#from the trenches of my heart desire

[falling-feels-like-flying]

i know- i finally know what i truly deeply desire

need Lucifer to come ask me what is it that i truly desire coz God am i lost

[infamous-if]

Infamous is 2 years old!

So sorry this was late! Funnily enough, I was deep in the Infamous trenches that I didn't remember until now! Ha! Two years is a long time. I didn't think this would turn into anything when I posted the intro post.

Infamous was born from my desire to read a band IF after a weekend binging band-related stuff. You can imagine I was gutted that there was a hole of music/band related stories in this community. The (amazing!) band stories were either demo-less or dead. Once that happened a seed of an idea was planted in my head. One I couldn't shake off :,) and thus Infamous was born.

500k words, three chapters (lol) and nearly 10k of you later (woah) and here we are! I love Infamous with all my heart and I'm happy to see that it's touched some of you, no matter how big or small. The art, the fanfic, the questions and funny musings in my inbox; they give me a lot of energy and motivation. I'd probably have given up on this a long time ago if not for how kind and supportive this community is to me. You guys do not have to welcome me the way you do every day. Or be so gracious and patient with my ramblings and stupid ridiculous jokes and Savina teasing but you are. I am very lucky. Thank you.

I wish I had something prepared but as we know I am not a very organized person. Instead, as a way to celebrate, I've uploaded an extended Chapter 4 snippet. For those on Patreon who have already read it, I did extend this one—not by a lot but still. It's something new.

There will be typos, errors (if there are game-breaking errors, lmk!), skipped scenes, some paragraphs/convos not fleshed out, and empty choices because I am lazy and fill those out near the end. (I usually write a big picture skeleton first and then map out the scenes in deeper detail). Plus, I don't want to spoil too much haha

I hope you enjoy it. And thanks for loving Infamous! More to come!!!

Amy <3

[sourvers]

WHEN YOU'RE PRICE'S BELOVED WIFE who exudes class and the fine mist of confidence through the click of your leather boots, the gentle swish of your trench coat and the glimmer in your earings. When you walk into base for the first time- delivering your husbands forgotten paperwork from your office- of course the boys can't help but soak up your velvety voice and candid laugh like the tint of red wine on your pretty lips. No wonder Price said, “My wife is beautiful.”

WHEN YOU'RE PRICE'S BLUNT WIFE who wants nothing more but to ensure a breathing Price walks through you're house doors. Which means you want the 'boys' to be safe too! You chide them firmly, crossing your arms over your chest, your voice that of a captain giving orders or a mother you can't refuse. Price can't help but stifle a laugh; attempting to nod his head while you point your fingers at towering men who could crush you with a flick of their finger. Yet, the three of them remain paralyzed. You shoot a glare at Price. Best not anger the missus...

WHEN YOU'RE PRICE'S HARD WORKING WIFE who stands firm in your opinions and speaks cut, clear and concise. When the boys find out you're a university professor: an academic of considerable standard, their not entirely shaken. They learn how hard you fucking worked for your position. While their out in the fields, you're teaching the next generation; plunging yourself into the heart of ignorance and rooting it out, lifting it up to the heat of the sun, watching it melt in palm of your tender hands. Price says its a relief you're so strong, just in case things go south.

WHEN YOU'RE PRICE'S KINDHEARTED WIFE who has the imagination of child and the freedom of a bird. You lift kids up in the air, make snow angels, bake cookies at 12 in the morning and laugh until the rest of the world can hear you. While your face may be riddled with acute angles and sharp turns- the curve of your smile shines like a star. You invited them over to your place for a night, cooking Price's favourite for all to share. That was when they saw you, really saw how much love was swelling in your big heart as you danced and sang with no care; pressing a kiss on Price’s cheek with each new song.

WHEN YOU'RE PRICE'S SECRETLY SAD WIFE who wishes life didn't have to be this way. Who wishes you didn't have to be so 'strong' all the time. Who questions if you were even strong from the start. Who desperately desires a stable life as the years go by— maybe your own kids in your arms and not your coworkers. You didn't think Soap would hear you that night in the backyard, crouched down drying your tears while muttering words he couldn't understand except the single phrase, “I wish my husband wasn’t a fucking captain.”

WHEN YOU’RE PRICE’S LONELY WIFE who thinks it’s best if you stopped visiting him at work— “I think I’m distracting you love.” Inviting the boys for dinner— “I’m afraid I’m busy as of late.” Or even talking to Laswell— “Best not disturb her!” Because the void of your home feels even deeper now despite all the years.

YOU’RE PRICE’S WIFE. You wake up and trace girlish hearts over your husband’s face— muscle memory. He pretends to sleep. You giggle. He brings you closer to his chest. You close your eyes and burry yourself in the tenderness of his heart: fighting the dread at the back of your mind. He whispers to you through a smile, “I can’t believe you’re my wife you know?”

Your lips form a tight smile, “Me too.”

cod masterlist. / similar posts

⤷ it honestly wasn’t meant to be this angsty. oh well. reblog and comments are highly appreciated!

[tojisun]

john price x f!reader; my uh my take on dad!price and nanny!reader; affair/infidelity

hand on the small of your back; thumb rubbing softly on your skin, feeling the dip of your spine, the pudge of your fat; scruff on your cheek, hearing him breathing you in.

“not here,” you murmur, voice quiet and breathy, but john doesn’t budge – you don’t push him away, anyway. you don’t think that you will ever have the power to.

john just rumbles, still nosing you and teasing, and you burn at the ripples of his desire because you want him back. god, you want him back, but—

“john?”

your heart stops, your lungs pinching as the horror chases the fire away and replaces the fever he etched into you with a permeating chill. but john just pulls away slowly, careful and not disjointed like it didn’t matter that he was just caught rubbing onto you, and turns to jenny with such soft smile, it crinkles his eyes.

“sweetheart,” john sings, reaching for her. she steps beside him, her pinched lips easing up just a bit but the furrow of her brows are still deep trenches.

you bite your cheeks, trying to feign ignorance of her knowing gaze.

“what are you…” she trails off.

john hums, tucking a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. “she was telling me about little tim. seems like our boy really loves his new nanny.”

“really?” jenny asks, face smoothing over in delight and pure faith. you understand where she’s coming from – mr. price had that effect on everyone. he is so charismatic and charming and so capable that one just abandons suspicion and trusts him.

“oh, i’m so glad to hear that,” mrs. price says, and she’s not really upset anymore but you know that after tonight, you will never truly be free from her lingering doubts. but—

john had promised to take care of you; to spoil you; to love you the way, he said, you deserve to. and you love him. god, you love him, so you know that in spite of the friction with mrs. price, you will stay and you will not stop nuzzling into the hand that finds their purpose around your throat.

you give them a nod. “i should, uh, check on him.”

she hums while john watches on, smoulder in his eyes and his cheeks round with a small smile just so.

oh, you realize with a jolt. he likes this.

getting caught, having to explain to his wife, having to watch you swim past the quiet doubts – john likes this. the thrill of it all, the adrenaline it brings.

you meet his eyes straight-on, chest heaving.

i know, you want to tell him. i know what it is that you want, and i can give it to you.

john’s eyes narrow, his interest growing like waves lapping at your feet, and he only graces you with an even bigger smile before folding himself into mrs. price. it is a taunt. a bait.

and you swim to it, knowing what will come out of this.

(he fucks you in their ensuite, his palm pressing on your mouth to muffle your squeals.

“not too loud, little bird,” he grunts. “can’t be caught again. not yet, anyway.”

your cunt pulses around his cock, devouring so hungrily at the hissed promise.

not yet – this won’t be over just yet; you’ll still have him for a while.

thank you, you want to say. thank you, thank you, thank you.)

—————

obligatory “i dont condone this” note :D

…that said, this is pt 03 of writing cheater price. dunno why i fw this trope but i do n its delicious i fear

[sexlapis]

࿔ read me to sleep…

ᰋ nanami kento x gn!reader

ns4w, fluff, dirty talk no sex, very suggestive, finger sucking, petnames: baby, sweet thing, darling. soft nanami, nanami babies reader, nanami reading to reader, talks about cocks and holes 🤷‍♀️, d/s dynamics

. synopsis: after a long week, nanami helps you to relax.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 wc: 1.1k

a/n: me writing a fanfic? who would’ve thought?? extract is from ‘the professor’ by charlotte brontê. i enjoyed it but apparently it’s not very well liked. anyway, here’s me being very normal about nanami.

masterlists

*

your cheek rests on the cool, ivory porcelain of the bathtub. warm water envelopes your body, coming all the way up to your chest which is petaled with tufts of scented bubbles. the orange gleam of the sunset casts a gentle, easy light over the bathroom, colouring the bath water and the supple skin of your body.

it’s quiet. the only sounds being emitted come from the soft ripples of the water when you move and your husband’s low, soft speaking. your eyes droop.

“are you even listening?”

nanami sits on a wooden chair right in front of the bathtub. on long days like this, most of the time on a friday, you both just need to wind down, relax, unravel the knots curled up in your bones, ease the ache inside your head and erase the never ending thoughts in your mind.

‘…yet been my experience of life, I had once had the opportunity of contemplating, near at hand, an example of the results produced by a course of interesting and romantic domestic treachery. No golden halo of fiction was about this example, I saw it bare and real, and it was very loathsome. I saw a mind degraded by the practice of mean subterfuge, by the habit of perfidious deception, and a body depraved by the infectious influence of the vice-polluted soul. I had suffered much from the forced and prolonged view of this spectacle; those sufferings I did not now regret, for their simple recollection acted as a most wholesome antidote to temptation. They had inscribed on my reason the conviction that unlawful pleasure, trenching on another's rights, is delusive and envenomed pleasure; its hollowness disappoints at the time, its poison cruelly tortures afterwards, its effects deprave forever.’

he wears his white, button up shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his suit jacket long gone, his tie loose and dangling down, and dark slacks sit on his legs very nicely. and, your favourite thing of all, he wears his reading glasses, the pair that he only wears around you.

“yeah, yeah ‘m listening. just tired.”

you have, in fact, not been listening that much.

if you weren’t slowly dozing off to sleep to the smooth timbre of his voice, you were blatantly admiring the cerulean veins that travelled up the pale expanse of his forearm. and if not that, you watched with half-lidded eyes how the tendons of his large hands moved when he turned a page, or the sight of the pink pillows of his lips in motion, or the prominence of his adam’s apple or-

“you really aren’t listening, are you?”

this time, you had the sense to feel a little embarrassed, feel some heat rise on your face. “uhhhhhhh…”

nanami tilts his head, definitely not looking at your chest, “what is going on in that little head of yours?”

“what-nothing! i just, i-,” you sigh, licking your lips, unabashedly staring at the bulge in his slacks “you just look sexy.”

he chuckles, his eyes crinkled and the sound rumbling through his chest. nanami moves his chair forward, closer to where you rest your head, and leans down slightly.

“i don’t think it’s just that,” he utters. nanami then raises his hand to your sweet, languorous face, coated with droplets of water, your wet eyelashes framing the tender yet desiring gaze of eyes. his heart beats a little faster.

he cups your cheeks with one big hand, trailing his index and middle finger to your plush lips, asking for an opening. you do so gladly, moaning quietly when his thick, rough fingers sit and press on your tongue, saliva seeping around his fingers. “i think my little darling just wants my cock inside of that sloppy little hole. isn’t that right?”

his brash words and his fingers, they are inching further and further towards your throat, make your face burn and a dull, throbbing pit of want curl up where you want him the most.

you blink drowsily, almost half asleep at this point, nibbling on his fingers in your mouth, giving them one long lick. “yessss…yes i want it inside of me so much.”

“oh, baby,” nanami coos, “i’m only teasing you. i know you’re tired…”

you whine. it’s muffled over his fingers, which you continue to suck on softly. his eyes darken.

“don’t tempt me,” nanami groans, briefly relishing in the feeling of your mouth suctioned over his fingers, “you know i can't resist that little mouth of yours...”

his fingers leave your sighing mouth, now glistening and wet, connected by a silky line of gossamer to your lips.

nanami hums, pleased by the debauched, satisfied expression plastered on your face. he swipes your lips with your own spit, making them gleam in the shine of the sunset. such actions make you picture his taut, large length, how uses it to generously rub his expense all over your lips and cheeks, using and painting your face like his secret, erotic canvas.

unfortunately for you, your fatigue outweighs your lustful cravings. you let your eyes fall shut. a hand finds itself on top of your head, caressing there softly. a purr leaves your throat. nanami wills himself to ignore his very obvious desire for at this moment.

