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nekovmancer · 2 months ago

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Hello, I was wondering if you could make zenyatta and ramattra with Cyborg!Reader like genji, but their body glows if they have too much energy.

overwatch headcanons: cyborg!reader with Ramattra and Zenyatta

warnings: mentions of violence, trauma and such, a bit platonic and… ye, pretty much fine, nothing graphic

a/n: my love for Zen is 100% dear and platonic yet- well, you guys know. RAMATTRA!!!

will do them separately in the present game timeline and then together back in the monastery and… it’s past midnight here, my eyelids are heavy, but there’s no sleep in between me and writing fanfiction so, sowy for the mistakes ahead, I will correct them tomorrow!! anxiety kept me awake and obligated me to post as soon as I’ve finished, you know

btw!! thanks for requesting. I love to write it and I hope you also enjoy. (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

OPEN FOR HEADCANON REQUESTS! Send yours here, but read rules first

Ramattra

A Ravager was responsible for your body’s destruction, so it’s only natural you’re shaking on its presence

Back when it happened, omnics were still under Anubis’ control, so it’s not like you blame him or any other R-7000 for their doings

Still, you got these chills running down your spine now that you stand face to face to Null Sector’s infamous leader

But the thrill is even stronger when he proves all your believes to be wrong, being to one to extend a helping hand to prevent your body to overheat

As Genji, your parts were substituted with cybernetics: flesh, muscle and metal bounding into one thing to keep your alive

Though, you weren’t lucky to be shaped by doctor Ziegler’s careful hands, which lead to several problems, including the overheating itself, caused by your frenetic running while trying to escape Toronto during the Invasion

Ramattra saw you and couldn’t help but be… fascinated

You were not an omnic, so his helmets were useless, still you’re shaped in metal, no sight of skin showing. A human, without humanity’s resemblance

He caught your heartbeats, their rhythm more and more violent, growing exponentially as the glow from your cybernetics, a flashing red of warning

He’s so intrigued he founds himself kneeling in front of you, one hand reaching out while you press your back to the wall behind you; no way to run out of this

“Hush now. If I was to hurt you, why the ceremony?”

His words had logic, true, but fear was devouring you

The last time you were this close to a Ravager was the last time you still had much of your organic body parts

“I may be of help, if you let me”

What choice did you have anyway? If he didn’t kill you, your body would do the job alone

Ramattra escorts you to safety, and ironically it means the very ships vomiting killing robots a while ago

You stay in his workshop as it takes little time for him to figure out how to cool down your body, and the glow is long gone by the time he’s done

“Not an omnic, yet not fully human… where do you find a place for one as yourself in this doomed world?”

Here’s the thing: you don’t

That’s why you accept his offer to stay, despite all of your fears

In the end, the hands who once destroyed you were the same who saved you from death

Zenyatta

Omnics and humans coexisting peacefully was a metaphor to your own state: both human and machine sharing the same body, trying to not repel one another

A heart of flesh habitating a chest of metal, you tiptoed the lines between the two worlds, but you didn’t felt as part of any of them

Still, you find solace in the words of a monk by the name of Mondatta. He spoke of hope and understandment, of peace above the conflict. Without even knowing, he brought balance to your turmoil; past and present

But hope was a dangerous thing for the ones like you, if there was anyone else sharing the burden of a dreadful existence as yours

And you’re quick out of reasons since Mondatta’s death

You weren’t welcome among the omnics, and humans saw you as a freak. Any chance of normality was eradicated

As a last act of faith, you did Aurora’s peregrination to Shambali. You didn’t know what to expect, but surely the villagers near the monastery left a very bad impression

Along with the exhaustion, you entered the sacred halls with your cybernetics glowing red, a flash of the eminent chaos that would erupt if you’re not stabilized quickly enough

A monk comes to your aid, and by staring at his faceplate alone you can feel something different stirring within you. A long lost calmness tossing your circuits errors aside

You wouldn’t forget his name not even in a million lifetimes: Zenyatta, the one who offered you a place to rest after your journey, and the very first to be interest in you

His genuine interest, plus the care, was touching. No one ever did anything similar to you, not after Talon decided you could still be a soldier even without most of your body

Which led to you running away, not soon enough to prevent Doctor O'Deorain from damaging your body though. Another monster carefully constructed to be Talon’s pawn, no matter how much pain came from it

But you’ve already paid the price for your mistakes, and one thing is for sure: you’re no monster

Among the monks, you could feel that familiar peaceful feeling lingering under your skin, resonating through the circuits of your cybernetics

For once, you did not felt cast aside, most thankful to Tekhartha Zenyatta

His harmony orbs helped to regain a balance you thought to be long lost, and not only: the chaos within you, something you tried to ignore, was embraced as it should be also cherished

“No living being is completely pure, nor completely evil. We’re both our strengths and flaws: to deny one existence in detriment of other is to deny yourself.”

Even the worst of you was forgiven; by him first, and you last. Where you felt shame for your wrongdoings, Zenyatta pathed a lesson that erased your doubts

Through meditation, you found not only peace with your inner self, but with the world surrounding you

The balance of energy through your body presented you with a new glowing: not the crimson red of tiredness and rage, but a warm yellow that irradiates warm as a small sun; the energy of the Iris found you

“My dear friend, I bathe in the light of your soul. May it keep us sheltered during the dark times ahead of us.”

Ramattra & Zenyatta

When the brothers found you, they first thought you were an omnic

Judging by the people screaming around you, tossing stones, displaying the worst of their violence and, of course, the fact your whole constitution was pure metal

It’s only when they take you to the monastery that they knowledge the other side of your face, the one that’s still flesh

No questions were asked, but none of them are naive. Being a cyborg meant something, and this something tiptoed around the lines of violence

And despite it all, cyborgs are quite rare. Especially ones glowing as you did, with your joints pulsating with energy

It was easy to distinguish your humor by the light radiating from your body: usually soft, it could be oversaturated when your humor reached peaks, transiting through a rainbow of colors depending on what you had in your mind

At first, a light tone of red flashed whenever they approached. Despite being your saviors, you still felt a bit of distrustfulness towards them

Humans saw you as an aberration, and you did not have too much time with sentient omnics to put their behavior to test. Not that you felt inclined to do so. To deal with humanity’s rejection was enough

Zenyatta was patient, but Ramattra… no metal in this world could undo the fact you were a human. And he also had his share with humanity to know how incredible terrible they can be

That’s why, maybe, it’s easy for you to approach him

Ramattra resented humanity, despite his best efforts to find harmony through his want for peace and his desire for revenge. Not that you had the guts to do anything but lament over your own dismay, but… you could relate

Zenyatta, on the other hand, touched your deepest cravings for being a better person, standing above those who abused you. You did not wished for violence, despite your rage: to be comprehended was your key

And both of them did it, in their own way

Through your days in Shambali, you felt part of their brotherhood. Not exactly as such, but… cherished. Each of them bonded with you in their own unique way, understanding your pains, your dreams, your wants. Piece by piece, the three of you found a way together

Now, whenever you meditate with Ramattra, concentrating the energy flow in your body, a glowing purple flashed through your cybernetics. But with Zenyatta, a deep golden color showed itself

And that’s why you could never choose. Your love for them was measured equally: if cut in half, one part would still be of Ramattra, and the other would belong to Zenyatta

So when Ramattra leaves from Shambali, and both you and Zenyatta decline his offer to follow his path off the Monastery, there’s no way from you in the opposites side, but through the middle-term

You still dream of the day you three will meet again. For the good or for the bad, you missed them for a lifetime, and to be separated brings up this feeling all over again

Now, whenever you concentrate your energy, it’s grayish: devoid of color, deepness and light

#overwatch 2 #overwatch headcanons #overwatch x reader #ramattra #ramattra x reader #zenyatta #zenyatta x reader

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tin-wufborf · 2 months ago

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Tin's Favorite Sterek Fics (Part 17)

Hello, and welcome back to Tin's Favorite Sterek Fics! Apologies again for the huge delay. I've had a busy last couple of weeks, but also...well, I posted about this earlier, but I hath been consumed by the beast that is Deadpool & Wolverine and have fallen back into my Wolverine obsession. I won't go on too much about that here, because that's not what you're here for, but I am letting you all know that it is definitely the most to blame for why this is so late lol.

But enough about that! Back to the real reason I have these little openers: thank you all so much for your support of this series. It's crazy to me that anyone at all cares about what I've read and liked, but that so many of you have taken an interest and even shared these lists is truly mind-blowing. So, truly, thank you all so much.

I hope you're all having as good a day as you can, if not a great one.

Smoochies and squeezies!

List and links to previous/next part(s) below the cut.

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DISCLAIMER: This is me warning you all that some of the fics I've included in this list may cover explicit, dark, and/or "taboo" subject matters. I cannot express enough how little I care what anyone thinks about any of that; all I want is for you to use caution when reading anything I've listed here and to please review and heed whatever tags the authors have provided in order to keep yourselves safe. Your experience from this point on is your own responsibility, not mine and not the authors'.

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Broken Things (It's Complicated) by PalenDrome (nerherderette) (G | 1/1 | 3,880)

It's been fifteen years, and Derek still has feelings about that Jeep.

[excerpt] “Stiles loved that Jeep,” the Sheriff says with a wistful smile. “It was Claudia’s. When he left it behind…” He turns his gaze elsewhere, at some distant spot beyond Derek’s shoulder.

Derek feels a claw rip through the fragile paper. He’s not sure if the Sheriff changed his mind about allowing Derek to take the Jeep. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if he did.

“I’m doing my best. And I know; I want to get it up and running.” Derek wonders whether the Sheriff thinks he’s fixing it up for resale, or souping it up for an off-road joyride. Both possibilities leave him with an icy anger in his gut.

The Sheriff must understand what he feels, because his face softens. “What I meant is that Stiles loved that Jeep. He put whatever little savings he had into keeping that thing running. So, if he left it behind…” He runs his hand through his hair and sighs. “Sometimes, things are too broken to be fixed.”

Derek nods slowly. He understands. But he also knows it’s not just that things break down. It's that sometimes, people give up on them, too.

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Sure of You by inhystereks (G | 1/1 | 4,129)

The Sheriff knew Stiles had found his not-so-little surprise when he went completely silent.

“Dad?” he called.

“Yeah, son?” John called back.

“Why is there a werewolf in the living room?”

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Shine Bright Like a Unicorn by HappyJuicyfruit (G | 1/1 | 5,392)

Stiles never stopped seeing his imaginary friend, Benji the unicorn, he just stopped talking about her.

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how to court a werewolf by graveltotempo (G | 1/1 | 6,592)

Stiles accidentally begins a courtship with Derek. Wary at first, the werewolf accepts, and Stiles ticks off all the boxes of a traditional Hale werewolf courting - oblivious to the whole thing.

Because of course he is.

Peter thinks the entire thing is hilarious.

Cora thinks that they deserve each other.

(spoiler alert: they do)

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Stiles' Annual Halloween Prank by LuneFaitLaFolie (T | 1/1 | 6,736)

Working the graveyard shift on Halloween night, John spends most of his time waiting for the phone call that Stiles and Scott have been caught attempting their annual Halloween prank.

He isn't expecting that call to come in the form of a neighbour seeing a group of people covered in blood and dressed as werewolves potentially breaking into his house. Checking up on it himself, he really isn't prepared for the absolute mess unfolding in his kitchen.

Maybe those traumatised teenagers caught smoking weed in the preserve knew what they were talking about when freaking out over werewolves and witches and a psycho with a bat...

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Special Delivery (subway edition) by FiannlyPhoebe (NR | 1/1 | 7,630)

“You’re what?” Stiles yells.

Derek jerks the phone away from his ear and waits a few beats before putting it back. “I’m adopting the baby I found on the subway last month,” he repeats.

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Oh, Alpha of Mine by whentheywrite (M | 1/1 | 9,806)

When the alpha came for him, it was at the library. But Stiles had never wanted the bite.

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A Heart That's Overgrown by Justagirlwithapen (E | 5/5 | 14,852)

When Stiles is five, he meets Derek Hale. When Stiles is seven an itch begins in his throat, and when he’s ten he can no longer ignore it. When Stiles is 11 and a half, he coughs his first petals. When he’s 12, Derek Hale leaves town and when he’s 13 the petals stop and the itch lessens. But at 16, the shit hits the fan. At 16, Derek comes home.

