of trying to fully replicate a specific perspective in his work. Rather the cosmology of Berserk is a little bit of everything, you know? Which made me think... considering the fifth element in Berserk’s world to be Spirit or Emptiness works very well with the way Berserk is set up but it also tends to imply that there’s a fifth elemental lord, unless the joke is that the element is emptiness so the spot for the lord is empty. I’ll probably yada yada more about this when I get to Schierke’s spell in the village because she does say something interesting that I think bears commentary.

But the way Miura repeatedly put the pentagram in a prominent position - even having a whole panel that was nothing but the pentagram, strikes me as interesting and significant.

But one of the things is this: I believe that all religions in Berserk are faces for the same underlying powers – IoE and the Godhand (and perhaps some other servants who fulfill different functions but we don’t know about that). It explains why the old Godhand look like ancient gods, and it explains why Flora triggers Guts’ brand, which is supposed to react to demonic power. Because in the end, she’s still drawing from the same well but in a different way.

Guts being polite as usual, lmao.

It’s interesting that Flora seems to know she’s going to die soon. I know that you could interpret it as her knowing that she is just getting too old and weak, but considering she tells Schierke that they’ll meet again, which refers to the Casca’s Mindscape sequence 30+ volumes later, I assume she has some kind of plug into the future, albeit in a limited way. Skull Knight seems to be similar.

After this Guts says, “It’ll protect against that” with the image of his beast self raping/killing Casca. Which makes me think this scene fuels people’s assertion that he was possessed when he did that, which he wasn’t. But I do think the possessions prior kind of kicked him in that direction and he was unable to extricate himself from it until he was made violently aware of his own dark side and how dangerous it was.

Okay so now we’re going to talk worldbuilding, its my favorite thing.

Bringing this back.

Okay so, I’m just going to break this down into a form I can better reference, rofl.

The Astral plane is, as Griffith would say, where they become one – the afterlife, and also the home of supernatural forces and beings. When someone senses/believes in something that is technically part of the astral world hard enough the thing becomes visible in the physical world, which is why elves have become recognized in the physical world. Later we’ll find out that the astral world’s... stuff used to be a much greater part of the physical world but started disappearing from the physical realm as people drifted from the perspectives that allowed them to be perceived, which continues right up until Griffith brings them back together.

Then the Realm of Idea (the graphic misnames it) is... it kind of reminds me of the concept of the Root in the Fate franchise (and also several actual world religions nevermind that though). The origin of all existence, the blueprint of reality.

And subrealms:

Physical Realm – where people usually are.

Interstice – a shallow level of the Astral Plane that mostly just looks like the physical realm. This is where Guts and Casca are because of the brand. Also where things like ghosts come from when they haven’t realized or accepted their deaths and headed back to the Vortex.

Nexus – a deeper part of the Astral and the space opened by the Behelit/location of the Sacrifice ceremonies. This is interesting to me because Miura once said that in order to injure an astral body, the person trying to injure them has to be in the astral plane as well. Which brings to mind the arguments over whether the Godhand can actually be hurt – people say they must be mortal to some degree because they protect their bodies – e.g Void deflects Skull Knight’s blow and the only time Femto ever defends himself vs Guts is during the BSM arc when the Slug Count uses the behelit to bring the Godhand out. But it makes sense that they defend themselves during Eclipses or Sacrifice ceremonies because during those moments, the entire area is sucked into the Nexus, which means they can be injured in ways they cant be if they’re just walking around on the physical world. Thus, for example, the impossibility of injuring Griffith in the physical world.

The Vortex – A deeper level of the Astral Plane where the megapowers are, e.g. the Godhand, the Element Kings etc. The sea god from the pirate arc, like that.

The Abyss – where the Idea of Evil hangs out.

This page is often cited as proof that there is a heaven and hell, but Flora really is just engaging in conjecture. That said, it does seem like there are places that are more or less pleasant within the astral plane, at least on lower levels like the Interstice, so I suppose its possible that they exist in the Vortex as well. This is one of the areas where I’m the most conflicted because there’s a pretty strong indication that post-death humans lose their sense of self and join the sea of souls where no one has any individuality or identity, but there’s also this comment about karma and such. Plus we do know that some humans do not just melt into the vortex because Flora herself instead became a Daimon although we don’t find that out for a long time.

Right now, I’m sort of operating with the idea that post-death a person retains a sense of self for a certain period of time, during which their experience is dictated by their karma, before they eventually break apart and join the sea. But that’s just a fan wank it’s really an unknown at this time.

This comment is interesting because it brings to mind Schierke’s later comment that the four elemental kings are the same beings that are named in scripture as the four cardinal angels of God. As I said earlier, all religions are one religion.

What did I say the other day? Even witches refer to Griffith as an angel. This kind of burns my bum because people focus on the demon thing very strongly and tend to either ignore the other side of them or suggest that they’re not really angels but are pretending to be – I think Guts even suggests that at one point. But Guts is biased and Flora would know better than he does.

Not for nothing but Guts is being stupid here. Not too surprising, but like what is he going to do, summon them and launch himself at them? They’d crush him like a bug without moving. Come on, man.

But in all seriousness, Guts’ absolute faith in his ability to find a way to win is one of my favorite things about him, but it’s also what leads to him having a mental breakdown when he cant hit Griffith later. I don’t think he’s ever considered the possibility that there’s something he can’t fight his way through.

This also confirms, btw, that Guts hasn’t given up on revenge just put it on hold until he can get Casca to Elfhelm. Otherwise why would he still be trying to figure out how to get at the Godhand? It’s also the best indication that he isn’t only angry at Griffith but at the entire group of them. I assume it’s not dissimilar to the way Skull Knight runs straight at Void if he’s there, but he wont turn down an opportunity to throw a blow at any of them.

So, one of the things that fuels speculation that Casca might be destined to use that Behelit is that... when it comes out, and they’re talking about it, she seems to be drawn to it for no real reason, right, like she just comes walking toward them making interested noises and Farnese has to pull her away.

The obvious counter would be that she comes out because Flora is about to talk about her and Guts’ mission to protect her, but she didn’t really need to be there for that – people talk about Casca and Guts’ relationship or his intentions with regards to her without her being there all the time.

It’s interesting. It doesn’t necessarily mean anything, but given Miura’s ways it wouldn’t surprise me if it did.

He didn’t listen when Godot told him this before, no way he’s listening now.

But really she doesn’t seem to be trying to tell him to give it up, which doesn’t surprise me – she’s a friend of Skull Knight’s, so I’m sure she understands how pointless arguing with someone in this situation can be.

“The fate associated with it rests in the hands of its master who sent it.” I assume that’s IoE but it does highlight the fact that Slan seemed to be able to affect its reaction/availability to Guts.

When I try to figure out who the behelit might belong to, though, I admit I have a kind of difficult time imagining who it could be aside from Casca or Guts. If it’s Guts, then I would expect it’s there for him to ultimately resist, thus finally breaking the chains of fate that he’s been fighting but accidentally getting further caught in for years. If it’s Casca, on the other hand, I think that ends badly for her. There’s a small chance that such an option could appear for her to give her the chance to turn it down as well, but I’m not sure I believe that she has it in her.

I also can’t think of anyone else that the behelit would really fit in a way that advances the story/moves toward the fulfillment of the narrative promise, really. So I still think the best bet is Casca, though that doesn’t guarantee it obviously. If it’s Guts, on the other hand... well, I guess he’s craving his power right now, isn’t he? I mean in current chapters.

I feel you, Guts.

But no, I gather she means that they’re the servants of the Idea of Evil (unnamed but still), and that they’re mysteries because humans can’t go to where they are, even in astral form, thus they remain mysterious.

Okay translation rant. I wanted to make sure that “If he is the Hawk of Darkness, then he is dreadful” was actually accurate, which it is KIND OF?

