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queers-gambit · 4 months ago

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Shadows of the Past

prompt: the High King recruits you personally for the expedition headed by your intended, Herald Elrond. your company encounters the darkness and Galadriel portrays an apology to her friend.

pairing: Elrond x betrothed!female!reader

fandom masterlist: The Rings of Power

word count: 5.1k+

note: wonky brain can think of nothing but this show right now i'm so sorry

warnings: cursing, spoilers, another reader insert for the haters, depiction of character injury, emotions are hard, small canon complicit angst, literal hurt and comfort, established relationship.

"Tell me again," your brother-in-law asked, "why you're not leading this company?"

You smirked, stepping over a fallen branch, "Because the High King has bestowed the honor to Herald Elrond, Daenor."

"Then why enlist you, too?"

"I am a mere emissary of the King. Besides, skills are required for this quest, Daenor, why would I not be employed?"

"Right, of course. I guess my question should be, what skills do you possess?" He teased, laughing when you shoved his shoulder playfully. "But truly," he asked, "why would the King send you both, so close to your wedding day? Why send you, too, if not to lead this company?" However, before you could answer, the air turned serious when the procession you followed came to a rather disturbing discovery upon the laid path.

You leaned on the intact stone while listening to Camnir discuss with Elrond possible paths forward after intending to cross a bridge over the gorge, only to find it in ruins and rubble. Elrond originally questioned the force that could've brought the ancient stone down in such a harsh and violent manner, thinking perhaps lightning, but another voice refuted this idea by claiming it was the Dark Lord, Sauron.

This familiar voice was that of Lady Galadriel - and while you've known her to be a fellow Commander, you were unsure of her title now. Yes, she was technically lieutenant of this company, and that was what she was addressed as, but you knew how stubborn the Elleth was and that she would not be so easily demoted.

You said nothing. You just listened as Camnir told Elrond they could take one of two paths: one so out of the way, it would add two weeks to their journey, and the other, down the same darkened path the Dark Lord laid.

Upon mentioning the path before them through the Hills of Tyrn Gorthad, Lady Galadriel twitched. She had been daintily ghosting her fingertips over the charred and mangled metal of the lanterns set on the imploded bridge, seemingly stuck in thought, then freezing. You couldn't see her face, only taking note of the brisk tension mounting in the Elleth's shoulders.

She spoke, "There is evil in those hills." The group shared silent looks, each with varying degrees of mistrust or caution. "Ancient, and full with malice," Galadriel glared at the landscape before her. "Sauron means for us to go that way. We must go another," She informed the group as if she were in a position to give orders.

From the crouch he took to observe the damage done to the stone, Elrond rose while speaking in a firm tone that overpowered the Lady's, "The Enemy is doubtless watching both roads." His eyes flickered over yours last as jetting over each of his soldiers, clocking the way you nodded in agreement. To you, it seemed common sense: of course, the bad guy was watching the paths that would lead the good guys to him! He was evil, not stupid! Elrond reminded his people, "This collapse makes it more critical than ever to reach Celebrimbor at speed."

"We won't reach anywhere with speed if we walk into a trap," Galadriel argued; the two friends (and distant cousins) held each other's even stare for several moments.

"What say you, Commander?" You asked, hoping to break the tension and little trance they were locked in. No, no, not out of jealousy, but out of protectiveness; wanting to break the ice for the sake of Elrond's authority.

"We go South," Elrond decided, turning from the fragmented bridge stump, ready to lead his company on, when Galadriel spoke again - from the same spot she had yet to move from.

"Commander, I must protest."

You did not move when the others did, you waited when Elrond paused and replied, "Your opinion on the matter has been heard."

He went to walk away again when Galadriel growled with a rolling tongue, "Elrond!"

You flinched to a halt in blinding irritation, upset by your peer's very audacity. Everyone halted around you, Camnir even shifting in his stance out of nervousness from the heat of your glare not on him. Your fiancé turned back to glare at his friend, ending with finality, "Opinion heard, lieutenant. We go South." He gave an encouraging command in Sindarin, leading only a few strides before pausing. When you automatically halted yourself at his side, he nodded and spoke softly while seemingly mindlessly grabbing your hand to give an affectionate and reassuring squeeze, "Lead them on, love, stay on the trail."

You glanced back at Galadriel, who was finally moving to keep up, and whispered for only his ears, "You sure?"

"I'm sure, go on," he confirmed, nodding again and offering a soft sort of half-smirk. His eyes, though, were squinted; indicating he was genuine in his displayed gentleness. With a squeeze to his hand, you offered one last stale look at Galadriel, who expertly avoided your eyes, then let go and walked forward to lead the way.

Behind you, Elrond snarled his scolding of Galadriel, insisting she shape up, forgo trust in the Ring of Power she wore, and if that wasn't possible, she needed to excuse herself. The Commander of the Northern Armies rebutdtaled that she did not desire to see any member of the company slain - a veiled response to her stubbornness to not abandon their quest and refusal to ignore her ring.

Forward, you marched.

Though you seldom showed it, you felt fearfully nervous when the night fell and your company crept further into what felt like infected wood. The ground turned spongey, a particular stench permeated the air, the darkness shadowed most all you saw. The trees loomed tall, the moon casted a bright silver light, and dead leaves crunched under booted, lithe steps. Elrond shared a nervous look with you, his hand only briefly brushing yours; a way to say he was there with you without being overly affectionate in front of his soldiers.

From the corner of his eye, Elrond saw your head tilt back in wonder before a fell voice hissed on the wind, "I am waiting for you." But in truth, nobody was sure about what they heard or did not hear. Perhaps they did not want to know, but still, the voice made the area further darken in suspicion, and once in a small clearing, all came to a halt to survey the surrounding area. There was a threat somewhere, but where exactly was yet to be determined.

Daenor questioned sharply, "What is this place?"

"Tyrn Gorthad," Camnir answered. "Known to men as the Barrow-downs."

You chimed in softly, "In ancient days, this was where they laid their lords and kings to rest."

"I feel no rest here," Daenor grumbled. "Even the trees seem ill at ease."

"Fear not," Vorohil chimed in, sounding amused while stepping up to (and through) your group's observation deck. "Dead men are no threat."

"Well, we've lived very different lives," you scoffed under your breath.

However, after Vorohil, Elrond followed; casting a look at the lot of you and reminding, "Keep moving."

You let the others pass ahead of you, trying to shake off your nerves and mentally prepare yourself for the hell you were walking into. Something anchored your feet, refusing to let go; every nerve in your body on fire and begging you not to wade into the dark. Your name was spoken gently, Galadriel's hand on your shoulder startling you.

"What is it?" She asked quietly.

"We shouldn't be here," you whispered, Elrond doubling back when he noted your delay. Not wanting a confrontation, Galadriel sighed and patted your shoulder before slipping away as your lover approached you.

"Are you alright?" He asked softly but urgently.

"There's something sinister here," you told him stiffly, stepping half a step closer, "watching us."

He took a breath, "If Galadriel's ring - "

"It's not that!" You insisted. "I feel it, Elrond, not the ring, not anything Galadriel said. I feel it."

Elrond's brows furrowed at the tips, like something hooked them to yank towards his nose. "Then stay close to me," he decided.

"We should move on, quickly," you snatched his hand to prevent him from parting; his gaze turning worried. "Please, listen to me."

"My love," he spoke softly, squeezing your hand, "it is a gravesite, nothing more. The dead cannot harm us."

"It is the living's influence I fear."

He sighed and nodded, "We will not linger." His forehead found yours to rest, "But do not stray from my side, it is of great comfort."

"To us both," you agreed, letting him pull back. Yet he did not relinquish hold of your hand, keeping it tight in his and leading you into the clearing the others were surveying.

"Commanders," Rían called, standing over the corpses of two horses... Attacked seemingly a time ago, and upon inspection, discovered the pairing bodily remains of an Elvish party.

Elrond questioned your name when you squatted, brushing aside debris. "Their barding is from Lindon," you told him, gently ghosting the leather with your touch. You looked up to meet his eyes, glancing over to see Galadriel, predicting, "The King sent a dispatch to warn Celebrimbor."

Galadriel nodded in confirmation as Rían discovered the encased message from the King in a decorative tube, asking, "This dispatch?"

Slowly, you stood from your position and held a silent hand out, being given the tube for inspection; all eyes on you, waiting for whatever your overly keen (even for an Elf) eyes would see. After confirming the contents, your eyes locked with Galadriel's, and she spoke what you both were thinking: "We must go from this place."

Elrond appeared ready to agree, tension mounting as your company seemingly felt the blanket of panic being thrown over them all. From the dark, a set of rotting chains shot out to coil around Daemor, yanking him into the toxic, spongey earth and across the clearing.

"Y/N!" He shouted in shock, and without thinking, your hands slapped into his as if in an effort to anchor him... But you were both yanked off your feet. "Commander!"

"Daenor! NO!"

"Help me! Y/N, Y/N, please!"

"Hold onto me!" You begged, being drug on your belly.

"Sister! Sister, please, help me! Help me!" He sobbed in fear, a vice grip on your wrists and hands surely to leave blemishes. "Don't let go! Pl-eeeeeaaaaaase!"

"Daenor!" You whimpered, struggling as the force that held you both hostage was too strong to maintain a safe, secure hold permanently - meaning, saving him was futile.

Your name was bellowed, being drug towards one of the opened tombs; but at the last moment, the tether that kept you and Daenor together was broken and he was pulled into the abyss of the grave. You whimpered in fear, slowly lifting from your belly and to your knees as Daenor's screams were silenced... In fact, the entire area turned eerily quiet.

Behind you, the others rushed to the scene and Elrond immediately dropped to his knees, wrapping his arms around you. "Are you hurt? Hey, hey, look at me, are you hurt?" He demanded, fearful that the chains might shoot out again to finish the job to swallow you in the dark. He checked for any physical injury, but the tension was too great to ignore; the mouth of the tomb glaring at you, forcing Elrond to silence himself.

You flinched back into his hold when the gruesome sounds of crunching bone and squelching flesh was heard; indicating whatever was inside, whatever claimed Daenor, had disposed of his living body.

Elrond took advantage of your flinch to rock you back onto your feet, standing as a group as a voice hissed, "Cold old be hand and heart and bone, And cold be sleep under stone, Never more to wake on stony bed, Never, till the Sun fails and the Moon is dead." Galadriel brandished her sword as the wights first emerged, revealing their zombified forms. You encouraged the group to form together in a circle as the demons emerged. The Voice continued, "In the black wind, the stars shall die."

"Prepare yourselves," Galadriel warned, the group arming themselves.

"What are they?" Rían trembled.

From perfectly between Galadriel and Elrond, you answered, "They are those who laid in the tombs, the Lords and Kings of old... Lore calls them Barrow-wights."

The creatures surrounded your company, leering, growling, sizing you up. In Sindarin, Elrond commanded, "Attack!"

In tandem, the group lunged; weapons striking the ghoulish foes but they merely disintegrated in air... Then reformed. It seemed that fighting only served to irritate the enemies, their collective hissing and screeching making stomachs curl and skin to prickle in fear. Galadriel clocked this first, warning Rían, "Still your arrow!"

But the Elleth was already locked and loaded, the string slipping from her grip to fire at a distant wight. But it only soared through the zombie's face, not stopping, directing towards Camnir - but Elrond intercepted, swiping his sword to cut its path and save his soldier. The creature rejuvenated.

"They're impervious to our weapons," Camnir voiced, fear inking his tone.

Elrond's eyes found yours, seemingly connected by a string of similar thought; remembering the old wives tales you once read a lifetime ago, ancient lore about Barrow-wights dating back to the time of Melkor. So, he sheathed his sword and told his soldiers, "Hold fast." To Camnir, the closest to him, he demanded, "Come with me!"

"Where are you going?"

"Help me open it," Elrond told him, trying to pry open the sealed tomb as you swiped at another wight's skeletal hand reaching for you.

"What?"

"Hurry!" Elrond barked in Sandarin.

Back in your group, Rían muttered nervously, "Commander?"

"Ease yourself, remain calm..."

"What do we do?"

"Make no sudden movements. Stay together, fend them off but don't engage a fight," you advised, "hold strong - "

A gasp cut off your words when chains coiled around your ankle; securing in a tight zip that knocked you off balance and back into the toxic dirt. You scrambled for purchase on anything, finding only wet leaves; and suddenly, the chain turned taunt with tension before you were being sucked back into another tomb.

"Commander!" Vorohil shouted, trying to reach for you, but just missing as you were reeled back over the dirt.

"Y/N!" Rían cried, alerting Elrond and Camnir of your situation. You whimpered in fear, sobbing as you couldn't fight the force; couldn't save yourself; only able to helplessly submit to your approaching doom after clawing unsuccessfully for salvation.

"No! No!" You yelped, trying to remove the chains, but another tightened around the first chain in a horribly tight, vice grip that strangled breath from your lungs from the pure burning sting. With the last of your air, you screamed, "Elrond! Please!"

You heard Vorohil sprinting after you, freezing in your escape attempt when a grisly, decayed hand extended from the ebony shadow of the tomb towards you. There was a panicked finality to your blood, fear clogging rational thought; never seeing Elrond, only focused on the threat pulling you in. But the half-Elf you meant to marry in only a few weeks time came surging onto the scene, sliding on his knees at the mouth of the tomb and swinging a sword to sever both hand and chains.

"Y/N - "

"Fuck's sake!" You snarled, unintentionally cutting Elrond off; shoving the chains from your leg, scrambling to your feet.

You were just about to thank Elrond when he instead encouraged, "Here, take this." He held out one of the ancient weapons excavated from the tomb, nodding with increased vigor before turning away when it was in your grip. You hacked and stabbed the wight that came after you, Elrond and Camnir tossing the rest of the company weapons to cast down the surrounding enemies.

"How?" Rían asked in shock, seeing the wisps of the last wights waft into the wind.

"According to lore, only the blades with which they were buried with will return such creatures to rest," Elrond explained.

"But the men buried here have been entombed for over a thousand years," Camnir trembled, turning to his companion.

Vorohil seethed, "I think it is safe to say that something has awoken them."

"No," Galadriel argued, glaring down at the wight's decaying body. "Someone... Awakening evil. Across all Middle-earth."