“i think it’s someone’s bedtime.”

nanami pats his thighs and stands to get your towel. you pout at the loss of stimulation on your head, but it’s quickly wiped away when nanami unplugs the bath, helps you out of it with his hand in yours, and wraps the towel around your damp body like a cocoon.

you waddle over to you and nanami’s shared bedroom, collapsing onto the bed. you were going to sleep so well tonight.

“nanami.” you whisper to him as he takes off his watch. “nanami, come here. read the rest of the chapter, please.”

“darling, you’re about to fall asleep.”

“yeah but i want you to read me to sleep.”

nanami huffs, a small smile on his face. the bed dios where he sits down next to your head, and you take the chance to lay your head on his lap, snuggling comfortably. his hand finds your head to caress one again, making you chirp with glee.

“alright. just this one chapter and that’s it.”

you let him read to you.

at first you listen, you really do, but after a few minutes his words turn into white noise, the low-tone of his voice rumbles through you, the warmth of his lap acts as a pillow and the final blow is when he decides to draw circles over your temple with his thumb.

before you know it, you’re gradually drifting off to sleep, into a serene dreamland, forgetting about all the stress you experienced today.

nanami closes the book and carefully manoeuvres you from his lap and onto the bed properly. he knows you’ll probably wake up shortly, considering you’re still just in your towel, but for now, he savours this moments and how endearing you look, curled up and snoring in your fluffy towel.

“sweet thing…” he kisses your forehead, resting his lips there fore a moment, “my sweet, little thing…”

*

…♡

[redvexillum]

Your one-stop shop of finding every single one of my Kinktober/Flufftober 2024 stories with summaries! All my stories are posted on AO3 so click HERE if you want to read them there! 🥰

⋆˙⟡ — DAY 01. Cooking Together (Alastor x Reader)

In which you finally agreed to accept Alastor's invitation and cook his favourite dish together.

⋆˙⟡ — DAY 02. Fuck Machine (Vox x Reader)

Rating: 18 + || MDNI Vox decides to introduce a new toy for you to use for his viewing pleasures.

⋆˙⟡ — DAY 03. Sensory Deprivation (Alastor x Reader)

Rating: 18 + || MDNI Alastor's shadows ensnare and overwhelms you in a wicked game of dominance, leaving you breathless and craving for more.

⋆˙⟡ — DAY 04. Sharing Secrets (Charlie x Vaggie)

Vaggie stands by Charlie's side, offering comfort and hope, all while hiding a secret that could change everything between them.

⋆˙⟡ — DAY 05. Dubious Consent (Valentino x Reader)

Rating: 18 + || MDNI In a desperate bid for love, you give everything to Val - your body, your heart and...Your soul.

⋆˙⟡ — DAY 06. Anniversary (Vox x Reader)

Rating: 18 + || MDNI As desire and vulnerability intertwine, you realize your connection is far more than fleeting lust. With confessions of love, you embrace a deeper bond, choosing Vox again and again.

⋆˙⟡ — DAY 07. Confession (Alastor x Reader)

Alastor reveals his feelings the only way he knows how - radio broadcasting.

⋆˙⟡ — DAY 08. Massages (Alastor x Reader)

You had a terrible headache, but luckily Alastor knew what to do to help ease away your pain.

⋆˙⟡ — DAY 09. Cockwarming (Alastor x Reader)

Rating: 18 + || MDNI You didn't mean to displease Alastor, and now you were going to make it up to him by being his good little cockwarmer!

⋆˙⟡ — DAY 10. Fuck or Die (Lucifer x Lucifer)

Rating: 18 + || MDNI Lucifer accidentally cloned himself by messing around with his new contraption. The clone took half his soul and was killing both of them. The only way to fix this? They need to fuck.

⋆˙⟡ — DAY 11. Ritual (Alastor x Reader)

You and Alastor had a ritual when you fall apart into pieces. He will always pick you up and put you back together, no matter how many times it takes, no matter how long it takes.

⋆˙⟡ — DAY 12. Voxflix n' Chill (Vox x Reader)

Rating: 18 + || MDNI Vox wanted to flip the script on you and let you take the charge. You, incredibly coded to be a submissive, tried your best. Besides, how hard could it be to take the lead in the bedroom?

⋆˙⟡ — DAY 13. Threesome (Alastor x Vox x Reader)

Rating: 18 + || MDNI What shall Alastor and Vox do to you so you learn your lesson from being an insolent brat? Well, the answer may involve a joint effort from the both of them.

⋆˙⟡ — DAY 14. Foursome (Alastor x Vox x Lucifer x Reader)

Rating: 18 + || MDNI Alastor, Vox, and Lucifer wanted you to choose between them. Vox decided to make it a little competition between them. May the best dick win.

⋆˙⟡ — DAY 15. On Camera (Adam x Valentino)

Rating: 18 + || MDNI Valentino loved the human design, but after so many years of dodgy sequels and remakes, he wants the original - the original man. Or in other words, Adam is down for anything as long as Valentino agrees to call him the Dick Master.

⋆˙⟡ — DAY 16. Blackmail (Valentino x Tom Trench)

Rating: 18 + || MDNI Tom Trench. He is a somebody.

⋆˙⟡ — DAY 17. Oblivious Love (Alastor x Reader)

Heart palpitations after death? How curious. In which Alastor doesn't realize his own feelings until it's too late.

⋆˙⟡ — DAY 18. Sex Toys (Vox x Reader)

Rating: 18 + || MDNI Vox started to treat sex as part of his "to-do list." Unimpressed, you boo-ed him mid-fuck.

⋆˙⟡ — DAY 19. Shower Sex (Alastor x Reader)

Rating: 18 + || MDNI Alastor has rescued you from the Vees, but you didn't smell like him. Well, this won't do. This won't do at all.

⋆˙⟡ — DAY 20. Branding (Alastor x Reader)

Rating: 18 + || MDNI Alastor knew that you were a taken woman, and yet...yet, he wanted a mark of your love to him, so he hands you the knife.

⋆˙⟡ — DAY 21. Infidelity (Alastor x Reader)

Rating: 18 + || MDNI You know what you are doing is wrong - and yet, you continue to welcome Alastor into your arms while your husband remains blissfully unaware.

⋆˙⟡ — DAY 22. Hate Fucking (Adam x Reader)

Rating: 18 + || MDNI You hated him. But, fuck, you didn't hate this.

⋆˙⟡ — DAY 23. Costumes (Alastor x Reader)

Rating: 18 + || MDNI Even though you knew Alastor hid behind countless masks, layering them one after another in your presence, it was in those rare, intimate moments—when he let the facade slip, when he entwined himself with you—that you realized, despite the pain, the betrayal, you would still choose to stay by his side.

⋆˙⟡ — DAY 24. Rejection (Adam x Valentino)

Rating: 18 + || MDNI Adam, a wretched sinner cast down to Hell, finds himself penniless and lost in a world of filth. When he crosses paths with Valentino, who dangles a tempting deal before him, Adam wonders - he's already hit rock bottom, might as well fall deeper. A Companion story to "On Camera," told from Adam's POV.

⋆˙⟡ — DAY 25. Jealousy (Alastor x Reader)

Rating: 18 + || MDNI Alastor owns your soul—he owns you. So why, then, does he find himself aching when your laughter, your smiles, your warmth aren’t shared solely with him? Bound by the unspoken, you and Alastor tread an endless, delicate line. The feelings that burn between you remain unvoiced, holding you in an eternal dance—two souls walking side by side, desperately close yet never truly touching.

⋆˙⟡ — DAY 26. Obsession (Alastor x Reader)

Rating: 18 + || MDNI Despite it all, Alastor loves you. This is love. It has to be.

⋆˙⟡ — DAY 27. Status Gap (Vox x Reader)

Rating: 18 + || MDNI You and Vox had just started to explore a serious relationship, or so you believed—until one explosive fight left you both locked in a silent war, fuelled by stubborn pride. Days stretched by as neither of you made a move to reconcile, leaving you heartbroken yet determined to finally let go and move forward. But just as you began to find your footing without him, Vox made it clear he wasn’t about to let you slip away that easily.

⋆˙⟡ — DAY 28. Rough Sex (Alastor x Reader)

Rating: 18 + || MDNI You are a strange girl with questionable tastes, longing for a connection that won't be met with scorn. Alastor's rough handling melded pain and pleasure in a way that exhilarates you, that makes you feel that it was okay to be unapologetically yourself.

⋆˙⟡ — DAY 29. Sub/Dom (Alastor x Reader)

Rating: 18 + || MDNI Alastor strikes you a deal. He allows you to fulfill your debased desire once, and in return, you quit your job for good.

⋆˙⟡ — DAY 30. Naked/Clothed (Alastor x Reader)

Rating: 18 + || MDNI Thirteen times. Thirteen times he'll push you past the edge until you can finally beat insomnia. Too bad for Alastor, that's not how you fix insomnia.

⋆˙⟡ — DAY 31. Cockblock (Alastor x Reader)

This blasted, cursed fiend will be the death of Alastor. But - it was worth noting, Alastor was certainly not competing for your attention. That would be...preposterous.

✨️ You've reached the end!!!! ✨️

👆 Art by @peach-flavored-flambe 💖

[sylusjinwoon]

{ 136 }

surround you.

jinwoo sung x fem.reader

{ where ever you are | whenever you need me | just crawl in my arms | oh, and i'll hold you beside me }

jinwoo was still working, his time being taken up by his duties at the association. ever since he became stronger, leaving behind his former status as the weakest hunter and rising up to be one of the most powerful hunters the world has ever known, he had been keeping busy.

and you were left feeling the pinpricks of melancholy with his absence.

the longer he was away from you, the longer your forlorn emotions seemed to strengthen with each second that passes.

but you didn’t wish to burden your lover with such clingy thoughts.

knowing that occasionally, he will check on you by watching you through beru’s eyes, you forced a happy smile and occupied yourself with the former ant king. he keeps you company and reminds you of how much you mean to his king.

“our monarch truly cannot live without you! you are his sole source of happiness.”

you bask in beru’s praise, not minding the fact that he was practically spilling out each and every one of jinwoo’s thoughts pertaining to you. admittedly, his words brought you an immense joy-

yet at the same time, it only served to further increase your desire to see jinwoo again.

after eating a light lunch, you excuse yourself from the dining table, and you were grateful that beru had allowed you to have a moment alone. not wishing to cry in front of him, you close the door to your shared bedroom and let out a shaky sigh.

your eyes trail across the bedroom, faintly detecting jinwoo’s scent as they began to water just the tiniest bit in response.

you missed your boyfriend terribly.

wanting to surround yourself with something that he owned, you take quick strides toward the closet and open it. on one side of your walk-in closet, your clothes were hung up in a neat line while on the opposite side were jinwoo’s clothes. ignoring your line of clothes, you trail your eyes over the varying shades of greys and blacks that became a staple to jinwoo’s signature style. your hands were itching to find something, searching through each and every one of his outfits before landing on a specific article of clothing that jinwoo owned.

your hands were trembling, carefully taking out the long and heavy black trench coat. it was something you knew could completely envelope you with its sturdy fabric and sheer length-

which was perfect for you.

tossing aside the hanger, you clutch the coat tighter to your chest, allowing your nose to gently inhale at the fabric, smiling when you could still detect his scent.

the moment you wore the coat over your frame, you began to laugh at how comically large it was, completely engulfing you as you felt the ends of his coat trailing from behind you. you close your eyes while making your way towards your bed, simply basking in his scent as you imagined that jinwoo himself was here with you, his arms wrapped around you while keeping you oh so safe within his embrace.

you fall into bed with a sigh, still burying your nose within the fabric of his coat. and as you kept relishing in his lingering scent and the warmth the trench coat provided was when you finally fell into a peaceful slumber.

your snores could be heard from your bedroom, and you didn’t even realize that beru had pressed his head against your door the moment you had excused yourself. he listens to your every movement and calls out to his king to update him of your status.

my king, your beloved misses you a great deal.

i know, i’ll be home within the next 30 minutes.

beru had to fight back the urge to celebrate and shake you awake. he knew that you would be happy with his king’s return quickly approaching- but he was given strict orders by his king to always allow you to rest and never disturb you.

so it was with a heavy heart that beru continues to tidy up the house, only stopping once the sound of the door unlocking catches his attention, revealing jinwoo holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

“my king… your beloved still sleeps.” beru tells jinwoo with a bow, earning a satisfied grunt from the shadow monarch as he places an appreciative hand on beru’s shoulder.