What Schierke is saying is

あの者が黙示録に記された五番目の御使いが受��した姿。。。闇の鷹なのだとしたら者恐るべきことです。

That person is the [incarnated form] of the fifth angel written down in the [Book of Revelation]. If (he’s) the Hawk of Darkness he is.... [dreadful]

So a couple of things. I’m showing dictionary definitions because it’s good to show receipts, lmao.

-The word translated as incarnation is specifically the incarnation of Christ.

-The word used for revelation is specifically the Book of Revelation, though it also means Apocalypse – Utena fans may remember it:

-Finally, the phrase translated here as “dreadful”,

So it does mean dreadful but also fearsome, formidable, like a dangerous or difficult adversary.

So okay one thing I notice about Miura is that he liked to use ambiguous phrasing – the phrase translated as “you’re the only one who made me forget my dream” for example, also means “you’re the only one who let me forget my dream.” Similarly, the word translated as “evil” in a lot of places in Berserk also means “magic” or a supernatural force of some kind, and sometimes it makes more sense that they’d mean magic but the translation still says evil.

I’ll be honest, I think he did it on purpose. Because for example a sentence that means both “let me forget” and “made me forget” reflects the conflict within Griffith himself about Guts’ impact on him and how it affected his goals, which were both burdensome and meant to be his most important thing. So in the discussion of which way it was intended to be read, my main thought is “both.”

How this relates to this sentence is just this: It’s translated as dreadful which isn’t inaccurate but in the context of the discussion Schierke and Flora are having, Schierke isn’t talking about how awful and deplorable the fifth angel is, she’s talking about how Guts has to be crazy to go against him because he’s absurdly powerful. But that doesn’t mean I don’t think her statement is meant to evoke how terrifying he is, either. But even so, and this isn’t the translator’s fault because English doesn’t work the same way Japanese does, but... I can’t help thinking that just saying “dreadful” makes it sound like she’s just saying “he’s awful and deplorable” rather than that he’s a frightening opponent or person. And that doesn’t make sense because Schierke was previously shown to be sort of unsure about whether he would be the savior or (something) else.

It’s also interesting that he doesn’t name some random prophecy but rather the biblical Book of Revelation. And that he didn’t have Schierke refer to Griffith with a normal “incarnation” or “bodied form” or whatever – because there are words for that – but rather as specifically the incarnation of Christ. It does make it very clear (VERY clear) that Griffith here is envisioned as the Berserk equivalent of a Christ-figure as predicted by the Berserk equivalent of the Bible. The fact that he’s served by, you know, apostles should also be a clue about this, but I know people like to suggest he’s an antichrist instead, but I mean...

He’s both isn’t he? I mean I know I’ve talked about this enough but it does make sense that in a world where God is the Idea of Evil, the Christ-equivalent would be a more complicated figure as well.

I just think it’s interesting like... Miura uses a lot of Catholic concepts and imagery in Berserk, but they don’t always mean the same thing as they do in the real-world religion. People often try to read Berserk with I guess real world Christianity in mind, and I get it because of the very obvious parallels, but I do think it’s a bit of a trap.

The thing I wonder a lot – although I guess it’s more like I think about it a lot than that I wonder about it – is the relationship between Skull Knight and Flora. Later I’ll ponder on it in greater depth but it’s interesting to me that even after seeing what happened to Gaiseric she still has this belief that fate can be countered. It’s very different than, say, Skull Knight who kind of lets slip during the death of Elfhelm that fate often cannot be overcome, but that people fight anyway because it’s just the nature of humanity to fight fate (and lose).

Flora’s view echoes Guts’ though, from the Conviction arc when he said he doesn’t believe in causality because he and Casca were meant to die but didn’t. On the other hand... is that really true? Like, Zodd said death would come for him – a death he cannot escape. But Skull Knight was the one who implied to him (right after he left the Hawks) that he could survive it. And if you think about it, given that the demon child/moonkid became Griffith’s vessel there’s a good argument that Casca was always meant to survive, too.

So. I know a lot of people take Flora’s word as gospel, but a lot of characters say things that contradict so they can’t all be right. Though I do think there’s a decent argument that she’s the least biased and her view possibly reflects the attitude that Miura himself brought to the table since he did say he wanted there to be hope in the story, as well.

This has nothing to do with anything but the sylph thing kind of freaks me out. I don’t think I could wear clothing that’s coated in little “living” things, eep.

And honestly, wtf is wrong with Puck? HOW DOES HE NOT KNOW THIS, HE’S FROM ELFHELM.

I have such conflicted feelings about how Farnese and Casca just got some silver shirts (and a silver knife). Because the thing is, I understand that Casca uh probably can’t trusted with a weapon right now, and that Farnese isn’t a fighter at all. But I still feel like some kind of, say, elementally empowered weapon would be helpful for Farnese at least, considering how often these two get kidnapped or spirited away or trapped in dangerous situations.

I wonder what the axe did.

This lead in to the thing where his sword is kind of magical from fighting magical things is pretty interesting to me because... for years the theory was that his sword could hurt Griffith because of that. And it seemed like a decent theory but of course is proven completely wrong on every level. Misdirection! That is, unless the “he cut a hair off of Griffith’s head” theory turns out to be true but that seems increasingly unlikely since it hasn’t come up at all.

By having the brand, Guts and Casca are basically just walking around in the afterlife all the time – at least the edges of it, so I guess they ended up in tune with the dead even though they themselves didn’t literally die. It seems the Apostles also kind of walk that line, which makes sense given their connection to “hell” or whatever. It’s kind of wild to think about the house they’re hanging around in not technically existing in a physical sense.

I mean in fairness he only left her behind once, it was just a really long time.

Anyway, this just reminds me of the time I got that Ask from someone kind of ranting about how Guts has to be with Casca because she’s the only reason he’s still human, which was kind of stupid. Don’t get me wrong, I recognize that protecting her is a strong motivating factor for him, but obviously he was already fighting to remain human for the entire series and I also think... the path he has chosen as a defender and as someone who no longer throws his connections away is as much a part of his continued humanity as Casca herself, specifically – that’s why the Beast always tells him to ditch the whole crew not just Casca.

Also, as I recall, Flora had some knowledge that she was going to be killed soon which... I imagine made it somewhat relieving for her to not have to explain why Casca couldn’t stay there. Also...

It lends this bit a poignancy.

Okay so... I often wonder about the specifics of Flora and Skull Knight’s relationship... and to be more specific whether her role in his life was similar to Schierke’s role in Guts’ life. Was she his spiritual anchor before he got eaten by the darkness? If so then you could say she failed, which Schierke is also in danger of doing in current canon since Guts is losing his shit.

There are so many things that make me sad about Miura’s passing. There’s the obvious human element in itself, but there’s also things like how he talked about doing an arc of the Skull Knight’s history, and how on the DVD for the memorial edition ova, a note came up saying things he says may no longer be applicable. I mean for obvious reasons. But does that mean we’ll never know the deal? I hope not. I want to know what Flora did that got her exiled from Elfhelm and what Skull Knight’s goal really is... I mean this is whiny because everyone has the same concerns and thoughts, but you know, just thinking.

And there it is – bringing to question whether Guts is actually acting in free will or not. Because what I get from this is that Flora asks him why he’s trying to get Guts to do certain things or go certain places, and whether it’s because he feels sympathetic or for some selfish reason, and Skull Knight is basically like, even if I didn’t personally lead him around, he may well be led by causality anyway.

It reminds me of the guidebook noting that Skull Knight seemed to be trying to lead Guts in a certain direction.

I think Skull Knight is ultimately meant to be a cautionary tale for Guts, like... this is what he becomes if he doesn’t let go of his anger and choose his connections and humanity instead... which is not what Gaiseric did back in the day. This does kind of make me wonder to what degree I just talk myself around thinking Guts primarily relies on Casca for humanity though, because one major difference between them seems to be that Casca didn’t die but Skull Knight’s wife or whoever that was did.

