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roguishcat · 15 days ago

Text

A sound judgement

Thank you so much @pursuitseternal for your request and for giving me this prompt (Magistrate Astarion AU, where he was never turned)! This was an absolute delight to write, even if it took me a while to actually get done. Hope you enjoy it!

Excerpt:

And this was when Astarion remembered that he was, in fact, the law and you had no choice but to obey him. A small voice in the back of his mind chose to remind him how badly this could backfire. Astarion chose not to heed the warnings of said voice and immediately began plotting.

Word count: 5.1k

Pairing: Astarion x female Reader

Tags: some suggestive themes, Astarion being a menace to society, Astarion being a brat, fluff, tooth-rotting fluff

❤️Love it? Hate it? Tell me what you think! ❤️

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The afternoon sunlight brushed warmly against your cheek as you enjoyed a rare moment of peace. Instead of running around Baldur's Gate, fixing buildings, helping those in need, the Hero of the Gate for once decided to read a newspaper in a park. Something quite mundane for some, a rare luxury for you.

You were not slacking. But you have come to realise that in your bid to please everyone you would soon completely burn out. Which is why you didn’t feel a smidge of guilt when you found yourself going to Bloomridge park instead of the Upper City.

Not having to make any decisions and just simply be for an hour felt absolutely heavenly. Children played, the members of the book club gossiped, and couples whispered among themselves. This was exactly what you loved about this city. No matter how much havoc was wrought, Baldur's Gate healed rapidly and would soon be back to its former glory.

You cast your eyes over the articles in the newspaper. Nothing special, thank the gods. Just silly gossip and the like. You quickly looked through it and gave a happy sigh. No news was always good news in your books!

Yet, no matter how pleasant this little break was, you were well aware that your assistance was needed at ten odd locations today. It was time to get back to work.

Getting up, you looked at the newspaper in your hands and decided that perhaps someone would enjoy reading it. Afterall, there was hardly any reason for you to take the paper with you. And leaving it behind would probably save some poor apprentice a copper. Thus assured that you were doing no harm, you folded the newspaper up neatly and set it down on the park bench for another to enjoy.

Just as you were about to walk away, you heard someone clear their throat loudly.

"What do you think you are doing?"

It was one of the Fists. You didn't recognise him. Perhaps it was a new recruit, seeing as otherwise he would have known who you were.

"Excuse me?"

"You are littering," he stated, pointing to the newspaper with an accusatory finger.

Ah, so a simple misunderstanding.

"I am not littering,” you smiled pleasantly, in spite of feeling that it was rather strange of the Fist to worry about something as inconsequential as litter out of all things. “Just thought someone else might enjoy reading the paper now that I'm done with it."

The Fist did not look impressed by your explanation. In fact, if anything he seemed even more set in his belief that a heinous crime was being committed in broad daylight.

"I am arresting you for littering in a public garden," he seemed to think about it for a moment. "And for arguing with a city guard."

"I've hardly said any-"

"Resisting arrest, are we?" he drawled, making your mouth tighten as you bit back a snarky retort.

"No, I will come with you willingly," you grumbled.

Perhaps if you played along for a bit, you could talk to someone of a higher rank. Saying anything to an overly eager guard who was obstinately sticking to his accusations would just attract onlookers.

"Good. The judge is waiting for your arrival."

"What? What do you mean judge?" you frowned. What business did any judge have looking into misdemeanours and especially something like littering?

"His Honor Judge Ancunín is waiting for you. Don't dawdle. It's rude to keep him waiting."

Suddenly all of this made sense. You ground your teeth and followed the Fist. Of course it was Astarion! That ass!

"Oh, trust me. Him waiting for me will be the least of his worries once I see him."

You felt that you had every right to be annoyed at Astarion. No scratch that. You had every right to be livid and spitting fire! Because this was the fourth time that bastard got you arrested in a little more than a month! And every single bloody time if was for something dumb and trivial. You had no idea how Astarion managed to do it, how he knew exactly where you would be, and how he convinced those Fists that he was to be the judge handling your case.

That stupid, stupid ass!

He couldn’t just come by the tavern and talk to you like someone normal. No, he needed a show of power, especially with him being promoted to judge in high court! Because apparently this was how Astarion got his kicks nowadays. He needed for you to be near forcibly escorted to the courtroom and thrown at his feet. Preferably pleading for mercy and asking him if there was any way that you could make it up to him.

You scowled. The whole scenario just sounded like the plot of some cheap, third-rate smutty novel one would pick up at Sharess'. But if he thought that you would cower before him, that elf had another thing coming!

On the other side of the city, Astarion Ancunín was drumming his fingers against some book he was supposedly reading. Astarion was in a foul mood. It's been several months since the defeat of the Absolute. He and the merry band that defeated the cultists were celebrated just as you deserved for about a tenday, and then went back to your lives. Halsin was immediately off with his wagonfuls of brats, Gale returned to Waterdeep, Shadowheart went to live with her parents in the countryside, Wyll and Karlach waged war in Avernus whilst Lae’zel sought to overthrow Vlaakith. In short, everyone left the city except you and Astarion. Well, Jaheira and Minsc were probably about, but he didn’t care about them enough to check.

For a while, Astarion enjoyed the privileges that came with the title of Savior of Baldur's Gate. The fame had him moving up the ranks with impressive speed until he was promoted from magistrate to judge. No more minor cases! Oh no, he was in the big leagues now. And he was so, so bored.

Astarion could hardly believe that this dull, bureaucratic crap was all he did for years until he got tadpoled. And in the past, he enjoyed it well enough. But having experienced the thrill of adventure, the rush of adrenalin, the drama and the fun of travelling, he could not fathom sitting at a desk for the rest of his long, long life.

Which was when he realised that the only acceptable source of entertainment was you. Except getting to you was easier said than done. Everyone wanted your time and, being the annoyingly selfless creature that you were, it was near impossible to find any window of opportunity and see you for longer than a few minutes. And by the gods Astarion wanted to.

You two shared a couple passionate encounters when you were on the road and decided that you were better of as friends. Well, at least you decided that. Astarion was not quite on board with the whole platonic thing, but with death literally being around every corner, he begrudgingly agreed that a budding romance was the last thing you both needed at the time.

And this was how the two of you became friends. Except Astarion wanted more, so much more. And herein lay the problem. He never in the past had to woo anyone. His good looks and roguish charms were generally enough to have everyone chasing after him. An interested look and a smirk would often be enough for his potential lovers to drop their pants fast.

But this tactic, if one could really call it that, didn’t actually work on you. And he tried showing his interest. Astarion invited you on outings and to parties. Afterall, there were soiree aplenty where he his resplendent beauty would definitely be reason enough for you to want to sneak away and spend some quality time in some secluded alcove. Except yoh would actually have to turn up for that to happen.