You ignored the conversation and slowly took a seat; leaving your weapon in the dirt while focusing on hiking up your trouser leg after discarding your boot. With a clenched jaw, you revealed the wight's chains left sizzling lacerations; the metal seemingly enchanted to burn damn near to the bone, creating craters, indentations, dimples to your otherwise pure and unblemished flesh.

You winced when fabric stuck to the wound, bearing your teeth while hissing through them; breathing turning staggered as the pain became biting. "Commander?" You heard Camnir question softly with concern, others turning to set their attention on you.

"It's nothing," you insisted, observing the wound and deciding a tourniquet was required.

"You're hurt," Elrond growled, surging forward and unintentionally knocking Galadriel's shoulder - but the Elleth didn't take offense. The others wanted to close in around you, but Galadriel held them back after witnessing you before. As Commander of the Southern Armies, you had seen many battles with Galadriel, and sometimes, you sustained injury; she's witnessed how you turned akin to a panicked animal when accosted with attention - no matter how genuine the concern.

"It's nothing," you repeated, reaching for one of your belts, "I'm fine."

"You're not - "

"It's a burn, Elrond, nothing more," you sniffled, feeling how far up the chain had gone; deciding to tie the tourniquet above your knee.

"Let me," Elrond whispered, laying his hands over yours that shook and trembled without abandon.

"Elrond - "

"Just," he snipped, needing to pause and take a breath, "please, let me help you."

Behind him, Galadriel ushered the others away to a short distance; deciding to gather whatever belongings of Daenor they could to honor his lost life. You met Elrond's worried gaze and nodded, sniffling, "Okay. J-Just above the knee, here," you showed him.

"I know, love, I've got yah," he breathed, shuffling closer and kneeling beside you while taking the belt. You pulled the material of your trousers straight, grimacing when Elrond first wrapped the leather around your thigh. "All right?" He checked, seeing you nod rapidly; no words used because you were holding your breath to prevent yourself from crying out. When Elrond first tied the leather, you whimpered and his eyes turned teary. "It's gonna get worse, love, just hang on f'me - " He warned you before suddenly tightening the tourniquet, making you yelp painfully. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I know it hurts, I know, I know, I'm so sorry," he repeated, your hands latching onto his forearms out of subconscious need to feel him for comfort while he secured the leather belt. When done, he reached for your cheeks and pet hair that escaped your braids behind your ears, encouraging, "Breathe for me, just breathe, love. You're all right, there you go. Breathe. Good, good, I've got you, I'm so sorry, just breathe, just breathe... Oh, I, uh..."

"What's wrong?" You worried when he trailed off; eyes full of tears and his mouth half opening while retracting his hands that you held by his wrists still.

"I've blood on my hands..." He splayed them in display between you two.

"It's okay - "

"Got it on your face," he frowned.

"It's fine," you insisted, sniffling sadly, "it's my blood, anyway. We should be moving - "

"You're hurt."

"I know, but it's not life threatening, I don't need coddled."

"I'm not coddling you - "

"You are," you half smirked, "because you're worried."

"Of course, I am," he scoffed, using his sleeve to wipe your cheeks and temples free of blood. "How can I not be? You..." His voice quaked with emotion, "You are my starlight, my fairest friend, my sweetest love. Seeing you hurt..."

"I know," you whispered, bringing him close so your foreheads met, "but I'm okay."

"For now."

You sighed, pulling back to respond, "Don't say that, don't even think it. Optimism is our only friend in this situation, else, what is the point of going after Sauron?"

He needed to take a breath, sniffling his own emotion. "Fine. We should rest until morning... Regroup, give you time off this leg for now."

You nodded, "You sure?"

"I think we could all use the reprieve," he admitted.

"Does that include you?" You asked while caressing the coils of chestnut off his forehead.

"I'm fine - "

"As I am?"

Elrond paused, then scoffed a small laugh and nodded. "I'm managing..." He trailed off, shaking his head.

"Hey," you whispered, bringing him back to your forehead, "you're doing an excellent job of leading this company. But we all have limits and tonight was a lot, you deserve the time to breathe."

"Time is something we don't have."

"We have enough for now," you insisted, more or less forcing Elrond to relent.

As Daenor's belongings were pulled from the tomb and buried in the scorched earth his killers had rose from, the company each offered you hollowed words of condolences for your loss. Beside Elrond, it was known, you and your brother-in-law were great friends - being the reason he met and eventually married your sister. His sword was embedded in the ground as a marker, the company gathered to silently pay their respects while their commander stood at the riverbed's edge in deep, solemn contemplation.

You held one of his daggers, intending to keep it in reminder; pocketing a few pieces of jewelry, intending to give it to his wife. However, all was interrupted when from a distance, you heard the booming rumble of drums. Not just any drums, but the beating sounds of a marching procession; something ominous and daunting. You perked up, standing to your feet as something dark and familiar started in your chest before sinking to your gut. By looks of your company, they, too, heard the drums and shared your worried thoughts; sheathing Daenor's dagger to your belt and surging for where Elrond stood speaking to Galadriel.

"Forgive my intrusion," you bid the pair, Elrond turning instantly.

"Are you all right?" His hand reached for your hip instantly, trying to help stabilize you - if you had been off balance.

Your hand laid to his cheek, answering swiftly, "I'm fine," before dropping your hand to rest on his bicep, "but we've heard drums - in the deep. Sounds like there's a host on the march."

This sent the company into action, tracking the sound of the enemy over leagues of wooded area. By the end of the day, at dusk, you all gathered slowly on a darkened clifftop; watching in horror as legions of orcs marched down the beaten path to the sounds of their war drums. "Orc treachery," Rían cursed upon sight.

"That trail...?" Elrond questioned, letting go of his secure hold on you to lower in a squat, "I gather it leads to - "

"Eregion, my liege," Camnir confirmed.

"We came in search of Sauron," Vorohil narrated everyone's thought and question, "And instead, we find Adar?"

"Could they be in league with each other or... Perhaps at war," Elrond thought aloud, you shifting on your bad leg for a moment to readjust your stance among the trees.

"A legion of Orcs have marched into Elvish lands," Galadriel spat in anger, glaring at Elrond. "We are all of us at war."

Elrond agreed, "Word of this must reach the High King before our host sails for Mordor."

The silence was calm in a resolute sort of way, everyone just pausing to bask in their shock and awe. This was shattered when a distant Orc shouted, "There!" An arrow thunked into the trunk of the tree behind you, a horse neighing shrilly as it galloped through the forrest towards freedom and away from its pursuers. Just as the company turned to face the enemy, another arrow flew through the air almost inconspicuously, finding its mark in the soft part of your chest just beneath your sternum.

You grunted when the arrow landed, taking half a step back and wanting to cry out. Instead, you just held where the arrow embedded itself in your flesh. You felt dizzy suddenly, clothes and hand saturating with blood as the arrow had pierced through the aorta artery to cause major damage. Irreparable damage. Fatal damage...

In a whisper, Elrond told his soldiers in Sindarin, "Hold!"

In the distance, the Orcs were heard complaining about the horse escaping while a few random arrows were fired off again in a last ditch effort to wound the animal. If you did not move, the mangey creatures did not notice, smell, or sense you. But you couldn't form a full coherent thought, just understanding your injury, the looming grace of Death soon to kiss you, that breath was becoming increasingly harder to come by, and the pain - the pain was aching, soon spiking.

You did not mean to, but your fear was too great to ignore, and you stuttered in a whimpered gasp, "El-Elrond?"

His head snapped over, seeing the arrow protruding from your chest and feeling himself crumble inside. You were choking on blood, trying to remain silent - and they all saw that effort. How blood came splattering from your nose as you tried to subdue your noise, but that only made it harder to breathe; inadvertently choking, a groan strangled from your lungs just as Elrond reached you. He held you to him with his chest and single arm anchoring your waist, the other lifting to lay his hand over your mouth as Galadriel glued to your other side for added support.

The company moved back several yards, covering ground swiftly before laying you down behind a natural outcropping of protective rock. You were struggling, unable to fight it any longer; hacking a cough, blood spewing, splattering, streaking down your neck, the pain insurmountable. Elrond's one hand cushioned under your head, tears in his eyes as he could only hold you as the Orcs were heard closing in, other hand once more clasping over your mouth.

Still, Galadriel was sandwiching you, wincing when Elrond's hand stifled your groans of pain as he strained himself to peak over the top of the rocks. When he lowered himself, your lover leaned his forehead on your temple and hushed in your ear, "I'm so sorry." Upon lifting, he met Galadriel's eyes, who had been examining your wound, only to find her's full of sadness. Her head shook with muted words - telling him whatever she saw wasn't good.

You whimpered lightly. The Orcs could smell an Elf.

You wrangled Elrond's hand from your mouth, "Lis-Listen to me - "

"Hush, do not - "

"Shut up and listen!" You hissed, keeping hold of his hand, "'M not makin' it outta this, love, you've gotta go. L-Leave me - "

"No!"

"Elrond. Leave me," you insisted, "and they'll k-know 's m-me they smell. Y-You have t'warn the H-High King."

"I'm not leaving you," Elrond grit.

You smiled sadly, "And I love y-you for that. B-But you h-have t-t-to."

"Not in this lifetime," he begged, a few tears falling. "Just give me time to think, I'll figure something out."

"Time... Is something we don't have," you repeated his words from earlier. Suddenly, Galadriel just knew something without words; a feeling; a sort of understanding that she could help in this moment. She heard you whisper, "I'm so sorry, this wasn't supposed to happen. W-We should've had so much more time - "

"Please, don't say that," Elrond begged quietly.

Galadriel took a sobering breath and moved her hands to the base of the arrow; pressing enough to make you wince and breath in sharply. Elrond went to tell her to back off, but paused when The Ring of Power she wore twinkled in the dark night - seemingly pulling you out of that fatal twilight. Your breathing turned slow... Eyes clearing of hazy pain... Life breathing back into your flesh...

The arrow fell out, making all three of you gasp. Galadriel's hands fell away as your own shot to where your wound had been - finding it healed between the fabric the arrow tore. You looked at the Elleth in shock, breathing, "You healed me...?"

She just nodded, Vorohil speaking in astonished Sindarin, "Amazing."

"You're - You're, you are - ?" Elrond stuttered in shock.

"I'm okay," you confirmed, caressing his cheek as he beamed down at you in pure glee. "I'm okay, love, I'm okay; Galadriel, she healed me," you sniffled, looking to your friend. "Thank you, my friend."

"Of course," she breathed, the Orcs heard shouting in the distance to overturn every rock. With a look of shared understanding, Galadriel told Elrond over your body while you tried to mop up some blood, "Get to Lindon. I will occupy them as long as I am able. Get her up."

Elrond huffed through his nose, but did as bid - not like he needed to even be told in the first place. He gathered you into himself and stood, making sure you were stable before looking back at Galadriel; slowly squatting again as she wriggled the ring from her finger. "Take it," she breathed, presenting Elrond with the band of jewelry. When he made no move, she snatched his hand and folded the ring into his grasp, "Take it, Elrond!"

"What will you do?" He asked begrudgingly, storing the ring in a leather pouch for safety.

"Something foolish, probably," she smirked, nodding in meaning. "Now, go. Go!"

"Elrond, love," you whispered, holding your hand out for his and heaving him to his feet. "With me, c'mon, quickly," you advised the others, beginning the trek down a new path in the woods. As you moved, you realized that Galadriel's ring hadn't just healed the arrow wound, but the Barrow-wight's chain, as well, which helps remedy your limp.

A semi-safe distance away, there came a decently loud and abrupt boom behind you, and upon looking, saw the trees up in flames. It was where Galadriel must've been battling the Orcs alone.

In earnest impression, Camnir narrated, "She scarified herself to save us all."

Elrond came to a halt when he realized his company members were captivated by the sight of heroics in action. So he interrupted their dreamy thoughts by calling, "No, you are mistaken, Camnir." He stalked forward through his delegates, telling them in their native tongue, "She did not do it to save us."

Tension simmered over each member.

"What?" Camnir questioned.

Elrond turned away from the spectacle with Galadriel's fire, consulting the dark again, speaking with ramped distain in Sandarin, "She did it to save the ring." His hand reached for yours again, the two of you leading the company forward with him calling over his shoulder in the Common Tongue, "Hurry!"

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birdiewriteslit · 1 year ago

Note

Omg I love Persassy LOL. I was thinking maybe you could do an imagine where Percy knows about Luke and Reader but doesn’t like it and sasses them all the time but so basically Luke and Reader are kind of having a “date night” but in Luke’s cabin and they’re just like laying in his bed and stuff but the morning after, Percy is wondering the Reader is because the Reader is his half sister and like he goes the Luke’s cabin to ask him where Reader is and he finds them asleep in the same bed and he gets mad and sassy and starts lecturing Reader and Luke while they’re all confused because they just woke up🤣🤣

omg yes i can totally do this

luke castellan x daughter of poseidon!reader

warnings: persassy (do i even have to say it?), fluff, general show plot ignorance

Percy was staring at you with an unpleasant look on his face as you stole glances at Luke from the Poseidon table.

“Can you not do that in front of my dinner?”

Luke met your eyes from across the room. He grinned at you and you smiled dreamily back at him. “Do what?”

“Ogle him,” Percy said as though it was obvious.

You snapped your gaze to Percy’s. “I’m not ogling him.”

“You so are. Please refrain,” he persisted.

“How about you refrain from having an attitude?” you countered.

“This attitude is your fault,” he sassed, flicking a pea at you.

You caught it before as it rolled off the table and flung it back at his face. He flinched as it hit him and it fell on the floor. “You’re impossible.”

Percy shrugged. “You love me.”

You didn’t say anything. You would be lying if you denied it. Percy seemed to understand anyway, as he held back from sharing any thoughts about Luke for the rest of the meal.

If there was one thing you knew about your half-brother, it was that he was a little menace. He was always telling off your boyfriend for random things. These things mostly consisted of Luke’s actions in hypothetical situations Percy had made up.

He was also always telling you that you were too good for Luke. You were sure he would say that about any guy you dated though, because Luke was probably the best guy around.

He was always nice to Percy, and he easily combatted his sass, which you honestly thought Percy secretly enjoyed.

Deep down, you knew Percy actually liked Luke and looked up to him a lot, not that he would ever admit it.