“lock the door for me.”

“of course, my king.”

with those last words spoken to his most loyal soldier, jinwoo quietly enters your shared bedroom, not wishing to awaken you.

yet when he sees the way you had fallen asleep, all while wrapping your frame with his signature trench coat, jinwoo couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle, feeling his heart turn soft at such an endearing sight.

he sets the bouquet on your nightstand, taking off his suit jacket and dress shoes, placing them to the side before joining you on the bed.

letting out soft coos of your name, he manages to hold you in his embrace without disturbing you, allowing his full lips to trace at your forehead while whispering of his love and utter devotion to you.

i love you.

i would kill for you.

i would die for you.

jinwoo continues whispering such loving phrases in your ear, and as he looks down to catch a better glimpse of your sleeping face, he could have sworn that you were smiling in your sleep. you murmur a bit, somehow managing to reach out to him, wrapping your arms around him as you cuddled your body even closer to his chest.

feeling satisfied, jinwoo proceeds to hold your form closer to him, not caring that you were using his coat as a blanket as he closes his eyes, allowing the feeling of peace and strange sense of homecoming to course through his veins-

for his home would always be right here, within the safety of your presence and loving embrace.

a.n. - so, i read the chapters where jinwoo beat the ever living shit out of hwang dong-su and thomas andre, and proceeded to fall madly in love with jinwoo all over again. using his signature trench coat as a blanket is a fantasy of mine, gods, i need this man to spoil me and protect / defend me like that, too 😭🙏🏻

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[threepandas]

Bad End, Chosen: Part 5

Back <- |

The first time around, I gave EVERYTHING. I drove myself into the ground, to be my Master's perfect Learner. To prove it had all been WORTH taking me on as a student. So that he would be proud. So he would love me. So that, like a father, he could look upon the child he raised and think "I did a good job, didn't I?"

Even then, I felt his uncertainty.

His fickle heart.

He was a weak man. One that let a mere child bully him into glorified fatherhood and then could not even commit to the choice he had made. As substantive as a cloud, drifting aimlessly across the endless sky. He abandoned me then. He'll abandon me again. I am, at best, something he feels he is "supposed" to do.

He does not love me. He never loved me.

But I love him.

And some days... I hate that I do.

I hate that I spent night after night, pouring over excruciating texts in tiny font. Ancient, dusty, tomes that talked endlessly in circles. I hate that I practiced and practiced, until I could appear effortless before him. The star pupil. The gem of the tower. Dispised and envied by my peers. And... and so utterly, utterly ALONE.

I died.

I died, desperately holding up the tower itself. The only one even vaguely prepared. When The Dark came. I saw tears and terror on the faces of children. Saw the ceiling crashing towards us. And chose to protect THEM instead of myself. It was, perhaps, the first and last time they ever saw me as something human. Fallible.

I was afraid.

But I did not let that terror hold me back.

They tried. Gods, they tried so, so hard to save me. Wept and screamed as the world seemed to END around us. As day turned to night and monster straight from the worst nightmares of man, crawled from the screaming vents, the WOUNDS upon reality itself. The last thing I saw? Was not my Master's face. But the tear stained faces of children pouring everything they could, into taking the impossible burden that even in those moments? Was killing me.

I cracked apart. Overloaded by the core of the Tower, which I had been desperately channeling. It... it was like becoming light.

And then the world rewound.

I did not learn my lesson. I was still young. Did not yet fully understand. Like all Reincarnators I thought I was here for a REASON. It took time to fully grasp how things worked. But that second life? Even now... even now I miss it.

Because back then...

I made friends.

I was so GRATEFUL. Could not unsee, that when the horrors came? They did not abandon me. They didn't even LIKE me. But... but I wanted them to. So I tried. I talked with them. Ate with them. Told jokes and went on trips. Was young. I grew to care so, so much about them. My dear and beloved friends.

Then?

I got to watch them DIE.

Gruesomely. Slowly. And without hope.

Perhaps that was when my love and compassion for the Protagonist died. When my struggle with hatred began. Because while those I loved suffered in mud stained hells, trenches and bile stenched infirmary, she frolicked in rose gardens. Dreaming of girlish love.

What of Duty? Of the death and suffering she IGNORED? How DARE she selfishly concern herself only with her OWN feelings and desires, as the world that NEEDS her dies in fear and agony! What SAINT is she? What GODS allow this?!

Thus was born my Rage.

And so, I refuse my Fate.

But I've made a mistake. A... a terrible mistake. And even now, he circles me like a bird of prey, correcting my stance with hands that linger. A man that looms. Standing too close. Forever patting my head, fingers carding possessively through my hair. Gripping the strands to make me look at him. Always gentle... but with just enough strength to hint that he could NOT be, if he chose.

He manhandles me like a doll. Physically. With magic. It is all the same. Looking forever delighted at the ease at which he can simply drag me into the air with a hover spell. Like a child sized balloon. To be carted around at his mercy.

I barely SEE my actual Master.

Alaric enables it. I... I refuse to call him Grandmaster in my head. He's already gotten to me once. I can endure. I survived once. I can do it again.

"Is my lesson so boring? That you must retreat into your head, child?" More like horrifying. The scent of blood is overwhelming. I keep my eyes locked on the far wall. "Ignoring my lectures will not let you escape them. You are merely force yourself to repeat them, you know. I am perfectly willing to repeat your lessons as many times as it takes."

"Academically" studying The Dark my ASS. Alaric Blight had, HAS, a fucking torture chamber. These are the worst sort of magics. I REFUSE to learn them. Will NOT use them. FUCK YOU.

I give the poor corpse before me what little dignity I can. By not seeing what they have been reduced too. They deserved better then this.

Alaric huffs a laugh. Gently putting down his ceremonial knife on a nearby table. He wipes the viscera from his hands with a rag as he strolls, calm as you please, over to my helplessly floating form.

"Ah~ that stubborn little glare. So FUSSY, Grandlearner." He laughs, the picture of indulgence. "I suppose I HAVE kept you here a touch too long, haven't I? We've missed several meals AND your nap. You are a growing child. No matter how fascinating the material, I can hardly expect you to concentrate under these conditions, now can I?"

He reaks of copper and a rich cologne I have grown to HATE. If only because it is his favorite. I am gathered from the air and pressed against his front, held like a child. I... I still can not move my limbs. He is no fool. For all I am pressed, lovingly almost, against him? I would tear his throat out with my TEETH.

He will not be giving me that chance.

I dispise him.

I DISPISE "naps".

Bad enough to be dragged around in his company for lessons. At least then, I can remember his evil. The cruelty and crimes. But NAPS? Insidious. We're it not for the immobility, they would have done terrible things to my head, long LONG ago.

They are exactly what they sound like. I am dragged off, to be cuddled like some stuffed animal, in some beautiful and soothing environment. For a nap. Bonding. Just me, him, and my head pressed against his chest. Against the hypnotic sound of his beating heart. Fighting the exhaustion in my bones. The desire to just... just let GO and know a moment's peace.

We never make it to the garden.

An explosion ROCKS the Magic Tower. Over a decade too soon to be The Dark. Alaric stops misstep, his personal barriers keeping even dust from touching us, as in the distance, Mage's scream. The Tower's barrier...goes up.

It...it NEVER goes up.

That is the seige barrier. For... for ATTACKS. Who would!?

"Ah. I knew I was forgetting something." Alaric says, as calmly as though musing on the weather outside instead of an attack upon an ancient, foundational institution. "It seems the temple dogs have finally decided to act upon all their barking. I imagine their little whore will make a wonderful figurehead. They always WERE on the look out for more puppets."

I stare up in confusion as he looks out as the barrier. His gaze flat, empty, and cold. Voice is distant as his muses, as though he long ago stopped caring. He catches my gaze upon him and the warmth floods back in.

"You see, little one. I normally kill them. They tend to make a pest of themselves. I have a list of things I must get done each cycle." He smiles fondly, utterly ignoring the alarms that have begun to sound. The calls for all Master's to defensive positions. "It is something you will learn, with time. A lesson I, of course, will be teaching you~"

"Now, since THIS building will likely become useless to us shortly. Let us go pack, hmm? The story progress. It's time to go home." He turns, and we begin to walk away.

"W-Wait!" I manage to choke out.

He pauses, looks down at me, patient even as people die. What, after all, does HE care, if they do? I try desperately to gather my thought. It is like scrambling after dropped beads across a smooth floor. I think, I HOPE, I get enough...

"I... G-Grandmaster I li..LIKE learning here. With you. It feels more familiar and has better places to... to nap. Could you... WOULD you, PLEASE, go save everyone?" I manage to rip from my throat, each word like pulling a tooth. I hate it. I HATE IT! But for them? Anything.

"Oh? Grandlearner~! Was that a REQUEST?" Croons the madman who holds me, his grip getting tighter for just a moment before relaxing back into it's gentle hold. Lips, almost burning with power, brush softly against my temple in a kiss. He makes a horrifyingly satisfied noise. "Of course MY child. Anything for MY Grandlearner, after all. You are my world, little light."

The world twists.

And suddenly? I am floating safely in the shade of a tree, far across the valley from the Tower. I can... I can feel the struggling Master's. Fighting to hold off the Temple's holy warriors. It is a blood soaked standstill. Until Alaric Blight steps up to the field.

Then?

EVERYTHING IS FIRE.

He is The Arch-Mage of Red. Not just for his hair, but for his terrifying master of fire and battle magics. What once, moments before, was a sea of green? Becomes ash and flame in an instant. So hot the fire burns the very air itself. Bordering on plasma. The ground itself molten in his wake.

None survive. How could any even dream?

It is like a nuke made man.

I shake. Tears slipping down my cheeks as I watch old growth vanish in the distance. Centuries of life. Gone in a moment of ugly destruction. They will praise him for this. Call him a hero. But I know what he is. What hides beneath that ugly, shining, mask of a charm and civility. And... and I am scared.

A chirp of starlight and tinkling glass, high and questioning, hovers just to my right.

Fairy-dragons. A full swarm. Creatures the size of a cat with the power of a god. All but one, staring furiously down at the destruction in the valley below. They radiates furious grief at the loss of so much life and forest. But the one looking at me... feels? Questioning? Somehow?

Can they project?

I can only assume. I KNOW they can understand spoken languages. All dragons can. And as powerful as dragons ARE...

"Please... please! Help me!" I choke out, finally letting my tears spill. Because if I can not cry in front of dragons, then where? "I'm not strong enough. He's a MONSTER. I know you can feel it! Please! Just until I recover. Until I can fight. PLEASE!"

More of the tiny creatures look at me. Glance at each other. Then back towards where Alaric continues his destruction. Their destain for him is obvious. Their eyes as they look upon me, hold no special love. Just ambivalence. But... they are what they are. And they DO hate the sort of creature Alaric Blight has become.

With a tearing WRENCH the spell holding me is SHREDDED.

Painfully, in dragon claws.

In the distance, Alaric stops. No doubt feeling that. Knowing someone not only freed me, but ATTACKED HIM. The dragon that was worried for me touches my shoulder. And before my Grandmaster can ever discover WHO stole me away?

I am Gone.

I do not see the city of Towervalley, the magic tower itself, BURN.

[bunnyinvanilla]

after hours at the bar with quiet/soft music + really fluffy slow dance with price. like they’re both just staring at each other with heart eyes ugh.

please listen to a song from the 80s while reading this lil one shot, i was listening to lady in red whilst writing, but any romantic song about love would set the perfect atmosphere…im gonna sob cause i love this old man

everyone’s gone home, it’s only you and price there, tables clean, soft, lovesick songs from the 80’s playing on the background.