Not deterred, Astarion tried sending you gifts and you sent him something equally pleasant back. Which he interpreted as 'thanks for the present, but not for the interest'. This had him gritting his teeth in annoyance but surprisingly not giving up.

Because he wanted, and craved and yearned. He wanted nothing more than sequester you in his rooms and not allow you to leave for weeks. Or until he felt that he fucked that whole ‘friendship’ idea out of your mind.

So he abused his power in every way, had you arrested time and time again, dragged through the city and thrown into prison to await his judgement. You should have been flattered really that he went to all that trouble simply to arrange a meeting. Honestly, most wanted nothing more than to have a passing glance from him, when you had the entirety of his attention!

Except something seemed different this time. When you walked into the courtroom and levelled him with a look previously reserved for your enemies, Astarion wondered if perhaps his plan was not quite as foolproof as he had thought.

But it was too late to back out. He assumed a sort of casually reclining bored noble position and waited for the Fist to read out what you were being charged with.

It was a surprisingly long list. Perhaps Astarion should have chosen a less zealous guard.

As each wrongdoing was reported to him, Astarion couldn’t help but worry about the way your face darkened by the minute as your eyes shot daggers. He was quite sure that it would have been actual steel piercing his flesh by now if it weren’t for all those witnesses.

“Enough,” he lifted his arm with an imperious look, making the Fist pause, only half-done with his report.

“Your Honor?”

“I see that this matter does indeed require my special attention. Yet, seeing as this is the Hero of the Gate,” he paused for dramatic effect noting with annoyance that this seemed to have the desired effect only on the scribe, the Fist and whatever staff were about rather than you, “I may be persuaded to lift the charges.”

“How generous of you…. Your Honor,” you said in a reverent tone that contradicted your face expression.

Astarion gulped, to his confusion feeling both concerned and aroused.

"Well,” he cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, “I am nothing but generous."

"Of course. And earnest too!" you nodded. “Why, I am sure that your impartial perspective will allow you to deliver an objective verdict-"

"You forget yourself!” Astarion cut you off abruptly. He rather enjoyed your insolence, but appearances had to be kept up. “Justice should be a harsh lesson. To make sure that no such offense occurs in the future. I ought to administer the punishment where you stand. Make an example of you."

"Well, what are you waiting for, your Honour?” You leaned forward slightly and lowered your voice. “Punish me as you see fit."

Astarion thanked every god he could think of at that moment that he was required to wear loose fitting robes. Because he was already half-mast and carrying on with this conversation would eventually make his problem rather obvious to all present. That would be the Fist, the mages, the scribe, and whoever else was milling about that he generally did not notice. Wholly unacceptable.

"Do follow me, no guards required, thank you."

"But- but your Honor!” the Fist stammered, clutching the report to his chest. “What if she tries to assault you!"

"Trust me, I am perfectly capable of handling this one."

He pretended not to notice you rolling your eyes, motioning for you to follow as he started for his office.

You made your way down the long, winding halls, quite sure that you would be lost if it wasn’t for Astarion. Every now and then the surface of the walls would ripple, and a clerk would emerge from the depths of a secret passage and shuffle past, head bowed and curling in on themselves, only to sink into the opposite wall. If you were to press your fingertips against the surface, you were sure that you would find solid stone.

The narrow hallway widened and you walked into what appeared to be the archive, shelves filled with scrolls, stone tablets and books. A veritable cornucopia of every kind of crime carefully recorded and catalogued over centuries. You scowled as you thought of how your supposedly atrocious crimes were among the entries.

You walked up two flights of stairs and finally reached the door to what seemed to be Astarion’s office. The elf opened the door and stood aside, letting you walk in first. You scoffed and pushed past him, making a show of flicking your hair in his face. Astarion drew back a little with a grin, anticipating you doing something so childish.

The door clicked closed behind you and immediately magic hummed to life.

"Arcane Lock? Really?" you arched an eyebrow.

"Just so we don't get disturbed, dearest."

Your eyes followed Astarion as he walked around his desk and sat in the beautifully upholstered chair. Just like everything else in his office, it looked eye-wateringly expensive and imported.

"How may I help you on this fine day?" he motioned for you to take a seat on the other side of the desk.

"How may you-"

You cut yourself off and took a few deep breaths before you said something terse that would get thrown into prison. Again. You took a seat, noticing immediately that your chair looked much less comfortable. Trust Astarion to make his company squirm in their seats.

"Astarion, I think-"

"Your Honor," he corrected you with a smirk.

"Fine, whatever! Tell me, oh great Judge Ancunín, ignoring the abuse of power, the made up charges and you potentially bribing the city guard into arresting me, what are you actually hoping to get out of this, hm?"

Astarion took off his glasses and started polishing them with careful, unhurried movements. Outwardly he was the epitome of calm and grace, the one in charge. Inwardly, however, he didn’t have a clue what to do now that he had your full, undivided attention.

Because eloquence in the courtroom apparently did not translate into eloquence with you. Astarion was kind of hoping that you would just somehow fall into his arms and then the two of you would forget about the battle of wits in favour of something far more engaging. But apparently you wanted a real, honest answer. And that would be tricky seeing as he didn’t know how to put what he felt into words.

The silence stretched, tensions high, your patience almost at its end.

"Do you know what? Fine,” you spat, narrowing your eyes at him. “Don't answer that. It was stupid of me to think that you would treat me as a friend. I'm just going to pay a fine or whatever else I have to do and be out of your hair. You obviously have better things to do around here than talk to my lowly self."

"I never wanted to be your friend,” he interjected, looking uncharacteristically nervous.

"Well," you cleared your throat, annoyed at yourself for feeling hurt by his words. "You've made that plenty obvious."

Understanding that you misinterpreted his words, Astarion quickly grasped your sleeve as you prepared to rise.

"I- I am not sure exactly what I want,” he frowned, looking down at the polished wood of his desk. “I have very little experience of wanting to be around others for the sake of enjoying their company. Getting acquainted with someone was always done with one purpose in mind, to climb the social ladder until I came out on top," he gave a little high-pitched laugh, running his fingers through his hair to brush it back.

"So when it comes to you, my dear, the last thing I want is to be your friend,” he took a deep breath, letting go of your sleeve to interlace his fingers to stop himself from fidgeting. “I have never wanted to be just friends with anyone less in my life.”

“And I don't know what you are to me,” he took a breath to summon the courage to carry on. “But when I look at you, I ache. We are good together. There is a potential for... something wonderful,” he did look up then, eyes locking with yours. “And I want to find out what that is, if you want that too."

You were stunned, momentarily speechless. Looking at him as if you were seeing him properly for the first time. Because it has been so long since you've seen that raw, earnest expression on his face. Body language filling in whatever blanks that were left behind by words.