After campfire that night, Luke was at your cabin, swinging the door open and calling your name.

“What do you want?” Percy responded rudely.

“Take a guess,” Luke said, unbothered.

“Percy, watch your attitude,” you said, walking toward the door and giving Luke a quick kiss.

“Bleh. Stop being nasty in here,” Percy objected.

“Lucky for you, we’re leaving.”

“Where are you going?”

You didn’t answer him and let the door swing shut behind you as you left the cabin.

“Y/n?” he called from inside.

Luke held your hand as you walked together to his cabin. Some of his siblings were asleep when you entered, and some of them let out a few teasing comments, but all of them were used to you sleeping there every once in a while.

“Lights out,” Luke said, flipping the light switch. A few campers groaned in protest before collapsing onto their beds.

You climbed into Luke’s bunk after him and he wrapped his arms around your body, pulling you into his chest. You relaxed into his touch, falling asleep quickly.

The next morning you were not awoken by the sun, but by your brother. “Well, well, well,” he said, standing over the bunk with his arms folded.

“Perce?” you said, sleep evident in your voice. “What are you doing here?”

“You weren’t in the cabin when I woke up, so I used my critical thinking skills, and here we are,” he explained.

Luke stirred next to you, taking his hand off of your hip to rub his eyes. “Baby? Has the conch blown yet?”

“Yeah, thirty minutes ago. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. How irresponsible,” Percy scoffed.

“Next time, we’ll sleep in our cabin, so you can wake us up at the right time,” you suggested.

Percy scrunched up his face in disgust. “Absolutely not. I don’t need to hear whatever weird stuff you freaks get up to. I need my beauty sleep, but you probably wouldn’t understand that, Luke.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Luke asked, offended.

“Hurry up and get dressed. I hate sitting alone,” Percy demanded and left you and Luke alone in the cabin again.

You turned back into his warmth, refusing to get out of bed. Luke got the message, pulling the blanket up over you. Percy could survive one day without you at the table.

#birdiewriteslit #birdiewritesfics #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo #pjo fanfic #pjo disney+#pjo tv show #pjo series #daughter of poseidon

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qqueenofhades · 6 months ago

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Look, I know things are rough out there, and critical thinking skills, especially on social media, are still, uh. Questionable (to say the least). But credit where credit is due, because I have also seen (to a degree I did not see in the last two major presidential elections, 2016 and 2020) the following things, a lot:

General hype posts for voting/democracy/Kamala Harris/Democrats (and even before Biden dropped out, a lot of hype posts for him too);

Blockbuster engagement with my recent pro-voting/pro-blue/pro-Kamala posts, to the point where I had to turn off notifications not because there was fuckery happening in my notes (as had OFTEN been the case before) but because I simply couldn't keep up;

Lots of high-note (10k+) posts regularly crossing my dash, written to cater to every kind of leftist/liberal/blue-leaning voter, encouraging and exhorting them to vote no matter what;

Information about Project 2025 and Republican extremism;

Forceful corrections of misinformation about Kamala's record;

Comparisons of Trump and Kamala on key issues;

Mince-no-words callouts of Trump and Republican fascism;

A tutorial!!! On how to identify an obvious psy-op anti-voting blog!!! And encouraging people to do the same/block/report!!

A constant stream of information about how to register to vote/check your voter registration/make sure you haven't been purged;

General slapdowns of tired old anti-voting narratives;

Whenever I put tags on political posts, the suggestions are always in the vein of "vote democrat, vote blue, vote kamala, please vote," etc, even though I have not used them all, indicating that those are the site-wide popular tags for similar posts;

And more!

And like. Guys. I realize there is always the task of emptying the ocean with a bucket when it comes to combating misinformation/disinformation, ESPECIALLY election misinformation/disinformation. I also tend to be grumpy, short-tempered, and cynical (and generally have zero tolerance) about its presence, just because I am old and tired and have seen this all before and know how it ended. But as I said: credit where credit is due. I have never seen all this happening on Tumblr before, and it gives me hope. Kudos.

#politics for ts #kamala harris 2024 #vote blue #vote and get off my lawn

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mattysprincess · 22 days ago

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Love me like it’s the last thing you’ll do.

This is the prequel to this Drabble

SMUT! MDNI!!

It’s not proofread so if you find any mistakes don’t be shy to DM me!! And I’m always open for criticism and tips!

You and Mattheo had been dating for around 1 month, you kept your relationship Private for now because as much as he loved you… he was still scared of others viewing him as weak for actually having feelings, for being in love.

For the record, Mattheo Riddle has never been in a relationship nor romantically involved with any girl ever, it was all hookups and one night stands and so you understood that he wanted to take it slow, understanding his worries and fears.

The problem with that however is that you can’t show affection to eachother in public, leading to others thinking you’re single and free to hit on… which Mattheo can’t seem to handle very well.

Mattheo shoots you a quick text after some overly confident Gryffindor tried flirting with you.

‘My dorm. Now.’

That doesn’t sound too good… You immediately make your way to his dorm, not bothering to knock, as always, you slowly push the door open revealing a frowning Mattheo pacing in his room. “Why were you so close to him?” He immediately shoots and his tone confirms your bad feeling. “Mattheo-“ “Why the fuck were you even with him? Did he make you laugh? Is he better? Did you flirt with him-?!” “Mattheo.”

Your firm voice cuts through his questions and he looks at you as you step closer, standing right infront of him now. “Will you let me speak?’’ He runs a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated but nods. “Thank you.. no, I did not flirt with him, no he didn’t make me laugh and no he isn’t better than you. He came up to me and tried to flirt but I told him I’m not interested and to use his awful flirting skills with someone else.” You cup his cheeks, rubbing your thumb back and forth gently. “You know you’re the only one I allow to flirt with me…”

Mattheos expression soften at your words and touch, feeling guilty for even thinking you would. “I’m sorry I just- I don’t know… I hate when guys think they can flirt with you and have a chance with you.” He lifts one hand to cup yours that’s on his cheek, squeezing lightly. You smile at his little gesture and apology, letting out a soft breath.

“It’s okay Matty… just next time let me speak first, yeah?” you chuckle softly, leaning up to press a soft kiss to the tip of his nose, making him let out a chuckle under his breath.

“I don’t deserve you…” he mutters lowly, looking at you like you’re the most precious living and breathing thing. You feel a light pink dust your cheeks, yet a frown finds its way to your lips. “Matty… you do deserve me.” you say softly, voice barely above a whisper and he just shakes his head. “Baby… you’re everything I never will be. You’re soft, delicate, sweet… you’re like a ray of sunshine wherever you go. You make people happy just by smiling at them, your voice brings others comfort and warmth. You’re every good thing bundled up into a person and I'm-" he sighs and sits down at the edge of his bed, looking down "and I’m me.” he murmurs.

The frown on your face stays as you walk up to stand between his legs, cupping his cheeks to coax him to look up at you. “look at me please my love..” you say softly, so much warmth in your tone that he can’t help the way his heart flutters, the way he looks up at you so willingly. He’d do anything if you’d just asked with that sweet voice of yours, one word, a simple syllable is enough to make him forget about everything else. “Mattheo you’re you and that’s what makes you so special.” you whisper, like sharing a secret with him “you say you’re not sweet, kind nor soft… but when you touch me it’s like I’m made out of the finest porcelain, when you talk to me I feel like I’m floating, you go out of your way to do anything that might make me crack a smile and you always help me with everything even if I keep telling you I can do it myself.” You smile at him, stroking his cheek and he smiles back lightly “I know you can do it yourself.. but I’m your boyfriend, I want to do it for you. You shouldn’t have to lift a finger when I’m around.” He takes one of your hands that’s on his cheek and brings it to his mouth, brushing his lips against your knuckles. “This is why you deserve me Mattheo… me and so much more.” You whisper, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his lips.

The kiss, supposed to be sweet, quickly gets deeper as he tangles one of his hands in your hair and his other pulls you onto his lap, pressing you flush against him. He nudges his tongue against your bottom lip, asking for entrance that you grant him so willingly. He pushes his tongue into your mouth, tasting you, exploring you like he’s done countless of times yet it still feels different. Softer, gentler, more passionate and like he’s pouring all of his love and affection into a single kiss. It’s making both your heart swell with love as well as make your pussy throb with excitement and desire and you know Mattheos feeling the same because the second you grind your hips down onto his you feel his bulge pressing flush against you, the only thing separating you being his pants and your panties.

“Fuck… baby I need you.” He murmur against your lips, his hands slipping beneath the fabric of your shirt, thumbs striking the undersides of your breasts as his mouth moves down to press hot opened mouthed kisses from your jaw down to the column of your throat.

“Then take me, Matty… I’m only yours to take.” You breathe out, Mattheos eyes darkening as the words leave your mouth. “That’s right… mine.” He murmurs against your skin and lifts your shirt up and over your head, leaning back to admire you. “Merlin… you’re beautiful. My beautiful, beautiful girl.. all mine baby.” He says under his breath, more to himself than to you.

His hands roam your body, squeezing and caressing whatever he can, all the while whispering sweet nothings against your skin. You let him, sitting in his lap all soft and pliant and patient, just letting him feel you and worship you however he wants. His hands reach your thighs, going up and under your skirt, his fingers playing with the hem of your panties. “You gonna be a good girl and let me worship your pretty little body, baby?” He murmurs against your neck and all you can do is nod as your stomach flutters in the best way possible. “So perfect, such a perfect girl for me hm?” He grins, pulling your panties down your legs and patting your thigh, silently telling you to stand so you do. He pulls them down completely, then slowly unzips your skirt, letting it drop and pool at your feet. You stand before him, bare as he finally unclasps your bra and removes the last piece of clothing that’s preventing him from seeing all of you. He stands, towering above you as he grabs your waist and lays you down on the bed. “You’re beautiful… fuck you’re so perfect, baby, I could look at you forever and never get bored of it.” He whispers under his breath, looking at you with soft eyes yet you see the hunger behind them, the simmering heat of desire he’s only ever had for you. You reach up, fingers tangling in his curls before coming down to cup his cheeks “I wanna see you too, Matty… please.” The second you utter please, whatever it is, Mattheo will always give you. So he leans down to peck your lips, a lingering kiss, before leaning back and taking off his shirt. Now it’s your eyes roaming over his body, unashamed desire on full display as well as admiration for his trained and scarred body. His hands go down his belt, undoing it quickly and then unzipping his pants, kicking them off and leaning back over you. “That needs to go too.” You whisper with a smile and point to his black boxers, he grins back at you amusedly “someone’s impatient.” You raise a brow at him “as if you want to wait any longer?” He chuckles at that, pressing kisses from your forehead to your cheek and then finally to your lips “I wanna take my time with you tonight, Angel. Let me show you I love you… how much you mean to me.” Your lips part slightly as you look up at him, he sounds so vulnerable and genuine… you could never deny him anything, not that you wanted to anyways so you nod, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek. “I’m yours, Mattheo. Tonight, tomorrow, always.” He closes his eyes for a moment, heart beating dangerously fast and a smile graces his lips “and I’m yours, Angel. Tonight, tomorrow, always.”

With that he starts pressing open mouthed kisses down your body, taking a nipple between his lips as he reaches your breasts, making you moan as he swirls his tongue around it, sucking, licking and kissing while his hand is caressing the other bud. Your hands tangle in his unruly curls, tugging slightly as he gently bites you, not being able to resist it. He releases your right nipple with a pop, blowing cool air on the wet bud and making goosebumps raise on your entire body. He moves to the other, giving it the same attention before moving further down to your stomach, kissing and licking whatever he can. When he gets down to your hips, he sucks a hickey right above where your panties would be.

He moves lower and lower but right past where you need him most, making your squirm slightly and he smirks. “Be patient, baby… I’ll give you what you want, just be good a little longer.” He murmur against the inside of your thighs, biting you there gently and making you yelp slightly and tug at his hair. His tongue goes over the spot he bit gently, soothing the sting and saying sorry. He litters your thighs in hickeys and bite marks until your legs are clenching and trembling from the heat that’s pooled right between your legs. “Matty please…” he chuckles slightly, looking up from between your legs “such good manners for me…” he licks a long stripe up your pussy, making you moan out as your head drops back against the pillow.

He eats you out like a man starved, his tongue reaching whatever it can. He lifts your legs over his shoulders, his arms wrapping around your hips, one hand sprawled over your stomach possessively. Moans and whimpers tumble from your lips, his name on your tongue like a prayer as he devours you whole. The only thing on his mind is your pleasure, how to make you feel good… how he wants to be the only one to ever see you or make you feel this way, driven by those thoughts the dives in with even more fervour “I can feel you clench angel… cum for me, right on my tongue like a good girl.”

Those words push you over the edge, your whole body tensing up as you clench your thighs around his head and he swears he’s in heaven. He laps up your release, making you twitch and only when he’s made sure he’s got every last drop he lifts his head, crawling back over you and licking his lips “I might just need to give you a new nickname… you taste so sweet, fuck I’d give up every meal on this planet if it meant I got to eat you for the rest of my life,” he murmurs with a smile and you look up at him, chest heaving with pants, small smile on your lips “so what will you call me?” He grins at that “I think sweetness would fit you quite well, wouldn’t it?” That tears a small giggle from your lips, making Mattheo grin wider.

After calming down a bit, you tense up again as you feel his dick prodding at your entrance “oh you didn’t think we’re done, did you?” He grins “I’d be disappointed if we were, Matty.” And with that he slowly pushes in, making sure you feel every inch of his rock hard cock as he splits you open. You gasp, clawing at his back, it was always difficult to take him but with his gentle words and soft coos it somehow seems so much more intense then all the times before.

“Shhh I’ve got you angel, I’ve got you… relax for me, can you do that? Can you be a good girl and relax for me?” He coos softly on your ear, making you want to do whatever he asks without question so you try your best to relax for him. He feels your walls unclench the slightest bit and smiles, peppering soft kisses along your face and jaw once’s he’s fully inside you. “So good for me… you’re doing so good, I’m so proud of you.” He whispers against your skin and you can’t help but clench around him again, making him groan.

He lets you adjust for a couple seconds before he pulls back until only his tip remains and pushes back in, making you let out a loud moan. He grins and does it again, setting a slow rhythm, each thrust hard and deep, you swore you could feel him in your stomach. He grunts above you, small hisses and pants leaving his lips and it’s the hottest things you’ve ever experienced.