The disease is progressing at a rapid rate, Derek is focused on revenge and his betas, and Stiles can barely admit his feelings to himself let alone anyone else. But flowers are crawling up his throat, and something’s gotta give.

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One More Again by HelloWhyTheFuckAmIHere (NR | 16/16 | 22,238)

When a strange man appears in the Hale Pack territory with an unusual proposition for Stiles and Lydia, Stiles is unable to resist going back in time to stop the Hale House fire.

Even after a few bumps in the road, Stiles finds himself in the past with one nearly-insurmountable goal - getting Talia Hale and the rest of her family to trust him with their lives.

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New Family series by DarkJediQueen (3 works | T-E | 26,986)

1. Life with the Hales (T | 1/1 | 9,681) Stiles finds a family that likes him for him. No change needed. He latches on with both hands and his heart. 2. Life with Derek and Cora (M | 1/1 | 9,240) Derek is more than happy to have Cora and Stiles with him in San Francisco. With them close again, he can start his courtship of Stiles. 3. Life in the Shop (E | 1/1 | 8,065) Stiles is back in Beacon Hills, living full time and opening up his new shop.

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Morning Light by heartsdesire456 (T | 1/1 | 27,272)

After two years as a deputy for the Beacon Hills Sheriff’s Department, not to mention a lifetime of being the kid of an officer of the law, Stiles had seen some things in his time. Some weird shit happened in Beacon Hills, really. However, no amount of animals mauled in the woods, people going missing, psychotic teenagers going on killing sprees with their trained pet mountain lions (or so the official report stated; Stiles didn’t trust his dad’s account of that night back when he was in high school) could prepare Stiles for the sheer ‘what the hell?!’-ness of waking up at six in the morning for his shift, pouring himself a cup of coffee, and then noticing that outside the back window there was a little girl playing in his flower beds.

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Here We Are Again series by crossroadswrite (2 works | G-T | 27,528)

Basically I listened to Taylor Swift's All Too Well, got feels and this happened.

1. You Remember It All; When I Loved You So (T | 1/1 | 21,413) Derek takes a step forward and then stops. Stiles can see the way his muscles tense and tremble like he’s holding himself back by a hair. “What-“ his voice breaks, he gets a little choked off and has to drop his eyes. It’s been one year. He doesn’t think he can look at him after one year. “What are you doing here?” he mumbles into the floor, knows that Derek will hear him. “I-“ 2. I Can Picture It After All These Days (G | 1/1 | 6,115) Derek’s not nervous. He’s done this a thousand times. He just has to knock on the door, greet Stiles and somehow try to convince him to take his sorry ass back so they can date and live happily ever after. Derek shifts a little on the porch, shaking out his arm like he’s loosening his muscles for a fight. He can do this. He can totally do this.

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don't know what i'm supposed to do (haunted by the ghost of you) by crazyassmurdererwall (smartalli) (T | 1/1 | 30,926)

Stiles sees dead people. Yep. Seriously.

(He’s got this. He’s totally got this. So what if one of them is Derek’s mom?)

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Hold The Day by Daisyapples (NR | 1/1 | 38,405)

Derek froze, fear and anger battling inside of him.

“Personally, I’m very protective of the things I love,” Argent continued. “But that’s something I learned from my family. And you don’t have much of that these days. Do you?”

“Wow, man.” Stiles suddenly rounded the petrol pumps and put himself between Argent and Derek. “Low blow.”

It was almost amusing to see how put out Argent was; he shifted on his feet, hands clenched into fists as if he wanted to hit Stiles. Derek wanted to grab the boy and put him behind him but he also liked having a shield between him and the hunter.

“You know who this is, right?” Stiles gestured wildly, almost hitting both himself and the Camaro. “Little orphan Annie here lost almost his whole family in a house fire. You wanna learn a bit of tact?”

Derek was almost amused at the boy who had just called him little orphan Annie preaching tact.

Almost.

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Timing is Everything series by ChloeWeird (ChloeBYoung) (5 works | T-M | 63,159)

Starts off as accidental baby acquisition, then morphs into full-fledged domestic fluff with bonus angst.

Series is complete, but there might be a couple more little ficlets in me, just timestamps on the series.

1. Perfect Timing (T | 3/3 | 9,613) Nothing had tried to kill them for three whole years. His dad stopped updating the "Supernatural Accident Free for X days" counter. The pack was stable. The timing was perfect and they could totally do this. Stiles just had to convince Derek. Somehow, taking their relationship to the next level doesn't go as planned. 2. Comes With Time (M | 7/7 | 22,787) Four months ago, Stiles and Derek rescued a terrified young werewolf from an animal shelter, and now, they call him their son. But loving him may not be enough to help him heal from the trauma of months in captivity. 3. Borrowed Time (T | 1/1 | 3,014) Stiles gets a harsh reminder that their son wasn’t always theirs...and that Teddy’s family was never located. 4. That Time Again (M | 6/6 | 11,713) Stiles and Derek decide that they want to add to their family. But life doesn’t always work out the way they want it to. 5. Time Outs (T | 8/8 | 16,032) 1k-2k ficlets set in the "Timing is Everything" Universe. May be updated if I get inspired, but I'll mark it complete for now.

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The Moon's Gonna Follow Me Home by turningterrific (E | 2/2 | 82,866)

Derek doesn’t want to call the window repair guy. He doesn’t want to sweep up the glass. He’ll inevitably miss a few shards and pull them out of the bottom of his bare feet for weeks.

He doesn’t want to try to make this place feel like home when it isn’t.

Derek stayed in Beacon Hills and tried to make it work because he wanted pack, wanted purpose. He gave his best effort and found himself back where he started: alone, with a few begrudging allies. He’s tired, and even though his werewolf body heals quickly, he feels the weary ache down to his center.

He packs his car with the few things he cares about enough to drag them from place to place. He locks the loft and calls a realtor about listing the building he’d bought in a misguided attempt to secure a future.

And then he leaves.

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southpaw series by elisela (13 works | G-E | 83,390)

Hello, 'tis I, Tin. Once again, Tumblr is throwing a hissy fit about me including all of the series summaries for the individual parts of this series. Usually when this happens, I give you my own little synopsis of the series in effort to entice you, but I'm going to do it a little different this time. Instead, I offer you the summary for the main story that I think is the perfect enticement to the series as a whole--

From part 2 of this series, "ahead of the count":

“Yankee fan,” Derek says, laughing when Stiles makes a disgusted face. “The Bronx Bombers, Stiles, you can’t be a New Yorker and—” “Stop talking right now,” Stiles sighs, shaking his head. “I can’t believe I still want to kiss you after that,” he says, pulling Derek in by his coat. “This is making me rethink everything." “I’ll never watch them again,” Derek promises, and Stiles laughs against his mouth.

Or: Stiles is a starting pitcher for the NY Mets when he meets and falls in love with Derek. Derek doesn’t know.

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Where the Real Beasts Are by kaistrex (weishen) (E | 12/12 | 109,100)

Crown Prince Stiles is gifted a direwolf on his eighteenth birthday by King Gerard I of Venatia. The only instruction? Never remove the collar.

Stiles never has been one to do as he’s told.

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Shut Up and Help Us series by HelloWhyTheFuckAmIHere (2 works | NR | 144,162)

1. Of Course It's Fairies (NR | 54/54 | 100,257) While still suffering from the after effects of the Nogitsune, Stiles and the pack stumble upon and save a trapped fairy. The boy's parents, not wanting to be in the pack’s debt, offer each member of the pack who assisted in the rescue, the opportunity to bring a loved one back from the dead. Having been blissfully reunited with several of their once-lost friends and family members, everyone must work together to figure out how to function as a new pack, and how to defeat a new incoming threat. [I did not include the Fae & Fairies tag because after the first three chapters or so, they do not really play a large part in the fic, so I didn't want to mislead anyone!] 2. Survival Is A Habit (NR | 31/31 | 43,905) Nearly a year after the Hale pack defeated their first real threat, Talia gets a call inviting them to attend the Triennial Pack Convention. They gladly accept, hoping to use the TPC as one last celebration before the younger members go off to college. But when a series of events puts the pack at risk, they find themselves in desperate need of allies.

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What I Did On My Summer Vacation by grimm (E | 4/4 | 118,749)

There's something weird about Beacon Hills that Stiles can't quite put his finger on. The way everyone in town knows his name the day he arrives. The way they insist the melancholic howling that echoes through the forest every night is just a dog. The way his dad denies getting a dog, even though Stiles comes home to find one sprawled across his bed, some big black thing whose eyes gleam red in the right light. The way that massive oak tree out in the woods vibrates under his touch, pulsing with sickly life.

There's something weird going on in this town, and Stiles is determined to get to the bottom of it.

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#teen wolf #sterek #derek hale #stiles stilinski #sterek fic rec list #sterek fic rec #fic rec list #rec list #fic rec #tin's rec lists

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baldurs-gape · 3 months ago

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Gap in the Resume

In a way, Gale should have been grateful to Elminster, the man had pulled strings to get him the interview. Life was all well and good but he did feel a little guilty for relying so heavily on Astarion, not to mention it was setting a bad example that they made ends meet through skills of theft and contract killings. Determined to make an honest life, Gale had started job hunting once life had started to settle a bit and his hands weren't quite so full. Brushing out an invisible wrinkle from his tunic, he waited on the creaky leather sofa. Finally, the door opened.

"Mr. Dekarios?"

Standing so quickly his vision speckled, Gale tried to look confident as he approached the Dean of the school. It wasn't Blackstaff, he couldn't go back there, not after everything but a less prestigious school might just be what he needed.

"Good to meet you, and please, call me Gale." He shook hands with her eagerly and settled on the even less comfortable chair by the impressive desk.

"Elminster has talked highly about you and your skills. It made me think that perhaps you were a little too modest on your CV."

"Yes, well, some things are easier to explain in words than with in on paper."

The Dean looked at him over her glasses with a smile. "Well, here's your chance, Gale. Why would an ex-Chosen of Mystra herself want to teach at our school of all places?"

Rather than say that he was scraping the barrell and needed his old mentor's help in getting honest work, Gale tried to smile, cleared his throat and straightened his back. He'd rehearsed this, it was going to be fine, smooth even."

"Teaching has been somewhat thrust upon me in the last eight years or so. It's a little difficult to always keep track of time in the Underdark. It wasn't a career I had ever really entertained until I got firsthand experience of how rewarding it could be."

So far so good, the Dean nodded along and settled back with a more relaxed posture. Emboldened, Gale decided it was better to throw in some examples to back his words up.

"Perhaps my proudest moment as a teacher was when I took a small group on an expedition towards Lenore's tower and we encountered yet another minotaur - I swear they are the cockroaches of the Underdark - and the six with me made a meal of it." The somewhat puzzled look he received had him rushing to explain. "Before it would have been a lot of snapping and snarling at each other, more blood wasted than drank. Sebastian had a nasty habit of trying to claw the eyes out of anyone who so much as was near him when drinking. Yet there he was, happily sharing the bounty with five others!"

"Mr. Dekarios, Gale-" the Dean held up a finger, "-just what exactly do you teach? I was under the impression you were a wizard."

"I am!" Indignant, Gale huffed. "But you try teaching magic to 7000 feral vampire spawn. Manners had to come first."

"Seven. Thousand. Vampire. Spawn."

Nodding with vigour, Gale's arms came into play as he began to explain.

"We were responsible for them after freeing them. Well, first we had to sort out the Netherbrain while the Gur rounded them up and kept them safe from everyone including themselves. It wasn't like we could abandon them. I happen to take responsibility very seriously. It began with a book club for the more recently turned and those interested and just grew from there." Barely stopping to take a breath, he continued, "Trust me, I wanted to show them the wonders of magic but some of them couldn't even read, a tracesty if you ask me."

A strained smile appeared on the Dean's face. She sat primly, hands clasped on the table between them.

"Did this happen after your status as Chosen was revoke?"

"Yes. Well, not immediately. I spent a year trying to tame the Netherese orb in my chest." At that, the Dean looked alarmed. "Don't worry, it's all taken care of now, it's old news. But for a year I worked heavily on the research of the elimination of Netherese fragments bonded to a human entity. Alas before I could refine my findings and publish, a Nautiloid snatched me up as I was hanging my washing. Now, I know mindflayers don't have emotions in the same capacity but it was downright rude. Then they put the tadpole in my brain."

By that point the strained smile had fallen away and the Dean was outright alarmed, edging away from the table and away from Gale. Off script and caught up in the story, he wasn't slowing down.