"Oh hells, say something," he pleaded and put his hands on top of yours.

And then you were in his lap and your lips were on his, because you would be lying to yourself if you did anything but kiss him at that moment.

"You are still an ass," were the first words out of your mouth when you broke apart.

"Yes, dear," he kissed you jaw and then down your neck.

"I can't believe you had me arrested!"

"And I probably will again if you take days to answer my letters or otherwise ignore me," Astarion was already done with the ties of your outer clothing, discarding them by throwing them carelessly somewhere behind you.

"Do you know how embarrassing it was to be escorted to the courthouse? I bet newspapers will have a field day with this!"

"And any journalist who writes a word about this will be brought before me."

You tried to get his robes off him but were having trouble with the diamond encrusted broach holding the cravat in place.

"Argh, why do you insist on decorating yourself with all of these useless baubles!"

"Well, someone has to support the local businesses. You do your bit to see Baldur's Gate restored, I do mine."

"Oh, shut up," you laughed, finally getting a glimpse of his chest and running your hands down soft skin with a sigh.

"Feeling happier dear?"

You felt a breeze on your shoulders and then Astarion's hands cupped your breasts.

"No, I'm still annoyed at you."

"Well then I must double my efforts."

Clerks scuttled about the endless, winding halls, each wanting to impress their superiors.

A loud thump was heard, and a tremor reverberated throughout the building, making the panes of glass zing in protests.

A young human clerk gasped, "What in the hells is going on?"

"Judge Ancunín is questioning the Hero of Baldur's Gate," another replied with a yawn, seemingly not worried.

"This sounded bad, do you think he will need a hand?"

"What, ya mean since his own hands are full?"

The other clerks tittered, picking up scrolls and putting them back on the shelves.

"Oi, stop being mean to the newbie!" someone called from a distance.

"Or be even more of an ass and let him barge in, that would be even more entertaining," a tiefling chortled without looking up from his scroll.

"So, no one is in danger?" He said slowly, not really sure whether he was meant to ignore whatever was going on during an interrogation.

"Nope, in fact, I'm pretty sure that next couple of days are going to be easy," the tiefling took another scroll and added it to the pile in front of him.

Another tremor went through the building, making an ink pot fall off the desk.

"What do you think is going on there?" the young clerk whispered to the co-worker that seemed fairly friendly, unlike the rest.

"Aw crap, don't tell me that no one explained the birds and the bees to you yet?"

"Oh. Oh!" He gasped, a blush dusting his cheeks as realisation set in.

A halfling carrying thick tomes past his desk stage-whispered to no one in particular, "This one is not the sharpest quill, right?"

"Shit! Code Arsehole! Judge Buttershed is in our wing!"

An elf burst in, every head turning in his direction. The clerks stopped laughing, one hurrying down the hall towards Judge Ancunín’s office whilst the rest got to work with impressive speed.

"Why are you even covering for Judge Ancunín?"

The tiefling rolled his eyes at the newbie but graciously chose to reply.

"Because in spite of his eccentric ways and borderline obsession with the Hero of the Gate, he is the best we've had in years! Do you want to have to rewrite all your scrolls because your handwriting is neither here nor there?"

"Gods, do you remember the 'no use of magic above Level 1 in governmental buildings’?"

"Pft, that was nothing,” a handsome elf with long hair put up in a severe, tight chignon scoffed. “I heard they used to have gremishkas just to make sure no one used magic on site.”

"He's here!"

Most would not understand what the commotion was even about. To a casual observer, Judge Buttershed would appear fairly unremarkable. Just a short, portly man with a sweaty face and capricious expression whose spectacles were woefully unfashionable even a century ago. His whole demeanour screamed that he disliked everyone in this room immensely and could not wait to go back to his wing, where according to him things were still done the right way, and settle into his chair in his office.

"I heard that Ancunín was late for court yesterday. Again. Although, judging by the disorder I see here,” he boomed, a little spittle flying forth, “this is of little surprise. Therefore, I feel it is my duty to give him a stern talk."

"Considering his status, your Honour, is that wise?”

Judge Buttershed looked down his nose at the half-elf who dared contradict him.

“Who are you to tell me what I can and cannot do? I will make sure to fire you first once Ancunín is out of here,” he pointed a fat finger at the clerk.

Expecting to see fear and reverence in forest-green eyes and finding neither, he cursed under his breath and made his way down the hall, muttering to himself and shooting hard looks at whoever happened to cross his path.

Thus assured that he was doing the only thing that would save Baldur’s Gate judicial system from collapse, Buttershed burst through the doors, all righteous anger, ready to deliver his judgement. Only to find his rival and the Hero of the Gate sipping tea, engaged in amicable conversation.

“Oh? To what do I owe the honour Buttershed?” Astarion quirked a brow. “What was important enough for you to barge into my office without making an appointment with my secretary?”

“Don’t you dare talk to me that way, you- you- charlatan! You know full well that you have no business sullying these halls with your disgusting presence!”

“Astarion? Who is this? I will make sure to mention him the next time I pay a visit to Duke Ravengard,” your voice was pleasant enough but the look you levelled the intruder with spoke volumes. “In fact, I was going to call on Ulder tomorrow. Luckily, with us being old friends and all, I hardly need to bother to make an appointment!”

Judge Buttershed was defeated, and he knew it. Whilst he was prepared to take on Ancunín, feeling that he could successfully make a case and prove that the elf committed professional misconducts, the Supreme Marshall of the Flaming Fists was not someone to trifle with. Bidding his farewells to you only, he left the room in a flurry of silk and barely concealed complaints muttered under his breath.

“Now, my dear. That was most impressive,” Astarion purred, taking a sip of tea.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you shrugged, picking out a particularly scrumptious-looking biscuit and happily crunching on it. And then selecting one more, wondering if Astarion would mind terribly if you took the rest with you.

“I mean, you accuse yours truly, saying that I abuse my power. But are you any better?” he set his cup aside to place a kiss on the corner of your lips, your cheek and under your jaw. “It’s nice to know that the heroes are as bad as the rest of us.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Astarion,” you popped the biscuit into your mouth with a smile. “Now then, I must leave. Seeing as I missed most of my appointments for today and have to reschedule, don’t expect to see me for a while.”

His hands tightened round your middle, head resting in the crook of your neck.

“Must you leave?”

“For now. But I will make sure to come by in the next few days or so, okay? I miss you when I’m not around you,” you admitted, looking at him from underneath long lashes. “But there is so much to be done still… I feel selfish. For feeling so happy.”

Ah. And that was your most vexing quality that he exploited so readily when you first started travelling together. Your damnable selflessness. He loved you for it. He hated that you extended it to others.