He slowly picks up the pace, grabbing your hips with one hand while the other goes to your neck, squeezing lightly which oddly brings you comfort. “Matty..!” Your breathless voice rings out and Mattheo cant help but go harder, almost pounding into you before pulling out completely, a whine slipping from your lips. But before you could get any word of protest out he grabs you and turns you around, hands and knees digging into the mattress as he slips back inside on one long thrust. “I’m gonna take you like this and you’re gonna love it, okay?” He leans down, his chest pressing against your back as his one hand slips down to press against your stomach while he moves in and out of you. “F-fuck… Mattheo oh my god..!” You feel him deep inside you, so much more intensely then before and your face drops into the sheets as he pounds into you from behind.

“Fuck you’re amazing… I love you much, can you feel how deep I’m inside you? No one will ever get that deep because You. Are. Mine.” Each word is punctuated with a hard thrust, your eyes roll back and in that moment all you think about is him, how he makes you feel and how you’ll only ever be his for the rest of your life. The hand on your stomach reaches down, playing with your clit as he pounds into you impossibly faster “come with me, sweetness. Come on my cock while I come inside you.” He breathes into your ear and you all but comply, clenching around him tightly and coming for the second time that night with a loud moan of his name.

He rides out your orgasm, his thrusts growing sloppy and with a few more his body jerks and he sheaths himself deep inside you, filling you up with his hot cum as you twitch from the feeling. You fall onto the mattress and he rolls you over onto your back before collapsing on top of you, his head buried in your neck as you both try to catch your breaths.

“I love you…”

Im so sorry for being inactive guys, I’ve been a bit stressed lately. Take this as an apology and happy New years! Love all of you <3

~Princess

Taglist: @revesephemeres @ur-local-wizard

#slytherin #slytherin boys #harry potter #hogwarts houses #mattysprincess #mattheo riddle oneshot #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo x you #mattheoxreader #mattheo x y/n #mattheo smut #mattheo imagine #mattheo riddle

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fishfission-dc · 2 years ago

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Batfamily Powerpoint Night! (Part 8: Duke)

<<Part 7: Damian | Part 9: Barbara >>

[Masterlist]

Duke: My turn!

Bruce: Finally I can count on something normal.

Bruce: [migraine noises]

Dick: I feel like this information and Damian is a bad combination.

Damian: Grayson, I am offended you assume I need lessons from Duke on how to lead troops

Tim: You should bring the beard back Bruce.

Steph: Yeah your amnesia era was kind of a slay

Barbara: My dad’s Batman era was not a slay

Jason: Well maybe slay in a different sense-

Duke: That’s all behind us we’re moving on!

Bruce: I don’t think-

Jason: Bruce sit down and don’t pretend like this isn’t exactly what you did to form your child gang

Bruce: I don’t-

Steph: Look into our eyes, Bruce, and tell us, your crimefighting children, that you did not start a child gang

Bruce: Hn.

Tim: That’s what I thought.

Steph, Barbara, Cass: [hysterical laughter]

[talking over each other]

Dick: That is not what I looked like!

Jason: I looked so much cooler as Robin than that!

Tim: I looked cooler because I had pants, I can’t speak for you two.

Damian: My costume has been improved vastly since that iteration.

Steph: Alright, traffic cones.

Duke: Okay really not the point

Barbara: Seems like this step should’ve come before the outfits?

Duke: It was my first time starting a gang let me live

Jason: Shouldn’t “training” have been part of-

Duke: This is not open for criticism thank you

Steph: Yeah only Bruce can critique Duke’s child-gang leader skills as a fellow child-gang leader

Bruce: [noises of general regret]

Bruce: Why does something absurd always happen with you guys when I’m gone

Tim: Maybe because nobody in this house knows how to cope with loss or something I don’t know

Dick: Also it gets so much worse Bruce

Dick: I mean that wasn’t exactly your fault

Jason: Cop Batman didn’t seem to agree

Barbara: [sighs]

[talking over each other]

Jason: Woah woah woah

Tim: Hired??? You did not hire-

Damian: I did not say that?

Jason: Also I don’t remember being asked nicely I remember saving your a-

Dick: ‘Specialist’ sounds pretty cool and professional thank you Duke :)

Steph: Is that Damian in a Court of O-

Damian: The situation was resolved I am fine now

Tim: “Beat up some bird guys”

Jason: I mean besides the imprisonment and attack on a school and Dick leaving us in the dust for a hot second there that’s basically what happened

Dick: I did not-

Bruce: Excuse me?

Duke: Don’t worry about it :)

Tim: That’s n-

Cass: [signing] The Court of Owls is still-

Damian: That is libel

Steph: What a cute picture

Jason: Weren’t there casualti-

Duke: I have no idea what you’re talking about everything was fine in the end and everything is good!

Bruce: I am... so worried about all of you

Barbara: Well anyway let’s keep that streak going, it’s my turn. >:)

<<Part 7: Damian | Part 9: Barbara >>

[Masterlist]

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buckyshoneybunny · 4 months ago

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Their Babydoll

WinterWidow + Shy!Stark!Curvy!reader

Summary- Bucky and Natasha take a liking to the shy designer.

W.C.- 2212

Warnings- Smut, fluff, cursing, unprotected sex, oral (fem, reader), cum eating, let me know if I missed anything.

A/N- I hope you guys like! Sorry if the smut sucks, I was tired lol. I know these fics are usually Bucky x Reader x Steve but I would want Nat more. Anyway I already have an idea for a new series and it includes Biker Bucky! Not proof read, all mistakes are mine. Hope you enjoy it my lovelies!

Masterlist

“Please Uncle Tony!” You beg for the hundredth time.

“No,” he says, not even looking up from the device he was tweaking.

“But-”

“No,” he interrupts you.

You stick your bottom lip out and give your best puppy eyes. It would always work when you were younger. Now though?

“No”

You groan and cross your arms. You smile to yourself. “You know, Aunt Pepper has been wondering what happened to her-”

“Okay! Okay,” he sighs and pushes the protective glasses further up his nose as he looks at you. “There’s no need to bring Pepper into this.”

You giggle and lean your hip against the table he’s working at. “You always were afraid of Aunt Pepper.”

“I’m not afraid of her,” he huffs. “I just happen to have a healthy amount of respect for her.”

“You’re afraid of her, Tony,” Bruce pipes up from across the lab.

You giggle as Tony sends you and Bruce a glare.

“Why do you even want to use the holographic interfaces?” Tony asks.

“Because it would make designing floor plans so much easier! Using your tech would help me with the critical parts of my job.”

“But you don’t even know how to use them.”

“You could teach me.”

“But I don’t hav-” He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fine,” he huffs.

You squeal and hug him. “Thank you, Uncle Tony!”

He pats your arm, “Yeah yeah.”

Most people didn’t know Tony had a sister; hell no one knew he actually had any siblings until you showed up with your stuff one rainy day.

Freshly 19 and ready to make a name for yourself in the world of Interior Design, you’d moved to New York thinking this was the best place to do so.

Your mother, Tony’s younger sister only by a few years, called to express her worry of you moving there and being alone.

So, Tony being the ever so giving person he is, and a few not-so-subtle threats from your mother, told you that you could stay at the Avengers Tower. You were furious, ranting about how you wanted to make it on your own and didn’t need any help. But when he mentioned you’d get to meet and spend time with the Avengers, you quickly got over it.

You were so excited to meet the Avengers, you’d always had a major crush on Bucky. You even wrote a paper about him for your history class in the 6th grade. His sparkling steel blue eyes taking you captive. You wanted nothing more than to run your fingers through his shoulder length brown hair, hoping it’s as soft as it looks. And you can’t forget those full, pink lips that could make a gal melt like butter on hot asphalt.

But he was taken, by your second favorite Avenger, Natasha Romanoff. You definitely had a girl crush on her. She was so strong and skilled, every womans idol. She was the reason you tried and failed at learning how to fight. So what if you were thicker than the other girls? Yeah okay, you had thick thighs, a pudgy, soft stomach and flabby arms, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t learn some moves like the other girls. To be fair though, that instructor was a womanizer.

He said, and I quote, that you’d ‘never make it anywhere in life looking like that’. Boy did you prove him wrong. You were one of the best Interior Designers in New York, you had a special touch that other designers didn’t have. And you loved your job, you loved bringing peoples dreams to life and seeing the joy on their face.

You enjoyed it, but it wasn’t always easy. The meticulous planning, writing up contracts, getting a crew for certain aspects in and out on time could be grueling at times, but seeing the looks on your client’s faces when they’d see the finished product was always worth it.

You had been worried when you first got to the Tower, worried the other Avengers wouldn’t like you. It was all for nothing though because they absolutely loved you, you were a part of their dysfunctional family now and they had no plans of letting you go. Everyone had really taken a liking to you, especially Bucky and Natasha.

When you introduced yourself to them with your cheeks flushed, hands nervously fidgeting behind your back, and your shy little voice, it made Natasha want to wrap her arms around you and protect you from the world.

But, on the other hand, seeing your long thick thighs on display, juicy ass just barely covered by the shorts you wore, and your tank top that hugged your curves just right made her’s and Bucky’s mouths water. That body paired with your shy, innocent demeanor made them want to swallow you whole.

They had been happy just the two of them, rekindling their love once they both were free. They never thought about having someone else in their relationship, never wanted anyone else, until you.

One knowing look and desire fill conversation later they knew they had to have you. They just had to be careful so they wouldn’t scare you away, and make sure Tony didn’t find out and do something crazy. He was very protective of you.

So, the next couple of years were spent with heated looks, lingering touches, and subtle hints thrown at you that you never seem to catch. They were tired of this game of chase, frustrated and on a level of horny so high that they couldn’t fuck down no matter how hard they tried. Bucky was this close to fucking up against the closest wall, Natasha not far behind. But they’d soon get what they longed for.

You studied your reflection in the mirror again. The thin strapped, black dress that stopped mid-thigh, and had a slit going up your left thigh, hugged your body perfectly. You wouldn’t normally wear something so revealing but Wanda said this dress was perfect.

She’d said you’d definitely be getting fucked tonight. She may or may not have read Bucky and Natasha’s minds and knew this dress would make them lose it.

Tonight was Sam’s birthday party, although his birthday wasn’t for two more days, he’d be in Louisiana visiting his sister so Steve wanted to throw him a party before he left.

Making sure your curls were perfect, you sprayed on some perfume and put some black heels on and headed down to the floor the party was being held at.

Natasha and Bucky were sat at the bar area, formulating a plan on how to make you theirs. Natasha wore an off the shoulder, floor length, blood red dress that fit her just right, with matching lipstick and heels.

Bucky had a tailor-made, black suit that showed his defined muscles. His face clean-shaven, displaying his sharp jaw and his hair tied back in that low, sexy bun he’s always sporting.

Natasha was the first to see you, choking on her drink as she takes you in, causing Bucky to follow her line of sight. His cock rock hard instantly. She bit her lip and one shared glance; they knew tonight was the night and they had just the plan to do it.

You lock eyes with Natasha and she beckons you over.

“Look at you, firefly,” she grins and you blush.

Bucky whistles and looks you up and down. “You’d give poor old Steve a heart attack in that dress, doll. You look amazing.”

“You think so?” You shyly ask.

“Definitely,” Natasha adds.

You begrudgingly do a shot with them after the persisted you do at least one to help loosen you up, even though they knew you didn’t like alcohol. They didn’t leave your side the rest of the night, not that you minded, you loved being the center of their attention. They were waiting for the perfect moment to sneak you away, that moment came after the cake and presents, everyone having gone back to drinking and dancing.

Natasha loops her arm with yours. “So, firefly,” she smirks. “Me and Bucky were thinking of changing up our room, think you could help us?” There a devious sparkle in her eyes that you miss.

Your eyes light up. “Yes!” You smile.

They lead you away from the party and up to their room. Once inside Bucky locks the door. You look around as Natasha comes up behind you and puts her hands on your waist. She runs her nose up the side of your neck, taking in the scent of your perfume. You freeze.

“Nat?” You ask on a shaky whisper.

“Yes, firefly?” She nibbles on your ear, causing you to shudder.

Bucky stands in front of you and cups your face, tilting your head to make you look at him. His lips inches from yours. Your follow-up question gets stuck in your throat.

“Do you know,” Bucky starts, leaning forward to nudge his nose with yours.

“How long we’ve been waiting for you?” Natasha finishes, kissing your shoulder.

“What?” You ask through the already forming fog in your brain.

“We want you, firefly. Will you let us have you?” She slides her hands up to just under your boobs, waiting for your consent. You whimper and nod.

“Words doll,” Bucky says.

“Yes,” you whisper breathlessly.

Bucky smashes his lips to yours as Natasha cups your boobs, squeezing them. You moan and grab Bucky’s forearms.

He steps back and takes his suit jacket off, instructing Nat to take your dress off. She slowly unzips the dress and pushes the straps off your shoulders. It gets bunched around your middle, you blush, insecurities sneaking up on you. She just pushes it the rest of the way down.

Your hands itch to cover yourself but stop when Bucky lets out a deep groan. He whispers a fuck and reaches down to squeeze his throbbing cock. You let out a whine.

“Get on the bed and spread those gorgeous thighs, doll,” he rasps. His eyes black with lust. Your bra and panties come off and you get on the bed, laying on your back and shyly spreading your thighs.

Natasha moans. “Look at her Buck.” He hums and pushes the straps of her dress off her shoulder, revealing she had nothing on underneath. He groans and kisses her; she unbuttons his shirt. You whine, more slick coming out and coating your folds. They break apart and grin.

While Bucky finishes taking his clothes off, Natasha comes beside you and starts to play with your breasts, pinching and tugging your nipples causing you to moan. Bucky, now naked, kneels between your legs, taking in the sight of your soaked pussy.

“Already so wet and we’ve hardly touched you babydoll,” he taunts. You whine, the feeling of his hot breath causing you to shudder.

“Don’t tease her Buck,” Natasha says as she takes one of your nipples into her mouth.

She nips lightly at the bud as Bucky presses his tongue to your clit, you let out a high-pitched moan and grip his hair. As she teases your nipples, Bucky eats you out like a starved man, mumbling out how good you taste in between slurps and gasps of breath.