"Anyway, you've probably heard of the Baldur's Gate Netherbrain incident. That was me and a couple of others who are now good friends of mine. But try putting that on a resume. It wasn't relevant to teaching magic really. I don't want to walk into the classroom as some mighty hero, I just want to be normal and treated as such. And now the spawn as all mostly settled, I feel I can leave them without fear of any incidents. I did so enjoy teaching them that I thought; why not? I could do this with young people. They'll probably be more likely to singe off your eyebrows by mistake than try to drain you of blood. Much cheaper if you ask me, scrolls of revivify used to make up a good 70% of our weekly expenses."

Tirade over, Gale leaned back in his chair and sighed, glad to have got that all out. A little sheepish at having gone so far off script, he offered a tiny smile. "Do you have any other questions about the gap in my resume? Because I don't think I touched on the mental health of students. Mystra demanded repeatedly that I kill myself. It is safe to say I wouldn't ever be anything but accepting and nurturing of even the most frustrating minds in the classroom. They're safe with me."

"Actually," the Dean's voice was a little breathy, "I think you've been very informative, thank you. I can let you know the outcome of the interview in the next tenday once all interviews for the position have concluded. Thank you so much for coming in today."

She stood and Gale copied. This time she didn't stand close to usher him out the room, a rather large amount of space was left between them. Gale's heart sank. It wasn't the first time an interview ended so abruptly and with such false smiles. Nodding, he turned to the door and left.

Outside, Astarion was leaning against the wall, covered from head to toe for safety.

"How did it go?" he asked.

Sadly, Gale shook his head and deflated. "I went off script. At least she didn't call security I guess?"

"Not to worry. We'll find a place. Hells, we could probably even found it, the Underdark Academy, a place for the unruly to come and be transformed into etiquette experts. What do you think?"

Laughing, Gale bumped their shoulders and sighed, trying to let go of the disappointment that had settled in his gut.

"You say the sweetest things to me, don't you?"

Their hands tangled until fingers interlaced and Astarion pulled it up to press a kiss to the back of Gale's. This job wasn't to be but that was alright. They had all the time in the world to figure it all out. And for Gale to discover that while he was in the interview, Astarion had stolen anything that moved from the school.

#bloodweave #gale x astarion #gale/astarion #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #bg3 gale #astarion #astarion ancunin #bg3 astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3

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waywardsou2 · 6 months ago

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Shirtless Cuddles with The Batch

Tags: Trans!Reader/M!Reader, masculine terms, AFAB reader, romantic but fluffy, cuddles, just general nice fluff, gayness

A/N: This is a scenario for all of my trans fellas out there. Or anyone that was born AFAB but isn't necessarily comfortable with their chest. How the Batchers would react if you wanted to sleep without your shirt on.

Basically, for context I am trans, and I am AFAB. I have not had top surgery yet but find it uncomfortable to sleep with my shirt on most nights. I've been stuck in the Bad Batch brain rot at the moment and was wondering what it would be like to cuddle with the Clones for the first time without a shirt on. In a fluffy romantic context tho. (I don't even know if any of this is making sense but if it does then please read on. Also I wanted to include Omega but didn't really know how to make that work so she unfortunately won't be in this one)

Scenario: You and your Clone are settling down for bed, it's been a long day and the missions have been rough recently. The two of you make your way to your shared quarters and you both begin changing for bed. You go to change out your shirt for another more comfortable one but you stop before you can even pull it over your head. You've been with your partner for a few years now and they know about your identity, they accept it wholeheartedly, but you've never taken the step to show them your body. You never felt ready, but something feels different tonight. "Hey, I want try something tonight?" Your Batcher turns to you and waits for you to respond looking slightly confused "I don't really want to wear my shirt tonight; it gets irritating sometimes. But I didn't know how you would react to my chest"

Hunter

Hunter turns to you and gives you a soft smile, he's knows that you toss and turn a lot of the night not being able to find a comfortable way to place your arms with your t-shirt twisted around you body. It the exact reason why he hardly wears a shirt in bead. He reaches forward and slips his fingers underneath your shirt, he looks at you for consent to keep going and when you nod, he gently pulls it over your head and tosses it aside. His hands rest on your hips, and he looks at you, he doesn't even bother to look at your chest. It doesn't matter to him, he loves you for you, not your body, he loves the handsome man standing in front of him.

The two of you walk over to the bed and settle under the covers, you turn inwards, so your chest is facing his and curl up, he wraps his arms around you, stroking the exposed skin of your back and gives you a soft kiss on the forehead before looking back into your eyes, softly he says, "You will always be my handsome man, no matter what."

And with that you rest your head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat as his torso rises and falls with each steady breath.

Crosshair

Crosshair looks at you with a small question on his furrowed brow "Why are you asking me? It's your body so it's your choice"

Knowing that's as about as good as a response you are going to get from him you turn around and pull your shirt off, discarding it.

He looks at the floor as you do so but when you turn back around he looks up, he looks at your chest briefly but only for a moment, your arms are crossed over it, but doesn't think much of it. Your chest doesn't change his image of you. He gives you a wry but reassuring grin and pulls you over to the bed and the two of you climb in.

He isn't wearing a shirt either so as he rolls over and pulls your back into his chest you can feel his breathing and his heartbeat and his warmth, the feeling very calming. He wraps his arms around your stomach careful to not touch your chest and pulls you closer to his so your spine curves into his chest.

He traces patterns into your stomach and lower chest, he traces a line up in the small space between your ribs in your upper chest, he does it slowly, creeping up ever so slightly and when you don't protest he lays his hand there, feeling your heartbeat. He sighs contentedly and so do you.

He gives you a kiss on the back of your head and mumbles "Love you" so quietly you almost don't hear it. You hum in response "Love you too Cross" and the two of you drift off to sleep.

Wrecker

Wrecker is a little slow on the uptake and doesn't quite understand what you are getting at, at first.

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"I wasn't born the same as you, remember? My chest isn't flat like yours"

He thinks for a moment and then it dawns on him what you are getting at "Oh?! Yeah, I did kinda forget, you are just so manly it's hard to remember that sometimes"

You laugh, he's so endearing and his blunt honestly makes your heart thrum with happiness. Even if he doesn't realise his comments about blatantly stating how "manly" you are always fill your heart fit to bursting.

"So is it ok?" you ask again

"Yeah?! Of course!" he cups your face in his hands and gives you a big kiss on the forehead.

You take a step back to take of your shirt and then you step into his space again and he gives you a massive bear hug, you let out a laugh as he throws you onto the bed. He dives after you and you are both a laughing mess. So much for going to sleep.

He pulls you over so you are laying on top of him and he wraps his arms tightly around you "You are amazing you know that?"

You giggle and reply "You're amazing too Wrecker" and with that you lay there together, humming and laughing softly, an endless loop of uncontainable happiness. You felt so lucky to be loved by someone like Wrecker.

Tech

Tech also doesn't quite understand, he looks at you quizzically and says "Yes? That is fine? Why do you ask?"

"Because it's important?" you respond a little upset by his blunt response

He thinks for a moment and studies your face as he does so, he seems to come to a conclusion and opens his mouth again "Would you like me to close my eyes or turn away?"

You shrug your shoulders noncommittally and Tech considers you for another moment, then his face lights up slightly, like a lightbulb going off in his head. He removes his goggles and places them beside your shared bed "There. This way I can't see and you know that I won't be able to see"

You chuckle at him, he's not wrong but it still feels a little bit silly. He seems to understand there is still some hesitancy and he takes your hand "You should only do what you are comfortable with, and you should know that I would never judge you for your body. No matter what"

He gives your hand a reassuring squeeze before he nods his head towards the bed. "Do you wish to cuddle or should I give you some space"

In response you scooch over to him and lay an arm over his side placing your head on his palm, which he turns over to cup the side of your face.

"Maybe one day you can ask the Kaminoan's to help alleviate your chest dysphoria. But you should know by now that your body will never define your gender."

His statement makes you tear up a little and you smile at him "Thank you Tech"

"It is no problem my dear"

Echo

Echo looks a little taken aback "Yes, that's fine" he doesn't really seem to know what to say, and neither do you.

Instead, you slip your shirt off and he looks away politely. You touch his arm to grab his attention and turn back but he continues to look at your feet.

"Can I look?" he asks shyly

"Yeah, that's the point silly" you say with a chuckle

"That's not exactly what I meant" he says even more quietly than before. "I mean can I look at you, all of you?"

You feel warmth creep up your neck and cheeks as he says this

"Y-yeah" you stutter out and he looks up at you.

He looks into your eyes first and then drops them to your chest, he doesn't say anything but he also doesn't look for very long. You stand there a little shy and a little self-conscious but he looks away quickly enough that you don't feel uncomfortable.

He takes his one good hand and raises it to your cheek, cupping it gently and you nuzzle into it humming.

"You are a very beautiful person. I feel like the luckiest Clone alive to be with someone as amazing as you. Thank you for feeling comfortable enough to share your body with me. I know that couldn't have been easy"

You smile back at him, a grin stretching its way across your face "You can't be the luckiest man alive because I have you, and that makes me the luckiest" He blushes in return, the deep red a stark contrast to his pale skin.

You both crawl into bed and you wrap your arms around each other and slowly doze off, never letting go of one another.

Hope you enjoyed! This one goes out to all my trans brothers out there!

!Feel free to request any other ideas that you would like me to write!

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roryelijah02 · 2 months ago

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Carol's hair: a theory and analysis

Warning: there will be mentions of Ed's abuse towards Carol in this post

I will start this post by talking about my inspiration for bringing this topic up and writing this analysis. A few days ago, the character descriptions for The Book Of Carol got released including this one for Carol:

Within it, there are so many wonderful things. Specifically, things about her relationship with Daryl. Not only does it talk about them being bound by one soul (which is such a beautiful analogy and refers to them being soulmates) but it also mentions how he is the only person who she feels truly safe with and it's this point that reminded me of the theory I have surrounding the topic of Carol's hair throughout TWD and inspired me to share my theory in an analytical post for all of you. So, let's get this show on the road.

In season 9 episode 10, Omega, Carol's son Henry has a conversation with Daryl in which he explains that Carol started out with long hair before the apocalypse and the reason she chose to cut her hair in the first place is because her late, abusive husband, Ed, would use it to his advantage and pull at it before throwing or pushing her against a wall or hard surface. This meant that Carol grew afraid of having her hair longer in case anyone else treated her in the same manner. Henry goes on to explain that he feels the reason why she was able to fully grow it out again is because she met Ezekiel, someone who treated her right and finally made her feel safe enough to grow her hair out again, safe in the knowledge that Ezekiel would never hurt her in the way that Ed has.

However, I don't and never have believed that Carol growing her hair out was to do with Ezekiel and this character description only confirms my thoughts and suspicions to me. I have always thought that Carol growing out her hair was down to her one and only safe person, safety net and soulmate: Daryl.

Whilst it remains short, you can see Carol's hair is starting to grow slightly by the beginning of season 3, way earlier than she met Ezekiel. This fits in with Carol starting to grow her hair out because of Daryl because season 3 takes place just after the farm era - where Daryl and Carol started to become closer with him giving her the Cherokee Rose and looking endlessly for her little girl, Sophia.

Even when Carol is married to Ezekiel, she spends the majority of her free time, when she doesn't have obligations and responsibilities at the Kingdom, visiting Daryl at his camp in the woods, making sure he's okay and trying to maintain her strong bond with him.

Something interesting to note is that even after Carol breaks up with Ezekiel in season 9, episode 16, The Storm, she still keeps her hair long because despite Ezekiel not being by her side anymore, her safety net and soulmate, Daryl, still is. He is the one there keeping her from harm, giving her comfort, making sure she's safe, never turning his back on her, never hating her.

So you might be thinking - why does Carol cut her hair again right at the end of the show in the finale? Ask yourself - if Carol feeling safe enough to grow her hair about was really about Ezekeil, why would she wait until the finale of the show to cut it again? Again, I feel that there is a very simple answer to this - it was never about Ezekeil. So, Carol cut her hair again right at the end of the finale - does this mean she doesn't feel safe anymore? The answer to this is yes but why? Think back for a moment - what happens just after Carol cuts her hair again? - Daryl leaves. Obviously, we can’t be sure where abouts in that last year long time jump Daryl decided to leave or when exactly Carol cut her hair but my theory, that to me makes a lot of sense, is that Carol decided to cut her hair again when Daryl decided to leave because her safe person, her safety net, was leaving her and without him there for her, she didn’t feel safe again. That’s not to say that Carol doesn’t in fact keep all of her badass qualities but the one person whom always been there for her (and whom she has been the same for him), the person who is her rock, her confidant, her soulmate - has gone and that leaves her feeling a sense of vulnerability that, in my opinion, she will not get back until they reunite.