Astarion sighed into your shoulder and withdrew. You felt the absence of his warmth so acutely that it took all your willpower to turn around and walk out of his door at that moment.

Astarion got you arrested on five more occasions before he finally summoned the courage to ask you to move in with him. Not for any particular reason. You were barely home as it was, so did it really matter which space you cluttered up with your armour and such? Which corner you tossed your boots in at the end of a long, tiring day?

Astarion, of course, being quite meticulous, made sure to organise your things for you. He began by colour-coding your undergarments drawer. To which he got a mixed response, considering he expected nothing but enthusiasm and gratitude.

A year into you living together, Astarion tossed a book onto your shared bed with a self-satisfied smirk.

“Dearest, I got you this. Considering you might not have enough reading material.”

“The ‘Court of Love’? Let me guess, you saw the title of this smutty little number and just couldn’t pass by?”

“Something like that. Would you indulge me by reading out a passage or two whilst I get ready to retire for the night?”

You narrowed your eyes. Something seemed off.

“What are you up to, Astarion?”

“My love! Your suspicions wound me!” Astarion crawled onto the bed and leaned against the bedframe.

You didn’t trust him for one second, but decided to play along for now, being a little curious yourself.

“The culprit was dragged in front of the magistrate. Her heavy breasts heaving with every laboured breath, nipples erect and pointing in his direction… Oh gods, this is terrible!” you chortled, making yourself comfortable and putting your head on Astarion’s bare chest.

“Isn’t it? Go on then, I want to hear what happens next,” he grinned, twirling a strand of your hair around his long fingers.

You giggled and turned the page.

“The magistrate rose in one swift movement, his eyes flashing and muscles flexing. He moved slowly, a predator circling his prey. Her eyes followed him, heart hammering as he breasts rose and fell with every breath, her nipples- What is with this writer and nipples?” you rolled your eyes.

“Hot, isn’t it?”

Astarion was clearly having a whale of a time, though he seemed to be familiar with the text, his attention directed at you, as if wanting to make sure he caught every reaction, every expression.

“Are the nipples meant to be moving around so much? They could be out there directing foot traffic! I’m guessing that you picked this up at Sharess’?”

“Indeed, I did! And who are you to judge the quality of this book!” Astarion said with an air of a mother defending her child. “I’ll have you know, it was sold out in hours! I worked hard to get my hands on this copy!”

Then something clicked in your mind. You read the next two pages quickly.

“Magistrate Arunin and the Hero of the Coast? Astarion, is this based on us?” you looked at the cover at the book to check the name of the author. And sure enough, it was the Fist that arrested you for littering and then two more times after that.

“I’m going to kill him!” you growled, throwing the book on the floor. “And I don’t mean that in a cutesy way. I mean I will literally run my sword through him,” you pushed against Astarion’s chest. The elf gripped you tighter to stop you from leaving, as you were clearly intent on making good on your promise in spite of the late hour.

“Being a slave to the quill is truly a dangerous profession these days,” Astarion laughed, flipping you over and manoeuvring you so swiftly that you felt a little dizzy until he had you pinned against the bed.

“Now, whilst that murderous glint in your eyes is truly fetching, I think our energies would be better spent on each other rather than on some writer. Besides,” he went on, popping button after button open and pulling your shirt open slowly, fingers trailing along your skin, “I hear that he is planning on writing a sequel. And I find myself eager to read what depraved adventures the magistrate and the hero will get up to.”

Your words of outrage were quickly cut of by insistent lips as Astarion kissed you, tongue darting out through the smallest opening in his mouth to coax your own to open. And then there was no more talking, just groans and sighs, and gasps and moans.

As night bled into morning and you were fast asleep, Astarion congratulated himself on his usual practical sagacity, as once again his sound judgement resulted in an outcome most pleasant. Perhaps you were not keen on his brilliant plan at first, but you had no reasons to complain about his ways of going about getting what he wanted now.

And thus assured that he was always right, Astarion pulled you closer and closed his eyes, allowing himself to rest.

💖 Tag list 💖:

@ninty900, @ayselluna, @dajeong, @ravenswritingroom,

@misscrissfemmefatale,

@clazberryk, @anukulee,

@preciouslittlebhaalbae,

@sh3rl0ck, @mellowenthusiast2299,

@fleetstreet78, @starlight-rogue

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion #bg3 astarion #fanfic #astarion fanfiction #fanfiction #baldur's gate fanfiction #astarion x reader #astarion x you

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zexapher · 6 months ago

Text

Weiss: You know… I’ve been thinking back to when you asked me to the dance.

Jaune: You – ah, you have? I’m sorry if I was a bit… much, back then.

Weiss: Don’t worry, you weren’t so bad. It certainly frustrated me to no end back then, but now it seems cute. Something personal, and heartfelt. I had all these ideas in my head and, well…

Jaune: I shouldn’t have kept at it like that.

Weiss: No, but now things are different. Things have changed – we have changed. And I wouldn’t mind you trying your hand at another serenade.

Jaune: Really?

Weiss: You know I like music. And I have a collection of instruments back home. Perhaps we could put on our own little duet. You can… you can grab one of the guitars, finger a few of my strings.

Thought I'd share a little excerpt from the fanfic I published today, titled "Pastry Pandemonium." I threw a chunk of innuendo in, but that last line is about the most risqué it's gonna get. But I know what the people want, so I added a little arm in arm hand-holding action. You animals!

It's really all fluff and humor for a White Knight date night set in Mantle. 2k+ words, so it's a quick read. I figured it rates K+ on FF.net, so PG if you want to be careful. Originally planned to just make it as another edit, but then I got rather taken with the idea and turned it into a nice little story. I'll come back around to make that edit eventually.

Anyway, here are the links if you're interested in reading:

FF.Net

AO3

#RWBY #rwby fanfiction #weiss schnee #jaune arc #rwby white knight #white knight #rwby whiteknight #whiteknight #jaune arc x weiss schnee #shipping #fanfic #fanfiction #memes #rwby memes #my writing #my edit #rwby ships #rwby fanfic

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lakesbian · 4 months ago

Note

Although that Discord excerpt is often cited as the original "Coil is black WoG", my secondhand understanding is that the actual original moment is a fair bit older, took place in IRC instead, and sadly wasn't recorded as far as I know. Basically, someone floated the hypothetical possibility that Coil was black. Another user insisted that he couldn't be black, apparently for racist reasons, and Wildbow decided to do a little trolling by decreeing on the spot that Coil was canonically black, to dunk on the racist in the chat. And because of Wildbow's whole personality, he then became very attached to the idea that this had always been his intent, even though it was clearly an impulsive decision and he clearly hadn't actually thought through the implications for the race politics of Worm as a whole.