Bucky can’t handle it anymore and stands up before you can cum. “I gotta be in you, doll, fuck.” He gets in between your legs and lines his leaking tip up with your entrance.

He slowly slides in and your eyes roll back. He gives you a second once he bottoms out, letting you adjust. Natasha rubs your clit as he starts to move.

“How does she feel?” She asks

“S’fucking good, so tight, shit” He groans and pounds into you.

Natasha oscillates between making out with you and sucking you breasts and leaving hickies. She keeps rubbing your clit. You grip the sheets, panting and moaning. Bucky angles his thrusts just right and you scream as he hits that spot inside of you that causes you to see stars.

“I-I’m go-....gonna...” You can’t even finish your sentence.

He speeds up his thrusts, “Cum, doll, soak my cock.”

Your eyes roll back and your back arches as you squirt, soaking his balls, thighs, and the bed. His hips stutter as he cums unexpectedly, he rides out both of your highs, his cock not softening at all.

Natasha motions for him to pull, when he does, she immediately gets between your legs and eats you out, moaning at the taste of your slick and Bucky’s cum. He groans and starts to fuck her.

This goes on for hours, both of them pull orgasms out of you. By the end of it, you lay cuddle between them, exhausted. They say that they want you to be a part of their relationship, you agree, feeling like you’re dreaming. The two people you’ve had the biggest crush on actually wanted you to be with them, you couldn’t have been happier.

When Tony finds out he whacks both Natasha and Bucky in the back of the head with a rolled-up newspaper. He also now carries a spray bottle with him for when y’all get a little too handsy.

All in all you’re living your dream and you couldn’t be happier.

#honeybunnywrites #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky #bucky fanfic #marvel #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x curvy!reader #bucky barnes x plus size reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader smut #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff smut

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valyrfia · 5 months ago

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I've been a F1 fan since 2005. I've first loved Kimi. Then Charles came. I've endured the Mercedes dominance and never thought about switching the TV off. Hell, even Max' season didn't annoy me.

But something about McLaren having the fastest car (especially with Norris, idc about Piastri tbh) makes me just want to switch the TV off. I don't know if it's the team or the driver. They just make me want to not watch and I hate that feeling because I love this sport so much and it has been my safe haven for many, many years. But I cannot stand Zak Brown and Lando Norris and these guys are tainting this sport for me and honestly I don't know how to cope.

Do you have any ideas how to get through this?

I think there's many factors pissing me off about McLaren dominance, the first is that their drivers are good but they're not WDC level and it's INFURIATING that the dual factors of them suddenly producing a rocketship seemingly out of thin air and Red Bull forgetting how to manufacture a car might give a WDC to someone who before the rocketship era has never shown the mentality nor driver skill needed to become world champion.

The second is that McLaren as a team are smug, smarmy, and manipulative in a way that makes me want to burn Woking as a concept to the ground. Their PR strategy carefully manufactures a parasocial relationship to a degree rarely seen. Them and their little army of fans want you to believe that you fundamentally are a bad person if you dislike them or their drivers. and if they face any large-scale meaningful criticism they're so happy to roll out "omg Carlando! omg Landoscar! yay we're all friends look how much our drivers might want to fuck each other!" or Lando's own personal mental health struggles without batting an eye, essentially changing the narrative and going 'you just are just a terrible person because you're criticising us and look how openly Lando is admitting to being depressed and anxious!'. It's very uncomfortable to watch. The truth is that F1 teams are brutal and cut-throat and all of them are a nightmare to work for, but Mercedes, Red Bull, and Ferrari all embrace it to a certain degree whereas McLaren try to be on a high horse and pretend they're morally better than the other teams. They also have a tendency EVEN NOW to try and fully pretend they're the underdog to farms aws and gain some sort of sympathy, but I will say that this strategy seems to be backfiring somewhat. I've never seen such a huge backlash a team and a driver as I've seen against McLaren and Lando in recent months for stuff that doesn't even happen on track and frankly I hope it continues because it's ridiculous how little class that team has shown since they've started dominating. They've not been just gleeful, they've been vindictive and catty but when criticism comes in they're quick to call critics morally bad people.

#anti mclaren #monza gp 2024 #asks #anon #carlando is everything wrong with current f1 i'm afraid

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space-mango-company · 10 months ago

Text

Stranger | Chapter 2

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

TW: Descriptions of Violence, Mentions of Cannibalism

Tags: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader, Arranged Marriage, Eventual Smut (still not in this chapter lmao), No use of y/n, Original Characters, Canon what canon

Word Count: 2k

A/N: So... this was posted prematurely a couple hours ago. This is the actual finished longer version. If you don't know what I'm talking about, thank god. Sorry this took so long, lmao

Just letting you guys know that my knowledge of the lore is purely based off of the movies and the Dune wiki rabbit hole I fell into right after watching part two. I also took a few liberties with the canon here.

I'm super open to constructive criticism, or any criticism at all (feel free to absolutely roast me). Like I mentioned, I've never written fanfic before so I'd love to hear your thoughts!

The evening of your first day in Giedi Prime was celebrated with a banquet where you were introduced to the most important people on the planet. You've heard many stories of the ruthlessness and brutality of the Harkonnens, hence surprised by the courtly welcome during the dinner. Although you did your best to politely ignore the Baron who floated at the head of the table being fed by servants.

You were sat beside his nephew who, despite your mother's education, has evaded your insight. You couldn't quite get a read on him.

Feyd-Rautha whispers to you amid the buzzing conversations of the banquet hall, "are you enjoying the food, little hawk?"

You shoot him a questioning look.

"I like your hairpin," he sneers.

You resist from reaching to touch the Atreides symbol affixed in your hair.

"We don't see such ornaments often here." He quietly laughs in his devilish way, only too amused with himself.

Ah, you realize. He means to torment you.

"Seems early for pet names," you say, picking at your plate, "we've only just met."

"Oh, and yet we are to be wed in less than a week's time," his raspy voice rings in your ear, "I should like to be familiar with my future wife, Lady Atreides."

The marriage pact had been signed when you were only a little girl. Inheriting your father's inclinations, you swore you would uphold your duty, undeterred by the gruesome and abhorrent stories about the Harkonnens—because you knew that centuries of conflict could end within a generation with this union. You were a willing bride.

And yet.

You give him a smile that, to those not privy to your conversation, would seem genuine, "You know nothing of me, na-Baron."

"I should like to learn," you doubt his sincerity but care not enough to discern it. He takes a smug bite of a forkful of meat, "perhaps tomorrow, you shall learn something of me."

The following morning Iassa helps you into another black gown, this time with a veil in anticipation of the black sun.

"Is it not dangerous for Feyd-Rautha to wager his life for a show?" you question.

"The na-Baron is a skilled fighter, my lady. He will emerge victorious," Iassa is straight-faced as she drapes the veil over you.

"Yes, I do not doubt it, but given he is the Baron's heir. Does it not seem a touch irresponsible to even risk it at all."

Not that you actually cared for his life, you just expected that the Harkonnens would be concerned with the preservation of their house regardless of their brutality. You recall your grandfather who got himself killed fighting bulls for sport.

"The na-Baron will be fighting war prisoners. They will be drugged beforehand. It is perfectly safe, my lady."

"Oh." You couldn't decide if you were disappointed or not, "I see."

Iassa seemed intent on dropping the subject, so you do.

You stand before a mirror and take a look at yourself. It is impossible not to be reminded of your mother. She was never one for vanity, but you like to think there was a part of her that always enjoyed the elegant dresses she and you 'had' to wear. You allow yourself a somber smile behind your veil.

"You look beautiful, my lady," Iassa curtsies.

"Thank you," you look at her bowed figure, gray robes made more dull by the stark black choker on her neck. You were sure she was at least 2 standard years younger than you are and it had only been a few months since you came of age. You wondered if she liked pretty dresses too.

Before you can ask her, there is a knock at your door.

The house steward, Jaromir, clears his throat when Iassa opens it for you, "The na-Baron requests your presence before he enters the arena."

Heavy doors open for you in one of the chambers beneath the arena. You are greeted by the sight of a half-dressed Feyd-Rautha being helped into his armor by a servant.

"Lady Atreides," he looks you up and down, "I hope you slept well."

You bow your head in acknowledgment.

"Your knives, master," a large man whom you assume to be the bladesmith presents Feyd-Rautha with two daggers.

The young Harkonnen takes one and caresses the blade with his fingers.

"I've come to wish the brave na-Baron well before his fight in the arena," you say in false earnestness.

He smiles at your inflation of his ego.

"Though I must say, I am relieved it is all for show. I would not like to see my groom wounded before we are wed."

"For show?" Feyd-Rautha tilts his head and you see his arrogant facade show the slightest crack.

"Yes, I've heard your opponents will be drugged will they not?" your voice dripping with innocence, "to ensure your safety, of course."

His grip on the dagger tightens, "and where did you hear this exactly?"

You sense the awkwardness and tension in the servants. The one who had helped don Feyd-Rautha's armor has quietly retreated to the far side of the chamber. There is a subtle tremble in the hands of one holding a plate of towels. You finally notice the three women piled upon a raised platform glaring at you.

"Just voices around the fortress," you shrug.

A deep breath recovers Feyd-Rautha's smug expression. "Call for the warden," he orders one of the guards by the door, "tell him to prepare new prisoners. Sober ones."

"My lord, you need not endanger yourself," you feign worry.

"Nonsense." The na-Baron walks closer to tower over you, "My lady bride deserves to see my true prowess."

He sees through your challenge, but you don't care. Seeing his self-satisfied smirk wiped from his face for even just a second was worth it.

"Besides," he turns away from you to inspect the second knife, "my darlings enjoy meat that's fought for its life."

The three women sneer at this and you see their sharp teeth as they hiss amongst themselves.

You've heard of Feyd-Rautha's concubines long before you arrived on Giedi Prime. Tales of their taste for human flesh were one of the things that tested your resolve in fulfilling the marriage pact. You didn't mind that the na-Baron would keep other women. It would result in less of his attentions on yourself, you figured. It was their perverse appetite that nauseated you.

A look of revulsion hides behind your veil which you sense they would be all too happy to rip to shreds.

"I will see you in the stands, little hawk," Feyd-Rautha whispers to you as he waves for a guard to escort you out.

You do your best to drown out the noise of what seemed to be a countless audience that came to see the na-Baron fight. You could understand now why they uphold such brutal traditions. The people are so excited for it.

On the other side of the arena, you sense Vladimir Harkonnen watching you from the Baron's Box that towered over the whole arena. The blazing sun only helps you avoid looking in his direction. You were sat at a viewing box, still for nobility and separated from the masses, but much lower and closer to the sands of the arena. Jaromir had told you that you were to 'give the na-Baron your favor'.

Before long, the master of ceremonies announces Feyd-Rautha's entrance in Giedi Prime Speech. They are celebrating his betrothal to you and the union of Harkonnen and Atreides, you translate in your head. You wonder if the people care for the politics of the Great Houses. They seemed no less excited to cheer at your name despite the centuries-old blood feud.

Massive doors open as the na-Baron walks into the arena. His arms outstretched holding his knives like an extension of his limbs. He riles up the crowd as he walks towards the Baron's Box and kneels to his uncle. He then rises and walks toward you, smirking under the stark light of the black sun.

You may not fear earning the Harkonnens' contempt, but you were the Duke of Caladan's daughter and you knew that the favor of the people was invaluable.

You stand and walk to the edge of the viewing box. The glowing smile you reveal as you lift your veil draws cheers from the crowd that rival what Feyd-Rautha received. You produce a pure white handkerchief from your dress pocket and make a show of kissing it and waving the cloth at the buzzing crowd. You throw it off the edge and it floats toward the na-Baron who had moved both daggers to one hand to catch it. He looks up at you with what you think could be the seeds of respect and tucks the cloth into the tight armband around his right bicep.

He turns back to the audience and raises his knives in a war cry. The crowd explodes in guttural cheers and applause. Feyd-Rautha takes his position in the middle of the arena as his first opponent is released into the white sands.

You've heard of the Harkonnen heir's aptitude in single combat. It's time to see if the stories were true or if it was just another part of their menacing facade.

You were handed a pair of spyglasses to observe with. The two fighters approach each other, the prisoner wielding a knife of his own. Feyd-Rautha holds a taunting stance. The prisoner was sober, you were sure, but even without the spyglasses, you could see he was weak. You surmised the Harkonnen cells weren't very hospitable. He attempts a swipe but the na-Baron parries with ease. Another and the na-Baron dodges. Zooming in, you could see Feyd-Rautha's twisted amusement. He was toying with the poor man—and the people loved it.

The crowds cheered at the clashing of metal, thundering when the na-Baron drew first blood by slashig his opponent's arm. It wasn't long before Feyd-Rautha's dagger had impaled the prisoner's heart. There was no pause before a second prisoner was brought out to meet a similar fate.

Feyd-Rautha stood unwounded, seething with exhilaration. He enjoyed this; the thrill of killing. He basked in the roar of the crowd. You had never ended a life before, but some deep part of you could almost understand how he felt in that moment.

A third prisoner enters the arena. He looked older than the first two, bearded and taller. He reminded you of Gurney Halleck, the Atreides Warmaster. This man certainly wasn't at his prime but you could tell he would not go down as easily as the first two.

The warrior holds his blade out in a firm fighting stance, refusing to make the first move. You notice picadors in black suits have entered the arena, circling the na-Baron and his opponent. Feyd-Rautha lunges at the prisoner and a quick series of parries from both sides occur. You see the finesse in the na-Baron's movement. He recognizes his opponent's skill and he is taking this one seriously. You were not sure what you expected of the Harkonnen's fighting style but Feyd-Rautha was vicious but precise. The crowd gasps when the prisoner disarms one of the na-Baron's knives. The warrior manages to get a grip on Feyd-Rautha's armed hand and aims to pierce the na-Baron's neck with his blade. The na-Baron struggled against his hold and the arid air was thick with anticipation.

You were unsure what outcome you desired as you stared through your spyglass. Perhaps this warrior kills your betrothed. What then? Would you really be able to go back to Caladan's windy cliffs again? Return to the arms of your mother as if it were all a bad dream? You wonder if when Feyd-Rautha becomes baron, and you his baroness, could you convince him to let you see your family.