Although I guess that’s odd too because Dannan seems to be his ex in some way that isn’t wholly literal.

And this is a really interesting bit for me, because it’s Flora continuing/finishing her comment earlier about God giving them fate – the fate called encounters. So when she tells Schierke God gives us fate and we humans choose it, you can suppose that she isn’t so much talking about Schierke being destined to do such and such but rather she’s talking about Schierke having the option to accept the opportunity to know and involve herself in this story or not.

Also, a final little thought-break – the way the witches here talk about God is interesting to me because it does seem like they buy into the “religion” of the world in a way you wouldn’t necessarily expect, right, like Flora directly references fate being sent by God. They also refer to the God Hand as angels, and later Schierke will explain that the element kings are basically biblical archangels by another name.

And that goes back to all religions are one religion – the same elements with different names and viewed through different prisms but nonetheless the same beings. I kind of think of the different religions within Berserk’s world as... looking at something from one angle vs another angle. Like if you stand in front of something it looks one way and you can only see the front and part of the sides, whereas if you stand to the side you see its side and only part of its front and back, etc. Point being, it’s still the same thing, it’s just that different perspectives or belief systems “see” and name different parts of it.

That thought leads me down some interesting rabbit holes with Berserk though.

Anyway, next up, trolls.

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taoofshigeru · 2 years ago

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4, 7, 13, 17 for the Octopath asks

4.Favorite overall path? Castti was my main and I think she's my favorite of the playable characters overall by a fair amount.

She's such a kind soul but also capable of understated and/or explicit sass, as shown at various times during her interactions with Edmund, Partitio, and Andy. I've seen so many series where the helpless doctors serve as a side character, failing to convince people to take the plague seriously until the mc steps in. So it was refreshing to see Team Asano take that dynamic and go, "Hmm, but what if the doctor had a massive axe and agency?"

There's also a lot of casual coolness to some of her lines, like the bit where she says, "I'm going to have a word with that antlion." With all the collected poise of someone about to talk to a landlord about getting their sink fixed. I'm convinced she has a very supremely high Karen power level but will only use it for good.

I think I encountered a post pre-release warning people off headcanoning her as the momfriend of the group ala Ophelia, but c'mon, the writers had two separate characters literally call her mom. More people than call Osvald "Papa", I think.

Also having Castti in the group meant concocting and the sweet, sweet pomegranate was always close at hand.

(There's not a character in the main playable cast I really dislike.

7. Favorite default job? Gotta be merchant. Bifelgan's MONEY LASER is a cool effect, and Hired Help is hilarious, somehow fitting Partitio even more than it did Tressa, since he's all about getting a posse together whereas Tressa goes on mostly a solo trek. And of course it allows for extreme meta comedy when used in a spot such as Hikari's duel with his inner darkness.

Digressing, but I did a solo Tressa run of OT1 including all 4 optional job bosses and it was part of my strats for all four. Winnehild actually was surprisingly vulnerable to the poison/blind 2-fer the Dancer summon has. I felt it was less useful in the OT2 early game, but somehow became an even more busted skill with the ability to do automatic shield damage (Beastlings) or 9999 plus a stat debuff (Foreign Assassin).

(Castti and Ochette were probably the most dynamically fun characters to use, but that was less because of their default job skills but more because concoction and monster friends had so much strategic potential.

13.Favorite soundtrack?

Hollow Empty Memories was a great track that was exactly the right kind of light yet haunting mix of bell sounds for the shell-shocked mood Castti chapter 3 put me in. I think I just sat there staring at my screen for a solid five minutes after drinking that ending monologue in and the music just washed over me in a really emotional way.

Shoutouts to my two runner-ups: A. Ochette, the Hunter -Ochette's theme kicks whatever one needs to kick to be really freaking cool. B. Invitation to Darkness -Great building pipe organ backbeat to set up for that ominous final Vidania confrontation.

17. Best relationship/dynamic between 2 characters (& elaborate!)?

Partitio/Ori

I liked Ori for a series of immediate and very specific personal reasons on meeting the character. You had that bold, plucky tone of voice she used when introducing herself in chapter 2, the way she tends to show up and freak Partitio out, and the way she gradually went from a neutral observer to someone who decided to spend some time helping him out, to eventually sticking her neck out for him by distracting the guards on Roque Island. And the way the last 3 chapters of Partitio's story are told through her eyes via the newspaper articles gives you even more time with her penchant for cheeky wordplay with a touch of steam-era slang. I warmed up to her character so much in such a short time.

And then it got better.

Journey for the Dawn was a massive "Yes, and…" to all of that characterization, showing you how the plucky reporter persona was an act she put on in the narrative equivalent of getting smacked in the ribs with a tire iron. Then they double up on it again by showing she switches back into puppy dog writing style when talking about her time with Partitio, even within her private diary. And then you actually see her pull back on the ritual and I'm going to cry all over again.

If there's some extra story scenes that get released a year and a half later ala what happened with Triangle Strategy, just know that I need these two specifically to interact.

(I also loved Castti/Malaya but the question was best and I will absolutely pick favorites.)

#octopath traveler 2 spoilers #octopath traveler 2 #spoilers #castti florenz #partitio x ori #Thanks for the ask!

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thecodeveronica · 4 months ago

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So I'm in the unfamiliar position of having multiple WIP ideas right now (usually I'm lucky to have even one), and I'm at a standstill on what to be working on. And because I love to yap even if only to myself, I'm gonna post them here to make myself feel accountable in some way lol. My current ideas/WIPs (under the cut) are:

Castlevania: Order of Ecclesia fic -Multi-chapter fic set after the game ends, revolves around Shanoa and Albus, the latter of whom is found under mysterious circumstances that end up setting other events into motion + is tied to the increasing numbers of monsters and other unnatural phenomenon.

-The most "serious" of my fic ideas, and the one I have the most notes for. This one also is one of the few ideas I've had where I have a clear "antagonist" in mind, and I think a twist about them is actually pretty cool if I could execute it well. Big "IF" there lol, but yeah.

-Themed around the ideas of trust and family primarily, trust being the "big" one in my mind, with both Shanoa and Albus wanting what's best for the other, but how to achieve that might not be what the other would want.

-Actually have some progress on this one, though scene transitions are my mortal enemy and the cause of a current standstill :x But I reaaaaaaly want to get to the next part for a scene that has been in my nightly SFW btw!!!! before-bed fantasies for, like, months now haha have i mentioned again recently that i'm unwell about albus, because i am, oh god am i ever

Castlevania: Dawn of Sorrow fic -One-shot fic set after the game ends; more of a melancholic tone but with a warm ending than anything too serious. Would focus on Arikado, who is —bear with me here, I know this sounds dumb in a vacuum without context lmao— roped into attending a fancy dance/ball while kinda chaperoning Soma and Mina... but Soma accidentally let the event slip to others, so pretty much the entire AoS/DoS crew attends, too.

-Arikado ends up reflecting on his past and Yoko forces him to try to live in the moment, even if someone like him lives a much less fleeting existence than her or the others. and Hammer doesn't like that haha

-I have some notes on this one, too. Not super in-depth, but this isn't exactly plot-heavy, so I could probably knock this one-shot out fairly quick (by my standards) if I sat my fidgety ass down and focused. But on the other hand, because this one doesn't involve my FAVE fave characters, that might make it harder to motivate me, even if I like the concept. Alucard, Soma, Yoko, etc are cool, but they're not Albus-level to me by any means, or Jonathan-level either haha

Ace Attorney fic -Multi-chapter fic (but almost certainly shorter than the Order of Ecclesia one), intended to be tonally consistent with the writing of the series. So sometimes serious, but also a bit silly. Would start off "normal," thinking it starts in media res sorta mid-trial. Maybe after a recess? But it shifts into a zombie story and all hell breaks loose, but like... in a funny way? Mostly? This is still very much an idea in its infancy and was mostly born out of a few bits of dialogue I thought of that I got attached to lol, so still working out details.