Sending this ask actually sent me down a whole rabbit hole, because the main piece of evidence that gets cited that Wildbow totally actually did intend Coil to be black all along is that at one point, in 16.10, when Taylor is blind, she describes his hair as "coarse". I was going to bring that up, but it suddenly occurred to me that Wildbow has gone back and edited Worm several times, especially over this kind of internet discourse bullshit, and it's entirely possible that this was one of those times. So I decided to do some investigating on the Internet Archive, and it turns out that I was right! The word "coarse" was added to the description of Coil's hair in 16.10 sometime between September 19, 2015 and May 27, 2016. Which I guess narrows down when that incident in the IRC must have happened.

damn you should have made this your own post this is good detective work. didn't know that was a mystery that needed solving but the more you know. i was rather baffled as to how the book that's infamously racist about derogatory descriptions of Evil Gross Black People managed to have a black child predator villain without ever including gratuitous racism in the description of coil, and "it's because coil wasn't initially intended to be black and wildbow retconned it in an ill-advised attempt to own a racist + maintained it as true henceforth" would actually make perfect sense as an explanation

#ask #wormblr #parahumans #not really super relevant to the book itself but im trying to do the tagging things so they can be located later thing #worm spoilers

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emkayewrites · 3 months ago

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Another Behind The Scenes of Luke and Nicola rehearsing THAT sex scene taken from my Lukola fanfic. In my universe, this was just practice for them ;)

(Excerpt taken from my fanfiction 'Curtain Fall')

15th October 2022 – Buckinghamshire (UK)

Luke leaned over until he was on top, supporting his body weight with arms that enclosed her from either side. She observed that he was not quite his usual alert self and his tousled hair and sleepy eyes evidenced this. He was clearly sleep-deprived, a common issue afflicting most of the actors and crew at this stage of the production.

Luke lowered himself so that his lips were right next to hers; the strong minty smell of toothpaste overpowered her senses.

He probably didn’t even get his morning coffee. She thought to herself.

He delicately ran a hand across her forehead and over her hair. It was a tender albeit unscripted moment.

“Can I follow that with a closed mouth kiss?” He asked, a small smile spreading across his face.

Another action that was not scripted.

“It feels right.” She smiled back.

He pressed his lips to hers and she felt her mouth tingle in response. It was likely the most chaste kiss she had ever experienced but there was something about it that excited her nonetheless. It was exactly how she imagined Penelope and Colin would be; shy but hungry, wanting more and more of one another but still somewhat hesitant.

As Luke pulled back, his face above her again, their eyes briefly met before he looked down as he manoeuvred himself above her into position. The position. She found herself instinctively placing a hand on his chest to stop him.

“Wait.” She breathed. “Don’t break eye contact.”

He nodded in response. They both started to move together in the slow, rhythmic motions of coitus, their eyes never leaving the others. She had been right about the eye contact. There was something about it that added to the intensity of the moment. She wondered where his mind was right now as they made these sensual movements together.

The modesty cushion that was placed in the gap between their pelvic regions pressed into her, and she felt a light pressure down there.

She felt the cushion shift and then she felt the distinct motions of the cushion not only pushing down on her but also rubbing against her. She was pretty sure that was not supposed to happen. She let out an audible gasp of surprise. Despite it being off-script, Luke responded with a mischievous smile and quickened his pace above her. She thought that he was clearly reading this as Penelope showing enthusiasm and passion. The friction between her and the cushion increased and she was beginning to realise that it was not entirely soft, it in fact had pretty hard edges. She found her heart racing at the sensations that were starting to happen between her legs and pressed a hand into his chest, as if pushing him away.

“Oh, oh!” She exclaimed breathlessly. “That’s touching, that’s touching!”

He was quick to respond, a look of concern crossing his face.

“Wait, what?” He pulled back, sitting up and appraising the neutral-toned, heart-shaped cushion that had been between them.

“Nothing could be touching - the cushion remained in place.” Lizzy stood up from the armchair she was seated in and walked towards to them.

They were on set in the room where this scene would be filmed in front of the crew and the cameras. They were rehearsing with just Lizzy, trying to finalise their choreography using the real space where the action would occur. Nicola and Luke were situated on a large check-patterned chaise longue that they had been told would likely be used in the actual filming.

“It might have looked in place, but it felt like it was going up and down the place, if you catch my drift.” Nicola explained, using her elbows to support herself into an upright position.

Luke’s eyes widened as he took in her meaning. “You mean…?”

“Yeah.” She smirked. She marvelled at how comfortable she was with admitting something like this. The instinct to feel embarrassed or awkward about anything relating to their intimacy scenes had long left them both.

“Wow, you’re welcome.” He joked.

She could not help but to cackle in laughter at the remark.

“Oh, drat.” Lizzy was appraising the cushion with a frown. “I think this needs to be glued or strapped down to stop that happening.”

Nicola pictured herself, all but butt-naked, with the modesty cushion glued to her nether regions as she paraded herself through a set filled with, amongst others, the director, the cinematographer, and the grip. She could tell from the amusement spreading across Luke’s face that the same image had crossed his mind.

“I knew I was going to look a little ridiculous, but I think we’ve reached the peak here.”

“Hmm, I think it needs to be fastened to both of you to prevent rubbing on either end really.” Lizzy had barely registered Nicola’s comment, instead she was turning the cushion this way and that, her mind already in problem-solving mode.

“I stand corrected.” Nicola quipped, the visual of her and Luke attached to one another’s nether regions through a cushion taking over her thoughts.

“Great, we’ll be a really sexy pair of conjoined twins.” Luke remarked, making Nicola snigger.

“Hmm, I think we’ll need to take this over to Wardrobe and see how we can attach this to the modesty garments.” Lizzy continued. “Why don’t we break for an hour and that will give me time to whip something up with this?”

This was not what Nicola had wanted to hear. They had only started their rehearsal twenty minutes prior to this. It was not setting a good precedent for the rest of the day. As enticing as it was to be given regular breaks, those breaks also served to elongate what was already going to be a very long day. She could sense Luke was feeling the same way from the face he pulled.

“Well, I guess we could rehearse other parts of the scene while we’re in here.” He suggested.

Lizzy’s expression quickly changed into one they rarely saw.

“I really wouldn’t recommend that.” Lizzy stated sternly. “This is a safe space to work out boundaries and consent and my presence helps to ensure that from a professional but also legal standpoint.”

“I think we can handle it. I feel like we’ve got the consent and boundaries well laid out.” Nicola added in support of Luke. “Honestly, it almost felt like you weren’t even in the room now.”

Lizzy blinked at her with the same unchanging look on her face. “As much as I’m glad you’re so comfortable in my presence that I may as well be furniture in the room now – I am still in the room, and that part is important.”