The warrior's blade was dangerously close to your future husband's throat when one of the picadors lashes at the warrior. The na-Baron growls at the offending picador as the warrior is weakened. Feyd-Rautha pushes him off and allows him a moment to recover, taunting him to try again. Blades clash once more and after a sequence of quick ferocious movements, Feyd-Rautha's blade slashes the warrior's throat. Blood made black by the infrared of the sun splatters onto the na-Baron. He licks the darkness that landed on his lips. Heaving, he takes your bloodied handkerchief off his armband and raises it to you and the roaring crowd.

You did not even realize you were already standing, breathless at the sight.

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

Taglist: @torchbearerkyle @austinswhitewolf @dreamlandcreations @emeraldsgirl @strawberryfieldsforevermore

#feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #dune #dune part two #baron harkonnen #baron vladimir harkonnen #house harkonnen #house atreides #giedi prime #austin butler #space-mango-company #fic: stranger

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bugboioli23 · 11 months ago

Text

Swerve x Human!Reader

Disclaimer: I haven't written fic for a few years so my skills are gonna be a bit shit to be honest, any criticism is welcome and id love to hear what you guys think 💚

THIS IS 18+ - size difference, valveplug, oral sex, fingerfucking, doggy style, riding - 2911 words - AFAB reader but no pronouns are used

You and Swerve had been friends since you stepped foot on the Lost Light. Something about his chatterbox personality and sitcom-like humor had you beaming whenever you were around him. The best nights were spent perched on the edge of the bar counter, rambling for hours on end with Swerve. Tonight was one of those nights. It was after the doors had closed, the bar empty and silent aside from the laughter ricocheting from the both of you.

“Really?!” You yelped, eyes wide in surprise as you stared at the grinning minibot.

“I'm telling you! You wouldn't believe the amount of mechs who come by here asking for you!” Swerve replied with a chuckle, shaking his helm in shared disbelief. “Not only that but they actually think they could frag you! I'm probably one of the few bots on here who could frag you full sized.” Swerve paused, face freezing for a second as he quickly backtracked on his statement. “I mean- not that we would- NOT THAT I WOULDN'T WANT TO- I'm sure you’d make a lovely frag- NOT LIKE THAT- I JUST MEANT- im sorry- ” Swerve seemed to shrink in on himself as he continued to mumble to himself anxiously.

Your face burned red at the idea. The thought of a bot being stuffed between your folds, trembling at the foreign sensation of the wet flesh of your cunt. You wondered about the anatomy that laid hidden under the panels of your metallic friends. How similar are you compared to them? Just how compatible are your species? You already had gotten an enlightening talk from Brainstorm about Cybertronian anatomy after you explained human anatomy to him. (For his holoforms of course. No other reason.) You knew what you could take, but the fresh reality that this could happen left blood rushing south.

“Uhm… ____? You good? I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable or anything. I should’ve kept my mouth shut, I’m sorry.” Swerve looked at you apologetically. His light pout and the puppy eyes you could barely see behind his visor brought forth images that made warmth surge through your body once more. How would Swerve act if you asked him to fuck you? He seemed like the type of Cybertronian who wouldn’t mind a little experimenting with humans. He seemed like the type to whimper; the type to beg.

Heat flushed through your face as reality caught back up to you. You flashed him a bright smile and waved your hand dismissively.

“Don’t worry about me, I’m alright. Just thinking.” You glanced at Swerve, who looked unconvinced. “Hey, weren’t you and Blurr going to open a bar before you came here?” You asked out of nowhere, hoping to turn his attention onto something else. It seemed to work because he was already telling you about how Blurr was secretly his best friend. While the bartender was distracted, you let your thoughts turn back to the ideas at hand. You found Swerve to be adorable, the way he seemed to always work with a smile despite people talking poorly about him. His fascination with your species’ tv and music and how he would light up when you offered another film for movie nights. After tonight’s conversation, you decided it’s now or never to shoot your shot with him.

“Swerve?” You looked him up and down with a smile, interjecting his speech on Blurr’s latest record break. “Do you think fragging a human would be possible?” You spoke sweetly, letting your voice fall an octave to emphasize your intentions.

“Uhm, wouldn't Ratchet be better at answering that than I would?” Swerve thought he was hearing things. In his mind there was no possible way that you just asked what you had asked. His head must've made that up. It had to be some kind of self inflicted auditory hallucination. The way you smiled softly and rested a hand on his arm before leaning closer must also be a trick of the optics.

“Swerve, darling. I asked you for a reason.” You replied coyly, glancing up at him with an endearing grin. He felt his intake hitch and a sliver of charge run down his frame.

“Oh.” He choked out, face tinted with the rush of energon. His cooling fans kicked on with just the mere suggestion of what tonight could entail. “I- I suppose we could- figure it out…” He grinned shyly.

“That’s a good mech.” You purred, wide grin never faltering as you hopped down from the counter. You sauntered out of the bar with a new sense of confidence, only pausing to gesture to him to follow before the doors closed behind you. Swerve had to take a minute to collect his thoughts before practically sprinting after you.

Your habsuite was uniquely modified for your species. Instead of a hard metal berth, you had a cushy soft bed adorned with a mass of plushies, pillows and blankets. Soft lighting glowed from lower points in the room instead of one harsh light from above. It had your special charm to it, and Swerve wanted to spend every moment he could in there with you.

“So,” You started plopping yourself down on the edge of your bed, patting the spot next to you, “I’m going to skip all the pleasantries here, I want you to fuck me.”

Swerve let out a whine, feeling a surge of arousal flooding through his systems. His spike pressurized quickly, becoming heavy behind his panels with an embarrassingly loud thud. “Did you have to be so bold about it?” He hissed through clenched dentae as you gazed at him with desire.

“I think it’s more fun to watch your reactions.” You hummed contentedly before climbing into his lap, “Can I kiss you? Would that be okay?” You spoke softly, but your eyes never left his face. Swerve nodded hastily, servos hovering above your body anxiously. His intake opened to start a flood of questions but you cut him off with a kiss, exploring the foreign texture of his pliable metallic face. The strange rubbery feeling of his glossa felt wonderfly new against the soft muscle of your tongue. You let out a soft noise of pleasure against his mouth before you were interrupted by a snap of panels retracting and an enticing pressure laying heavy on your thigh.

“Oh- Slag, sorry I- you’re so- I wasn’t able to-,” Swerve began, but you pressed a finger to his lips as you looked down to study the new part of him. It was about 8 inches long, the red tip of it already leaking prefluids. It was mostly white, with a stripe of red along the underside decorated with biolights which pulsed needily. You trailed your hand lightly along the length, your fingers barely unable to touch around the girth of it. You looked back up at Swerve who was hiding behind his servos, face tinted pink with energon.

“Listen… I know I’m not as big as other bots but please… don’t stop whatever you were planning to do.” Swerve mumbled shyly, peeking at you between his digits.

“Oh, hun. You don’t have to worry about anything. You’ve got more than enough for me to enjoy.” You smiled, sliding off his lap to kneel between his legs. “May I?” You asked, wanting to explore his anatomy further.

He let out a shaky exvent with a nod and you ran your fingers along the grooves and panels of the Cybertronian anatomy. It wasn’t until you had gotten eye level with his spike that you had noticed his valve. It was dripping with transfluid and the hooded node was glowing a beautiful blue. You looked up at him from your position, eyes full of lust.

“Change of plans. Lean back for me, I’ve gotta taste you.” You purred, firmly pushing against his midsection lightly as he rested his back against the wall of pillows. You gently pushed his thighs open and trailed two fingers against the slick folds of his valve, coating your fingers in the sticky substance. You studied your digits before popping them into your mouth. The pink fluid was metallic and sour, but addicting in a strange way. You wanted more. Spreading his folds with one hand, you delved into his valve. Swerve watched, entranced by the way you slid the flat of your tongue against him. The sensation made him let out soft groans, which encouraged you more. You took your other hand and gently circled his anterior node, ghosting the edges of it teasingly. Your tongue dove into his entrance and you felt the inner calipers twitch and throb with need.

“Oh frag… you’re good a-at this. I’m- hnghh… I don’t have enough stamina for t-this!” Swerve whined as you moved the hand separating his folds and you backed away from his plush valve.

“Don’t worry, you are doing so good. Just lie back and let me take care of you, okay?” You cooed and went back to lapping at the transfluid that fell from his folds. One hand finally gave his anterior node pressure while your other hand went up to stroke at his spike lazily. The result of your combined actions had Swerve clawing at the sheets, his intake falling open as he gasped and mewled out so many words you couldn’t tell what he was saying until it was too late.

Warm fluid gushed over your face as he overloaded while you were still tongue deep in his valve. His spike throbbed in your hand as you felt more transfluid land in your hair and shoulder.

“FRAG- Ah- hah…!” Swerve whined as his frame trembled through the aftershocks. “Oh slag im so sorry!” His visor came back online just in time to witness your mouth and jaw covered in dripping pink fluids.

You licked your lips and wiped your face with your shirt before taking it off and tossing it aside. “Hey.. hey no worries. It’s okay. You’re okay.” You kissed his cheek, patting his thigh softly. “You did amazing. I’m so glad I could make you feel good.”

Swerve let out another high whine, seeing your chest bare before him. He slowly raised his servos to graze the flesh around your nipples. You sighed softly and raised your hands to press his servos more firmly to your skin. Swerve was still panting from his previous overload but he leaned in to press his lips gently against your sternum. His servos wandered up to press and massage at your nipples, circling them like you did to his node earlier. Your back arched, pushing your chest further into his servos as your mouth fell open softly. Swerve looked up at you, visor glowing with excitement and awe. “You’re stunning. I mean- frag, look at you, coated with my overload. Mine…” He breathed out, eyes trailing down your body to rest at your pants. He seemed to swallow before shakily continuing. “D-Do you still want me t-to..you know.. t-”

“I still want you to fuck me, Swerve.” You finished for him, moving your hands to swiftly undo the buttons of your pants, pulling off your undergarments at the same time and tossing them behind you. You grabbed onto his wrist and guided his fingers up towards your wet folds. Swerve got the hint and gently worked one finger into the tight heat of your cunt. He could feel the gentle pulse and pull of your walls around his digit, and he could barely imagine what it would feel like around his spike. After he felt you loosen up a bit, he slid in a second digit. You let out a gasp and a soft groan at the stretch, knowing that this was just the beginning if you wanted to be prepared to take his spike.

Swerve gently curled and flexed his digits, exploring your sex thoroughly as his processor worked overtime to memorize which movements felt the best for you. His audials turned to max sensitivity to be sure he could hear every whine and murmur of praise that fell from your lips. He could feel the second rush of energon repressurising his spike the more he pumped his digits into you. You glanced down between the both of you to smirk at his array before leaning in and pressing another kiss to his jaw.

“Awh, look at you,” You cooed, lifting your hips up to grind the tip of his spike against your clit. Swerve let out a strained whine as his hips bucked up involuntarily. Your smirk only grew. “You’re such a pretty mech for me.”

“Hnf s-stop…” Swerve whispered bashfully, turning his helm away as energon rushed to his faceplates once more.

“I mean it.” You continued, slowly easing yourself down on his spike as you guided his gaze to meet yours. Swerve’s intake fell open and his spinal struts arched as your body enveloped his length. His servos flew to your hips when he finally bottomed out inside you. The heat of your cunt pressed upon every sensor and node on his spike with such certainty that he could barely concentrate on your words.

“Hhoh fraggghh, how are you s-so- so-ooHHFRAG-” Swerve had started to speak but you decided that now was the time to lift your hips and slam yourself back down. You started to ride the mech like an animal, your hips popping up halfway only to quickly push him back inside. Swerve let out a chorus of moans and yelps as his servos twitched against the soft plush of your thighs, squeezing every now and then to ground himself. It wasn’t until your legs started to burn that you were reminded of something. You quickly stopped your movements and grinned down at Swerve as he abruptly gasped and looked at you with a beautiful expression of desperation.

“Wh-why- why’dya stop?” Swerve asked, his speech slurred from the sudden absence of pleasure.

“Sorry, but I just remembered that you’re the one who’s supposed to be fucking me.” You pulled yourself off of his spike and he let out a pathetic mewl at the loss of your body. His pout was quickly wiped from his face when he witnessed you getting down on all fours and slyly shaking your hips at him. You turned to smirk over your shoulder at him as he gawked at you. Not another second had passed before Swerve was on top of you, his spike easily finding its way back into your slick folds. He started pounding into you, the weight of his body pressing down nicely on your back as he mounted you.

“Mnh, there you go, good boy Swerve.” You moaned out as his spike pistoned in and out of you, shoving your body into the mattress. Swerve was brought to a mindless ramble as your pussy sucked him in deeper and tightened around him.

“Ahfraggingprimusyouretight-“ Swerve whimpered as you clenched around him harder. Your body trembled as you felt his spike throb inside you. Swerve hovered over you, intertwining his servos over your fingers as he thrust into you rapidly. “F-Frag, ____ I’m not gonna l-last much longer-“

“Good, keep going. I want you to fill me with your transfluid. Overload in me like the good mech you are.” You grinned against the mattress, turning to look at him smugly, reaching down between your legs to rub at your clit. Swerve leaned down to mewl and whine against the back of your neck as he chased his own pleasure, pushing your hips further up with every pump of his hips.

“Fuck, Swerve- I’m-!“ You felt your eyes roll back at the drag of his thickness against your walls and you let out a filthy moan as you hit your climax. You felt the slick of your cum coat his panels as your sex tightened around him. The whimper that left his vocalizer was angelic as he let his spike empty itself within you. Thick ropes of transfluid coated your insides, the warm sensation of sheer fullness bringing you back down from your high. Your body continued to pulse around his spike, milking him of the last of his overload as he gave a few final lazy thrusts.

The two of you lay there panting for a while before he slowly pulled out of you, watching in awe as his cum started to slide down your thighs. You slowly turned and sat up, feeling your combined fluids seeping out of you and onto the sheets.

“Ah… that was… let me get you a towel.” Swerve gasped, stepping to the closet to grab a towel to wipe you down with, wetting it with warm water before gently cleaning you. He lifted and placed you on the other side of the bed, putting the used towel over the wet spot after cleaning and closing his panels.