-...if you're wondering "Haley, did this all start just because you thought of something with Blackquill and now you're trying to haphazardly form a plot around it" the answer is... I plead the fifth 😎

-Main viewpoint character would probably be Phoenix, though. I think he'd make the most sense and also be the easiest to write with his inner thoughts. And the most fun to write. I dunno. Like I said, this whole idea needs to stew a little more, though I have a tiny bit of notes jotted down.

-I think the biggest issue with this one is that I'm not sure what the "end goal" is. Does it all culminate in figuring out why a zombie outbreak happened at all? Maybe tying it into whatever case the fic starts with in media res? Who knows!!! One of my greatest weaknesses as a writer is that I only think of scattered scenes that are loosely connected but with no beginning or end for a cohesive work in mind. And that happens with literally everything I write lmaoooo but it's worked out fine so far, so I'm sure I could figure it out here. ...I hope.

Resident Evil fic -one-shot fic (I still want to write a long Resi one someday😭), something for a Resident Evil rarepair event for New Year's. Some of those prompts are veeeeery appealing and cute fluff nonsense is kind of my comfort zone tbh. Really want to do another Burnfield fic and some kind of friendly snowball fight is the first thing that come to mind? Sherry being there too might be kinda cute? But this is the idea that is the absolute fuzziest so I DUNNO

SOOOOO anyway I hope I get a sudden surge of motivation to work on one of these! Guess we'll see!!

#if only i could just crank out a ton of words as easily on my fics as i just did typing this...#the world would be my oyster...#i figure that if i post publicly i might be able to guilt myself into actually writing but i probably won't ahahaha...#really need a hit of “writing motivation juice”#h.text

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hatosaur · 2 years ago

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tlou hbo ep.4 & ep.5 thoughts.

more analyze-y than the others ones because i’m talkin thru my damn feelings >:,(

getting ep. 4 outta the way real quick because it was mostly setting up for ep. 5 but also i didn’t get to rewatch it since last sunday so memory’s fuzzy.

i’ve seen people have mixed reactions to ep.4 and i get it, because it was so different to how it played out in the game. biggest breaking point from game-joel was a) him talking about tess (which i felt broke a rule for his character) and b) him being openly kind to ellie. being soft with her when she shoots the hunter. laughing at her joke. these aren’t the end of the world. i can see how it was all to show he’s warming up to ellie but it did still feel odd.

i do kinda get the sense that him being mean old joel would wreck the momentum and tone, since we’re not watching pre-rendered cutscenes sandwiched between gameplay segments. you can’t have the danger happening and THEN joel’s yelling at ellie. that’s just TENSION TENSION TENSION; him being nice and open was a good way to balance things out and give us (and ellie) a breather.

so ep. 5. i have to fuckin take deep breaths.

once again, i can’t fucking believe that i can know exactly what’s going to happen and this show will still floor me. i’m broken over the immediacy that henry killed sam with, different from henry talking out his thoughts in the game. his scared, stammered “what did i do?” as he looks to joel, because he can’t believe what he just did.

when i look back to game-henry, it wasn’t emphasized all that much that he was pretty much still a kid, taking care of a kid. show-henry had plenty of those moments. both versions are cocky but the cockiness show-henry has was more kid-like, especially in his interactions with joel, and it only made it hit harder when he looked at him in those last moments, as if for help, and when joel tried to gently get the gun away from him. i’m very glad for them amping up the connection between joel and henry.

the choices they made with sam were amazing. the kid was a great actor and i love seeing all the extra bits that came with him being deaf. i knew it wouldn’t matter all that much that he was younger and deaf; what mattered at the end of the day was his connection with ellie and they fuckin knocked it out of the park. i love that even without them being close in age, they latched onto each other anyway.

the bit with ellie’s blood was such an interesting change. because that was a stellar way of showing despite her maturity, she’s still a kid too. you can tell she really believed she could save him.

this coupled with sam’s superhero fixation...god. the thought of him thinking of her as a hero because of that.

another big change was showing ellie’s reaction to henry’s suicide, instead of joel’s like the game. in the game, i think it was to remind joel about the fragility and impermanence of good things. the show’s not really joel city, they can’t really keep it on him the whole time because that’s boring. not to mention, it’s about more than him. in the show, you can tell it’s to show the impact it’s going to have on ellie’s journey.

i wasn’t a big fan of kathleen initially -- felt she wasn’t intimidating enough as a leader -- but as we saw her more in ep. 5, i was disgusted with her, which is good! i do like the complexity of her, how she’s the leader of this big resistance movement but also seemed unsure and grasping in a lot of moments (of which surprisingly did not include the moments where she ordered people to be killed or argued that ellie and sam should die because “kids die”).

brief note, the child clicker was cool but like...a bit farfetched right?? i mean unless she was bit as a baby and has just been turning since then? aside from that, i do like that she foreshadowed sam’s turning in a way. kid infected is such a gutpunch.

another thing i liked were the parts ripped straight from the gameplay. just watching joel reach the house with the sniper in it caused a lotta moments where i was like “OH YEA THAT HAPPENED.”

WHEN THE INFECTED CAME OUTTA THE GROUND??? i was like “OH YEA THAT WAS PART OF IT.” this show’s great. i love seeing the funny ways they tie back to the game.

all the episodes have been good so far but it really seems like the odd-numbered ones have consistently been bangers.

NEXT ONE THO. JACKSON TIME. TOMMY. MARIA. LET’S GOOO >:)

#tlou hbo #tlou hbo spoilers #this helped me talk out my feelings wowie #i was big sad #now i'm small sad #talkies #thinkies

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tteokdoroki · 4 years ago

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waves that hurt | k.bakugou + i.midoriya.

♡ pairing: katsuki bakugou x gn!reader x izuku midoriya.

♡ word count: 3.04K

♡ rating: everyone.

♡ genre: pro hero!au, hurt, angst and comfort.

♡ summary: dark days mean dark waves that crash across your mind, intrusive and mean the waves pull you under— but they are the helping hands that pull you up and let you breathe.

♡ warning(s): please read ! heavy tw for depression, intrusive thoughts and self depreciation, self doubt and low self-worth. this fic is written mostly from personal experiences and may not be accurate to how everyone feels! mentions of therapy.

♡ author’s note(s): this is my contribution to @doinmybesthere ‘s mental health awareness collab, this is kinda personal to me and something i experienced recently!! i hope it can provide some comfort to anyone out there, please don’t forget to check out everyone else’s works and i hope you’re all safe ‘n well <3

♡ masterlist | requests | kofi

“kacchan, it’s much worse this time, i really think you should come home early tonight.”

deku whispers into the phone, his marred hands rub slow and soothing circles into your back from over the duvet— you can feel his warmth, light and airy through it but he feels and sounds much further away. a million miles across a dark ocean that trickles through your thoughts, intrusive and mean, keeping you under and away from clear air.

you wouldn’t want to pull him into this, bother him with the way you drown in dark thoughts— so you pull away from your boyfriend and tuck yourself away into the sheets.

izuku doesn’t retract his hand even as you pull away, listening to katsuki grunt orders down the phone— make sure yn’s eaten, make sure yn’s had water. basic things you should be able to do on your own but can’t, paralysed by the anxiety and depression that clamps down on you like a vice and refuses to let you up so you can just breathe. you want to breathe and not feel like the world is crashing down on you, to have a second to yourself where everything seems like it’s okay.

brushing fingers over the nape of your neck, toying with the coils of your baby hairs, your boyfriend speaks, only gently. “baby,” says quietly, his weight causing the bed to dip. “katsuki will be home soon, do you want to come with me to let him in?” you shrug, a sick feeling twisting in your gut. you see the black tendrils and waves in the back of your mind, bringing forth a new batch of ugly words that force you down. are you really that much of a burden these days that katsuki has to call it quits on work for you? “how are you feeling?”

you don’t know, you don’t know how to tell him that every thought you have hurts and there’s a pain in your chest with every breath you take. “i don’t know, it’s just...bad izu…” you want to explain how you feel deep inside, but the words are trapped like balls of tar in your throat— fear that if you say something he’ll walk away.