The character description above, particularly where it talks about Daryl being the only person to make Carol feel truly safe, only confirmed to me how much my thoughts are likely correct and I love that. I hope you enjoyed my analysis!

#caryl #twd caryl #caryl fandom #carol peletier #caryl positivity #melissa mcbride #the book of carol #daryl dixon #norman reedus

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farity · 2 years ago

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Guardian

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x you

Summary: College AU bar shenanigans

Warning: Smut

“Aemond!”

You were surprised to see your friend at the bar. He turned, the corner of his eye crinkling as he smiled at you. He’d told you all about how he lost his eye when he was younger, then caught you Googling Lucerys Velaryon but stopped you before you could drive to his house and murder the little shit.

“He’s not worth it,” Aemond had said, adding that the bionic eye he had gotten was just fine by him.

“That’s not the point,” you’d replied, “he cut your fucking eye out, Aemond, and didn’t even get a slap on the wrist. If I ever run into him, I will take out one of his balls.”

Aemond had wrapped his arms around you, kissing the top of your head. “Ah, my guardian angel.”

“Not feeling very angelic about it,” you grumbled in response. You felt protective of him, not just because of the eye and how his father had done nothing about it, but because from what he’d shared over the years, it seemed that other than his mom, his family his family didn’t appreciate him much. He didn’t complain about it, but you’d gleaned bits of info here and there, and when his family made it to his high school graduation, you saw the dynamic up close and personal.

His father, first of all, didn’t even show up. He was visiting his daughter from his first marriage, and couldn’t be bothered to see his son give the valedictorian speech. His mother was proud and thrilled, taking a thousand pictures of Aemond. His brother Aegon seemed bored, and maybe drunk, his younger brother Daeron was on his phone the whole time, and his sister Helaena spent the time with her headphones on, doodling on a little notebook. Aemond had told you about her, he loved her dearly and she loved him back, but her autism made her spend most of her time in her own world.

“Is this your girlfriend? She’s very pretty, Aemond.”

You smiled, shaking your head at his sister, who was looking at you with a big smile on her face.

“Hel, she is my friend, remember?”

“Picture of you both!” his mother said, and you stood next to him, both of you holding up your diplomas.

Dinner was an awkward affair, but you did your best to keep Aemond entertained, including throwing tiny rolled up bits of napkin at Aegon’s hair when he wasn’t looking.

Now Aemond took a spot at the end of your bar, and you wondered what on earth had brought him in.

“What can I get you and why the hell are you here?”

Aemond laughed. “I do get out sometimes,” he replied, scanning the board high up behind you. “I don’t know, surprise me. You know what I like.”

You nodded and turned to the row of bottles. You did know what he liked. And vice versa. And sometimes, you did wonder, but the thought of wrecking the friendship, the relationship that was the most important to you, kept you from saying anything. Neither of you had dated anyone in college, and the mere thought of going to bed with anyone made you wince.

Anyone but Aemond.

You added a few ounces of this and that to your shaker, closed it and then tossed it behind your back, making it twirl in the air before catching it in your other hand. The patrons began to clap and you laughed as you shook it a bit more before pouring it into a glass and adding a slice of orange as a garnish. You placed it in front of Aemond and clasped your hands daintily in front of you.

“Drinks and a show,” he smiled, taking an experimental sip. “Oh wow, this is amazing, what’s in it?”

“I’ll never tell,” you said saucily over your shoulder as you went to serve another guy.

* * * * *

Aemond watched her walking away and smiled into his drink.

“Lucky man,” the guy next to him said. Aemond met his eyes and the guy nodded towards the pretty bartender. “How long you been together?”

“We’re not,” Aemond said, “just long time friends.”

The guy looked at him as if he had three heads. “Uh-huh.”

A group of three guys came in, already drunk from the looks of them, and planted themselves at the other end of the bar. Aemond watched as they began whispering among themselves, looking at his friend the whole time. One of them leaned in, getting her attention and she turned to grab the pint glasses for their beers. The guy who’d leaned in kept his eyes firmly on her ass the whole time and Aemond began to really, really dislike him.

“Want another?” she asked when she came over to check on Aemond.

He had a feeling a clear head would be the best choice given what he could see brewing at the other end of the bar. “I’m good, thank you, those guys come here often?” he asked, nodding towards the group.

She rolled her eyes. “Thank god, no, they’re not locals, they’ve been here a couple of times and they get so trashed and obnoxious.” She smiled at him. “I’m so glad you came in. I feel like I’ve barely seen you this week.” She squeezed his hand before going back to serve some more drinks and beers.

“Just friends, huh?” The guy sitting next to him said, and when he saw Aemond give him an irritated look, he put his hands up in surrender. “All I’m saying is, the way she looks at you, maybe you’re not as smart as you look, bro.” The man left before Aemond could respond.

He’d thought about it. Of course he’d thought about it. She was sweet, funny, and had gone from a girl ready to throw a punch in his defense to someone he couldn’t imagine living without. And she’d still throw a punch for him. He’d felt a frisson of fear down his spine whenever he’d seen her laughing with some other guy. Was this it? He’d ask himself. Was this the one who’d capture her heart?

It was inevitable, he thought, sooner or later she would find someone and he’d be happy for her and wish her the best.

* * * * *

You had kept tabs on Aemond for the past hour and his mood had definitely gone down in the last few minutes. He kept stirring his empty cocktail glass and you wondered just what had happened. The bar had emptied except for him and the three at the opposite end of the bar.

Speaking of them, they were getting on your last nerve. Clearly, they thought you couldn’t hear them whispering about you, and as they got more and more drunk, their voices got louder and louder. You wished Paul, the owner, were here, he was a great father figure who’d soon put those assbutts in their place.

“Hey honey, we want another round!”

You sighed, exasperated, because this wasn’t going to be pretty.

“Sorry, boys, you’ve all had enough. I’ll close up your tab.”

“I want another fucking beer, I’m paying for it!”

You pointed to the sign on the wall.

We reserve the right to refuse service to any patron for any reason.

“What the fuck? You just work here, honey, we pay your wages.”

You continued closing the tab on the computer, and it printed out the signature form. “Here, sign this.”

“Fuck you, don’t you know who I am?”

“Someone who needs to sign this.” You tapped on the printout and placed a pen next to it.

You were tracking Aemond’s movements out of the corner of your eye. He’d stood quietly once you’d denied them more drinks, had slowly walked down the length of the bar, and was now standing, empty glass in hand, leaning against a pillar about ten feet away from the three assholes.

Asshole #1 grabbed the pen and threw it at your face. He didn’t do any damage, you turned away and it hit the back of your head. When you turned back around, he wasn’t there, and his two buddies were looking toward the floor, where you heard a sickening crunch.

You checked the last place Aemond had been and he was gone.

Oh shit.

You went through the side door of the bar to find Aemond straddling Asshole #1, who was grabbing his nose and moaning in pain. Aemond had his fist pulled back, clearly ready to strike again.

“Get out,” you shoved one of the other two out the door. “You, get the fuck out of here.” You pointed at the other one, who left without checking on his friend on the floor.

“Aemond, stop.”

He didn’t move, fist still ready. “Are you hurt?” His voice was full of a quiet rage you hadn’t heard before.

“No,” you placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’m fine. Come on. He’s not worth it.”

Aemond stood, slowly, pulling the guy up with him. “Don’t come back. Ever,” he said before throwing him out the door. He turned, and you held out your hand. “What?” he asked.

“Hand.”

“I’m fine.”

“I didn’t ask if you were fine, Aemond.” You kept your hand out until he placed his on it. It looked worse than you’d figured, a bloody scratch that was still oozing, and various bruises on his pale skin. “Let’s ice it.”

You wrapped some ice from the well in a bar towel and placed it gently on the back of his hand. “I need to put some stuff on it, we don’t have it here.”

“I can clean it up at home.”

“You can, but you won’t, because you’ll get home and start checking the overseas markets and forget about your hand.” You watched as he opened his mouth to reply but he realized you were right. “Let me close the register.”

He grabbed the few stray bottles with his free hand to toss them in the bin, wiped down the bar while you closed up.

He drove the two blocks to your apartment. Once inside you took out your first aid kit while he made himself at home. He’d been at yours hundreds of times, studying, hanging out, or watching movies, but the sight of him kicking off his shoes and sitting down on your sofa warmed you. There was an ease in your friendship, and the more you thought about it, the more you felt it had become a crutch, something you held on to so you wouldn’t have to go any further.

You opened the antibiotic gel, dabbed a little on his scratch. “It’s stopped bleeding, which is good. Let me get a bandage.”

“It’s fine, really,” he smiled up at you.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “When it gets infected and fills up with pus, do not come to me to take care of it.”

Aemond laughed. “You love all those vet shows where they lance huge abscesses!”

You laughed along with him, but this time, it hurt. Was this it? Was this all you could have with him? Until some girl with more guts than you came into his life and stole his heart?

“What is it?” he asked, aware of something going on in your head.

“Look, Aemond, uh, we’ve been friends for a long time, and I, uh, I just need to say something here.”

* * * * *

This was it, Aemond thought. Either she’d met someone or she was pissed off that he’d hit the guy. She was steeling herself to say something and it just wasn’t going to be good.

“I’m sorry,” he interrupted, “I mean, I’m not sorry I hit that fucker, but I am sorry you’re upset.”

“What?”

“Aren’t you angry?”

She looked at him. “No, I’m not angry. I mean, I’m angry at myself because I’m such a fucking moron, but no,” she cupped his cheek and brushed her thumb over his cheekbone, smiling at him. “I’m not angry with you. Thank you. Which really makes this much more difficult.”

Nope, it’s not going to be good at all.

“We’ve been friends for a long time.”

“Good friends,” he interjected. That had to count for something, didn’t it?

“Yeah, yeah,” she nodded. “And in that time we’ve been through a lot, but sometimes, uh, things change, and change can be difficult, I mean, maybe only one person wants change and the other is just fine the way things are.”

The pool of dread forming in his stomach was growing colder with each second, with each word she spoke.

She’s met someone.

She let out a long breath. “Oof, okay, so I want you to know that however you want to take things is okay with me, I want you in my life no matter what.”

“I will take whatever you give me. You’re the most important person in my life,” he said, “and whatever this guy means to you, I will respect-”

“Huh?”

“I will respect your relationship, and-”

“Aemond, I fucking love you.”

He stared up at her, the knots in his belly refusing to unwind. “As a friend,” he said quietly.

“That, too.” She looked terrified, “but no, that’s not what I meant.” She swallowed. “I love you. I’m in love with you.”

He hadn’t heard right. He had missed a word somewhere. Some key word that changed the meaning of everything she was telling him.

* * * * *

Oh shit, your worst fears had come true. Aemond was staring at you like you were speaking in a foreign language.

Fuck fuck fuck.

“And, uh, I get it, you don’t feel the same, and I am not going to push or anything. I treasure our friendship, and every-”

He’d stood and wrapped one arm around your waist in the blink of an eye, cradling the back of your head with his hurt hand. His mouth found yours as he turned, pressing you against the wall. You gasped and he deepened the kiss, his lips soft and warm on yours.

Tangled up in each other you made your way to your room as he removed his jacket. You pulled away, seeking reassurance in his gaze. Aemond smiled softly at you, taking your face in his hands. “I love you, too.” He pressed his forehead against yours before you pulled him back down to kiss him again.

In your bedroom, you turned him around so he sat on the edge of the bed while you removed your sweater, while he stared up at you. He whispered your name as you straddled him, clad now in your thin t-shirt and work shorts. “I have dreamed of you,” he said before he slipped his hands under your shirt and began exploring.

You had wanted those big hands on you for a long time, fantasized about those long, elegant fingers, and as he roamed higher up on your sides you raised your arms to let him pull the shirt off. He was so warm against your skin, the heat of him making your head spin. He slipped one bra strap off your shoulder, kissing the indentation left by the strap on your skin before rubbing his cheek against it. “So very soft.”

He repeated the process on the other side while you reached back to undo the clasp. “I’ve always loved how your skin smells,” he murmured against your neck before he cupped one breast in his hand. He lowered his head to take the tip in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it. You began to squirm and his hands went to your hips, keeping you still while he continued licking and suckling.