You stared at the red and white mech with unveiled adoration as he finally sat next to you again. You leaned in and peppered his face with kisses as he gently rubbed your thigh.

“Swerve, you do know how to keep your mouth shut about some things, right?” You murmured sleepily, hoping the bartender could keep his mouth shut for at least a week or two before word got out that the human is a mechfucker.

“Uhuh, yeah. Definitely.” Swerve nodded with determination. You sighed with a small smile, already accepting that your next appearance in the bar would not be the same after this.

#transformers #mtmte #valveplug #self insert #swerve #transformers x reader #swerve transformers #buggyboi draws #buggyboi writes #swerve x reader #hes so babygirl #i wanna treat him well #transformers x human

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kaq3yma · 5 months ago

Text

𝐊𝐈𝐃 𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐍𝐄𝐓 how they'd react to your interaction with younger kids [wind breaker boys]

qeena's brief note: idk how i feel about this but you guys can probably tell how out of ideas i am because some words just get repeated many times (˵ˊᯅˋ˵) though i think i did excel in certains part huweee ₍ᐢ⸝⸝› ‹⸝⸝ᐢ₎ cus i lowk love how i write for hiragi and togame! ik its short, and some scenarios just seriously bad written but still, let me know what you guys think okie ૮˃̵֊ ˂̵ ა tell me if you guys love, hate it, or so-so. your comments (no criticism pls T T) will really, really help me improve my writing skills! request is very much needed at this critical time. thank you sm sayangsss and happy reading xoxo 🌺.

桜遥 🌺

Given Sakura Haruka somewhat rough exterior, he might initially try to act indifferently if he saw you with kids. However, behind that oh-so fake facade, he is quite reserved and attentive towards your behavior. When he see you interacting effortlessly and affectionately with younger kids, it might makes him all a blushing mess. He, though he won't admit it, loves to see you with them, especially that one time where a kid accidentally drop her candy to the ground and you didn't hesitate to scoop her up and soothe her.

"..., ...Ru, Haru!" You yelled, awaken him from his train of thoughts. Sakura notice beside you there's a boy, a boy that oddly looks like him except for a different hair color. The boy's hair is ash black but his eyes, it's eerily reminds him of himself. They're gold, almost orange "I do not look like him, I'm much handsome!" The boy protested, causing both you and Sakura to look at him, bewildered. The small boy look at Sakura in disgust, and hide behind you.

"Why did you say, brat?" The boy cling to you, scared because Sakura was reaching for the back of his shirt. And it's safe to say, they're running and chasing each other around for the rest of the afternoon.

蘇枋隼飛 🌺

If Hayato Suo saw you with younger kids, he would react positively and be genuinely amused. He find it endearing and heartwarming to see you being caring and nurturing with children, but still, knowing his teasing and slight playful demeanour, he would probably still remark with a hint of humor, calling you "mother" to tease you.

"Now, oka-san, what are you going to play today?" You glare at him, slapping his arms playfully making him laugh. You turn to the bunch of kids in front of you as they frantically suggest what to play for the day. When everybody decides on police and thief, they all ganged up on you to become the sole police catching a bunch of mousey thieves. Suo sat by tree, watching you play with the children, running and pick them up when you catches them.

Overall, he would find the situation charming and cute.

楡井秋彦 🌺

Nirei Akihiko is as good as you are when it comes to younger kids. At first, he might find it slightly unexpected but would quickly find it heartwarming to see you being affectionate with them. The both of you would often visit the park to watch the neighbourhood kids playing at the playground and naturally find youselves included in their plays. You wouldn't count how many times Nirei fall flat on his face during the plays because it's a lot but nevertheless, the kids find it funny, not pathetic, not at all, just purely funny.

One time, all the kids hide from this one particular kid, both you and Nirei are hiding inside the slide thinking, perhaps it's the best hiding spot there is but boy, how wrong you are. The mini seeker aka the chubbiest boy in town search for anyone on top of the slide and being a lazy boy he is, he decided to use the slide instead of the stairs to get down and boom...! Both you and Nirei on the ground and the boy on top of you.

桐生三輝 🌺

When Mitsuki Kiryu saw you interacting with younger kids, he would react in a calm and warm manner. Knowing his gentle nature, it's likely would make him admire your ability to treat children with kindness but please, don't ever expect me not bite back when certains mini snobs goes around and mocking you, he would say something, anything, true but hurtful that will make them cower and run with snots hanging from their nose.

And everyone knows he might address his admiration subtly by smiling warmly or making a brief comment on how well you interact with kids. He just so appreciate the beautiful interactions.

"Kiryu, it's your turn..." He look at you, blinking away his confusion. He cough awkwardly and pick the same story book from your hands to read another story to the children circling you both.

"...The end, now you guys should go home." He leave no room for argument before he left the book to one of the kids and drag you. Now he can you for himself.

柘浦大河 🌺

Tsugeura Taiga is like Nirei but unlike Nirei, his enthusiasm to play with kids will include a bit of aggression, just a bit... When he realizes how undeniably good you are with younger kids, he gets giddy and energetic because he love kids! They're so innocent, doe-eyed and and adorable!

He loves the fact that you're not so different than him. Your interaction with the kids spark an excitement inside the pit of his belly. When you playfully chase after the kids pretending to be a monster, Tsugeura would join in gladly, taking two to three kids in his arms and run after you "Let's catch that pretty monster!"

It's a fun afternoon when you're outside, not at home, usually weekends, with Tsugeura and the kids, at the park, playing.

梅宮一 🌺

Hajime Umemiya is well aware of how good you are with kids. Right from the moment he first met you, he knew how caring you are with children, especially toddlers above threes. He met you when he visited his old foster home and there you was, helping a child on three-tired bike as you helped her by pushing her bike from behind. It's truly a sight to behold.

Even after both officially date each other, the amazement does not cease, if anything, it's expanding.

You both are at the grocery store, picking out candies, snacks and junkies before dropping by the foster home like usual. Umemiya went to the dairy section to get you and himself a drink but when he gets back, he sees you, tiptoeing to grab a bag of candy, presumably for the little girl next to you "Ume-chan, please help!" He laughs, heading to the rescue and help you get the bag of candy for the little girl.

If had you turn around fast enough, you'd see the way his eyes form to heart-eyes when you stroke the little girl's hair and bid her.

柊登馬 🌺

Hiragi Toma's usual serious expression softened ever so slightly as he observed you engaging with younger children. He might have quietly watched you for a moment before making a casual remark, something like, "I didn't realize you had such a nurturing side." He even found it a refreshing change from your usual behavior. The way your lips tug ever so-slightly when kids goes around to you to tell you about their days and the way you laugh when they tell you funny stories is a beautiful sight to watch, honestly.

Hiragi just finish patrolling the town and now on his way to your work place, the good-even-when-it's-cold pastry shop. However, just as he's about to enter, a boy, probably around six, beat him to it. The boy almost sprint to you who's behind the counter and he was frantically handing you out a paper. Hiragi watches the brief interaction unfold before his eyes with a small smile on his face. When Hiragi enters, the boy yelled in enthusiasm "Shark-chan!" He look back and forth between you and the boy, confused, until the boy show him the paper he initially handed you.

It's a sketch, an absolute hideous yet intriguing sketch of him and you, standing next to each other. His teeth showed as he smile brightly in the drawing "Pretty-chan gave me a picture of you to draw this!"

梶蓮 🌺

Ren Kaji dont like kids, especially toddlers around the age of eight to twelve. They're self-centered, immature and loud. They're also brutally honest which, sometimes, hit a nerve in the easily-annoyed man causing him almost to go berserk.

So when he saw you, the purest angel, the kindest soul to interact with his most sworn enemy, he almost went into a shocked-and-freeze state. Kaji also can't help but notice how attractive you look. He think he likes that side of you, that not-so foreign caring side of you, though he didn't really appreciate that side of you towards them.

When you saw Kaji across the field, you yell at him to come to which he did, begrudgingly. Unexpectedly, when he stop around, all the kids enthusiastically wave at him. Their smiles, damn, it struck him straight to the heart. His usual annoyed face falters as he look away, pretending to be irritate. You giggle, gesturing him to sit down beside you.

Before a quick matter of time, Kaji softened up around the kids. He may not seem like it but he's very attentive, listening to them with a pretend-disgruntled face "They're... Not so bad,"

十亀条 🌺

Togame Jo love your interaction with kids, only if they're not the annoying kinds. A stark contrast to his usual laid-back and tough demeanour, his expression often wavers to the sight of you with kids. But despite all that, he might have to make a sarcastic comment, saying something like "I'd never thought I'd see you playing the caring babysitter?" while still trying to maintain his cool expression.

"Hey, brat, don't give my girlfriend a hard time, okay?" His tone appear neutral and chill but that makes the kid cower in fear, nodding his head in an anxious manner.

He'd laugh when you smack his back, telling him not to scare the kid. He smile, giving you a quick pat on the head whilst one hand taking a sip of his cold ramune drink.

"Your Kame-chan is just worried for you!~"

兎耳山丁子 🌺

Choji Tomiyama has that hate-love relationship with younger children. Love because they're similar to him, cheerful, overjoyed and giddy. He love that even their way of thinking is similar. Him and kids, both think it's preferable to eat candies rather than actual food and hey, they're also on the same heights!

But... He also hates them because they're clingy and that's a bad thing because he is too. They're not sharing you with him but neither would he. Nevertheless of his slight hatred of them, he still love that you're attentive towards the group of children, very kind and gentle and he thinks you look so cute when you explain to them something in detailed like when they asked you; "Why is the grass wet?"

"Because it was raining."

"Why was it raining?" And you'd just tell them because it's sad and they'd ask you why it's sad so you just answer and answer their questions until they're tired.

"You wouldn't answer like that when I ask you though?" He pouts, dejected because he thinks you're being biased "They're four, Cho."

"I'm four too... mentally."

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morphean42 · 22 days ago

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Falsettos unpopular opinions because two people asked for this and honestly I don’t give a fuck anymore. I want to state this isn’t in response to anyone in particular, though, and if you get offended by any of these think about why. For a good reason? Please tell me and I’d love to debate it, truly. For a petty reason? You’re simply part of the problem.

1. They are Jewish. End of story. If I see anything related to Christianity or Christmas or whatever the fuck with them… shut up. Yes Whizzer is half-Jewish, yes in the revival Cordelia isn’t Jewish (WHICH BRINGS ME TO ANOTHER POINT ILL GET INTO LATER), yes they are most likely secular as evidenced by Mendel’s “religions just a trap” and ‘Days Like This’, no this does not give you the right to ignore their ETHNICITY AND CULTURE.

2. It’s okay to like the revival more. It’s not okay to ignore the original just because you get blinded by conventionally attractive men. Going to my Cordelia point, she’s Jewish in the original, her line ‘Shiksa caterer’ is ‘Kosher caterer’. Again it’s fine if your headcanons and fanfics and fanarts are based on the revival, I love it too, but stop acting like it’s the only version.

3. Whizzer’s entire personality does not revolve around being gay. He’s not a sassy twink. He’s a full grown man with issues that need to be addressed. Again, I reiterate, he is not a twink. Stop. Drawing. Him. Skinny. And. Hairless. I don’t care if ‘ oh but but that’s just my art style!’ Shut up.

4. Correlated to the above point, here are things Whizzer is not: a prostitute, a drug addict, relying on Marvin for everything, a twink (saying that again to get it through peoples fucking skulls), innocent. I’m 100% positive if the people who had these headcanons watched the OBC version of the show they’d never continue to advocate for them… once more I’m begging you guys to look past Andy Randy’s beautiful face and actually use critical thinking skills when it comes to Whizzer.

5. Short but (not) sweet: don’t claim to understand Marvin if you haven’t watched In Trousers. Just don’t.

6. If you flat out hate any character in the show, you’re wrong. Yes I’m still mad about the Mendel thing; if you think any one character is worse than the rest and isn’t just a fully human person with flaws and nuance, you don’t understand the musical as well as you claim.

7. It’s not the ‘gay’ musical. If you like falsettos for Whizzvin and nothing else, please, just… I don’t even know. There’s so much more to it than ‘ooo boys kissing.’ Please grow up, this leads into a whole other point but fetishisation is never okay, no matter who does it.

8. So many people treat Trina as either a perfect angel or just the side character in the way of the gay people. She’s an entire person, an entire character with flaws and hardship and terrible actions done by her and to her. Treat my homophobic queen with the respect she deserves, and acknowledge her faults too. It’s more misogynistic to treat her as perfect when she has issues too than just saying ‘she’s never done anything wrong’.

9. Stop making AIDS jokes.

10. This next one is probably the most iffy on the list. I will never be one to police fandom and creation, you can engage with material in any fucking way you like it literally doesn’t matter to me… but I dislike AUs. Now, I’ll always enjoy a little fun, adding in a twist like lesbian Whizzvin, or enjoying a feel good college AU. But. Especially for Falsettos the canon events are so fucking important and cannot be disregarded as casually as some do. AIDS is an extremely important part of the story, as well as the fact that both Marvin and Whizzer are men. I’m trans myself, but I dislike making them so simply because everything about their characters, all the characters, are so highly specific and important to take these aspects away is to disrespect the message of the musical.

11. It’s very important Mendel is straight. I see some people headcanon him as bisexual or trans or so on, and this just feels so wrong to me. Trina and Mendel are straight and that’s why their acceptance and love for the others in the Tight Knit Family is so important, especially Trina struggles with moving away from the idea that these ‘homosexual tendencies’ are wrong. They are straight but they love Whizzvin and the lesbians just as much as anyone else.

12. This one is so petty and I accept that, but… HIS NAME IS NOT MARVIN GARDENS. GARDEN IS A JOKE CHRISTIAN BORLE MADE BASED ON MONOPOLY. Jesus guys please just stop it it’s so stupid, William Finn didn’t have a last name for Marvin on purpose, and though I can’t do more than theorise what that purpose was, Gardens is so stupid. It’s not even funny. Same goes for Cohen, which just is odd. The only name I could begin to accept is Falsetto, and even then… just work around the last name in your fics.