“you don’t have to say anything, don’t force yourself to…” he speaks with a soft voice, cotton to your ears in an attempt to soothe you. you can just about feel the clean air flowing through your lungs at the sound— it tells you he loves you, no matter what and you almost believe it before sinking back under. “let’s get you some water okay? wouldn’t want kacchan scolding us would we?”

the joke hangs in the murky and heavy air for a few seconds before you muster a small smile— your green haired boyfriend lets out a tiny sigh of relief and pressed a kiss into your hairline, the affection simmers under your skin and briefly brings light to your dark mind as izuku starts leading you to the kitchen.

you’re curled up in izuku’s lap when the front door pops open with a click— signifying your other boyfriend had arrived home. you flinch, hiding yourself in the blankets keeping you warm and locking away the dark thoughts from the eyes of your lovers.

part of you hated them seeing you this way, that’s why you forced yourself to keep everything away from them— but they knew, they always did and always came to your rescue. you didn’t want them to feel like they had to look after you when the days were bad and draining and your mind took hold of everything that you felt. you didn’t need the weight of your own problems on the shoulders of two pro heroes who had enough to deal with.

in the end, you would destroy them like you did with yourself.

you can hear katsuki shedding his gear by the door, feeling his intense and heated presence flood the room and barely penetrate the barrier you created for yourself even while you lay in izuku’s arms. for as long as you’d known the two— even from back in your U.A days, bakugou had hated self-pity, of course in recent years he’d cooled down a little and spoke less on the actions of others but even still, you weren’t sure if you could handle him looking down on you for looking down on yourself and for feeling this way.

the blanket is suddenly lifted from your head, momentarily blinding you with the overwhelming light that is your boyfriend, katsuki bakugou. a twinkle of concern lines his ruby eyes and you can see traces of his charcoal eyeliner that he usually smudges underneath his mask— he’s so beautiful but you’re afraid of the twitches of worry, afraid that he’s mad at you for being the way you are.

“hey honey,” bakugou hums, crouching to your level to cup your cheeks, stress bleeding from his body when you nuzzle into him.

izuku gives you a squeeze, an encouraging one and you nod. “hi,” is all you can muster, afraid of blurting the intrusive words that crackle across your brain.

katsuki sits back on his haunches, looking between you and his boyfriend before he attempts to kick off his shoes. the room is full of a thick, ugly quietness that you know you’re responsible for— they don’t have to say anything, you know that it’s you. because when you’re like this it’s hard for bakugou and midoriya to talk, afraid that they’ll say something to set you off and you afraid that they’ll leave if they knew how you really felt. how trapped and alone you felt inside, how the twisted darkness added tones to your vibes and dragged you down with every step that you took.

they don’t need to say it because it flows from your body like a rushing river and drowns them, fills their lungs and it’s your fault for infecting them with your own bitter taste of life.

“have you eaten?” the blonde of the two boys asks, looking you dead in the eye. you want to answer, but again the viscous back from earlier starts to flood through your body. you try to take care of yourself of these days where you feel it the hardest, but it’s difficult to move and to breathe— and the drive to complete even the simplest of tasks is barely ever there.

you move to speak, caught up in the thick smog of your own brain when izuku gives your body a squeeze and shakes his head, the forest of his hair brushing against your cheek. “you’ve had water, right?” izuku has no problem answering for you. “but nothing to eat,” he whispers, keeping his voice low as if to hide his worry from you— it’s light in his tone but tremors throughout the number one’s body. you feel sick for making him feel that way.

katsuki’s gaze shifts back from his boyfriend to you, his expression unreadable because he knows how you get if they worry too much about you. you’re thankful, partly for that at least, his blank face prevents your mind from reading too deep into things and blaming yourself for things out of your own control.

“‘m makin’ your favourite for dinner. you’ll eat it, no questions asked.” the explosive pro hero states firmly, rising from his place crouched down by your side, obviously not before thumbing over your cheeks to wipe away evidence of your dried tears. “gonna run you a bath too, damn nerd better get you upstairs and ready by the time it’s done.” deku’s chest rumbles with a light hearted chuckle beneath you, lifting the heavy weight of the air within the room— bakugou had always loved brashly, with a fiery intensity that hardly left room for the answer ‘no’, and while izuku was more tame, they balanced one another out in a way that felt more like a warm hug than a battle. they grounded you, in the best of ways.

true to his disgruntled words, your blonde headed boyfriend runs you a hot bath. you don’t miss the addition of lavender oil to the perfectly warm water, the baking soda which you’re sure he only knew to add because his mother had said it would remove the demon spawn toxins in his body. izuku is the one to help you strip, holds your hands as you kick off gross comfort clothes and folds them away, after pressing kisses to your groggy face and chin.

it’s almost funny to see the two biggest and beefiest pro heroes sit on your bathroom floor crossed legged and beside the tub— both of them taking up the majority of the room. you know for a fact that no one would believe the sight unless they saw it, but they’re there. both of them, izuku midoriya and bakugou katsuki are with you encompassed in the silence while you wash away the ugly words that plague your mind and fill the pores of your skin.

they’re still there.

even as sweet lavender water moves in soft waves over your bare body, while black ink moves in the same way across your brain— tattooing self-depreciating thoughts into every inch. you’re not worth their time, they say, you’re wasting it. because how could their precious time be put to good use if you’re taking it up, they could be saving people but instead your boyfriends are here, drowning in your own darkness.

they’re still fucking here.

when they could be out there saving the people who needed it, who were suffering out there in the world outside of your home.

and the suds against your body, the warm water sloshing over your thighs isn’t enough to get rid of the burning sensation of vile phrases printing themselves against your body and clouding every thought that you think. toxic, mean and nasty things you can’t scrub away— none of it is enough to make you feel like you deserve bakugou tenderly lathering you up with the rose scented soap his mother had sent you for christmas or the sips of cool water midoriya brings to your lips in order to prevent you from overheating in the steam of the bathroom.

deku catches the painful twist in your face, pausing his movements to study you. “whaddya need?” you need it to stop, to find something to replace the pain and doubts that fill you.

“water, hotter,” you croak quietly, tears building up in the base of your throat as katsuki catches on and flicks the tap for a stream of hot water to fill the tub. “please,”

they tell you to let them know when to stop if the heat gets too much, but the scalding water burns away any reminders of the self loathing you feel across every inch of your mind, your body and your soul. it stings at the darkness in a way that’s painfully soothing and maybe if you sink under— it could stop hurting completely. if you could slide deeper into the water, would the waves of darkness not crash so hard?

and then the damn breaks, like a tsunami the guilt and anguish you feel crashes over your body and takes control, leaving you fighting for oxygen in the form of your happiness.

everything that you’d been holding back flows freely in salty tears from tired eyes, scorching a path down the apples of your cheeks and mingling with the contents of the tub below. your boys, they don’t notice at first, how you cry and curl in on yourself until you think the world won’t notice you anymore but then just as they always do, they’re pulling you into their warmth and bubble of light— freeing you from black intrusive tendrils even if it means they have to crawl into the tub and wade their through the ocean you’ve made to set yourselves apart.