“Aemond,” you breathed out, threading your hands through his hair. Each swipe of his tongue sent a spike of pleasure between your legs, and as you rocked against him, you felt him getting harder. “Come here, please.”

He obliged, crawling up until you could yank his shirt off. God, he was gorgeous. You’d dreamed of sliding your hands all over his chest, his shoulders, feeling the muscles in his back under your fingers, and now you explored every inch you could. You reached down to the waistband of his jeans and felt him shiver as your fingertips began working the button and zipper.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

You stopped immediately. “What is it? Do you not want to-”

“Yes, of course I want to. I don’t have any condoms on me.”

You reached up, pushing his hair out of his eyes. “Aemond. You’re clean, I’m clean, and I’m on birth control. We’re good.”

He grabbed your hand, kissing your knuckles. “Are you sure?”

“Aemond, I swear to god-”

“Okay, okay, making sure,” he leaned down to kiss you as he shoved the rest of his clothing down his legs. “Your turn,” he said as he began undoing the fastening on your shorts. You let him pull them and your underwear off, now wishing you’d worn something fancier, lacier, smaller.

* * * * *

Aemond thought there was no more beautiful sight than the one before him. He’d gone from despair to utter joy and now she was looking up at him like he was the world to her. He kissed her again and again, to reassure himself this was real, this was happening, and when she reached down and began stroking him, he nearly came on the spot.

“I want you inside me,” she whispered. Jesus. She was going to fucking kill him, but he’d die a happy man. He guided himself between her legs and began pushing. She was wet and hot and her hips were pulsing up, taking him deeper each time.

He tried to take it slow, ruthlessly containing the desire to snap his hips so that he was fully inside her. She was making little whimpering sounds and he would cut his own throat before he hurt her. Slowly he filled her, and when he pulled his hips back, she moaned, wrapping her legs around him.

He couldn’t help himself, sinking inside her again, the feel of her a lure he couldn’t resist. “God, yes,” he murmured, driving faster. She reached up to kiss him, her hips rolling to meet his every thrust. He felt her nails sink into his shoulders, and she whimpered again. “Aemond, I’m- “ she managed before he felt her start clenching around him. She let her head fall back on the pillow, swooning as the pleasure swirled inside her. He let go, his resolve shot to hell as he let the orgasm overtake him, too.

* * * * *

Damn.

You felt Aemond pull you to his side so he wouldn’t crush you. That had been the most amazing sexual experience of your life. His heart was racing beneath your palm as he cradled you against him.

“Are you cold?” he asked, nuzzling your cheek.

You shook your head, safe and happy in his arms. “Will you stay with me?”

You felt him smile. “As long as you’ll have me.”

#aemond targaryen #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond fic #aemond targaryen au

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faulty-writes · 1 year ago

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Hello, I'm asking as an anon cuz its my first time requesting and I'm kind of nervous but I was wondering how would bakugou,deku,todoroki(+iida if you want<3) react to they're significant other doing the bumpy ride trend? where they balance a thing on their head and dance? Example : https://www.youtube.com/shorts/eWBDUeWgMXI and then they get very flustered lol love u<33

[ Oh God, is that what the kids are up to these days? Welp, best of luck to them! I know my limit for headcanons is usually three, but we all know how much I love Iida so he had to be included in this. So I hope you enjoy this rare, four-character headcanon set. P.S. Love you too, anon. ]

"What the hell are you doing!?" Katsuki couldn't care less about the 'trends' extras were trying. The only type of social media he liked was about heroes. Still, he was curiously angry when he walked into your room to see you balancing something on your head while moving around. The fact that you were having trouble keeping that thing on your head made him roll his eyes.

He thought you had enough common sense to know when to quit following this stupid trend. However, you didn't and he wasn't shy about sharing his opinion. "Why are you wasting your time doing this, dumbass? Trends are only for extras with nothing else to do!" You tried not to let him bother you, after all, you were just having fun.

He usually didn't care about anyone's safety but his own. But damn it, you were different. When you tried to balance dangerous or heavy things on your head while dancing, he'd scold you. "Idiot! Be careful, damn it!" He'd snatch whatever item away from you and quickly replace it with another before flushing as he admitted, "I just...d-don't want you to get hurt, dumbass."

Most believed Katsuki could not laugh or find humor in anything that wasn't someone else's misery. But after some time of seeing you perform this trend continuously. He couldn't help but smile. Yeah, it was a rare sight to see him smile, hell even see him happy. But damn if he didn't admire your determination and that cute look on your face whenever the particular item you were balancing on your head fell off mid-dance.

Izuku would more than likely respond to seeing you perform the bumpy ride trend with curiosity, after his initial surprise. His curiosity would lead him to research everything about this particular trend. He would even watch videos of others performing it, trying to figure out what the most effective strategy is to master it.

Naturally, due to his desire to save and protect others, he'd make sure you always performed the trend in a safe environment. In addition, he'd make sure you used safe items to balance on your head. Usually, he'd help you gather empty bottles or provide one of his All Might plushies for you to use.

You'd usually assign him to record your attempts on your phone so you could upload them later. While he was uncertain about this, he did it because he wanted to help you and show his support. Of course, he was particular about how he would record you. He'd always make sure he was standing at the correct distance, that it was the correct angle, and that the lighting was good. No surprise, you ended up getting a bit impatient with him.

"H-hey it's okay…maybe w-we can look over my notes to s-see what you're doing wrong, y-you'll get it eventually!" He'd always have some encouraging words for you whenever you failed at your bumpy ride trend attempts which was appreciated considering you usually took your frustrations out on him.

"Um…are you alright?" Shoto's initial response to seeing you perform the bumpy ride trend is confusion. He doesn't bother with social media or understand its trends. This leads you to have to explain it to him which only confuses him more.

Before jumping to any conclusion about whether this trend was safe or unsafe, Shoto would observe you performing it. This would help him determine if he should intervene or not. He knew he didn't have a right to tell you what you could and couldn't do. But as your significant other, it was his job to protect you no matter what. He'd do that even if you hated him for it.

His concern eventually led him to suggest alternative trends you could do together. He knows that you'll probably argue with him, but he also knows that it's important to do things that strengthen your bond in romantic relationships and frankly, if he could convince you to do alternative trends with him, he could keep you safe.

He would congratulate you when you finally managed to dance and balance something on top of your head without it falling. But he's unsure exactly what to say which leads him to flush as he struggles to find the words. "That's nice…I am…happy that you accomplished what you wanted to." He still wouldn't understand it, but he'd try to be proud of you in his own way.

"I strictly advise against this form of social entertainment!" It was no surprise that Tenya found social media trends to be a waste of time. The fact that said trends didn't have any academic or structural value added to his distaste for them.

Even after conducting thorough research regarding the "bumpy ride" trend, he still doesn't approve of it, but he knows his disapproval won't sway you from attempting it. So, he overanalyzes it and creates a structured plan to help you perfect and achieve your desired outcome.

Despite not wanting to share his or your "personal" life on the internet, he agrees to document your attempts at this trend. "Are you most certain you wish to perform this again?" The videos he records are typically unedited, which gains your account numerous followers who like to point out his strange way of talking and the fact he's constantly chopping his hands in front of the camera in your videos.

After some time, he finds out that your classmates know about the bumpy ride trend and your videos which he helped upload to your social media account. Even though he feels embarrassed, he explains the pros and cons of the trend. He also explains why he supports you and how he will continue to do so until you master your techniques to accomplish your desired outcome.

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rg-notes · 2 years ago

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Berkshire Hathaway Shareholder Letter 2022, Reactions

Every year I enjoy reading Warren Buffets' predictably charming annual Berkshire Hathaway Shareholder letter. I dare you to find another annual investor letter you can remotely describe as charming. Anyhow, this year's letter published February 23 was another winner. As a builder turned investor I can't look to a better influence on my decision making than Warren and his partner Charlie Munger. Their humility, their focus on long-term relationships, and their emphasis on pragmatism alongside an expectation of excellence are all values I hold dear and hope to instill into Saltwater and our businesses for years to come.

Here's what stood out to me.

Hammering home the basics

We’re reminded that these gents look at companies, not stocks… “Charlie and I are not stock-pickers; we are business-pickers.” Buying a stock is just a tiny fraction of the company you’re getting, evaluate it as such. So why buy stocks vs majority ownership? A question we ask ourselves at Saltwater often? There is but one critical difference for the critical eyed investor. The difference between public "stocks" and privately owned businesses based on Warren’s insights… “stocks often trade at truly foolish prices...while a controlled business gives no thought to selling at a panic-type valuation.” Good enough for me. We’ll be keeping our eyes open for foolish prices.

Shareholder financial education

Warren shares an anecdote about share repurchases and the misled villainization of them.

“The math isn’t complicated: When the share count goes down, your interest in our many businesses goes up. Every small bit helps if repurchases are made at value-accretive prices. Just as surely, when a company overpays for repurchases, the continuing shareholders lose. At such times, gains flow only to the selling shareholders and to the friendly, but expensive, investment banker who recommended the foolish purchases.

Gains from value-accretive repurchases, it should be emphasized, benefit all owners – in every respect. Imagine, if you will, three fully-informed shareholders of a local auto dealership, one of whom manages the business. Imagine, further, that one of the passive owners wishes to sell his interest back to the company at a price attractive to the two continuing shareholders. When completed, has this transaction harmed anyone? Is the manager somehow favored over the continuing passive owners? Has the public been hurt?”

We were able to execute a value-accretive share repurchase in a portfolio company this year and while it wasn’t a smooth process, it was a very good decision for all our shareholders. Thanks Warren.

Praise of his best companies

How many times have you heard Warren discuss Coke, Amex, and See’s Candies? Effectively every time he or Charlie open their mouths. Charlie’s personal fav is Costco based on my experience with him. This year Warren reminds us that in 1994, BRK completed a 7 year buying spree of over 400 million shares of Coke stock for a total of $1.3B. He reminds us the value of those dividends almost a billion, as well as stock price appreciation, that 400 million share position is worth >$25B today.

He doesn’t paint this investment as an obvious or easy one however. “The weeds wither away in significance as the flowers bloom… it takes just a few winner to work wonders.”

Endless love for his partner Charlie Munger

I love looking for how many times Warren uses the phrase, "Charlie and I...", this year it was 10. He's clearly smitten with his long-time friend and partner for good reason, but this was my favorite tidbit of Charlie appreciation...

"Find a very smart high-grade partner – preferably slightly older than you – and then listen very carefully to what he says."

He includes a response that Charlie will often use back to Warren when they are in decision-making mode.

“Warren, think more about it. You’re smart and I’m right.”

See what I mean… charming. Greater than the Coke investment, or the Costco investment, Warren's appreciation of Charlie's wisdom & friendship are what anchor his brilliance in my mind.

The elephant in the room… transition insights

With Charlie at 99 and Warren at 92, every communication is reasonably analyzed for hints around their transitions. I don’t believe there will be one until one or both pass. Sad, but likely true.

Charlie talks about Berkshire in the general sense a few times in this years letter where it feels like he’s writing rules to operate by for others versus telling the shareholder how “he” specifically will operate.

Our CEO will always be the Chief Risk Officer

At Berkshire, there will be no finish line.

Our CEOs will have a significant part of their net worth in Berkshire shares, bought with their own money.

I certainly hope there is an internal rule on the last point and it would be helpful to know what that $ amount is. While these aren’t all that telling as to the timing of a transition of either partners health condition it’s clear that Warren’s thinking is still spot on.

I hope you enjoy and absorb these letters as much as I do.

#writing

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tonyspank · 1 year ago

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PHOTOGRAPH

Summary: Natasha would do anything to take everything back, including you.

A/N: Something very old from my drafts, there will not be a part two. 🙁

Warnings: Death, angst, and tell me if there’s more!

Days passed, weeks passed, then years passed. You left Natasha. And the worst thing is, you had no say so. Or, maybe you did. But the choice was already made.

Natasha had been dreading this day. The day when she had to come and clean up your old shared apartment. Any memory of you made her break down, she never felt this way about anyone.

When the two of you met her walls had been built up towards the sky. She pushed herself away from the team, away from you. Attachment wouldn't get her anywhere in this type of career, she knew that.

So why was it so hard when you came around? You didn't plan on falling in love with Natasha or making her fall in love with you. But you couldn't lie to yourself, something about her pulled you in.