“oh, I love this song” you murmur softly, taking off your high heels and setting them on a stool. John has packed the money and turned down all the lights, aside from the tiny one on the back of the bar — the room is now covered in a gold feeble glow, the dark brown of the wooden floor and tables unable to catch it and reflect it.

you’re an avid 80s music listener, john was pleasantly surprised and impressed upon discovering that your favorite songs were hits from his time, especially during the first proper date, when you showed him your playlist and it was completely filled with songs as old as him. “guess you like everything that’s old and vintage, mmh?”

“went pretty hard during my old days,” he says, walking over to you, his gaze flickering to your bare stockings “all the couples dedicated it to each other”

“so sweet, my parents have it on their wedding tape” you smile to yourself, remembering all the times you’d sit on the floor and replay in on the tv as a little girl (well, littler than now, at least)

“who knows doll, maybe I was a guest that day and attended their celebration” he joked, like he always did regarding your evident large too large age gap.

“very funny, sir,” you reply with a soft tug of your brows, “you were probably a lieutenant, busy charming civilian girls”

“was busy saving the country, you mean, little lady” he retorts, filling the space of your hips with his hands and pulling you in. You had john promise you that when closing, the radio would be the last thing to be turned off, just to create a cozy, dreamy atmosphere in the dimly lit space.

“when are you gonna ask me to marry you, daddy?”

john almost stumbles on in own tracks. His arm securely slides further around your lower back, pulls you closer to him until he envelopes your tiny waist completely, a hungry expression that you usually only see when he’s laying you somewhere, spreading your thighs to accommodate him, when your whines echo softly to him, and replace the sounds of gunfire,

when he gazes his scarred fingers against your skin like a soldier crossing a landmine, when you feel soft on his hands, not heavy like his rifle.

or when he throws kisses like grenades into the trenches of your mouth.

“you wanna marry this old war dog, angel?” he mumbles lowly, his gaze softening into an half lidded expression, heavy with such an intense warmth and desire that you feel your knees weaken like vanilla pudding. “be wed to an old bastard in the army?”

“do you want to?” with the softest, most innocent voice, you bestow your doe, big doll eyes upon him, he doesn’t feel deserving of such a sight. “love me properly before God?”

“He already knows how I feel about you, princess” he mutters back, voice thickened with a rough edge, so deep and husky it almost sounds like a whisper that should belong to nightly affairs.

“mmh, but He’d want you to prove it,” you tickle his beard with your breath and your delicate voice, bottom lip trapped underneath your teeth — your pupils heart shaped, pouring out all the love you feel for him, you literally feel like one of those animated cartoon characters when they’re in love, heart beating out of their chest and eyes the color of and shape of big hearts.

your hand flattens on his chest, as he gently cradles you to the song’s rhythm, your feet standing on his boots, so that with every step, he takes you with him.

“is that what you want, a ring on your little finger? everyone calling you lady price? marry your fuckin’ sugar daddy?”

and he can feel how you shiver against him at the thought, thin sparks of excitement running down your lower back and shooting against his palm.

each note of the song seems to pull you closer, a quiet conversation between your hearts. His hand, steady yet tender, rests on the small of your back, guiding you with a slow, deliberate grace as the other one takes ahold of your own, too large and big compared to your hand.

john presses a kiss on your knuckles, his beard tickling the pearly, milky skin. Pretty hands, never had to carry a deadly weapon, never will.

“I can see myself fit the unconventionally too young wife pretty well , sir..a savior of the country marrying his sugar baby, I can also see that on the news” you giggle against him, resting your cheek on his hard, muscular chest.

he’s got a old body, you’ve got a old, romantic soul, he wants you all to himself, and since you are already his in every way possible, it wouldn’t hurt him or his pocket to just slip a ring on your finger.

[radioisntdead]

Grunkle…. Ford…. Dinner date……………

HAPPY [slightly belated] BIRTHDAY MY DEAREST MOONY! I HOPE YOU HAD A WONDERFUL DAY, YOU CAN LEGALLY DATE FORD NOW [please don't] OR GET ARRESTED AND I'M SORRY THIS WAS DELAYED! LOVE YOU!

Dinner date at Greasy's

Ford x reader

Song used

First date Headcanons + established relationship songfic drabble

Warnings: This is my first time writing for Ford so please forgive any OOC-ness

Well aren't you a lucky duckling! You got a date with one of the most desired old men in gravity falls!

Thank his grandniece Mabel for pushing him to ask you out because now the two of you were on a date! There weren't many fine dining restaurants in gravity falls and the ones that were around Stan had gotten himself, and by extension Ford, banned from them!

Dude's last uh, romantic?? Obsessive??Relationship didn't really end well, but you weren't a triangle with one eye so hopefully things will go well!

Since this is your first date, He got coached on what to do by Mabel and likely has an earpiece where the twins are watching him, giving advice and judging him.

He pulled out the chair for you to sit in, very demure, very mindful, very gentlemanly, very Mabel approved.

I imagine the two of you bond over the oddities of gravity falls, Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons or science-y stuff

He'd tell you about his adventures with his brother on the Stano'war, I imagine he's the type to have pictures of his family in his wallet so dude just whips out pictures of Dipper and Mabel like "These are my grandniece and nephew,''

I imagine you share a dessert with him, one plate two spoons, very romantic!

You were giddy, legs kicking softly back and forth underneath the table as you stared at your boyfriend reading his menu, trying to figure out what he wanted.

Moon, a hole of light

Through the big top tent up high

Here before and after me

Shinin' down on me

Stanford Pines, the handsomest man in town, in your opinion anyway, and you were just so lucky to have him all to yourself, you had been with him for awhile now, you remember when he first asked you out,

He was shoved in front of you by his grandniece, Mabel, with flowers in his hand he finally asked you out on a date to greasy's diner!

And here you were nearly a year or so later back at the diner.

Moon, tell me if I could

Send up my heart to you?

So, when I die, which I must do

Could it shine down here with you?

You laid your head in your hand as you watched him, you were like a lovesick newlywed despite not being married to the man, not yet at least.

'Cause my love is mine, all mine

I love mine, mine, mine

Eventually Lazy Susan came by to take your orders, you loved his voice as he spoke, you loved the way his eyes crinkled, you loved the crack in his glasses that you wondered why he hasn't replaced them yet, you loved the way he wore a trench coat over a sweater no matter the weather, you loved the way he was outdated on modern technology like a silly old man.

Nothing in the world belongs to me

But my love, mine, all mine, all mine

Once Susan had taken away the menus he set his hand on the table in which you immediately decided to interlace your hand with his, holding it as you waited for your food to arrive.

It was like something out of a cheesy movie.

My baby here on Earth

Showed me what my heart was worth

Ford was lucky to have you, Wonderful, intelligent, beautiful you!

He never thought he'd have someone like you, he never had the best experiences with romance wether that be getting rejected by a girl at prom several decades ago or a weird toxic situationship with a yellow triangle.

But now he had you! You were healthy for him, the two of you were healthy for each other, you didn't mind when he rambled on about whatever, whether that be Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons or his sciencey inventions, his adventures through the dimensions or even just his day.

And he was the same way, oh how he could listen to your lovely voice for hours upon hours, like music, it didn't matter what you spoke about, whether it was just about your day, whether you were complaining about something, anything really he adored listening to you, he loved the little spark in your eyes when you talk about something you really like.

So, when it comes to be my turn

Could you shine it down here for her?

He loved watching you as you do whatever hobbies you did, he thrived in the times where he'd do his work in one side of the room and you were on the other side doing just anything, just silently enjoying each other's company.

Was that extremely cheesy of him to think? Most definitely but a little bit of cheesey-ness never hurt anybody, unless you were lactose intolerant.

'Cause my love is mine, all mine

I love mine, mine, mine

Soon Susan returned with your meals, placing them in front of the two of you, you let go of his hand to begin digging into your meal, Ford frowned at the lack of hand holding for a moment before going to dig into his own meal, He would never admit that he was a little touch starved, yearning for touch, hugs or handholding were his personal favorites.

But he was a grown man, he could wait until the two of you returned home to wrap you in a warm embrace.

Nothing in the world belongs to me

But my love, mine, all mine

For now He'd enjoy your date, admiring you as you admired him like the lovesick fools the two of you were, He was glad to have you, and you were glad to have him.

Nothing in the world is mine for free

But my love, mine, all mine, all mine

Good evenin' folks! I do hope you enjoyed my first gravity falls fic, wish Moony a happy birthday and as always thank you for tunin' on in, I hope you all have a wonderful night!

[aquidragon]

Compulsory

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 4902

Summary: There was no one you hated more than your ex-boyfriend Leon Kennedy, however, until he appears in your office after a long mission that changed everything.

Content Warning(s): smoking, reference to drinking, refrence to drugs, nsfw content, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!)

(this is my magnum opus, I can die now)

---

You weren’t sure if there was anyone you hated more than you despised Leon Scott Kennedy. Even if you searched in the farthest corners of the universe, it would be hard for any living thing to somehow beat the burning, red-hot hatred that burned deep in your heart. 

You also hated that there was no one else in the infinite galaxy that you could love more than you loved Leon. His presence was like a drug, pulsing throughout your entire body, fueling you with aphrodisiac. Your nerves tingled at the thought of him, the hair on your neck stood on end in remembrance of his warm touch on your bare skin. The scent of sandalwood, refined whiskey, and  rust haunted your senses. 

You couldn’t get enough, you craved him again, you wanted to feel him rushing through your veins again. You needed him to feel alive. The burning desire to be dependent on him again weighed heavily in your mind, your body and your soul. It was why you loathed him, why you never wanted to see his alluring,  mysterious frozen ocean eyes again. 

Leon had shattered every effective piece of your heart when he walked away, when you demanded him to stay. It had been a cold, stormy night, your clothes were soaked to your bones as you screamed at him. Hot tears streaked down your cheeks, mixing with the freezing droplets that fell from the heavens. His eyes held the same empty, hollow walls that you had fought so hard to tear down. You had reached into the abyss of his mind, every secret, every memory, every emotion that he felt was once at your fingertips.

Before you could grab a hold, you were forced out by a violent tsunami. Sealing away what was once yours, for what you assumed to be forever. Leon Scott Kennedy became a mystery to you once again, a stranger whom you never knew. You thought you had known him once, as well as he knew you, but you were wrong.

You saw him sometimes, walking the narrow hallways of the DSO building, in between assignments. His blonde hair and square shoulders lingered in the corner of your vision like a ghost. Occasionally, you’d catch cyan in your sight, as you briefly met his eyes. For seconds, you remembered when you were his, before it all crashed down to Earth.  You’d tear your head away, cramming yourself in your work, unable to look at him any longer. You couldn’t bear the thought of him, a hot knife that tore through your chest, slicing you open; it made you vulnerable. Leon made you feel weak, powerless, similar to a deer caught in headlights. You hated him. You hated your own weakness. 

You even had asked to be reassigned to a new agent, within the Field Operations Support, which you had been granted. Not many people within the DSO knew about your complicated relationship history with Leon, most people assumed you were just best friends who had a falling out. Sometimes, you wished that they were correct. It would’ve saved you years of heartache if the nature of your relationship with your former lover remained platonic. If the intimacy you had shared with the blonde agent continued at a surface level, far above the trench that pulled you both down deeper. 

Maybe, you wouldn’t have drowned.

“Hey, did you hear about Kennedy's status?” The question that was directed at you felt muffled, your ears were underwater. You blinked, as reality set back in, and you turned to face your co-worker. Her perfect teeth peeked through her rouge-painted lips in a wide, ecstatic smile.

“Kennedy? He’s not in my detail anymore, remember?” You grumbled, finishing off the rest of your water bottle. “Why?” Ingrid Hunnigan was one of the few people who you told about your former relationship with Leon, who she often updated you about, much to your personal dismay.

“He successfully extracted Miss Graham, they’re landing back in the states in thirty.” She practically cheered, taking a celebratory sip from her hours-old  fast food soda. “The president is thrilled, I hope that means a pay increase.” Hunnigan sang her excitement, as Leon’s direct communication agent, his accomplishment reflected well onto her. 

“Congratulations, you deserve it.” You smiled at her, as you suddenly craved a cigarette.  