“don’t—!” you heave with an uneven voice, signs of you falling apart evident in every way. bakugou and deku pull away from you slowly, with dripping shirts and worry written across freckled faces and red eyes. they’re scared for you, hate seeing you force your feelings down and away from them. “please don’t touch me—you’ll—“

the water in the bathtub sloshes from where you retract from their touch, backing yourself up against the wall and away from your boys. “we’ll what?” izuku presses but only gently, keeping you afloat, stopping you from sinking and bakugou stays put in his place, letting the latter talk you down.

you shake your head, trying to think of the right words but it’s hard to, with the crashing waves heavy against your ears. how do you tell your lovers that everything hurts, to think and to feel, to live day by day. you don’t want to bother them with and an extra stress to their busy lives. but you can’t keep it in any longer, bursting at the seams. “you’ll drown. i-if i touch you, i’ll pull you under, you’ll drown with me and you won’t be able to breathe and all those horrible things that i think about will burn in your lungs until you give up fighting like me,” your tears and hiccups interrupt your words, but they listen. bakugou and deku, they listen and they stay.

“yn—“

“because if you do, then all that i feel will be a burden to you— i’ll break in ways that can’t be fixed and you’ll be forced to pick up the pieces and i’ll just be a burden,” you continue, not even pausing to take a breath while you continue to cry. “if you stay to pick up the pieces, you’ll be taken away from people who need you, who are worth saving, and can be helped and—“

you can’t recount how many nights, similar to this in which you wondered why and how two pro heroes could want and love you, why they dealt with your down days that sometimes outnumbered the ups— even if they’d shown you how much they cared, you couldn’t help but feel guilty as if your sadness took up their time to save someone else.

“you can be helped, yn. you don’t have to go what you’re going through alone, you’re worth the time and the effort of helping, no one deserves to suffer,” the green haired of your two boyfriends cuts through the tail ends of your words, still keeping distance until he knows it’s safe to touch you again. there is no look of condescending pity on his face, no sign to show you’ve pulled him into the dark of your mind. it’s just izuku, trying to help you pull through.

you look to katsuki hesitantly, he hasn’t said a word. “but i don’t want to be seen as...as weak, or to worry you because i can’t get out of my own head—“

“y’not fuckin’ weak, we’d never think that of you. we see you try to hide your pain, pretend things don’t get to you when they do. but fuckin’ handlin’ things on ya own can make y’stronger than any two heroes combined,” a look of anger flashes across his features, finer with age and tired with work. but bakugou isn’t angry with you, but with himself for leading you to believe that you were an extra weight on his shoulders. both of their shoulders. “yer not gonna get rid of us or scare us away, we love ya, we’re here for ya ‘n if it’s help that you need or think yer not worthy of, we’ll find some. it’s okay t’ask for help.”

maybe it’s hearing it from someone else, that your pain and your depression is valid, that you’re not an extra weight on the people you love that allows you to come up from a tar-like ocean for fresh air in your lungs, for the waves to calm and the storm raging in your mind to soothe. maybe it’s the two of your boyfriends being there for you despite the fear that you’d scare them away with not being okay that washes away some of the awful things you think.

you know that their support won’t make things go away over night, that it will take time for you to heal but for now you can keep your head above the water just long enough to breathe.

“can i touch you now? is it okay?” deku asks, feeling less distant from you than at the start of the day, but as your body shakes with the last of your tears all you manage is a nod before the number one hero is pulling you into his chest from the tub and the number two is wrapping a towel and his arms around you.

you sit sandwiched between the two, they keep you at the surface— holding you tight while you let out what you’ve been holding back. “we can get some help if y’want it, the doctors...therapy might be nerve wrackin’...scary even, but it can help and we’ll be there every single step of the fuckin’ way,” katsuki reasures you with pets to your head, rocking you back and forth on your bathroom floor, steam clinging to the air that you can finally breathe.

izuku nods along in agreement, pressing kisses to your wet hairline. “we’ll be here. you won’t be alone.”

the murkiness of the water in your mind starts to clear, but only just— their warmth starts to push through the clouds like sunshine brushing against your skin. a light to the dark that's plagued your every waking moment, the waves no longer crash and destroy but instead lap comfortingly at your painful thoughts and tame them just enough for you to have a moment of clarity.

you don’t have to be alone or millions of miles away, you deserve the hands of your loved ones that offer you help instead of pushing them away. the process of healing and things like therapy or meds will be hard sometimes, but katsuki and izuku will be here by your side, to help you manage days where darkness rolls in waves that hurt and help you breathe once again.

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buckybarnesdiaries · 4 years ago

Text

the knife

bucky barnes x reader. ⎢ masterlist.

Once a week, Bucky cleans and sharpens his knives, but this time, the easy task takes another path.

word count: 1.936 words. (i know, it's long, but it worth it).

warnings/tags: nsfw, +18!!! knife!kink, sir!kink, praising!kink, foreplay (female receiving, use of a knife), language, mention of bodily fluid.

author notes: none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.

Join the tag list here.

Who in their right mind wouldn’t feel hypnotized by the way Bucky has to dance a knife between his fingers?

Once a week it’s all he does during the day. Clean and sharpen his knives, after spending the whole morning training with them, while you can’t stop looking at him amazed. And horny. You feel like a slut, let’s be clear. You can’t help but imagine how good his hands make you feel whenever he touches you, whenever he grips your throat, whenever he pulls your hair. But, mostly, he’s too stupid to notice it. Even innocent you could say.

So, there you are, sitting on the sofa in front of him pretending to be reading a book, while his fingers grab a cloth with too much care to clean the blade of his favorite one. The one you got him for your first anniversary. A mini-machete with a black leather handle and golden ornaments all around it. When Bucky saw it for the first time, he fell in love.

As soon as he raises his oceanic eyes towards you, yours fall to the pages trying to hide the bunch of emotions within your chest and your lower belly. You can’t help but lick your lips clearing your throat, a gesture that makes him giggle putting down the machete over the table. In complete silence, Bucky stands up to stretch his arms to the ceiling, before leading his steps dangerously closer to you. Pressing your lips to contain a guilty laugh for being caught in action, you look at him through your eyelashes.

“You have something to tell me, doll?”

You shake your head swallowing greedily, about to choke on your own saliva.

“You sure?” He inquires then, keeping his hands inside the pockets of his grey sweatpants.

Fucking grey sweatpants. This time, you nod with your head, whilst he is sitting by your side. Bucky grabs the book between your hands, tossing it above his shoulder to somewhere on the floor, without putting his eyes away from yours. You gulp again, starting to feel some difficulties to breathe staring at him placing his arm made of vibranium over your shoulders. There’s no gesture on his face when he raises his left hand to your jaw, forcing you to keep looking at him.

“C'mon... Tell me what you want”.

His lips brush yours, driving you insane and racing your heart, as his firm tone of voice slides itself between them. A shiver runs down your backbone, drying your throat as the heat floods your guts. But you can’t think of a single word to say. Bucky waits patiently a couple of seconds, nodding at the end as —for him— the game has started. He puckers his lips, about to get up from the sofa pulling his hands away from you. And you stop him. Of course you do. As soon as you can react. You grab his cold wrist to push him back, almost falling on top of you.

Bucky’s laugh fills the whole room, getting comfier between your legs while your fingers get tangled in his long brown hair. Using the tip of his tongue, he licks your lips at the same time he crashes his pelvis against your needed core. You can’t hold a loud and pleased moan, closing your eyes and hearing another laugh coming from his mouth.

“Last chance, doll. Do you have something to tell me?” The soldier grunts onto your lips.

“Just… touch me, please”. You’re almost sobbing so anxiously, when Bucky starts to rock his hips between your legs, creating a very satisfying friction.

“No, doll... We’re gonna try something new”.

Your eyes widen in surprise, curiosity, and confusion, touring the length of his metallic arm until reaching the long fingers grabbing the mini-machete you gave him. You gasp uncontrollably, while his other hand snakes up your thigh to find your panties under the baggy shirt you’re wearing. One of the shirts you usually steal from his wardrobe. Bucky brings the blade to his teeth, holding it there to sit up and help you to strip. In less than a blink, you are completely exposed to his attentive and lustful blue eyes.