Nicola was not sure she was entirely convinced but understood that this seemed a non-negotiable.

“Fair enough. I won’t protest to work more when I could be taking breaks.” Nicola shrugged.

“Good. I’ll see you guys at eleven o’clock. Why don’t you grab a cuppa and go for a walk - it’s lovely out there!” The smile returned to Lizzy’s face; she seemed content that her point had been made. She disappeared from the room, cushion tucked under her arm, leaving them to collect themselves.

“You’re thinking it, right?” Luke fixed Nicola with a knowing look.

“That it’s a stupid rule and we are going to take any opportunity to practice that we can?” Nicola asked.

“Yeah!” He enthused.

“Yeah, I was thinking it but I’m surprised Mr. Never Even Jaywalks is.” She teased. “Are you sure your conscious will allow it?”

“Why do it when there’s a zebra crossing or traffic light on every street? Why even take that risk?” His voice was tinged with an annoyance that served to amuse her further.

“You’re right, there should be special prisons for those people.” Her tone was mocking, and he rolled his eyes at her.

“Alright, well we’ll start with breaking a set rule or two, and we’ll work our way up to the ol’ jaywalk.” Nicola reassured him.

“Rehearsing extra hours is not really a rule break.” He replied dismissively, almost as if to reassure himself.

“This is going to break your brain, isn’t it?” She snickered.

“I’m not gonna be given a hard time for following rules, thanks.” He intonated, raising his hands in the air in a back off gesture. “But some rules are made to be broken.”

As soon as the words left his lip, she could tell he regretted them.

“Did ya just hear your voice out loud and realise how lame you sounded?” She asked.

“I really can’t pull that statement off, can I?” He sighed.

She laughed and wrapped an arm around his neck. “Well, at least you’re self-aware about it.”

He pulled an arm around her waist in return. These were actions they hardly thought about. There was an instinct that kicked in that made them reach for each other, physically or emotionally. It was something that had developed gradually and was now a feature of their relationship.

“We’ll have to rehearse those scenes in one of our trailers when Lizzy’s not around then.” He suggested. "Could head there now?”

"I've never known anyone so keen to break the rules!"

"It's not a rule if it's stupid." Luke continued to insist as they left the room, arm in arm.

She burst into laughter at his words. She had already been having fun but she sensed things were only going to get more entertaining.

#luke newton #nicola coughlan #bridgerton #polin fanfiction #bridgerton fanfiction #lukola #polin #colin x penelope #penelope featherington #colin bridgerton #ao3 fanfic #lukola fanfic #derry girls #clare devlin #behind the scenes #on set #bridgerton bts #polin sex scene #polin gifs

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littlemisspascal · 3 months ago

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Today marks the 3rd anniversary of my fic The Infinity Cube. I can still remember posting the first chapter, hoping at least one person out there liked it, and I can still remember how it felt to reach the end, a feat that wouldn't have been possible without the support of so many kind souls 💗 I wanted to make something for the occasion and having seen so many amazing web weavings out there, I thought I'd give it my best shot 😊

THE INFINITY CUBE: a journey home

Shades of Earth by Beth Revis // I Choose You by Adam Melchor // When Did It Happen? by Mary Oliver // First Love by Jennifer Franklin // The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde // The Bronze Horseman by Paullina Simons // The Amber Spyglass by Philip Pullman // 10 a.m Is When You Come To Me by Louise Bourgeois // Maybe In Another Universe, I Deserve You by Gaby Dunn // Maybe When the Time is Right You Will Find Me Again - K. Tolnoe // We Were Missing the Present by Mahmoud Darwish // Persona (1966) // Matched by Ally Condie // In the Pines by Alice Notley // It Wasn't Love // La Pointe Courte (1955) // "My better half" by Pablo J. Davis // The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller // Bioshock Infinite // Calling a Wolf a Wolf by Kaveh Akbar // Oh It Was Meant to Be - Kate McGahan // Pillow Thoughts by Courtney Peppernell // If My Body Could Speak by Blythe Baird // Fourth of July by Sufjan Stevens // Unending Love by Rabindranath Tagore // The Blinding Star by Blanca Varela // Wild Spirit, Soft Heart by Butterflies Rising // Finding You by Kesha // Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want by The Smiths // Web weaving about the untold story in you // "Feel like making a deal with the devil?" // A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara // Reborn: Journals ad Notebooks by Susan Sontag // I love you like a rotten dog // Sax Rohmer #1 by The Mountain Goats // The Bubble (2022) // Rabbit Hole (2010) // Beginning with O by Olga Broumas // How many times can the same thing break your heart? // War of the Foxes by Richard Siken // On Death in Heartbreak // Lonely Day by System of A Down // This Road (The Mirror is a Trap) by Poe // Memory for Forgetfulness by Mahmoud Darwish // "Do you think we're soulmates in another universe?" // Radio Silence by Alice Oseman // "In one timeline we kiss" - Elizabeth Hewer // Tiny Beautiful Things: Advice on Love and Life from Dear Sugar by Cheryl Strayed // Almond Blossoms and Beyond by Mahmoud Darwish // X // The Collected Poems of Alvaro de Campos by Fernando Pessoa // Excerpt from Moony Moonless Sky's 'I am an observer, but not by choice' // @/lookoflove // Stone Butch Blues by Leslie Feinberg // "Do you know what it's like to live somewhere that loves you back?" - Danez Smith // Home by Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros // The Chaos of Stars by Kiersten White // Home // You and Me

All Pedro Photos - Pinterest // Reader in my story is physically a blank slate, I just really like the photo of Javi + Gabriela touching foreheads

#marcus pike x reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction #the infinity cube #my poor edit attempt

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blenselche · 5 months ago

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I love Minerva infinitely.

referenced this scene recently in another comic thing so I decided I should prob sketch something to throw into the fic