Her excitement began to ebb away as she rested a gentle hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry, I know that talking about Leo-,” she hesitated, “-Kennedy isn’t easy for you.”

You chuckled, humorlessly, shaking your head. “I know this is a big deal for you, don’t sweat it. I’m fine.” You licked your lips, wishing you hadn’t finished your water. “You deserve a massive promotion, honestly.” You shut off your headset, stretching your arms over your head with a satisfied groan. “I’m going to have a smoke, I’ll be back.”

It was perfectly cool outside, you brought the paper stick to your lips, before beginning to light the white end of it. You had supposedly stopped smoking a year ago, alongside Leon, after creating a pact to quit. After you broke up, and an emotional breakdown at a bar, you gave into the compulsion. The hot, foul-smelling smoke fueled your lungs as you inhaled, and your built up frustrations rushed out with your exhale. “Shit,” you mumbled softly as you watched a familiar, private helicopter grace the horizon. You decided this warranted another puff from your cigarette, before stomping the butt into the pavement. 

Although you were no longer one of Leon’s agents, Operation Baby Eagle required almost every Field Operations agent to be on deck. You had attempted to call in sick, but your impending rent payment had other plans. While you didn’t have any direct impact on the mission, you were still required to visually confirm Leon Kennedy and Ashley Graham’s safe return from Spain. 

You were grateful you didn’t have to verbally confirm with them, at the very least. With a longingly sigh, you walk back inside the building, to get ready to head to the airstrip. You stand beside Ingrid, alongside the president and a large party of other people you didn’t know to welcome Ashley and her rescuer. You tapped your foot, impatient, and perhaps a little anxious as you watched the helicopter slowly lower to the ground. The wind whipped up from the spinning blades causes your hair to loosen from the hairstyle you chose to wear it in, as dust gets into your eyes. 

Within seconds, the aircraft’s blades slow to a stop, and the doors open. Leon exits first, his perfectly cut hair frames his angular face perfectly, his eyebrows remain in their permanent, serious position. You almost scoff at his overly stoic appearance, but you decided that that wouldn’t be very professional to do, feet away from the President of the United States. Ashley follows after her rescuer quickly, her shoulders slumped with exhaustion, but her face lights up in a smile at the sight of her parents. Without a moment of hesitation, she rushes into the waiting arms of her father, sobbing as they embrace her. 

You crack a smile at the sight, while Hunnigan is almost in tears. Your gaze shifts back to the blonde agent, who stands at attention a few feet away from you. Leon’s eyes are as distant as they always are, a solid cold blue, resembling ice. For a moment, you swore those same eyes met yours, but you weren’t sure. “Thank you, agent Kennedy, for bringing back my daughter safely. I’m forever indebted to you.” President Graham’s words are professional, while warm at the same time. 

“Anytime, Mr. President.” Leon responded, in a mostly friendly manner. You can tell that he was exhausted, based on the heavy ring of purple that underlined his eyes, as well as the subtle sag of his shoulders. A large, loud part of you wanted to rush over, wrap your arms around him to take care of him. Like you would have if you were here, a couple months ago.

Ashley freed herself from her mother’s embrace, looking up at Leon with watery eyes, a grateful smile gracing her youthfully pretty face. “Thank you, Leon.” She hugged him, her arms wrapping underneath his arms, as she buried her face deeply into his chest. 

“Take care, Ashley.” The blonde agent cracked a smile, returning her hug briefly. His head lifted to meet your eyes, and his smile fades. A pathetic, sad looking expression formed on his face, you smile anxiously, more akin to a grimace. 

“We can talk more about paperwork and such tomorrow. Tonight, all of you go home. Get some rest, you deserve it.” Graham orders, his stern facade returning. “Good work, thank you.” 

The crowd began to disperse, you yawn, as you walked back inside the building. You step into your office, as you begin to pack your stuff together, mentally noting a thanks to the president for gracing you with the ability to go home early. As you slid your bulky laptop into your work messenger bag, your door creaked open. “Hunnigan, I’m going home, we can go to Cowboy’s Tavern tomorrow. I’m fucking exhaust-” you look up, finally, and met the stormy blue eyes of Leon Scott Kennedy. 

“What the fuck are you doing in here, Kennedy?” You spat out his name like venom, as your heart faltered. You felt sick, as he shut the door behind him, his expression unreadable. “I’m pretty sure I remember that you made it clear you didn’t want to see me again. Ever.” You avoid looking at him, choosing to focus on the task at hand; gathering your stuff. “I thought we were in agreement there.” 

He tiredly mumbled your name, standing a foot away from you, on the opposite end of your desk. “I know what I said, just please, hear me out.” Leon’s voice is weak, raspy, as if he hadn’t had water in days. He pleaded your name, finally forcing you to look up at him, apprehension burning through your head. 

For once, in months, the frozen walls of his soul were gone. Leaving his blue eyes open, desperate, all of his feelings pouring out of his soul like a cascade. Your eyes widened, as your mouth fell open. In the brief time you spent with him, you had never seen him cry. Until that moment, in your office, standing before you with wet salty tears carved through the collected dirt on his face. His hands grabbed onto the oak surface of your desk tightly, you were sure that the wood would splinter underneath his touch.

“I know you don’t want to see me, or talk to me. I broke your heart and I deserve it.” Leon blurted, reaching out to grab one of your hands. Instinctively, you flinched, but you didn’t pull your hand away. You let him hold it, as he leaned over your desk. “I just needed to see you, I needed to know that you’re okay.” 

You blinked, thoroughly confused. “Leon, I,” you cleared your throat, “where is this coming from?” You asked, furrowing your eyebrows. “We haven’t spoken in almost a year, now you come back into my office like this? What happened?” Your heart pounded wildly against your chest, like a caged bird, desperate to fly free. You felt nauseous, as your stomach churned and your thoughts spun violently. 

“I almost lost myself,” Leon admitted, vaguely. “They infected me, I couldn’t-” he paused, inhaling deeply.  “The only thing that kept me together was you, thinking about you.” The blonde exhaled through his nostrils, in a strange laugh. “I realized I couldn’t live without you, I thought I was protecting you, but I put everyone in danger instead.” 

You studied his expression, swallowing the ball that had wadded in your throat nervously. His handsome face morphed in multiple expressions; desperation, fear, grief, and pain. It looked like he was in agony, as his large, calloused hand tightened over your smaller one. “What are you talking about?” You stammered, you felt breathless. “Leon, please tell me.” 

“In Spain, Ashley and I were infected by Las Plagas, a parasite, similar to a virus.” He strained his words, struggling to get them out. “It allowed us to be controlled by an outside force, fuck, it felt like I was on fire. I thought I was going to die.” 

You opened your mouth, but you were at a loss of words. Instead, you allowed him to get closer, as you pressed your lips against his temple. You allowed your hatred towards him to be silenced, for a moment, to comfort him. To provide sanctuary to his tormented mind, to allow the part of you that still loved him to shine though. “You’re okay now, I promise.” You whispered, scooting to sit on your desk, gently petting his back. Your fingers trailing over the bumps of his spine, as his damp forehead pressed against yours.

As always, his skin radiated heat, as your bodies sat magnetized closer together. Your positives were drawn to his negatives, as your hearts fused together in an electrifying sense. You shut your eyes, as the same thrilling sparks that you craved for so long echoed underneath your flesh. His soft sobs evened out, as he pulled away from you, breathing heavily. Your name was rough, yet gentle on his tongue. His warm hands trailed over the curve of your waist, before coming up to cup your face. 

“I never meant to hurt you.” Leon’s voice was like broken glass, as his thumb traced the skin below your eyes. “I thought if you hated me, loathed me, you would be safer. I didn’t think I needed you.” He trailed his lips against your forehead, before planting a kiss between your eyes. “God, I was wrong, please, forgive me.” 

You straightened up on your desk, even from your position, sitting on the desk, he still towered over you. His body leaned over yours, as he held himself up, with both of his hands holding the end of the wooden oak. You felt him pull away, afraid that he had done something wrong, thinking that he had angered you more. For less than a heartbeat, you wanted to scream at him, for breaking you apart. However, the longing desire for the man that you loved so much to be yours again, even for a moment, washed away the hatred you had felt for him. 

Against your better judgment, you pressed your lips against his mouth. Leon’s pale rosy lips were chapped, and your nerves smoldered with him. Your lungs inhaled the scent of sweat and blood. As he returned your kiss, feverishly,  you could taste the metallic indication of blood in his saliva. One of his hands pressed against your cheek bone, as he desperately tried to get closer to you. Your own palms traced over the firm muscles underneath his thin, stretchy, shirt. 

He was almost overloading your senses, in the same way that he always did. You felt like you were going to collapse, as you steaded yourself with a hand by your hip. The other hand, found itself in his filthy ash-blonde hair, you didn’t care. You didn’t think you’d even care if he was covered head to toe in blood and rotten flesh. You missed him. You wanted him. You needed him. You wanted him to take over you, to melt into your body and permanently become a part of you.

As your lungs burned for oxygen, Leon’s mouth left yours, breathing heavily. “You’ve been smoking again.” He commented gruffly, trying to catch his own breath. 

You huffed, in a hint of a laugh. “Got a problem with that?” You gasped as his lips pressed against your neck, effectively knocking you backwards. The curve of your spine rested against the uncomfortable oak surface, but you didn’t notice. Your nerves sparked wildly from Leon’s touch, as his chest leaned against yours. 

“I thought I taught you better than that, sweetheart.” He murmured lowly against the shell of your ear. You hadn’t heard him call you that in what felt like decades, which made electricity shoot through your body, making you almost giggle with delight. 

“Well,” you breathed, “you haven’t exactly been able to keep me on track.” You wheezed as he rested his body weight on one of his arms to use his spare hand to drift over your curves. His pupils dilated, and his breath heavy against your face. 

“You don’t think I’ve kept my eye on you, do you?” The blonde asked, almost patronizing you. “I know what you’ve been up to. I know what bars you’ve gone to every weekend, I know you drink yourself into oblivion every night.” He groaned, his teeth softly scraped against the tender skin on your neck. “If only you knew that, I ached for you every single time I thought about you.” 

The thought of him watching you, from the shadows, when you weren’t paying attention made your brain spin with delight. You moaned as your fingers dug into his scalp, as he nipped at the flesh that joined your neck to your collarbone. “It almost hurt, y’know, that I couldn’t call you mine when I saw you with other people.” Leon pulled his face away from your body, looking down at you with blown, ocean eyes. 

“Be mine, again.”

You exhaled sharply, as his gaze burned into yours. As he waited for your permission to go ahead, to continue what you both had started. Without a second thought, you yanked his hair down so he’d kiss you, in a passionate clash of your lips. He grunted in surprise, but quickly recovered as he melted into your mouth. Leon Kennedy was yours again. 

As you kissed, your hands trailed down to his rough, black jeans, his erection strained against the thick fabric. You smirked against his lips as you fumbled with his leather belt buckle, before toying with the smooth button. He hissed once you freed his solid boner from his pants, as he squeezed your thighs in delight. “I almost forgot how beautiful you are, baby.” Leon panted, carnally, quickly tearing  your work blouse over your shoulders. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” He buried his nose between your breasts, inhaling your scent deeply.

You whimpered as his wet tongue traced the outline of your skin, over your bra, as his hands squeezed your biceps. “Jesus, fuck Leon, take off my bra.” You grumbled, desperate. 

He gave you a wolfish grin, “your wish is my command.” Without another word, his teeth snagged the center of your bra, as his hands went undeath you to unclasp the back. Once the clasp was undone, he pulled the garment away from you with his teeth, before tossing it in an unknown direction in your tiny office.  Goosebumps puckered across your skin as your sensitive nipples were exposed to the cool air, you shivered in delight. 

Wordlessly, Leon climbed off of you to crouch at the  end of the desk, his head between your feet. You sat up, confused, ready to ask him if he was done; before he used a firm hand to lay you back down. “Take off your pants and panties. Now.” 

The commanding, desperate tone of his voice made your brain spin and heat pool between your legs. Without a single complaint, you yanked off your dress pants and panties. You made sure to aim the lacy undergarment at your partner’s head, who caught it with ease. Amused, he studied the fabric, before flinging it back to you. “Familiar.” Leon teased, before pulling your lower half over the edge of the desk. 