You spread your legs for him without the needing of being asked for, showing him in all its glory your warm cunt shining in your arousal. Bucky would give his life for digging his hard and twitching dick in your pussy right now, but he has another plan. One that you are going to enjoy anyway. Leaning over you with the machete now back to his hand, his left forefinger goes straight to your folds; wetting it with your sweet juices in a soft stroke.

“Open your mouth”. He demands with such a raspy tone of voice, bringing the handle of his knife to your lips.

You welcome it in silence, delighted, hornier than ever. Twelve inches of leather that you suck and lick pleasantly for him. You cover it with your saliva, swirling your tongue around it as he marks the rhythm inside your mouth. Meanwhile, his index finger helps you to calm your anxiety, giving enough attention to your swollen clit. You can’t think, you can’t moan, you can’t breathe. You two haven’t started and you feel already that you could cum in less than a sigh. Bucky sees it in your eyes, and he can’t hide a petty smile growing on his face. He loves to tease you.

“Have you been feeling like this all day, uh?”

Pulling away the handle from your mouth, he drags it over your skin, down by your collarbone and the small space between your breasts. Slowly, too damn slowly. You don’t know how he can control himself this good when you’re about to cry. You need him so much. All the time. But days like these… You need him twice as much.

“Yes…” You just mumble weakly as the wet handle reaches your abdomen continuing his path down.

“Tell me what you want”.

“Put it inside me, please…”

“Please, what, uh?”

“Please, sir”.

You can see your boyfriend breathing through his parted lips, catching his air at the moment he watches you whimper when the leather slightly touches your clit. You are so beautiful for him —legs opened, hard nipples and begging.

Placing his flesh arm under your waist to raise a little your ass, Bucky plays with the handle up and down your slit, making a pressure that causes you to grunt annoyed. He giggles inevitably, sliding it slowly into your wetness, and you can’t help but arch your back pleased when the knife starts to stretch your walls so torturously and deliciously. When his cool fingers touch you provoking you a soft chill, and you feel it’s completely inside you, Bucky moves back his hand with the same slow pace.

He’s driving you crazy. He knows it pretty well. He doesn’t enjoy anything more than the fact of having you under his control, under his power. Gripping his warm hand around your throat, he makes himself some space by your side on the sofa. Now, his lips can touch yours, drink your delighted sobs, look at your eyes from closer.

“Do you like it, baby doll?”

“Yes… Yes, sir… I li— like it, sir”. You utter with a broken thread of voice, nodding with your head briefly.

“I know. I can feel it. You think I don’t notice…” He whispers in a hum, sticking his forehead to yours, tightening the grip around your neck. “But the truth is… I do it on purpose. I always make sure you look at me. Anyone else, but at me”.

Oh, there it is. These insecurities he always hides masterfully, but the ones that claim your attention the whole time. Bucky needs you too. You were the first person who didn’t treat him like an assassin, nor like a monster. He lives to make you happy. He can’t think about the idea of losing you one day, just because he doesn’t give you enough. But he is. He is more than enough. And you prove him every single day since you met him.

“Please, sir… I wa— want more… faster”. You plea against his lips, placing your arms around his, softly swinging your hips at the rhythm of the knife he’s using to fuck you.

“You want it faster, uh?” He repeats playfully, placing a gentle kiss on your cheek at the end.

“Please…”

And Bucky pleases you. The move of his wrist makes the pace increase a little. The handle goes somewhat deeper, carefully to not hurt you. He twists it making you moan, stir, bite your tongue. Bucky is well-aware of what you like and how you like it. And he wants to make you cream his mini-machete to remember that day whenever he uses it in a mission, far away from you.

A wet, dirty noise starts to make an appearance when the thrusts into your soaked cunt are more constant, just like your satisfied vocals echo the room. Bucky spreads kisses all over your face, keeping his fingers around your neck to keep you close.

“God… you’re such a good girl taking my knife this good”. Your boyfriend can’t help but purr onto your ear, feeling how he could cum in his sweatpants just by looking at you so damn needy for him. “And I swear… it’s not gonna be the only one… I’m gonna make you fuck all my knives, doll”.

Just imagining it, you feel the tickles concentrating in your lower belly. You feel your juices spilling down your buttocks and staining the sofa. This man is going to be the death for you. But if you have to die… Is there any other better way?

“C'mon… do your magic…” He encourages you, getting closer to your lips.

Bucky doesn’t give you the chance to moan in a reply, tucking his tongue into your mouth to devour it. The pushes to your g-spot become eager, harder, and well-aimed; wanting at all cost to make you cum. And as soon as he feels your legs shivering, he goes faster. You can’t control it. The orgasm is growing inside you easily as a forest is set on fire with a match. Crying out with his tongue invading your cavity and dominating yours, you tangle a hand on his hair arching your back as you find a new position that gives you some more pleasure. But you can’t hold it anymore.

Bucky is stealing your air by gripping your throat tighter, kissing you so impatiently, and you can’t hold it anymore.

The soldier swallows the loud howl that borns in the deepest place of your soul, feeling the explosion inside your stomach as you jump inevitably into the abyss of heat. But he doesn’t stop. He continues rocking the knife inside you, wanting to hear you a little more. Wanting to hear his full name mixed with your delighted whining and your growls. It’s never enough for you, nor for him. And now you want him inside you.

“Please… Please…” You cry pushing his metallic hand away from you, making him toss the soaked knife with your juices to the floor. “Please, sir… Fuck me… I beg you… I need your dick”.

“'Course you need it, my little angel… You need it all the damn time, don’t you?” He doesn’t sound angry, but his voice is rougher than ever.

He’s upset because you have forced him to pull out his mini-machete, but soon Bucky forgets it when he is buried deep inside your cunt. His cunt. Only his.

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tommyspeakycap · 4 years ago

Note

omgg write something about playing or braiding jack’s hair

oh em gee I love this !!!!! I loved his hair braid too omg

Jack had a very specific barber he liked to go to to get the same quality haircut he always got. He trusted that specific barber and his appointments were always made in advance to absolutely ensure he could get it done the way he liked by whom he liked at the right time so it never got overgrown or hard to manage. Jack was very specific about his hair and about keeping it the way he liked it to be. It was part of his image, part of him really. The Brummie boy hated when anyone else touched it. Be that joking team members giving his head a teasing push or his dad ruffling his hair each time he walks in the door, it irks the living daylights right out of him.

So it seems as though it’s Jack’s own personal nightmare now the barbers are shut with absolutely no sign of opening up for at least another month and Jack can’t seem to take one minute more of training with his hair getting all up in his eyes, dropping into his face and blowing wildly in Birmingham wind even with a headband in. It is driving him absolutely insane. It’s all he can think of in this moment.

And that is because he currently has your fingers tangled in it completely absentmindedly as he lays in between with your legs with his legs stretched out along the L section of the L shaped couch. Your eyes are fully focussed on the storyline evolving throughout an old episode of Greys Anatomy. Jack’s arms are around your torso as his head rests comfortably on your lower stomach with his eyes peacefully shut. He would usually engage in the TV with you, but the preseason after an unexpected break that had him doing less exercise than he definitely should have been doing had him absolutely shattered.

It was rare for even you to touch the locks he took so laughably serious, but it felt like the most soothing experience he’d maybe ever had to feel the gentility of your finger massaging over his scalp in the most relaxing manner he’d ever known. Even his sports massages after long matches weren’t this relaxing.

“Mmmhm, feels so good.” He murmurs, his voice ticking your stomach as he speaks against it, the sigh that leaves him making you giggle in response. “So annoyin’ in training.” He adds tiredly, but not lacking in the obvious irritation he feels towards it. Jack tends to feel a lot and often, and even seemingly small things like his hair getting in the way of his play was unimaginably irritating for him.

“I could cut it?” You suggest.

“Yeah,” he snorts, “And end up like the poor dog? I’ll pass love.”

“Aw come on! It wasn’t that bad.” You retort

“He looked like a street rat with curls, sweetheart.” He laughs, despite the disappointment he feels for your hands leaving his hair for the first time since he lay down tonight.