12 1/2. SIDE TANGENT Jason would never take Weisenbachfeld as his last name. As a child of divorce… no. He’ll never view Mendel as a true father over his own dad, especially after Falsettoland, and he wouldn’t take that name. Hell, I’d known my ex step-father since I was two and I’d never have taken his last name. So, please, I never want to see Jason Weisenbachfeld again. That’s just not how it works.

At the end of the day this is just me alone in my room bitching… I just hope these points resonate with others.

#falsettos #falsettos opinions #don’t like this? just scroll and move on with your life #I’m tired of seeing these points #marvin falsettos #the marvin trilogy #whizzer brown #whizzer falsettos #jason falsettos #trina falsettos #mendel falsettos #mendel weisenbachfeld #Charlotte falsettos #Cordelia falsettos

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cripplecharacters · 2 months ago

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Hey folks, fully abled writer here! I've got a question about nicknames/descriptive names related to physical differences and abilities. I write a lot of fantasy fiction with differing name and language systems than the real world. I'm also fond of using compound names, such as "Dawnbringer, Hardcutter, Bluemark, Bearhunter, etc." So in a fantasy world where much of this society has given names and clan surnames following a specific theme of strength and durability, I have a character that has both his given name but also a nickname many people call him. This nickname is "Firebrand," and I invented him many years ago when I wasn't very critical of my writing or biases and just wanted a cool-sounding fantasy name. He is is a city guard in a city that is regularly attacked by fantasy animals for plot and environment-related reasons, and as I developed this character more I decided that rather than his original dark edgy backstory where he was called Firebrand because he was tortured, he now gains the name Firebrand because he survived a dragon's fire breath and came out of it with burn scars up his chest neck and arms, particularly on his hands that limits some of his movement and dexterity. I intend to make it clear in the story that it isn't a derogatory name, it's part of their society's theme of having names that signify how people survive things.

He likes the nickname and the meaning it has in his culture, because to him it means he's good at his job and he has survived hard times. Right now, the story is told through third-person P.O.V, and he is primarily referred to in non-dialogue narration as his nickname. In dialogue, he usually introduces himself with his given name and surname, but many people including the rest of the city guards refer to him with the nickname . His family and boyfriend will use either name for him depending on the context and company. At a later point in the story, when he and some others end up in a situation where they are dealing with fairies and the magical rules about giving them your name, his nickname gives him an advantage against the fairy rules.

Is this a reasonable concept at all, or is it all very weird to use an injury and acquired physical difference to identify someone with? Or, if the concept is alright but the name itself is bad, do you have any suggestions for how I might want to come up with a different nickname? I'm thinking if the use of the word "brand" in the nickname has too much of a negative connotation, I could try to replace it with something like "Firehand" or "Firebrave" that might have a clearer positive connotation to readers as well as his in-story society.

And although it's not the purpose of this question, I have been doing research about burn scars and treatment; this blog has been helpful! Since the burns were deep and he has limb tremors and cramps as well as scars, he has exercises and ointments to keep his scarred skin flexible, and he takes care not to take long tasks that will strain his hands with fine motor skills or whatnot. When on duty, his uniform includes gloves and a high collar for protection, but in casual clothing his hands are bare and his clothing doesn't hide his scars unless it's for weather protection. I may come back in the future with more questions about that, but I've determined what I need to start with about the physical effects his injuries have on him.

Thank you, and I hope you're all having a good day!!

Hello!

This sounds fine and pretty cool to me. The most important part is that the name isn't intended to be derogatory and that he actually likes it.

As a different disability-related example, "Wheels" and all its variants is a surprisingly common nickname that wheelchair users use (mostly younger guys). Sometimes you have a few of these dudes in one group and three people look at you when you try to call for one of them, it's just a fun nickname. Could it also be a cartoon-bully level derogatory insult if it was used for a character that hates it? 100%. It's very context dependent.

That's the same sentiment that's crucial here I think. Your character likes it and is proud of it? Go ahead. It makes sense in his cultural background and his nickname falls under a similar naming convention so it fits. I like the mention of how it reminds him that "he has survived hard times", since it's something that I've heard from burn survivors who explain why they choose "survivor" over "victim" to refer to themselves.

To answer your actual question: yes, I think it's a reasonable concept that makes sense in the character's setting. In another context yeah, it could be weird to identify with an acquired physical difference like that, but other people will do it anyway, you could as well make it "yours" and be proud of it, wear it as a positive. I don't think it's something that is an automatic "no" even if kinda weird. I'd go case-by-case and in your character's case it seems great.

As for the actual name, I agree that "brand" does have a negative connotation in English, all the criminal/cattle/label associations are less than ideal. I don't think it's detrimental to the concept like some other potential nicknames could be (looking at all the No-Faces and Half-Faces, which I do think are strictly derogatory) but if changing it to something less loaded wouldn't be an issue I'd probably do that. Both -hand and -brave are pretty awesome (the latter kinda reminds me of a warrior cat name but that's definitely a me problem), since they're either neutral or very positive in their connections.

Personally I care more about the fact that you're researching your character thoroughly, don't think that him being a burn survivor comes with some intrinsic negative traits, nor seem to put him in one of the Four Boxes. That's more important than terminology and vice versa - one could use the most up-to-date correct terms to refer to their OC and still make them into an offensive nightmare with bad execution. It doesn't mean that specific words aren't important but they (generally) aren't what breaks or makes representation that people want to see.

You seem to be doing good: my advice is to rethink the -brand part due to its connotations, and just keep researching as you write him.

Hope this helps,

mod Sasza

#mod sasza #valentinerose529 #terminology #burn survivor representation

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whoopsyeahokay · 7 months ago

Text

October Sun

summary: Wally had had no idea what he'd been looking at. Had barely had a reaction to it apart from subtle feelings of anxiety. In fact, it hadn't inspired anything more than a shrug and the thought of, "Neat. It's a tree."

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: eventual smutty smut smut. and mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence. very involved, very dense plot.

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER SUN pt.16

Group adjourned with Mr. Martin's instruction to pick anything but Rudy for tomorrow's Movie Night. Maddie split almost immediately; in pursuit of another lead or to stalk Mr. Anderson, Wally wasn't sure, but once he heard the door click behind her, he sagged in relief.

Too soon, he realized. When he looked up he saw Rhonda bolt from her seat and cut through the center of the circle like a shark through water, Charley on her heels.

"What was that?" She challenged, sizing the length of Wally up with a wave of her bare lollipop stem.

"What was what?"

Charley squinted at him, quickly scanned about before he leaned in and furtively said, "Oh, I don't know. How about that monstrosity of a performance you just forced us to participate in?"

Wally gulped, "I—"

"Spare us the crap, puppycat," Rhonda snipped, "We've seen each other's transcripts."

"I saw him misspell fundraiser," Charley added in a mockery of an anecdote Wally had shared during the session. And then, accusingly, "I know you know what a pun looks like."

Wally found himself on the back foot, mind going blank as he groped for an explanation that hedged the truth enough to get him out of Charley and Rhonda's crosshairs, but that didn't expose that he'd already known about the phone call and Mr. Anderson and the hush money.

"I was just...Uh..."

Unfortunately, Charley and Rhonda were too damn smart and your skill of inventing plausible excuses on the spot hadn't yet rubbed off on him. Inwardly, he reinforced his defenses and prepared for the Spanish Inquisition (nobody expects it).

"Wally," Rhonda said, blade-sharp, and Wally winced at her use of his actual name, "I know you think it's sweet to play clueless meathead in front of your crush—"

Oh. Okay. Sure. "That's—"

"—but, trust me, it doesn't work. Don't dumb yourself down just to get her to like you." Rhonda finished with a long-suffering roll of her eyes. An action that translated to mother-hen affection in a normal person.

"Besides," Charley said, a slack hint of sass to his syllables, "I think she just wants to figure things out. Not play tonsil hockey with a ghost who probably shared biology with the teacher that murdered her."

Wally tried to make his face react appropriately, had no idea if he pulled it off, but Charley and Rhonda didn't comment so he assumed it couldn't have been too bad.

"I don't think Mr. A is that old," Wally mumbled, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. "But...thanks, guys."

He had to acknowledge that it was nice that his friends cared about him. That they saw him as more than the overexcited golden retriever they often criticized him of being and wanted to make sure he wasn't trying to people-please his way into someone's heart.

Charley's expression mollified, "Anytime, big guy."

In feigned bitterness, "Well, I've done my good deed for the day," Rhonda announced, pushing past Wally to head for the door, "Let's go."

Wally turned as if to follow her, however, he caught Ajay's eye before he could commit to the action. He remembered then what Ajay had told him in the teacher's lounge about showing Wally something he 'needed to see'.

"I'll catch up in a bit," He called after Charley and Rhonda, backstepping toward Ajay to make his intentions obvious.

Charley shot Wally a lazy salute, "We'll be in the library for a while," and then turned on his heel to trail after Rhonda.

After decades of being in each other's pockets, it wasn't uncommon for members of their haunt to seek time one-on-one with each other. Everyone respected the unspoken exclusivity without comment and was especially understanding toward Wally, who had been the only teenage guy amongst them until 1992.

Bernie and Katelynn greeted Wally as he approached Ajay, though soon took their leave, Katelynn with a small and bashful, "See ya, Wally."

"Bye Katy-Cat." He said through a charming smile, ruffling her hair when she came into reach.

Katelynn shoved his arm away playfully, blowing Wally a raspberry before she continued over to the empty circle, immediately setting to work helping Mr. Martin and Bernie stack the chairs.

Wally turned back to Ajay, "Alright, my guy, where to?"

They exited through the side door, sunlight temporarily blinding Wally after having spent an hour sitting in the poorly lit assembly hall. Not giving Wally's eyes a chance to adjust, Ajay took him by the elbow and physically maneuvered him in the right direction.

"It won't seem like much," Ajay said as if in warning, "so you need to trust me." He released Wally's elbow when Wally began to move under his own power, and hurried his stride.

"I do trust you," Wally replied, voice bouncing as he picked up his pace to match Ajay's. "Whatever you're gonna show me, it's gotta be important."

Ajay's ears reddened. "Thank you."

They were headed toward the tree line along the backside of the school, the field spread out to Wally's right. Down the steps, along the path, picnic tables and chainlink fence. Cheerleaders practiced their pyramid and the junior gym class played kickball.

Anxiety began to creep over Wally as they neared the boundary line, a slow and subtle discharge of fear frequency transmitting across his brain in a cold flush.

"Heeey, are you sure this is the right way?" Wally had to ask, his skin starting to feel clammy and too tight on the bones of his fingers. He began to slow his steps, afraid of being circus-canoned back to the 5-yard line, but Ajay plowed ahead without concern. "Dude?"

Wally almost rammed into him for how abruptly Ajay stopped, the toes of Ajay's shoes so close to the invisible line it gave Wally heart palpitations.

"There." Ajay said, pointing at a tree that stood approximately two meters beyond the school grounds.

The tree wasn't anything special. Tall, leafy, burled in various places up its trunk, and roots weaved and whorled around its base, some thick enough to sit on comfortably. Carved initials and numbers and heart shapes by students who'd wanted to immortalize their memory in its bark. It was the kind of thing one would expect from a tree in a private area near a building full of teenagers, really.

"What am I looking at?" Wally asked.

"I don't know what it means, so don't ask me," Ajay stated, clearly preempting that Wally would have questions after whatever Ajay was preparing to demonstrate. Ajay crouched to gather a stone from the ground, "Watch this."

He tossed the stone. It smacked the tree, dislodging a piece of loose bark from the center of a crooked heart—bullseye—and fell without fanfare into a nest of roots, a thin poof of dirt raised on impact.

Wally waited for something to happen. And waited. A n d waited.

"I don't get it." He said after a few uneventful beats. "Was something supposed to happen?"

"It did happen." Ajay insisted, bending to pick up another stone.

That one, he handed to Wally and motioned for him to throw it at the tree. It hit, denting the bark, but again, that was the end of it. Wally peered up at the leaves—unruffled—then down at the roots—inert—and finally back at Ajay who pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Watch this." He commanded, scooping up another stone as he marched a few feet away. "Are you paying attention?" He asked, not unkindly; an earnest bid for Wally's focus.

Wally gave him a tight smile, "Yup," and a thumbs up, taking a few steps closer to prove the point.

Ajay flung the stone. Except, this time, it ricocheted back as soon as it pierced the barrier. Disappeared for a blink and then spat back out, flying in the reverse direction. Ajay threw his arms up and protected his face a split-second before the stone struck him, bouncing off his forearm to land with a thud at his feet.

Wally's jaw dropped, "What the shit?"

"Do you get it now?" Ajay questioned, dusting off his hands as he strolled back to Wally.

With a frown, "Sort of?" Wally reached for the barrier, not quite touching for fear of what could happen and where he'd end up, but just enough to feel its presence warm the palm of his hand. "I guess it would be too easy if we could go through, huh?"

"I attempted it a couple of times," Ajay shook his head, "Either way, the barrier is definitely weakest here. And," He paused, building suspense, "At four other points around the school."

Eyes fixed on the tree, Wally hypothesized, "If we figure out how to weaken it more at any of these points, we might be able to get out of here..."

"We just might," Ajay concurred, "I tried finding information in the library and the computer lab, but—" It was a Christian school board, he didn't have to say, and occult topics were heavily vetted.

There weren't likely to be any useful books available and the online network was limited, browsers blocking sites the school didn't want its students to visit. Wally's knowledge of the latter was an embarrassing smear on his reputation that he'd had to beg Charley to keep secret.

He shoved the memory back in its box and once more buried it in the darkest recesses of his mind.

Never again...

"You think my girl would know how to handle this?" Wally asked despite having already determined he was going to tell you about the barrier's weak points. He just wanted to make sure Ajay was aware and on board.

Ajay shrugged, "She certainly has access to more resources than we do. Couldn't hurt to mention it."

It was settled. Squaring his shoulders and straightening his spine, Wally broke his scrutiny of the tree and turned to Ajay.

"Alright, then, show me what we're working with."

💀___________________________

PART FIFTEEN - PART SEVENTEEN

also available on AO3!

MASTERLIST

#Milo Manheim #Wally Clark #Wally Clark x Reader #fem!reader #Wally Clark smut #Wally Clark fanfiction #Milo Manheim fanfiction #School Spirits #zed necrodopolis #Disney Zombies #October Sun

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