Before you knew it you were trapped. Locked inside, with only one key. And the only person who owned that key was Natasha, she owned your heart.

It was a scary feeling for Natasha, of course, she thought love was for children. A part of her felt as if she didn't deserve love, she didn't deserve you.

However, all of those worries washed away once she looked into your eyes, as cliche as it sounded. The deep connection she felt, the warm feeling, you didn't have to speak when that look said everything.

Don't worry. You'd be there if she fell.

You were.

Slowly, and surely, Natasha's walls were breaking down. She felt safe around you, safe to be herself— flaws and all. Your love was unconditional. Her guard was fully down and she was accepted by you.

You understood her, every single cell of her body, you understood it. You were inseparable, you got each other. It shocked you both, you would've never thought you'd connect in the circumstances you were in.

When you admitted your feelings for the redhead you didn't think they'd be reciprocated, but even if they weren't, you didn't care. You adored Natasha, no matter what. Nothing would ever change that, your intentions would always stay the same.

Hearing Natasha say she loved you was better than you'd dreamed. At that moment she had never felt so vulnerable, but in your mind, you knew this was the woman you'd die for. You'd love her as no one has before, she was your source of light.

"Natasha," Natasha hummed in response, not feeling like talking. She hadn't for a while, all she wanted was you. "You don't have to do this if you don't want to. No one's forcing you."

Steve said, a reassuring hand on her shoulder. The two were outside of your shared apartment, bags and boxes ready to load whatever they wanted to keep in memory of you.

Steve had always been a great friend of yours. After he had come out of the ice you showed how the internet worked and all the new stuff that confused him from this generation. "No— I want to," Natasha spoke, her voice almost in a whisper.

She wanted to do nothing more than run back to the compound and bury herself in work to distract the aching pain in her heart. With a sigh, she unlocked the front door, slowly pushing it open.

"Hey.." Steve paused briefly, he didn't know what to say to make Natasha feel better in this situation. Sometimes he wondered if Natasha even wanted anything to do with him.

"I could do the bedroom if it's too much for you."

Natasha shook her head, "No, I don't want you to." Steve nodded, clearing his throat to clear the awkward silence that filled the room. Natasha's responses had gotten blunter and blunter as time moved on. She hadn't been doing it on purpose, she was just so tired of having to hold her tongue.

After looking around the apartment, reminiscing old memories that had been made in the apartment, she made her way toward the master bedroom.

A trash bag in her hand, she grabbed random things throwing them in, she wanted to keep all of your things. She didn't care, anything you'd left behind, she wanted it. Using a bit of too much force unloading the dresser a plastic decoration fell off it, creating a loud noise.

"Nat? You okay?" Steve called out from the kitchen, worry washing over him.

"Y-Yeah... I'm fine Steve." She replied, her eyes trained on a polaroid that had fallen onto the dark wood floor beside the decorative plant.

With shaky hands she picked it up, flipping it over. It was a photo of her, you two were sitting on-top of the Avengers tower, eating a cheap New York pizza from a restaurant not to far from the tower.

The sun was setting, looking absolutely beautiful. But you believed the red-head in front of you beat the sunset by a mile, snapping a photo of her with your vintage camera.

You were always obsessed with film, and if you hadn't joined Shield you'd be a photographer. You'd always tell Natasha how she'd grow to love how you captured moments of your day on your camera.

A soft laugh left her mouth, and before she knew it, she couldn't hold her tears back anymore. She needed you more than ever, you were supposed to be with her for the entirety, at least that's what you promised.

Although here she was, crying because you had broken her promise. As petty as it sounded, she was mad, you promised. She also couldn't help but think about the last fight you shared.

Natasha stormed behind you, following you into your shared bedroom. "Y/N!" She shouted after you, but you ignored her, trying to slam the door behind you to stop her from entering.

"Leave me alone, Natasha." You sighed out, running a hand over your face. "Y/N, please." You turned around to face her, she expected you to look angry, but it hurt more seeing the disappointment in your eyes.

"I just wanna talk." She says, taking a small step forward, and placing a shaky hand on your cheek.

You couldn't help but lean into her touch. You loved her but hated how you loved her after all she's done these past few months. You just wanted to be enough for her.

"Now you wanna talk to me?" You ask, your voice shaky yet firm. You move her hand off your face, not missing the way her face flashes with hurt.

"Y/N, I'm sorry."

You let out a fake laugh, "Wow, you're sorry."

"Y/N—" You interrupt her, ripping the tie off of your dress shirt, "No, Natasha. This is the fifth time you've stood me up this week."

You didn't understand, last week you had just come back from a month-long mission. All you wanted to do was spend time with your girlfriend, but it was almost as if she didn't feel the same. You understood had busy it could be, especially being an Avenger, but earlier in your relationship, Natasha had always made time for you.

You were supposedly the love of her life, even though it didn't feel like it. You started to doubt if you were enough for her, were you boring her?

"Do you love me, do you hate me? I don't understand. What am I doing wrong?"

"Nothing, baby. It's me," You shook your head, letting her continue, but you couldn't help but feel the subtle anger grow in you. "I— I've just been so busy—"

"Stop!" You snap, you don't miss how Natasha jumps as the sudden rise in your voice, "Just stop! Enough with the excuses Nat."

You let your hand rest on your hips, your gaze falling towards the dress showing Tony letting you borrow out of his closet. A sudden lump in your throat, "Maybe,"

"Maybe we should just take a break."

"No," Natasha she breathes out, "No—" She repeats to herself, confused about why you would even suggest something like that. You could get over this, this was just a speed bump in the road. Was it not?

"I love you." You shake your head, "This," You point between the two of you, "Isn't love."

She did love you. You are the only one she'd ever love, and that was the truth. She hated herself for taking your love for granted for a split second.

But she hated you more for doing what you did.

It was the morning after you fought with Natasha, everything felt so strange. Of course, this wasn't the first time you had fought but, this time maybe you wouldn't make up.

And unfortunately for you, you had gotten called in for a mission. An enemy base had gotten ahold of SHIELDS weapons and vehicles, you were confused about why Maria insisted on bringing Captain America and Black Widow on your mission until she confirmed she was going to take down the entire base.

The quinjet was silent, was there nothing to be said? You didn't know why you felt guilty, you weren't in the wrong. Perhaps you knew you were no good alone, and no one could ever replace Natasha.

Nevertheless, your relationship wasn't the same. You didn't feel the same euphoria that you felt when you shared your first touch.

You felt abandoned.

"Y/N, you good?" You're pulled out of your thoughts by Steve, "Hm? Yeah, I'm good."

"We're at the drop-out zone, Maria," Steve said into coms, you sat up stretching, making sure you were ready before you exited the quinjet. You felt a pair of eyes on you, already knowing who it was you didn't dare to meet their gaze.

"Alright," Steve starts as the quinjet starts to open, "Here goes nothing." The three of you line up, exiting the jet.

Your mission was supposed to be easy, you suppose. You and Natasha provide Steve backup as he runs towards the control room to activate a self-destruction protocol.

Except the three of you didn't know they had already known you were coming.

You should've noticed something was off when there was no security outside the base, and when you walked inside it was empty and silent.

"Somethings off," Steve stated, you nodded in agreement, looking around and examining your surroundings.

Natasha opened her mouth to speak but stopped once she heard Maria's voice in coms. "Cap, they know you're there. Backups on the way—"

Your heads all turn to the grenade laying between your legs, without hesitation you kick it, grabbing Natasha and pulling her towards the nearest cover.

"Steve! You okay?" You shout over the loud noise of bullets and rumble, "I'm good! I'm going to move towards the control room."

"There's no way he's gonna make it there by himself.." Natasha whispered beside you, as much as you hated to agree, she was right.

"Go," she told you, loading up her gun. "Nat—"

"Now, Y/N." This time she insisted, you didn't have a choice. You resisted the urge to tell her you love her or kiss her because you weren't sure if it'd be the last time you would be able to.

You took a deep breath before peaking your head out of the shelter for a quick second before turning your head to Natasha, she nodded, a silent way of telling you she'd provide you cover.

You swiftly stood up, running closer to Steve. "Steve! C'mon," His head turned to you, grabbing his shield and protecting himself from incoming bullets. You stood behind him, shooting anyone that got in your way.

"Maria? Maria, you there?" Cap asked in his earpiece, you sigh when there's no response.

"Cap, we have to get to the control room. I don't know how long Natasha can hold them off,"

He sends a nod your way, and you both run in the direction of the control room.

Still running, your heads turn towards a roar, not near you and thankfully not near Natasha.

"Was that Hulk?" You question. Steve sighs, "I hope not.."

A few more turns and you've made it to the control room. "Natasha, we've made it. Are you okay?" You whisper the last part, concerned.

"I'm okay," She replies, you feel yourself relax. A small smile appeared on your face as Steve activated the self-destruction protocol.

You watched as the blond-haired man point a finger to his ear, "Natasha, get out of here. We'll be right behind you."

"Okay, I'll see you guys outside."

Just as you guys were about to leave the control room you heard the same roar from earlier than a loud crash came from behind the two of you.

Cap grabs his shield, protecting his body. You both try to examine what just crashed into the control room but dust from the rubble is clouding the room. Grabbing a gun from your belt you point in front of you, "Is that—" Steve is interrupted by a huge rock being flung your way.

As quickly as you can, you dodge out of the way. It was an enormous green monster, but it wasn't Hulk. You didn't know what it was, what you knew is that it wanted you and Steve dead.

"Steve! Get out of here!" You shout, your back against the wall. "I'm not leaving you."

"Please, Steve. Get Natasha out of here and go home." You plead, grabbing the gun from your back. "Make sure everyone's safe, and tell Natasha I love her."

Steve knew if he stayed there to fight there was a chance both of you wouldn't make it alive and knew how stubborn you could be when you had your mind set on something.

The soldier gave you one last glance before taking off, you smiled and put all your attention on the monster.

Once Steve arrived at the entrance he noticed Natasha was gone, and all of the enemies were down. "Steve! Can you hear me?"

"Nat? Where are you?"

"I told you before, I'll meet you outside." She joked, Steve could practically hear the smirk on her face. His frown deepened, she didn't know the circumstances that you were in. How could he tell her that the love of her life was fighting in a life-or-death situation?

He ran out of the building and into the quinjet, hurrying to put the comms on the speaker of the quinjet, "Where's Y/N?"

He stayed silent, waiting to hear any sign of your voice to prove that you were still alive.

Shocking news is that you were, defeated the green monster with a very broken arm, but hey, you still survived. "Guys?" You asked into comms, unsure if it was still working or not.

You sighed when you only got static as a response, checking the ticking time clock, four minutes playing on it. "Shit," You muttered, rushing towards the nearest exit.

According to the blueprints you weren't that far away, although god had other plans for you.

You yelled out in pain feeling a hot pain in the back of your thigh, little did you know that Steve and Natasha were listening.

Natasha's heart dropped when she heard your scream, and Steve couldn't help but feel guilty. Natasha quickly stood up, ready to hop back out of the quinjet to help you but was held back by Steve.

"What are you doing?" She grits out, "There's no way you're going back in there, the bomb will explode any time soon."

"I'm afraid Captain is right, Ms. Romanoff," Jarvis added, the redhead sat back down, her mind trying to think of every possibility to save you, though nothing came to mind.

At that moment the building exploded, and Natasha couldn't accept the fact that you were gone. You weren't, there was no way.

You were going to walk out of the smoke perfectly fine, you had to. You promised you'd be there for her forever, no matter what. That's what you said.

Your funeral was even worse, there was no body to be collected. Nothing to be buried, which was one-hundred times worst in Natasha's opinion.

You didn't have any family, or that's what you told her, and everyone else. You'd always say the Avengers were your family, Natasha liked that because she felt the same way.

They all came to your funeral, even Thor who left Asgard to attend, Tony who called off meetings, and Clint who left the comfort of his home, they cared for you and they hoped you knew that.

Other than Natasha, your death affected Steve in ways he didn't know was possible. Throughout his day he'd think about how you should be here, and he should. He was Captain America yet he let you give your life for him.

They'd both do anything to get you back.

#reader insert #wattpad #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha fanfiction #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x gender neutral reader #black widow #natasha romanov #natasha x y/n #marvel x you #angst

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thana-topsy · 11 months ago

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Ok I gotta come out and say it. I envy you. Like, to a painful extent. The amount of people you get interested in your characters, how you're incredibly skilled in both visual art AND writing, how readers your fics have. I absolutely adore your work, but seeing it fills me with so much envy it's honestly ridiculous.