“Cheek.”

“Sorry baby.” He lulls, finally looking up at you for the first time, lifting his face to offer you a smile that strained him. Holding his head up like that was too much for his already tired muscles, so he’s quickly laying his head back to its resting place. You can’t think of anything else to retort with, knowing full and well the incredibly poor state of affairs that occurred in your household three weeks into Lockdown 1 after you attempted to give the dog a haircut out of pure boredom and lack of open dog grooming services. The state of affairs being Jack crawling to the bathroom on his knees and one hand with the other hand holding onto his crotch because he was trying so hard not to wet himself from laughing at the poor pup who looked so confused that his dad hadn’t been able to greet him as normal when he returned from the weekly food shop.

Jack very nearly did piss on your good cream carpet that day, so it was fair for him to not trust your barber skills either. Especially being the way he is about his hair.

“You know the old episodes make me miss Derek.” You announce after a moment of only the television speaking between the two of you.

“He the one with the hair?” Jack mumbles. You snort a laugh.

“They’ve all got hair, Jack. Go on, say it then?”

“Fine,” he huffs indignantly, “The one with the good hair.”

Your giggle makes his heart erupt into butterflies that dance through his stomach and chest just like it does every single time he gets to be lucky enough to hear it. Jack doesn’t like to admit when others have hair he likes. He prefers to live in a world where his hairstyle is simply the best, and truly he usually does. He tends to live in his own world anyway. The world where his hair is fantastic, he gets to do what he loves for a living and come home to you each and every day. That’s his world and fucking hell does he love that world.

In reality though, part of that world is that however fictional Derek Shepherd may be, his hair is fantastic and always looks rather immaculate. Something Jack can’t quite relate to at this current moment in time. “You know this episode is kinda about his hair,” you note softly, hands smoothing back over your boyfriends brown locks. He knows by the tone of your voice that you’re going to go into more detail about the episode currently playing through on Amazon Prime TV. Some people may well have been annoyed listening to their girlfriends recounting entire episodes of TV shows that they weren’t exactly inclined to watch, but Jack was not one of those men. He didn’t care what you were talking about, just the sound of you talking was enough to make him listen intently. He loved to hear you talk, and if that was the only thing that he ever got to hear for the rest of his life then he’d still be happy.

“They adopted a little girl and he hasn’t quite figured her hair out yet but everyone’s shocked ‘cause his hairs pretty good. Like you, a little. You got good hair, just haven’t learned to manage it yet eh?” You explain, weaving your fingers in and out of those stands of hair that make him hum in both understanding and enjoyment. He isn’t sure what you’re doing, but the weaving of stands, pads of your fingers dancing over his scalp carefully, softly feels like what he might imagine heaven to be. “Yeah?” He asks, “And what does he do then?” His voice is filled with genuine interest for what you were saying. It was the first time you’d ever known that in a relationship. He heard you snigger softly to yourself. “He learns from someone who knows a bit more about hair than he does.” You state pointedly, prompting him to roll his eyes even if you can’t see him.

“I’m not letting you cut my hair, (y/n). Not happening, I’m sor-“

“Alright, Jack. I bloody know! That’s not what I meant.” You grumble. Jack can immediately imagine your disgruntled pout already, with those irritated narrowed eyes and the playful scrunch of your nose. “Sorry.” Every time he sees that look on you, he moves to kiss that furrow out of your nose. It makes his heart smile each and every time he sees it. You are simultaneously the most beautiful, more adorable and hottest woman he has ever laid his eyes on. “Sorry baby,” he reiterated, “Go on.”

“I could braid it for you?”

That earns a belly laugh from him that reverberates through your body, jostling with the force of his whole body laughter. “So you will,” he bellows in breaks between the ever comedic gasping from breath after each loud laugh. “Not a chance.”

He pushes himself up to sit back on his knees, trapping your legs between his as he looks down at you with a huge grin still stretching his lips and creasing his eyes, yet they still sparkle in adoration for you. “Oh yeah?” You muse with a giggle to follow despite the firm attempt to seal it behind clenched lips. The giggle sets those dimples into your cheeks, his eyes just drinking you up as you lounge back on the huge couch there in front of him, sinking back into the pillows just like he had been sinking against you in comfort for hours only moments ago. “Yeah.” He repeats firmly, the playful jest of his words not lost on your ears as he leans forward.

With the emission of only a small, surprised yelp from you that turns the head of the dog in his bed for only a moment, Jack has grabbed your legs to tug you down so you were laying flat on your back on the L of the sofa. He leans over you, hands and strong arms keeping him above you with ease. “Realllly?” You tease, one eyebrow quirked. Jack loves it when you do that, mostly because he can’t and he finds it beautifully funny.

Your hands reach up to his face, cupping over the beard on his cheeks to bring his face down to peck his lips before letting him press back up like a simple press up over your body. This was a common occurrence between the pair of you and Jack had always loved to show off. “Not cuttin’ about with a braid in my hair baby, sorry.”

He dips down for another kiss and you break out another giggle that parts your lips from his. “You already are, bub.”

“Ya what?” He pops straight up, sitting again back on his knees. “Not falling over your face now eh?” You taunt with a cheeky grin that makes him furrow his brows. Jack removed his hands from beside you to run one after the other over the top of his hair, a weird mix of a grin and disbelief washing over his face. Your sweetheart smile warms his heart as you lay there looking up at him with tired eyes and a lazy smile, cheeks flushed and one of his old cotton shirts keeping you warm long after his body raises from yours.

“Wait there!” He yells, bounding off the couch to all but leap through the living room until he reaches the mirror in the hall just outside the door. “Babe!” He cheers through the house, appearing back in the doorway of the room. “Nah it’s kinda cool, you fuckin’ smashed that!” You sit up and turn around towards him with your hand covering your mouth in a giggle that makes him stride forward and tug your hand away so he can see that beautiful smile. He jumps back again. “And look; stays in when I move around like-”

An immediate howl of laughter breaks out of your mouth with your head tipped back in hysterics as you watch him run on the spot, jump on the spot and then shake his head around like your puppy when he had a cone on his head. You laugh so hard your laughter looses its noise, simply existing as a elongated wheeze and a sudden gasp for desperate air to aid and allow for only more laughter. “Why you laughing for?” He yells, his words split by his own laughter as he tugs you to your feet, standing taller than him when your on your feet on the couch. Jack wraps one arm around your waist and moves the other down to the bend of your knees to sweep your legs from beneath you, perching you on the edge of the back of the couch.

“It,” kiss, “is,” kiss, “perfect.” Kiss.

“Just like you, baby.” He rumbles lowly, “Perfect just like my girl. Gonna wear it to training. Keep hair out my face, remind me of you, perfect.” He just keeps talking, keeps praising you between kisses while he brings you closer and closer to him until you can wrap your legs around him. Locked in place, he takes your face in his hands.

“So you’ll let me braid it again?” You chime, eyes lighting up. Jack chuckles, thumbs smoothing over your cheeks with a kiss pressed to the tip of your nose. “Course baby. Every day.”

True to his word Jack Grealish is. Every night he comes home from his training, he’s laying on the couch letting you massage the days stresses out of his mind, letting your fingers weave the tension out of his scalp. Jack’s never let anyone take care of him so much. He’s never felt comfortable to be taken care of like this, but you are his exception. His one single exception. And every morning he sits in the floor at the foot of the bed while you sit with a leg on either side of him, fingers weaving the strands into place for the day and tighter for match days. People make comments but Jack doesn’t give even half of a shit. His hair is how he likes it; out of his face so he can concentrate on his game and it gives you more of a reason to actually be up in the morning when he leaves before the sun rises above you. That’s perfect for Jack.

Until his next haircut, the only time that footballer doesn’t have a braid through his hair is when your fingers are tangling in it while he’s between your legs for another very enjoyable reason.

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