You yelped as papers scattered onto the floor, as he held onto your ankles. Like a starving man, he buried his head in between your thighs, the hair on his head tickling your skin as his breath rushed against your swollen clit. “Oh Jesus Christ,” you groaned, as your head tilted backwards. Leon littered biting kisses alongside the underside of your upper thighs, looking up at you with half-lidded, smug eyes, before pressing a firm kiss against your sensitive bud.

You hissed in pleasure, as your toes curled inside your shoes. Your entire body flinched at the sudden, yet familiar feeling, as sparks began to echo from your pelvis. “I missed this, I missed you.” Leon murmured against your cunt as he dragged his tongue up the slit. You squeaked, adjusting to the sudden intrusion. “You taste as good as I remembered, sweetness.” Two of his fingers slipped inside you as his lips remained on your clit. You arched your back, giving him easier access as he devoured you. Your hips jerked as your moans grew in pitch, your muscles clenched tighter with every flick of his tongue and thrust of his fingers. 

You cursed him and his ability to absolutely consume pussy. You almost thought he was attempting to eat you alive. You fruitlessly tried to grab onto something, to steady yourself, but all you could manage was crumpled up paper (that you hoped weren’t important) and sliding your fingers across the smooth surface of your desk. “Fuck! Leon!” You moaned as he curled his fingers against the sweet spot inside you, with ease. 

Without intending to, the tightening sensation inside you suddenly snapped. You gasped, as white, blue and black sparked through your vision as you felt every nerve in your body explode. Like fireworks, scattered underneath your heated skin. Your jaw fell open as you grabbed ahold of Leon’s hair to steady yourself, making him hiss delightfully. He didn’t stop, instead, he continued to finger you as you rode out your orgasm. Monster. 

As your high began to fade away, Leon pulled away from your soaked pussy. Covered in your own juices and his salvia. You could see the cocktail of his actions across the lower half of his face, reflecting the orange light of the sunset outside your window. You panted heavily, your arm resting on your damp forehead as he looked down at you, affectionately. 

“Do you want to continue?” He asked, with a charming, gentle question. His lips pressing against your cheek, fingers filing through strands of your hair. You nodded, rapidly, as desire began to build back up throughout your body. 

“Please,”

Leon grinned at you, before standing back up to completely undo his belt and pants. With an effortless move, he stripped his combat pants away, alongside his boxers. His dick was delightfully curved and thick. You had to force your eyes away from staring. Gently, he pulled your hips against his pelvis, as he stood at the end of the desk. He pressed the head of his erection against your prepared hole, and looked down at you. 

You nodded encouragingly, with a smile, as he began to push himself inside you. You both gasped at the sensation, it felt familiar yet foreign at the same time. Leon let out a breathless moan, as he adjusted to the feeling of your heat around his dick. “Fuck,” he breathed out your name like a prayer, “you feel so good.” Without a second thought, he began to thrust inside you, as he began to rush through your veins. 

Your body thrilled at the sensation of Leon Kennedy rushing through your skin again, you felt him inside every fiber of your being. Like a drug, an aphrodisiac, you could never get enough of it. You moaned out his name, as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, bringing him closer to you. His forehead pressed against yours as your lips parted, looking into your lust hazed eyes. He groaned his desires to you, as his hands grabbed onto your hips tighter, nails digging into your plush flesh. 

You didn’t just need him, he needed you too. In a knotted twist of fate that ensured that you could never live without him. You knew it meant the same to him as well, of course, as he pressed wanton kisses to the side of your face, whispering the words you loved to hear against your ear. You had never truly hated him, you realized, much to your own personal disdain. You had always loved him, even when you had denied it. 

“I love you,” Leon moaned against your skin, in a raspy voice. “I always have, and I always will.” 

You almost laughed in joy, but instead, you simply responded as breathlessly as he did, “I love you too.” 

With a grunt, he came inside you, his hips pressed against yours, without an inch to spare between your bodies. With a wheezy chuckle, he collapsed on top of you, breathing heavily as he emptied himself deep within you. You pressed a kiss to his temple, soothingly stroking his hair as he came back down to Earth. 

You assured yourself for as long as you lived, you would always be the person who knew Leon Kennedy better than you knew yourself. He would know you better than anyone as well, forever bound by the allure that drew you closer together. You weren’t sure if you believed in soulmates, but you knew damn well that there was no one else in the universe who you loved more than him.

---

reblogs greatly encouraged and appreciated. Thanks for reading!

[hayatheauthor]

Forging Epic Battles: Techniques for Writing Gripping War Scenes

I want to start this post off with sort of an author's note: this is a long one! I tried to keep my detailing to a minimum but I guess this topic Is just so vast I couldn't help but pour it all out. This really is sort of an ultimate guide and I hope it helps! Also, it was requested by @xweirdo101x (if you want to request something just send me an ask)

War has long captivated readers' imaginations, evoking a sense of grandeur, sacrifice, and the clash of ideologies. As writers, we have the power to transport our readers to the frontlines, immersing them in the chaos, drama, and emotion of epic battles. 

Crafting gripping war scenes requires a delicate balance of research, skillful storytelling, and an understanding of the human experience in times of conflict. In this guide, I will explore various techniques that will help you create dynamic and compelling war narratives, transporting your readers to the heart of the action and leaving them breathless.

Setting the Stage: Creating a Compelling War Setting

When it comes to writing gripping war scenes, creating a vivid and immersive setting is paramount. Whether you are crafting a historical war or inventing a fictional conflict, the setting serves as the backdrop against which your characters and their stories unfold. Here are essential steps to help you create a compelling war setting that captures readers' imaginations:

Research Historical Context or Build a Fictional World:

For historical wars, immerse yourself in research to understand the time period, social dynamics, and political climate surrounding the conflict. This knowledge will lend authenticity and depth to your narrative.

If you're building a fictional world, establish the rules, geography, and cultural aspects that shape the war. Consider the unique elements that set your world apart and make it feel real to readers.

Describe the Physical Environment and Atmosphere:

Depict the landscape, whether it's a war-torn city, a rugged battlefield, or a desolate wasteland. Pay attention to sensory details—sights, sounds, smells—to transport readers into the heart of the war.

Convey the atmosphere of the setting, capturing the tension, fear, or anticipation that hangs in the air. Is it shrouded in darkness and despair, or does a glimmer of hope persist? Use descriptive language to evoke the desired emotional response.

Incorporate Cultural and Societal Elements:

Explore how the war has affected the culture and society within your setting. Are there new traditions, rituals, or customs that have emerged in response to the conflict?

Consider the social dynamics at play—class divisions, power struggles, or the impact of war on marginalized groups. These elements add layers of complexity to your setting and provide opportunities for conflict and character development.

By carefully constructing your war setting, you transport readers into a world brimming with authenticity and intrigue. Whether it's the trenches of World War I, a futuristic intergalactic battle, or a mythical realm engulfed in strife, the setting sets the stage for compelling storytelling.

Building Conflict and Tension

In the realm of war fiction, conflict and tension are the driving forces that propel your narrative forward and keep readers captivated. From the clash of opposing ideologies to the internal struggles within characters, here are essential techniques for building conflict and tension in your war scenes:

Establish Clear Goals and Stakes for Characters:

Define the objectives and desires of your main characters within the war. What are they fighting for? What personal or collective goals are at stake?

Create conflicts of interest between characters, where their motivations and objectives may diverge, leading to tension-filled interactions and confrontations.

Introduce Opposing Forces and Ideologies:

Develop compelling adversaries that challenge your protagonists. These opposing forces may represent different sides of the conflict, ideologies, or even personal vendettas.

Explore the contrasting beliefs, values, and philosophies driving each side, heightening the ideological clash and intensifying the conflict.

Utilize Internal Conflicts within Characters:

Explore the internal struggles and moral dilemmas faced by your characters. How does the war affect their beliefs, principles, and sense of self?

Delve into the emotional turmoil and psychological toll of war, showcasing the internal battles characters face as they navigate the chaos and make difficult choices.

By effectively building conflict and tension, you create a dynamic and engaging narrative that keeps readers invested in your war story. The clash of goals, the ideological friction, and the internal struggles of your characters add layers of complexity and depth to your storytelling, drawing readers deeper into the heart of the conflict.

Developing Dynamic Characters

In the realm of war fiction, dynamic and well-developed characters are essential to breathe life into your narrative and create an emotional connection with readers. By crafting relatable protagonists and antagonists, you elevate the impact of your war story. Here are key considerations and techniques for developing dynamic characters within the context of war:

Crafting Relatable Protagonists:

Give your main characters depth and complexity by exploring their backgrounds, motivations, and personal histories. What drives them to participate in the war? What are their hopes, fears, and vulnerabilities?

Develop relatable goals and desires for your protagonists that resonate with readers. Show how the war impacts their lives and pushes them to grow, change, or make difficult decisions.

Creating Compelling Antagonists:

Craft antagonists who are more than just one-dimensional villains. Give them their own motivations, beliefs, and reasons for engaging in the war. This adds depth and complexity to their characters, creating a sense of empathy or understanding.

Explore the potential for redemption or transformation within your antagonists. Are they driven by misguided ideals, personal vendettas, or the pressures of their circumstances? Allow their development to challenge readers' perspectives.

Conveying the Psychological Impact of War:

Explore the emotional and psychological toll that war takes on your characters. Depict their fears, traumas, and inner conflicts as they grapple with the horrors and realities of the battlefield.

Show the evolution of their beliefs and perspectives as they confront the brutalities of war. Allow their experiences to shape their character arcs, highlighting the resilience, resilience, and vulnerabilities that emerge in the face of adversity.

By developing dynamic characters in your war narrative, you create a multi-dimensional and emotionally resonant story. Readers will become invested in their journeys, experiencing the triumphs, losses, and personal transformations that unfold throughout the war.

Writing Action-Packed Battle Scenes

Action-packed battle scenes are the heart of war fiction, where the intensity and stakes are at their highest. These scenes immerse readers in the chaos, danger, and adrenaline of the conflict. To craft gripping battle scenes, consider the following techniques:

Structuring Battle Sequences for Maximum Impact:

Begin with a clear sense of purpose for the battle scene. What are the objectives? What is at stake? Establish the goals and set the stage for the conflict.

Build tension gradually, starting with smaller skirmishes or encounters that escalate toward the climactic moments. Consider pacing, alternating moments of heightened action with moments of respite for emotional impact.

Balancing Fast-Paced Action and Descriptive Details:

Use concise and vivid language to convey the fast-paced nature of battle. Focus on capturing the essence of the action, highlighting key movements, and sensory details that immerse readers in the experience.

Strike a balance between brevity and providing enough detail to engage the reader's imagination. Avoid overwhelming readers with excessive description, ensuring that every word serves a purpose and contributes to the overall impact.

Using Sensory Language to Immerse Readers:

Engage multiple senses to transport readers into the battle scene. Describe the sights, sounds, smells, and tactile sensations to evoke a visceral experience.

Leverage sensory details to enhance the emotional impact of the battle, capturing the fear, adrenaline, and urgency felt by characters and evoking a similar response in readers.

Good action-packed battle scenes bring the war to life on the page, immersing readers in the heart-pounding action. Remember to focus not only on the physical aspects of combat but also on the emotional and psychological experiences of your characters. 

Conveying Emotional Resonance

In war fiction, it is crucial to convey the emotional impact of the conflict on both individual characters and the larger society. By tapping into the raw emotions experienced during times of war, you can create a profound connection with your readers. Here are key techniques for conveying emotional resonance in your war narrative:

Show the Human Cost of War:

Portray the personal sacrifices, losses, and tragedies that characters endure in the face of war. Highlight the emotional toll on their relationships, families, and communities.

Explore the range of emotions experienced by characters, such as fear, grief, anger, and resilience. Through their struggles, allow readers to empathize with the profound impact of war on the human psyche.

Engage the Senses to Evoke Emotion:

Utilize sensory language to evoke emotions within readers. Describe the sights, sounds, smells, and tactile sensations associated with war to create a vivid and immersive experience.

Connect specific sensory details to the emotions they evoke. For example, the acrid stench of smoke may elicit a sense of danger or the distant cries of anguish may stir feelings of sorrow.