“I wanted to ask you something,” Minerva nods, encouraging him to continue, “do you need help with botanicals to synthesize medicine from? Can’t really imagine these islands have that much biodiversity.” “That’s… that’s very thoughtful of you,” she says, brows lifting in surprise. “You’re right, of course, we’ve unfortunately had to make substitutions with our compounds,” she rubs at her upper arms, sound of her silicon skin echoing against the walls as she sighs, “treatments are limited and at one point our hospice wing took up the majority of our hospital’s footprint. I would welcome that happily, but how?” Fern uncurls his fist between them and reveals a green foxglove as it emerges slowly from his body. “It’s something I do at home– as part of a phytochem gig. The bomb mutated a lot of the life there so we've got a similar problem in Ooo.” “… for heart failure. That’s amazing.” Minerva moves to cup his palm between her hands, voice faint as she speaks. She takes it between two fingers and holds it closer to her face, inspecting it for abnormalities. “I don’t know a lot about the actual process of creating medicine, but if you give me a list I can make whatever," he pauses before adding "except full grown trees, so don’t look at me if you need aspirin," with a sheepish shrug. Minerva laughs and gathers his hand between hers. “Thank you, truly. Even if you didn’t offer this gift, I should thank you anyway for keeping my son safe.” “You’re—“ Fern's face flushes violently, roots of his hair turning a dark maroon, “welcome. I, uh, jeez this is weird for me," he mutters, eyes darting to their feet. "You’re a doctor so I thought ‘I’ll use my magic trick to get her to like me after what I did’ but I guess I didn’t need to try so hard.” “I am overjoyed with your offer,” Minerva explains as concern pitches her processors higher, “but your value does not come from what you can do for others.” She scoots her lounge forward and cradles his cheeks loosely with gentle hands as Fern's face twists, as his set chin wobbles against his cracking composure. “Even if you've decided that you are not my son you still hold parts of him, and you don’t need to try to get me to like you when I already love you.” Her thumbs pet at his skin, wiping away the wetness that starts to stain his lower eyelids. “A parent’s love isn’t conditional, but I am so proud, no matter who you find yourself being.”

Keep Yourself Redux Ch 1 excerpt

#keep yourself au #fern the human #minerva campbell #adventure time

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interroblog · 7 months ago

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I started free writing last week and it tripled my daily word counts so I feel the need to evangelize 👀

I’m in the “figuring out what happens in this story” stage of plotting which is what it’s been really great for, but I can see it helping any time you need to solve problems or get ideas. Here’s the rules I use for myself, hopefully someone else will find it helpful

Write every thought. All of my free writing sessions start with a ramble about how I’m going to start free writing, then I write all the things I could explore until I latch onto one and go.

No thought is too undeveloped. Even if it’s a poorly written sentence fragment or idea about an idea… it might lead to something else, so it goes in.

Chase your ideas! If I’m writing about one idea and I suddenly get another, I’ll just immediately swap to writing about that. I can always finish that other idea later, but I know I’d forget about the new one. It’s easier to remember a half-written idea than a fully unwritten one.

Writing something doesn’t mean I’m going with it. I’ve written down ideas then immediately after added “But I don’t like that because (reason)”. It almost always leads me to writing about another idea that I like a lot more

Basically, it’s not about what you write. It’s about the ideas it leads you to. It’s so helpful for making me get out of my head and solidify thoughts so I can build on them. I’ll put three excerpts from my free writing doc under the cut to show off the different levels of “quality”

“there’s only one bridge into this area, it’s closed for flooding after snow melt. So that’s why they’re stuck in this area. Amp brings them back to his cabin? Doesn’t want to let a bunch of kids sleep outside. There’s two layers to his interactions, the truth that he would die for these fuckers because they are his family- and the lie he’s telling them. It’s the latter I’m trying to figure out.

they first meet him at the gas station, then later [note: here I skipped to the next line to follow a new thought I had, then never went back to finish this one because it connected back anyway]

They’re camping in the woods when they see something tall and inhuman. The moonlight reaches it and they see amp with a torch and a bag (torch??? Who am i) of food, fire starter, and a blanket (given to Saint, who then forces tab to share it with him because he feels awkward. Cuties)

He says he saw their car on the road, it’s march and he didn’t want anyone freezing to death. (There’s the hint that he didn’t just see their car but he knew to be looking for them. He didn’t just happen to have all that stuff on him, after all.)”

“time to free write 500 words real fast cause i wanna get to 2k. What are we working with. I think I’ve got some good stuff right now, it all just needs to fall into place. Let’s see how it goes, listing arcs.

There’s Saint’s arc which i still need to define more, it’s been changing a lot as the story develops which is good!! The goal!! I don’t want to solidify it too much, but it goes”

“let’s see… i really want it to build on itself, and the surgery stuff feels too out of place or like a regression, even though it’s literally the point of the story. Maybe it’s the fact they go home? I could try having the surgery take place in the underground with saint only thinking he’s back at a hospital- but that undermines a lot of the stuff with the parents if it isn’t real”

#mine #writing #writeblr #writing advice #wip: moon #this is for that one person that asked how I freewrite

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moodymisty · 6 months ago

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'We float for Macragge.' That is the cutest quote ever omg. Thank you for blessing me with this, I'd never seen the meme before. The blueberries are so charming sometimes 🥺 -anon that likes excerpts

It's one of the less popular iconic WH40k memes, but I see people reference it sometimes. Here's some more funnies because I like forcing people to read this stuff.

There's also the fucking hilarious scene of an astartes with new terminator armor falling through a floor, and his buddy has to call a crew with a crane to get him out, which is fucking hysterical. (master of sanctity)

‘Some kind of sub-level here,’ reported Daellon. ‘Descending.’ ‘Wait!’ yelled Telemenus, but his warning came too late. The audio pick-ups brought the sound of splintering woods and crumbling ferrocrete followed by an almighty crash. Daellon cursed without pause over the vox. ‘Report,’ barked Arbalan. ‘Brother Daellon misjudged the load bearing of some internal stairs, brother-sergeant,’ said Telemenus, trying not to laugh. For once he was glad somebody else was attracting the negative scrutiny. There was a chuckle from Cadmael and a sigh from Arbalan. ‘Daellon, can you climb out?’ asked the sergeant. ‘Negative, a three metre drop at least. The floor will not hold my weight to pull myself up.’ ‘No threats detected,’ Telemenus added, his auspex sensors encompassing the long row of huts. ‘Understood,’ said Arbalan. He sounded impatient. ‘Daellon, remain in place, I will signal for an armoury extraction team. Telemenus, rejoin the squad.'

There's also a book I don't remember where a group of baseline humans are descending from tight steps with an astartes, and are VERY concerned at the creaking of the stairs from his weight. Chunky boi

Also here's Guilliman making a joke in Armour of Fate about him being stuck in this massive bulky armor and Sicarius just, doesn't get it. This moment was another reason why I always recommend Dark Imperium to people, it just kind of gets Guilliman and how different he is from his legion now.