Did you deal with similar feelings towards other creators when you started writing fic by any chance? If so, how did you deal with those feelings? I feel genuinely stuck feeling worthless about my fics. I'm not as verbose with my language despite over 10 years of writing under my belt and it seems as though my plots don't interest people as much either. So I feel like there's just nothing of worth about any of my work.

I know that this is a lot to dump on you, but I felt like I would burst keeping this all in. Much love to you and I hope you have a wonderful New Year!

Hey there my friend, I've been sitting with this all day trying to decide how I want to answer you. I genuinely appreciate your honesty, because I know this is a familiar feeling for a lot of people, myself included.

I remember when I first rejoined Tumblr in early 2019, desperately trying to find anyone to talk to about TES, I would look at all these blogs gettings asks about their OCs like they were little celebrities and feel envy and longing. Now, when these feelings start to bubble up, I force myself to take a break from sharing my work, be it art or writing, if only to remind myself why I'm creating it and who I'm creating it for: myself. I know it sounds cheesy, and I probably sound like a broken record, but genuinely I just do this because it's bursting out of my skull. But I won't lie and say the engagement and the support doesn't have a big impact on my motivation. I love sharing with people and getting an enthusiastic response.

I think something people might not realize, or maybe they just forget, is that I used to write a lot of smut. Like...a lot of smut. (I still do). Hahaha and it doesn't get a lot of comments or engagement, but it does draw a lot of eyes. Once my smut stories started taking on heavier plotlines, a comment I'd get a lot was "came for the porn, stayed for the plot." And I wasn't writing smut because I thought it would get me an audience, I was just horny LMAO. But it encouraged me to branch out and experiment with the types of stories I was telling.

Anyways, art is another big part of it, yes. But that also didn't get a lot of engagement in the beginning, and my skills were rusty as hell. I was getting maybe 15 notes on here, 30 likes on instagram. But that didn't really matter to me, I was just insane with inspiration. I'd reach out to people and ask to do art trades, got ghosted a lot, made some good friends, (some people who are still my good friends to this day!). But it took a lot of risks, and I made a lot of accidental enemies and learned a lot of hard lessons. But having visuals to go with the stories I'm writing is like advertisement in its own way. I'm just lucky enough to hyperfixate on this shit like it's my lifeblood. I've always obsessively drawn my favorite characters, ever since I was a wee bab. Long before social media was a factor or the words "content creator" even existed.

And I think that's what it all comes back to. Above all else, do what you do with unbridled joy. If someone else finds joy alongside you, all the better! Even if it's just one person. Take risks, make friends, make enemies, draw that blorbo unapologetically and with wild abandon. Love what you create, even when it's bad. Even when it makes you cringe years later, don't delete it. Even when people try to find every reason to hate what you do and who you are. Don't stop.

Every act of creation is bringing something into the world that didn't exist before you made it. And that alone gives it worth.

Happy New Year!

#topsy's asks #long post

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atmajolish · 2 years ago

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Hii! Could you perhaps make some obey me characters (has to include at least Satan and Solomon 💞) react to an s/o that makes bizarre jokes about their traumatic experiences, like they could hear some bad news and they just respond with "damn this hits harder than my father after he drinks" or something similar

You don't have to write this of course, and if this makes you uncomfortable, you can just ignore this ❤️

(I apologize in advance for any spelling errors and if my request wasn't specific enough!!)

i‘m showing clear favoritism for satan and i will not apologise for it. he just does something to my brain that makes me ramble for way longer than anyone should have to listen to. i hope you enjoy!

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Satan.

he isn't exactly the best when it comes to these types of things. sure he has read books where some characters make these types of jokes, however he hasn‘t really experienced it. the brothers don‘t cope like this, it's far more common for everyone to just ignore their problems instead of mentioning them

needless to say, you saying things like that will get him concerned. satan will ask if you‘re okay, if something made you relive the experience so that you feel the need to mention it

if you explain that it‘s just jokes and nothing serious, he will become slightly less concerned, although he‘s still going to check in with you whenever you make these jokes. just to be sure that everything is okay

satan will end up reading books about the human response to trauma, just to be sure it‘s really nothing to worry about. this will also end up in him becoming way too interested in psychology in general for at least a short while. if you ask, he will happily tell you all about his newfound knowledge. (he will also tell you if you don‘t ask, he just likes sharing what he read, even if it‘s things you already know.)

Solomon.

as the only fellow human, he is more than used to these types of jokes and probably even makes some himself. if you live long enough you stack up enough traumatic experiences to build character.

the first time he overhears it, he will take you aside and ask if you‘re okay and if you need someone to talk, but if you tell him that you‘re fine then he will accept it and not ask any further questions

instead it will lead him to join in with your jokes, sharing a few of his own life experiences.

as long as you‘re okay now, he will laugh along with your jokes, even if it sometimes leads to concerned glances from luke and simeon as they try to understand how these things could possibly be funny.

BONUS!

Thirteen!

when she hears you make a joke like that, she‘s going to be quite confused for a moment, before wondering if you spend too much time with solomon. maybe she should build a new trap so he stops infecting you with his…general self

once you explain to her that it‘s just your humor and has nothing to do with solomon, she becomes more accepting of the whole thing, even if it makes her wonder why a soul as bright as yours has experienced so many horrible things

thirteen adjusts surprisingly well if you give her a little time. she will not join in on the jokes, but she will just keep the conversation going instead of pausing and staring at you for a short while

she will keep this a secret, but she has definitely asked solomon what she should do, even if she hates having to do it. she just wants to be sure that it‘s really fine and just a normal thing for humans

#obey me x reader #satan x reader #solomon x reader #thirteen x reader #tw abuse #om x reader #om swd #obey me

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undertale-fic-librarby · 14 days ago

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Do you have any x reader soulmate fics? Preferably with the bad sanses:)

Howdy, thanks for asking! Here are some fics that might fit what you're looking for!

Once More, With Feeling by TeaTinBlix (Mature, Incomplete)

It's a place where weird things happen, and kids go missing. It's a place where everyone grows up being told to stay away from. It's a place Frisk grew used to hearing scary stories about. But someone also once told Frisk that there was Magic on that mountain, and that if they were lucky, Mt. Ebott would grant them a wish. Any wish. And with Frisk's older sister, You, practically on death's doorstep, they were willing to take any chance they could. And as luck would have it, Frisk literally stumbled right into the Underground and had the adventure of a lifetime. However, by the time they were able to free the monsters and make their way back out to the surface, their new friends and their magic in tow, not even a wish could bring back what Frisk had lost. Because at the end of every single run through the Underground, no matter how quickly Frisk hurried, as the sun rose over the mountain You succumb to an illness you've been battling for a long time. So with one final Reset, Frisk goes back farther than they ever have before. If they can't bring the monsters to You... they'll bring You to the monsters! It's Frisk's last hope, and Your last chance.

Captive Hearts by oftheabyss (Explicit, Incomplete)

Do you ever feel like your life consists of disaster after disaster? You would have said no before, but when an unknown evil takes you hostage, you sense a dramatic change in your lifestyle approaching. First, you get kidnapped, then stabbed, and now you're being held captive by these intimidating (and hot) skeletons who seem determined to keep you safe for some reason. You can't help but ask how an ordinary human like you got roped into this mess. You have no idea that you're the soulmates of one of the most powerful groups in the multiverse. ... TLDR: The Bad Sanses (Nightmare, Error, Cross, Killer, Dust, Axe, and Lust) and their soulmate (Gender Neutral Reader).

You Are Filled With Kindness by Jackalope_Doodles (Mature, Incomplete)

You are Y/N L/N, a Kindness Mage that has been thrown to the wolves, er, the monsters. With a war going on throughout the land Y/N is half convinced that the Monsters must be better, but instead she's met with suspicion, anger, and a lot of hungry creatures. it doesn't take long for her to find her niche only for it to all be uprooted again and again as she takes different monsters into her life and into her soul, including her very own soulmate... Who tried to kill her as soon as he saw her. Great. ///// I'm not a great author, can't claim to be at all, but I enjoy to write and I enjoy seeing people's reactions. I normally keep all of my writings to myself but after the great response from Your World I felt inclined to share again once i had the time to write once more. I've started and restarted several different fics, but this is the one that's stuck around the longest. I can't promise to finish it, but I can promise to try.

Gravitational Pull by Sendryl (Teen And Up, Incomplete)

Soulmates have always existed. Every sentient being has a soulmate mark, hidden from sight until their first moment of physical contact with their soulmate. Unfortunately, matches have been relatively rare for many centuries. Turns out there's a reason for that, and when the monsters come out from under the mountain, everyone finds out why. It's because a massive amount of soulmates were stuck in the Underground. Everyone says that soulmates are a wonderful gift from the universe, a lovely person meant for you and you alone. And while that's mostly true, it doesn't necessarily mean that your relationship will run smoother than anyone else's. It just means that you know you can make it work together. You meet your soulmate a few years after monsters emerge, and you know even before your first touch that you're in for a punny time!

His Starry Night on You by Witchcraftandwine (Mature, Incomplete)

some people have a picture on their body, a connection between them and the one who is meant only for them, these marks are soul marks. When your mark flares into beautiful focus after a life altering event you realise that while experience may have made you jaded against romance, fate had other ideas.

#i know you said that bad sanses were preferable #but i could only find like one #fic rec #fic recommendation #ao3 fic recs #utmv #x reader #soulmates #not suitable for minors #ask #mod sleepy

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ca-suffit · 4 months ago

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I hate having to say this because I know the importance of what you and everyone else is doing here but sometimes I wonder if always talking about races and defending Louis/Jacob on this aspects isn't doing him a disservice?

Let me explain,sometimes myself included when I find a group of fans so annoying that I end up hating their favs and I know that they find us annoying because we bring what they are refusing to see.

For example yesterday an artist has draw louis 4-5 tones much darker than his real complexion (mind you they had Armand complexion lighter than he is ,so they can do it) rightly a group of fans came upon him demanding accountability, everyone quoting etc...

Then I read another ''artist'' say,that's why she never does fan arts with Louis and I'm wondering how many think that way and that's probably why he is the lead with the least fan arts (non ship fan arts)

*English is not my native language*

hi and thank u for asking this! if u need clarification on anything I answer here bcuz of a language barrier just lmk in my inbox again, it's no problem.

also let me say first that anyone can give feedback on this. I'm not any authority on anything and I'm an anon account. I talk about topics objectively. It's always helpful to have insight from others who feel comfortable sharing more identifying racial info on themselves and giving opinions on this stuff.

ok so to the actual question

"Then I read another ''artist'' say,that's why she never does fan arts with Louis and I'm wondering how many think that way and that's probably why he is the lead with the least fan arts (non ship fan arts)"

the short answer to all of this is that....it's all an excuse.

how many artists of color draw white ppl every day and yet we never hear about a "struggle" from that side? there is one just the same but if ppl were louder about it, nobody would take it seriously. whiteness is "the norm." ppl would laugh anyone out of the room asking how it could be "hard" to depict a white person??

well. it's literally the same for anyone else. there is no excuse to be unable to do something like this. if an artist is unfamiliar with something then they practice to get better at it. I've known plenty of white artists who can draw ppl across racial identities and don't get feedback like this bcuz they work on improving and *listen* when these conversations come up with other artists. saying u can't draw a black man bcuz the "woke mob" might come for u is doubling down on being racist. not only are u saying it's not worth even *trying* to do the art, ur also saying all criticism makes u the victim and that's the most important part of all. "these conversations don't matter bcuz they make me feel bad and that's wrong :(" that's a typical white response to literally *anything* regarding race. that's a lot of why we're still here talking about this in every space. it's not only specific to white ppl either but usually that's the largest group saying stuff like this. white ppl don't have to think about race, so these convos easily get killed in even the most progressive spaces. a lot of times it makes white ppl feel racist to notice race at all and there's usually gonna be some person of color around to back up that "logic" and say it's "right." that's all it takes to shut it all down. that's a lot of what this fandom keeps doing too.

the only way to make progress is to normalize things more. ppl don't know how to draw different facial features, hair textures, skin tones? start practicing. look at art from black artists who draw black ppl and study how that looks. examine ur own antiblackness. learn about colorism. study the racist history of depicting black ppl in art so u don't accidentally recreate that unconsciously. know what the antiblack stereotypes are. the show literally gave us both in 2x7, ppl can even just go study *that.* a lot of ppl don't even know that is there, as blatant as it is.

this is why I said thank u for asking this bcuz it's an important thing to talk about. white fandom (a mindset, not a skin color) will use stuff like this to perpetuate the idea that talking about race *does* cause harm. it doesn't. it never will. it's the only way to make any progress. centering the feelings of an artist who doesn't want to bother drawing louis bcuz drawing black ppl is too hard / anxiety inducing is just straight up racism. idk specifically who this artist is or anything but this is stuff u see and then u stop supporting that artist. u don't coddle them about this either. it's a stupid, harmful thing to say. find artists who don't make those excuses and who can handle having these conversations, support them instead.

ppl should also always be looking for black artists in this fandom to support in the first place. none of the popular artists here are black and that's done intentionally by the fandom. everyone should feel bad about that tbh.