Develop Authentic and Complex Relationships:

Showcase the bonds formed and tested amidst the chaos of war. Explore friendships, romances, and the camaraderie among soldiers to highlight the connections that sustain characters in the face of adversity.

Depict the conflicts and tensions that arise within relationships due to the strain of war. This adds layers of emotional complexity and authenticity to your narrative.

By effectively conveying emotional resonance, you invite readers to experience the human side of war. They will connect with the characters on a deeper level and become emotionally invested in their journeys.

Navigating Moral and Ethical Dilemmas

War is often accompanied by moral and ethical dilemmas that test the values and principles of individuals and societies. As a war fiction writer, it is important to explore these complexities and shed light on the difficult choices characters face. Here are key considerations for navigating moral and ethical dilemmas in your war narrative:

Present Conflicting Perspectives:

Introduce characters with differing moral viewpoints and beliefs. Show the diversity of perspectives within the war, whether it's among the protagonists, antagonists, or the larger society.

Challenge readers to contemplate the gray areas of morality and the complexities of right and wrong by presenting conflicting viewpoints and the reasons behind them.

Highlight the Consequences of Choices:

Illustrate the consequences of characters' actions and decisions. Showcase how their choices ripple through the narrative, affecting themselves and those around them.

Explore the moral dilemmas characters face, such as choosing between duty and personal convictions, sacrificing the few for the many, or grappling with the aftermath of their actions.

Offer Reflection and Discussion:

Provide opportunities for characters to reflect on their choices, engaging in internal dialogue or discussions with others. This allows readers to contemplate the moral implications alongside the characters.

Invite readers to reflect on their own moral compass and engage in discussions surrounding the ethical dimensions raised in your war narrative.

Navigating moral and ethical dilemmas makes your war fiction go beyond the surface-level action and delve into the deeper questions of humanity. It prompts readers to question their own values, moral boundaries, and the intricate web of choices that arise in times of conflict. 

Research and Authenticity in War Fiction

For war fiction to have a lasting impact, it is crucial to conduct thorough research and strive for authenticity in your narrative. By grounding your story in accurate details and historical context, you enhance its credibility and immerse readers in the world of war. Here are key considerations for incorporating research and authenticity in your war fiction:

Study Historical Events and Settings:

Research the historical events, conflicts, and time periods that serve as the backdrop for your war narrative. Gain a comprehensive understanding of the context, including the political, social, and cultural factors that influenced the war.

Dive into the specifics of battle strategies, weaponry, and tactics employed during the time period. This knowledge will help you create authentic and realistic war scenes.

Explore Personal Accounts and Memoirs:

Read personal accounts, memoirs, and interviews of individuals who have experienced war firsthand. These sources provide invaluable insights into the emotions, challenges, and nuances of the human experience during wartime.

Pay attention to the details of daily life, the physical and psychological tolls, and the individual stories of courage, sacrifice, and resilience. Incorporate these elements into your narrative to add depth and authenticity.

Consult Experts and Military Advisers:

Seek guidance from military advisers, historians, or experts in the field to ensure accuracy in depicting military operations, protocols, and terminology.

Engage in conversations or interviews with individuals who have expertise in areas relevant to your story, such as veterans, soldiers, or scholars. Their perspectives can offer valuable insights and help you portray the realities of war with authenticity.

Strive for Emotional Truth:

While research and accuracy are crucial, remember that emotional truth is equally important. Balance historical accuracy with the emotional resonance of your characters and their experiences.

Capture the human aspects of war, such as the impact on relationships, the psychological trauma, and the bonds forged in the face of adversity. Connect readers to the emotional core of your story.

By incorporating thorough research and striving for authenticity, you create a rich and immersive war narrative that resonates with readers. The combination of accurate historical details, personal accounts, and emotional depth brings your story to life.

War fiction is a genre that holds immense power to captivate readers, evoke emotions, and shed light on the complexities of human nature during times of conflict. Through the techniques and considerations I have explored in this guide, you have the tools to craft compelling war narratives that resonate with authenticity and engage your readers on a profound level.

I hope this blog on forging epic battles will help you in your writing journey. Be sure to comment any tips of your own to help your fellow authors prosper, and follow my blog for new blog updates every Monday and Thursday.  

Looking For More Writing Tips And Tricks? 

Are you an author looking for writing tips and tricks to better your manuscript? Or do you want to learn about how to get a literary agent, get published and properly market your book? Consider checking out the rest of Haya’s book blog where I post writing and marketing tools for authors every Monday and Thursday

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: The price of a meter

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)   The Klendari War saw the most brutal fighting the galaxy had seen since the days of the Fracture Wars.

On one side you had the Coalition of United Planet, a loose union of several dozen star faring civilizations brought together for economic and military security, and on the other stood the Klendari Empire which had reigned in its corner of the universe for some several thousand years.

The Klendari had survived so long because of their instinctual need to fortify their holdings. Their worlds were labyrinths of fortress walls, gun emplacements, razor trenches, and all other manner of engineering fortification. To try and take a world from the Klendari it was deemed the attacking force would need a minimum of ten times their standard forces to even have the slightest chance to succeed.

Relations between the two powers were cordial for many years. The Coalition had no desire to expand into Klendari space, and the Klendari benefited from wider trade access through the Coalitions standard market system. Events only began to take a downward spin when Klendari immigrants began spreading further and further into Coalition space.

Their travel permits were entirely legal and they established communities on several dozen worlds within the Coalition; often forming small Klendari quarters of larger cities as they would tend to group together. It was here that the nature of the Klendari began to upset their new world’s hosts.

They would begin fortifying their quarters and neighborhoods and turned them into sudo-military fortresses. Blockhouses became guard towers, avenues blocked off by reinforced gates, windows reduced in size to firing slits, etc. Within a few months of several families of Klendari settling on a world their new homes would be an impregnable bulwark of the Klendari Empire.

Naturally the legitimate rulers of the worlds were concerned by the sudden militarization of portions of their cities. Local law enforcement agencies tried to maintain order within the Klendari quarters but found with more and more Klendari migrating to them they began following the Klendari Empire laws instead. It was not uncommon for law enforcement to eventually refuse to patrol those areas as the Klendari began reacting hostile to them, as if they saw them as invaders.

Tensions reached boiling points on a dozen worlds but only when the Klendari Empire made an official statement declaring all Klendari settlements and enclaves within Coalition territory to be in fact part of the Klendari Empire did conflict erupt.

Coalition planets with Klendari enclaves issued ordinances denouncing the notion that they would relinquish sovereign territory and sent military units to demand the surrender of the enclaves. The enclaves refused, the military attempted to repossess the enclaves, and so the enclaves resisted triggering the Klendari War.

Each enclave took several months to reconquer, which was made worse by the fact the Klendari Empire was sending troops to reinforce each of the enclaves. Multiple convoys of troops were intercepted enroute, but a handful making it and further dragged out the war.  

By the seventh month of the conflict and only a handful of enclaves recaptured Coalition Military Command deemed that a new strategy was needed to bring the Klendari to the negotiating table. The idea was put forward that if the Coalition could capture a single Klendari world it would show them that they were not as invulnerable as they believed. Septimus Prime was deemed the perfect target as it was deep enough in Klendari territory to sends shockwaves when captured, but not too far that supplying it would become untenable.

So the Coalition assembled a massive invasion force, diverted 75% of their naval forces to protect it, and dispatched it for the heart of Klendari space. The moment the fleet exited their jump they found the Klendari resilience was well merited.

The first elements exiting the jump found themselves emerging into an orbiting minefield at the edge of the system. The mines were set to roam randomly throughout the system and only target ships that were not equipped with a Klendari transmitter. The “Righteous Fury” super battleship took the brunt of the damage upon emerging as it was the largest vessel. The shields held out as long as they could but by the time the rest of the fleet emerged it had sustained so much damage it had to be abandoned.

From there the fleet elements pressed forward to Septimus Prime while creating a cordon for the troop transports to move through safely. Though the Klendari had minefields in place they had not expected such a brazen attack into their territory and only a few Klendari fleet elements were present. These few ships hugged the orbit of Septimus Prime and used the orbital and ground based defenses to augment their lethality.

Coalition ships fought hard against the Septimus defense network, losing several more ships to ground based energy cannons. Klendari ships held out as long as they could but were eventually driven off when the final Hydron Cannon platform was knocked out of orbit removing the last of orbital defenses. They reduced themselves do hit and run tactics while they waited for the rest of the Klendari navy to arrive. With them driven off the Coalition could begin ground landings to take the planet itself.

There was a large debate about who would be the spear tip of the assault. Projections listed that whoever it was would take massive casualties. As brave as the various Coalition races had been to join the effort, none now were willing to be the first into the grinder.

Humanity did not share such hesitations.

Through the flak and energy cannon fire their drop ships rained down on Septimus Prime. 30% were lost in the first wave before they had even touched the ground. When they did the humans were met with an intense counter assault by Klendari forces that had been waiting to repel the ground invasion which resulted in a further 45% loss of forces before the Klendari withdrew.  

Despite their losses humanity had secured the beachhead and further reinforced it with additional forces. Soon the beachhead was a military compound with scores of humans marching out in columns.

To watch humans fling themselves at Klendari defenses was something beyond understanding. You would watch dozens of armored tanks charge across no man’s land to be wiped out one by one all for the destruction of one reinforced pillbox, or their soldiers crawl through piles of their dead to sneak up on their enemy unnoticed. Lesser species would have broken from the losses but humans simply put their heads down and continued marching forward. The rest of the Coalition contributed of course, but when faced with the stubbornness of the Klendari fortifications it was more often the humans who were brought in to finally break them open.

Meter by bloody meter the Klendari were driven from their strongholds as the death toll continued to mount. Wrecks of vehicles turned the surrounding landscapes into forests of rusting metal and were filled with the stench of rotting flesh. Some Coalition forces suffered such horrendous casualties that they withdrew from the assault, but humanity was one of the few that continued the fight until finally, after almost a year of intense fighting, Septimus Prime surrendered and the Klendari Empire as a whole opened up negotiations for peace.

[soldiersareyourprotectors]

Ethan Marks was a man of ambition, intellect, and unparalleled determination. At just twenty-nine, his muscular frame and impeccably tailored suits made him the epitome of a successful businessman and got him on the cover of multiple finance magazines. Groomed from a young age to take over Marks Enterprises, the billion-dollar company his father had built from the ground up, Ethan was on the cusp of achieving everything he had ever dreamed of. He had a luxurious penthouse with a breathtaking view of the city, a promising future, and the respect of the corporate world. But that day, after a grueling eighteen-hour shift, everything would change.

The penthouse door clicked shut behind Ethan as he stepped into the silent, expansive space. The city skyline glistened through the floor-to-ceiling windows, a testament to his hard-earned success. He was only stopping by to drop off some documents and freshen up before heading out again-he had a crucial dinner with some wealthy clients later that evening. All he could think of was a quick shower and maybe a change of clothes before the dinner. But before he could take another step, a sharp pain exploded at the back of his skull. The room spun wildly around him before everything faded into darkness.

When Ethan awoke, he was stripped and tightly bound to his own bed. The silk sheets beneath him felt cold against his bare skin, a stark contrast to the heat of panic surging through his veins. He thrashed against the restraints, but they were expertly tied, giving him no room for escape. His attempts to call for help were stifled by the gag secured tightly around his mouth. Heart pounding, he stilled as he heard the door creak open, dread pooling in his stomach.

A figure stepped into the room, and Ethan's initial relief at seeing a police uniform quickly turned to horror as he recognized the face. It was his twin brother, Aiden. The very image of himself, but with a sinister gleam in his eye. Aiden should have been rotting in a cell, far removed from Ethan's life. Yet here he was, standing in Ethan's sanctuary, a twisted smirk on his lips.

"Miss me, brother?" Aiden's voice was a cruel echo of Ethan's own, filled with dark amusement. "You see, the cop transporting me to another prison wasn't very careful. I borrowed his uniform for a little trip. I had lots of fun with his athletic body, in and out of uniform if you know what I mean. Sad I had to ditch his naked body later in a trench, though. I wasn't quite finished with my intimate desires."

Aiden's words twisted like a knife in Ethan's gut. The implications were chilling, each syllable dripping with malice. Aiden's enjoyment of his crime added a sickening layer to Ethan's horror. Ethan's muffled screams filled the room as Aiden approached, a chuckle escaping his lips. He began to strip off the police uniform, revealing the sculpted body Ethan knew all too well.

Aiden then took his time, savoring every moment as he dressed in Ethan's expensive suit, the fabric hugging his body perfectly. He picked up Ethan's briefs, Calvin Klein ones made of the finest cotton, and slid them on, adjusting them with a smirk. Ethan's face burned with humiliation as Aiden took pleasure in each step of the transformation.

Next, Aiden pulled on a pair of over-the-calf socks, the silk material sliding smoothly over his calves. He looked over his shoulder at Ethan, who was watching in helpless fury and despair. Tears welled up in Ethan's eyes, spilling over as Aiden continued.

Aiden slipped into the crisp white dress shirt, buttoning it up meticulously. He tucked it into the tailored pants, fastening the belt with a flourish. Ethan's chest tightened with each piece of his life Aiden claimed. Aiden then began to tie the silk tie, his fingers moving deftly, ensuring it was perfectly knotted. The suit jacket came next, fitting Aiden as perfectly as it did Ethan. Aiden smoothed down the lapels, a satisfied smile spreading across his face.

Finally, Aiden picked up Ethan's expensive double monk strap shoes. He held them up to his nose and inhaled deeply, a look of twisted satisfaction crossing his face. "Even your shoes smell of success," he mocked, before slipping them on and fastening the straps with a practiced hand. He stood up, adjusting his stance and admiring his reflection in the mirror.With a final touch, Aiden ran his fingers through his hair, fixing it to perfectly match Ethan's usual style. The resemblance was now so striking that even those closest to Ethan would be fooled. The transformation was complete. Aiden had become Ethan in every visible way.

"Don't bother trying to scream," Aiden said, adjusting his tie one last time. "No one's going to hear you. And besides, l've planned this for months. I switched our fingerprints in the police system. As far as the world is concerned, you're me, and I'm you."

Ethan's eyes widened with the realization of what this meant. Aiden wasn't just escaping prison; he was stealing Ethan's life. The company, the wealth, the future-it was all about to be taken by a man with nothing to lose. The sheer audacity of Aiden's plan was mind-boggling, the meticulousness terrifying.

Aiden stepped closer, bending down to look Ethan in the eye. "Enjoy your new accommodations, brother. I've got a company to run and a dinner to attend with some very important clients. They're expecting you, after all."

With that, Aiden left, locking the door behind him. The click of the lock echoed through the room, sealing Ethan's fate.

[4dkellysworld]

When suffering happens

When unpleasant things happen in life, in an effort to understand it and find peace, we (our egos) often either try to find reason and understand why something happened/is so or immediately jump to conclusions and label it, often linking it to our identity like "oh it's because I am _____" or "it's because I did/thought/felt _____ which caused this, I shouldn't have done that!" or "This always happens to me ugh!!!" yet I find this habit ends up causing more harm than good and it is this self-identification that then ends up causing further spiralling and a pattern of similar events later in the future.

M: Detach yourself from all that makes your mind restless. Renounce all that disturbs its peace. If you want peace, deserve it. Q: Surely everybody deserves peace. M: Those only deserve it, who don't disturb it. Q: In what way do I disturb peace? M: By being a slave to your desires and fears. Q: Even when they are justified? M: Emotional reactions, born of ignorance or inadvertence, are never justified. Seek a clear mind and a clean heart. All you need is to keep quietly alert, enquiring into the real nature of yourself. This is the only way to peace. Chapter 8: The Self Stands Beyond Mind - I Am That, Nisargadatta Maharaj

Leave poor Vanessa alone and stop assigning her the responsibility and accountability of everything that the dream shows. The entire dream is all an expression of the Infinite Being, not hers (the ego) which she is just one more creation of. And it doesn't have to be your (the Self's/I AM's) dream anymore when you stop identifying with it.

This is why it's so important to let go of our ego, to let go of the unpleasant thoughts with indifference, reject any claim over them and detach any association with your I AM (the Self's identity) rather than intellectuallise what happened with the mind. You can cut it off and break the cycle right there.

Understanding this was truly the turning point that launched me into earnest and honest study of 4dbarbie's teachings and by extension, Lester Levenson and Nisargadatta Maharaj's teachings. I was just so sick of going through the same shit, being stuck in the trenches and going nowhere. At some point you're going to get so fed up that you just want to give it all up and not care about anything anymore.

The thing about nothing though is that it's the only thing that can take the shape of everything. 1

Isn't it so much more freeing to just say "fuck it all, it doesn't make sense and I don't care to think about it anymore. This isn't mine", let it go and move on?

Imagine you see a random couple out in public fighting about all their relationship problems openly. What goes through your head when that happens? For me, I go "phew yikes, I'm glad that's not me. Not my circus, not my monkeys. Not my problem", feel a sense of relief and gratefulness that it's not my burden to bear and move on with my day.

When nonsensical or unpleasant things happen in your life, treat it the same way you do when nonsensical or unpleasant things happen in your sleeping dreams for they are both I AM's imaginary creations. Just let it go, detach it from Self and move on - no matter what happens, it is not yours.

Important distinction: I am not saying to physically ignore your body and ego's needs, do what needs to be done but you (the Self) do not have to identify with it, you do not have to claim it as yours. You know it's not you and you are just observing everything, unaffected.

"When the mind is quiet, we come to know ourselves as the pure witness. We withdraw from the experience and its experiencer and stand apart in pure awareness, which is between and beyond the two. The personality, based on self-identification, on imagining oneself to be something: 'I am this, I am that', continues, but only as a part of the objective world. Its identification with the witness snaps." Chapter 6: Meditation - I Am That, Nisargadatta Maharaj

Stop trying to find reason as you are only further sustaining its reality by doing that.

"By resisting evil, you merely strengthen it." Chapter 72: What is Pure, Unalloyed, Unattached is Real - I Am That, Nisargadatta Maharaj "You may try to trace how a thing happens, but you cannot find out why a thing is as it is. A thing is as it is, because the universe is as it is". Chapter 4: Real World is Beyond The Mind - I Am That, Nisargadatta Maharaj

Just let it go. Letting go is what gives ultimate peace and freedom.

Not yours, remember? Repeat. Not yours. You won't lose your mind, you'll only lose your misery. See this world and the body as not real first. What is true is only what I AM is identified with, right now this body which is not in that TV show (your desired reality). Correct this first by letting go of thinking it's you 2

Just let go of the ego, that’s how simple it is.

[adriberry]

The Meta of Magic in Twst

I apologize dearly for the more concentrated amount of Twisted Wonderland posts today, but I just have a lot of thoughts and feelings after my sister recently got back into the game and we've talked a bit about the story.

It's been hard to organize my thoughts on what I believe is the true origin of magic in Twisted Wonderland. I've wrote a lot of notes about it myself, mostly to use in fanfiction. I'm especially concerned with just how the characters we know as villains in our world are regarded as savors in Twisted Wonderland and why characters like Silver, Rook, and Kalim have golden, glittery cosmic magic while all other characters at NRC have purple, inky cosmic magic. The recent canon origins of magic as told by Lilia to Silver in Book 7 have confirmed some of my theories, so I want to structure my thoughts around that and will probably do so in multiple parts.

I'm sorry if you want to keep spoiler free, but this theory hinges on a few lines of dialogue in a portion of Book 7 which was recently released on JP server.

The Wish

Silver said Lilia once told him that the origin of magic came from a wish- a deep desire to change the world.

Yes, it's cheesy the way Disney things usually are. No, I don't think this is a direct reference to Disney's recent movie Wish (which really is a bunch of Disney animation references, concepts, and themes in a trench coat trying to convince the public it's its own solid Disney Movie, but that's it's own post).

Since the very first Disney animated movie, Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, characters have been singing about wishes and dreams and their deepest desires. Throughout the 100 years of the company's lifespan, it's been touting that dreams are possible if you believe. Disney characters wish on stars and in wells and while belting to no one in particular but the horizon. Disney characters wistfully describe great loves and adventures that they have in their dreams that they chase to make reality. Dreams and wishes are the main theme of every Disney story, so it only makes sense for those to be the strongest themes of Twisted Wonderland.

I've already had a theory that Twisted Wonderland would follow a similar storyline to Fantasmic, so if you'd like to see my take on why the dream hopping in Book 7 is so appropriate now, you can go read the other post. But wishes are a different thing entirely.

There are 3 NRC students whose cosmic magic always got me thinking: Silver, Kalim, and Rook. Most characters' cosmic magic is purple with black specks in it. For these three, their magic is glittering gold. At first my reaction was, "Oh, cute. It's because they're not based on villains!" but this is Yana Toboso we're talking about. She does most things (save for too similar designs for faces) with a reason behind it. And fans have already picked up on a different pattern where Silver, Kalim, and Rook match the knight, pawn, and rook pieces on the chessboard in Leona's room respectively. Why are these characters singled out? Why are there visual differences between their mechanics and the other characters?

On Magic...

Well, I do think it has to do with the fact that they aren't based on villains but it's less of an aesthetic choice than I first thought. These twst characters are based on Disney characters who put faith in others, trust their hearts, and do what's right for no other reason than it's what should be done. And Silver, Kalim, and Rook all do the same. Rook lives authentically even though he spent so much time hiding his true self. Kalim loves Jamil despite the fact Jamil tried to kill him. Silver wants to end the generations long tensions between humans and fairies. They aren't exactly self serving and, though I love all the NRC boys very much, the rest kind of are. Crowley says as much in the Prologue when he praises MC for being able to get Night Raven students to work together for once.

So I think there are two kinds of magic which stem from the idea of "the wish." There is light magic which depends on what's essentially faith, trust, and pixie dust, and there is blot.

We're introduced to magic for the first time via Crowley. Crowley is revealed to be unreliable very quickly as he obviously is taking his sweet time trying to figure out how to get MC home if he really is at all. Based on fan theories and evidence in the text, he might actually be hiding his true identity from us. But in we don't have any of that information in Book 2 when Crowley talks about overblot, so we trust him when he shows us how blot works.

Crowley claims blot generates when using magic. The magestones Ace, Deuce, and Grim are newly given turn dark as they do a bit of magic for themselves. Crowley explains that those with a lot of magical potential need to be careful not to use too much magic or else it'll have negative effects, much like Riddle in Book 1. According to Crowley, overblot happens when you overuse magic.

But Book 2 has a contradiction in it: Ruggie is doing all the magic heavy lifting. He's constantly using his Ultimate Magic to act out Leona's plan. He uses a potion to triple his power and creates a massive stampede of people with magic, but who is the character who overblots later on? Leona- who doesn't use any of his magic until just before he overblots. He doesn't use magic, but he is brought to the brink of desperation and reminded of all his fears and insecurities.

The Blot

Crowley told us too much magic at once causes overblot, but we've seen seven times now how that's not actually the case. Each overblotter was brought to the brink. They were desperate, scared, anxious, isolated- these negative emotions brought them to overblotting. And though their lives were at risk, each overblotter was at their most powerful in the midst of it.

In each case, the person in question was close to achieving their ultimate goals. Riddle wanted perfection and order. Leona wanted to finally be worthy of a win at any cost. Azul wanted power over others because he had been isolated in the past. Jamil wanted freedom and to make his achievements known. Vil wanted real recognition. Idia didn't want to feel lonely again. Malleus wanted to keep his family together. In the moments before they overblot, their dreams are snatched away from them. In desperation, they have nothing else to lose.

Using blot doesn't necessarily lead to overblot, but increases the risk. It puts the user in a position where they're more vulnerable to fears and depression. It's why Crowley's advice for clearing blot in a magestone is just to rest, eat well, and take care of yourself- all ways to self care when you're mentally unwell.

To use light magic- the magic of the wish and the dream- is to put trust in others and to use joy and positivity and hope to achieve your goals. Using blot to the point of overblot is giving into desperation and fear and isolation.

And that is why Silver, Kalim, and Rook are the chess pieces: they- or their magic rather- are the key to defeating Malleus. The day will be saved by hope and joy and friendship. It's so very "my friends are my power" and so very cliche Disney and I can't wait to read up to the very end.