#asks #interview with the vampire #amc interview with the vampire #interview with the vampire amc #iwtv amc #amc iwtv #iwtv 2022 #fandom racism #antiblackness #fan art #louis de pointe du lac #jacob anderson

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salora-rainriver · 1 year ago

Text

The Sympathy Problem, or "Why I'm Too Much of a Monsterfucker to Get Into Horror"

I don't know what the fuck this is, but I'm writing an essay about a problem that, as far as I know, only applies to me (but i might be totally wrong, who knows).

I think the title speaks for itself, but lemme just elaborate on what the fuck happens inside my brain, and how that fundamentally affects the way I handle horror media, to the point where I cannot truly appreciate it as horror on the same level as everyone else.

now lemme post a cute bat here so that there'll be an appropriate image to represent the whole essay when its link is shared on stuff like Discord:

trust me this was important. Okay, let's keep going.

Part 1: Why I'm a Monsterfucker

Let's start at age 4. I'm a dinosaur kid, like roughly 1/3rd of all autistic bitches. I'm a dinosaur kid to the point of owning multiple Land Before Time movies, and tie-in games, and I think I even had like two plushies at one point.

you know it's serious when this is your childhood.

I also had miscellaneous dinosaur plushies, and dinosaur toys, and a dinosaur book I frequently read front-to-back, and you get the idea.

dinosaur love evolves into dragon love, evolves into "funky monster creatures and animals of all kinds" love. I become a freakish savant of the wonderful world of the animal kingdom really quickly, to the point where my child-brain career prospects include "vet" as a pretty high finalist.

And then I find Starcraft, a game in a genre I otherwise wouldn't have given a shit about... but guess what? it has bug dinos.

it's all over for me.

But like, why? why do I like dinosaur so much?

... because I am dinosaur.

Look. LOOK. I can't give a good comprehensive list on the connections between my particular strand of autism and the state of Being A Dinosaur, because by this point, me being autistic and me being a dinosaur are so completely intertwined that it's often a chicken-egg situation. But the point is,

I make weird noises instead of using my words. I toe-walk. I don't like shoes. Sometimes I like to not wear clothes at all, even. I like to hide in small crevices when spooked. When I'm in a meltdown, I scare people.

Me dinosaur. Or at least, me some type of feral.

So is it any fucken surprise that when I go into an RPG, I latch onto the animal shapeshifter, the furry species, or the person who fights unarmed and/or uses a claw weapon?

Is it any fucking surprise that I am the opposite of spooked by snakes and spiders and other such creepy crawlies?

is it any fucking surprise that I have a fursona?????

is it any fucking surprise that I picked Pokemon Scarlet without the slightest HINT of remorse?!

Part 2: Wait, That's not the Intended Response

now let's talk about horror. Let's talk about the elements that make horror into horror: the fear part.

So what scares people? Well... people scare us. A serial killer, a mad scientist, a cult leader, a corrupt government entity, maybe? or maybe even society itself, its darker side full of atrocities and danger and problems where there's no easy solution and things can often seem hopeless?

... lmao who are we kidding that's not the vast majority of what scares people in horror. IT'S MONSTERS! Monsters scare people!

From Xenomorphs to Jean Jacket to The Babadook, it's monsters! Shit that ain't human and never could be human, and maybe it's pretending to be human, maybe it used to be human, but now it ain't, and it's gonna getcha!

And it just.

I'm a monsterfucker.

I'm not scared of ghosts. Sure he's fucked up and wailing in endless pain and lashing out at everything, but that just makes me feel sad. Like, poor ghost dude. We should help him.

I'm not scared of vampires or werewolves. They're people like anyone else, and sure, there's an inherent danger from being around them, but there's also an inherent danger from being close to an alligator, and I'm sure as fuck not scared of an alligator chilling on the side of the road. Cautious, maybe, but not scared.

I'm not scared of zombies. I mean, if they were real, I'd be a bit spooked, cause I have no combat expertise and would definitely be Fucked. But the same would apply if my hometown became a war zone. And... a war movie won't scare me. So a zombie movie wouldn't, either.

I'm not scared of xenomorphs. I mean I don't want to die, but that just means I should be entering alien environments with all proper safety procedures. TBH I'm more pissed at Weyland-Yutani than anything else.

I'm not scared of the Babadook. I'm worried for the well-being of the family as they try to come to terms with grief, and the monstrous shape that grief has taken. But it seems like they're coping in the end, so that's good.

I'm not scared of Jean Jacket - okay no. I'll be honest. It makes me uncomfortable. I will not be going into detail on the difference between this discomfort and actual fear. That is not a Salora Lore I want to disclose here. If you Know, you Know.

Part 3: Horror ceases to be a genre for me

So the monsters in horror movies don't scare me. And yet... I've watched some horror movies. And I've liked them. From this one list I've been using as quick reference to remind myself of What Horror Movies Exist out there, I've watched a few of these, or am at least familiar with them. You know, I've seen some classic horrors like "The Shining" because I went to film class in high school, and I've watched some installments of classic franchises like "Scream", or oddball picks like "Warm Bodies" and "The Relic", because I was having watch parties with friends.

Even beyond film, I read some Lovecraft once, and I've played plenty of spookier-themed videogames, like... well, like Silent Hill 2. Didn't finish that one. Bcs I'm bad at puzzles. But I loved the atmosphere.

And even when I'm not directly experiencing the horror media, I often look it up, read the synopsis, and watch video essays about it.

I know way too much about Hereditary, Midsommar, Get Out, the Slasher Genre in general, Creepypasta, Resident Evil, and mascot horror, for someone who's supposedly not able to properly engage with horror as a medium.

And I like some of that shit! But uh...

... not. as horror.

I just. Don't engage with them as horror films. I engage with them as whatever other genre you could slot them into. Hereditary is a tragedy. Get Out is political allegory. The Babadook is psychological allegory. Ghost stories are dark fantasy. Alien is sci fi. Slasher films go back and forth between mystery, action, and dark comedy. Warm Bodies is a rom-com. (like. that's not even a weird hot take. I don't know why this Rotten Tomatoes editorial decided it was horror, but I'm not gonna dispute their assertion, Bcs like. this entire essay is about why I'm not a good judge on that sort of thing) Silent Hill is a puzzle-adventure game with light action. Five Nights at Freddys is a time-management simulation game that would stress me the fuck out if I ever played it. Amnesia: the Dark Descent is a stealth game.

You get the idea.

So I'm just... in this really weird position. I'm a huge fan of spooky monsters, strange happenings, stories that engage seriously with the anxieties of mankind through allegory,

but I can't. truly enter the horror genre community as an insider.

Cause I ain't scared.

And honestly, it gets even worse when I start to imagine myself maybe, idk, *writing* a horror story of my own. Because... since I don't get scared by them, how am I supposed to know what scares others? Apologies to my fellow disabled folk for this clumsy analogy, but... it feels like trying to paint while visually impaired. I mean... you can do it. You can do it super well if you push yourself. but it's a strong disadvantage, and it might result in an artwork that could baffle the seeing people in your audience.

And maybe there could be merit in that. In writing my attempt at a horror story from the perspective of someone who doesn't find any of it scary. Maybe it's be intriguing, even surreal or dreamlike or alien to the audience who doesn't engage with this subject matter in the same way I do.

Or maybe it'd just end up similar to that one phase of the creepypasta fad where folks were going "wooo! hyperrealistic blood! isn't it spoopy n fuked up????" and it'll be garbage idfk

Bonus Round: ...Okay I Might've Lied a Bit

There is one movie that for me, truly could be considered "horror".

It genuinely terrified me as I watched it. It shook me to my core and opened my eyes to how other people feel when they see some shadowy monster figure with too many teeth reach out and eviscerate a poor bitch. I fucking get it now, to some extent. I don't know *how* the spiky boy elicits that response in you, but now I understand how it feels.

Because I watched FUCKING M3GAN

[SPOILER WARNING: I'm not saying the exact plot beats of the movie but I AM going into detail about its themes and the character development of the protagonist. It's massive spoilers but they're all vague spoilers.]

Me and my friends didn't pick this movie thinking we'd get spooked. this is the movie where the doll does some sort of modern dance routine while carrying a katana. It's goofy shit! We figured this was goofy ass modern trash and we were gonna laugh.

MOTHERFUCKERS I WASN'T LAUGHING????

Is the premise unrealistic and goofy? yeah. are the characters exaggerated and cartoonish? yes. are there like, numerous jokes throughout this film, that are portrayed as jokes? yes. was the dancing robot doll chase sequence goofy as shit? yes*

*ok but the context of That Scene made my brain gloss right the fuck over how goofy it was bcs I was too fucked up over everything else that already happened!

So like. What? How? How is goofy robot doll horrifying? Salora, you know how many stories about rogue AIs and killer robots there are? Why doesn't skynet scare you?

It's not about the doll. It's about the humans who created her.

This film is as subtle as a fucking anvil when it comes to it's social commentary. Like, "opening sequence is a kids commercial for Deranged Knockoff Furby" and "a therapist character explains attachment theory for a whole scene" levels of unsubtle. and honestly that makes the horror fucking worse. in this bizarre cartoonish parody of society, we're seeing a laid-bare and raw allegory for the real harm we are inadvertently delivering upon real fucking people. Weirdly enough, the exaggeration just makes it feel more real.

and what's "It"? Not the uncanny valley of a too-perfect silicon face, the gruesome deaths, the murderous AI,

No, "it" is the commodification of childhood, the degradation of familial ties and human connection through overwork, the way we try to patch these broken ties with product, the outsourcing of parenting to toys and machines, the disastrous consequences of allowing an orphan to vanish into wish fulfillment fantasy instead of being given space to work through her grief,

the exploitation of her grief in order to market the very thing that's spiraling her further into an unhealthy dependency, to do the exact same thing to children worldwide, all because of profit.

Look. Monsters, ghosts, demons, serial killers, zombies, predatory animals, rogue AI, they're not scary to me, because I know them. and if I don't know them, I want to know them. The solution to the threats things like that pose are simple. Keep your distance from the crocodile. Punch the shark's sensitive nose to make it back off. Invest in security measures so your house doesn't get broken into. Don't anger the ghost. Exorcise the demon. Shoot the zombie's head.

How do you, an overworked engineer for a toy company, find the time to connect with your orphaned niece on a human level?

How do you take away said niece's beloved doll when you slowly come to realize that her attachment to it has become unhealthy?

What the fuck are you supposed to even do when you realize that you might have created a murderous monster and marketed it to hundreds of kids, and your overzealous boss is in your ear pressuring you to get it ready for launch?

WHAT A FUCKING NIGHTMARE.

Conclusion: But fr am I like the Only One

so uh. yeah.

My fear response is mucked around by an unusually high level of sympathy for the monsters that tend to populate horror media. I'm Too Kinky To be Tortured, and it puts me in an awkward relationship with the horror genre, where the only things that can well and truly terrify me are unhealthy relationships and capitalism, and even then, only if those topics are presented in just the right way to make me feel like this shit is Real.

And like you know how there's a whole language of like, scares and signifiers and shit that's been well-researched, all these tiny tips and tricks to exploit primal fears in humans? (I dont know if language is the right word but im just gonna call it that until further notice)

well, a lot of that Language of Horror doesn't quite work on me, because it's all related to monsters and physical threats, and I love the monsters too much,

and I imagine there is a whole different Language out there of the shit that can be exploited to scare me,

but fuck if i know what it is. I only got a single movie as my frame of reference. How the fuck would you even find a movie that handles social anxiety like that?

Like idk, do y'all think Carrie would spook me? Carrie's about societal ills, right?

#horror #horror movies #the following tag will spoil the plot twist of the essay oops #m3gan

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