Sheaves of blueprints were scattered across the desk in front of him. He spotted something of interest written on one and reached for it, gritting his teeth against the purring of the suit. He always reached with his right hand. The integration points for the Hand of Dominion on his left made picking anything up nigh on impossible, even with the over gauntlet and its underslung bolter removed. Day-to-day tasks such as this were a struggle. His armoured fingers pushed at slick plastek. Ceramite skidded across the papers, knocking them to the ground in wafting flutters. ‘Oh, for the love of…’ he grumbled as he bent awkwardly to pick them up. The Armour of Fate was bulky. As its waist joint prevented him from flexing his spine and reaching the floor, he had to kneel. He reached for the scattered flimsies. Fingertips failed to grasp the sheets, sending them fleeing in small armadas over the polished floor. He growled in frustration, abandoned his task and stood, drawing a curious look from Sicarius. ‘I have the manual dexterity of a Legio Cybernetica battle automaton!’ Guilliman said. ‘Created by the Lord of All Mankind, master of the greatest armies in the Imperium, and I cannot pick up a plastek flimsy.’ He glared at the offending articles. ‘My greatest enemy.’ There was a thoughtful quiet. ‘You are joking, my lord?’ said Sicarius. Guilliman looked at Sicarius. He had to turn all the way around to do so. The pauldrons, ornamental wings and large halo mounted on his back made it impossible for him to see over his shoulder. At least he had stopped knocking into things. There was that. ‘By the Throne, why am I expected to be serious at all times? Yes, Captain Sicarius, I am making light of my predicament. During the worst of the Great Crusade, I was known to make the occasional jest. Even after Terra fell. I did not spend my entire previous life writing deep thoughts into little notebooks, but sometimes dared to enjoy myself. I suppose that was not recorded in the hagiographies.’ ‘Humour is not something you are renowned for, my lord.’ ‘My time in this new age has revealed that to me amply.’

I have way too many random book moments stuck in my head. And not enough space for actual useful information.

#reply #or an excerpt where a tau almost convinces Sicarius not to kill her but then he changes his mind and runs up and football kicks her #or Ferrus roasting Lorgar into the next millenium #Misty's book club

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yibocheeks · 7 months ago

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War of Faith Translated excerpts from the livestream where the cast watches ep 28-29 (spoilers under the cut)

Director Yao says that Wang Yang added this gesture of straightening Wei Ruolai's clothes in this scene (unscripted)

They get to the part where Wei Ruolai is being taken to the execution grounds. The MC asks Yibo: At that time was Wei Ruolai preparing to meet his death or did he think that he was going to be saved? Yibo: Who would think that there would be someone that would save him?

They watch Wei Ruolai run away from Lin Qiaosong Director Yao says about Yibo: He could join the Olympics sprint! He performed so well here.

Wang Yang (on when Shen Tunan realizes that Shen Jinzhen is the sniper who saved Wei Ruolai): [Tunan] is very conflicted, because on one hand, Wei Ruolai still lives, on the other hand, the person who saved him is Shen Jinzhen. So this was really difficult for him. Director Yao: He was always guessing that maybe his sister was a communist, a part of him had already prepared for this, but he didn't want to face the reality.

They watch Ruolai, after he has escaped from Lin Qiaosong and is alone with Niu Chunmiao. MC: At this time, director, do you think that Wei Ruolai is in a perplexed state of mind? Director Yao: Yes, because right now he is at a dead end. He has already given up his previous set of beliefs, but he has not yet found a new set of beliefs. He followed what his parents believed in, but he was unfamiliar with the communist set of values, which were different from what he knew. He had never met a communist, the only one he knew was his brother, but his brother passed away. So he didn't know the theories behind it. He wouldn't easily accept a new worldview that he was completely unfamiliar with. At this point, the two female characters helped to push him in that direction. The MC then asks Yibo to share what his thoughts are on Wei Ruolai's state of mind at this time. Yibo: I think the director's analysis is very well said. (gives a thumbs up)

Director Yao: Yibo is very good, he will immerse himself in his own imagined scenario, a certain atmosphere, in which he will then think about how the character will respond.

On Wei Ruolai's character development Director Yao: I think [the way Wei Ruolai's character develops] is more of a realistic take. A person will not think, I want to join the communists and immediately convert to that side. It's not realistic. We want the audience to believe in this process. His change happens one step at a time. Even when he arrives in Soviet Jiangxi, he didn't immediately join the Red Army. He wanted to see a bit more. Then after another incident happens, in his heart he holds a lot of resentment and hatred, there were things that he felt were unresolved in Shanghai; he met a group of lousy people and this made him angry, but there was nowhere to direct this anger. Then when he went to Soviet Jiangxi, he found the same thing that happened, but that the Red Army really seemed to treat those who are poor well. He thought, this is what I want, what he couldn't get where his shifu was, so this excited him.

Director Yao says that the little motorcycle that Yibo rode was vintage, and that it broke after Yibo rode it once.

They talk about the scene where Shen Tunan slaps Shen Jinzhen Director Yao: That day, Wang Yang's biggest dilemma was whether he should really slap her, while Li Qin was thinking about how she should respond to the slap. Wang Yang is quite softhearted. He had quite good control, he didn't actually hit her and his tears also came out. This is very difficult to control. That day Li Qin also said to him, "Ge, just go for it." But he never actually hit her. He's too softhearted. (jokingly) Once we got the scene I yelled cut right away. It was a difficult scene to film. The mentioned scene starts to play. The MC asks Yibo a question about Wei Ruolai but Yibo points to the screen and says (with a gremlin smirk): Let's continue to watch this scene Li Qin: The audience has already seen this. Yibo: Oh I haven't seen it yet Director Yao and Li Qin: Oh then watch!

The MC brings up that netizens discovered that Wei Ruolai, Shen Jinzhen, and Niu Chunmiao used the same red swallow cup, and that this was an easter egg that showed that they were all on the same side. The director clarifies that this was a coincidence.

The MC then asks: Did the actors themselves notice this detail? Yibo: I also only realized after it was pointed out.

#war of faith #translations #wang yibo #wang yang #li qin #yao xiaofeng

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spirk-trek · 8 months ago

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Private Possessions Fanzine & Novel | Jackie Zoost, Alayne, Marilyn Cole, Natasha Solten (1986)

Excerpts from Private Possessions below:

"Truth stared Kirk in the face.

But I can’t… I can’t just take advantage of the fact that he doesn’t remember me, dammit! Kirk argued fervently. I can’t play the role of his master, he thought, mentally choking on the word. Even if I wanted to, it would mean losing him forever…

And if he doesn’t recover, then he’ll still have his… dignity… and I’ll still have his friendship. It was a weak argument even to his own ears.

The Truth agreed. You’ll have nothing, it reminded him.

I’d rather have nothing than to have him on… on dishonest terms! He wouldn’t accept that and neither will I!

Truth laughed, shaking an admonishing finger at him. That��s your problem, Kirk, it stabbed without mercy. It’s always been an ‘all or nothing’ bargain with you, hasn’t it? You want the whole jar of candy or none at all. You’re spoiled, selfish and too noble for your own damned good or anyone else’s! It’s up to you, old friend.

Kirk found himself trembling. Why is it always up to me? he asked of no one in particular.

You’re the captain, the Truth-demon reminded him sarcastically. That was another of those ‘all or nothing’ bargains you struck with the universe, remember?

Kirk bit his lower lip until it was painful. Not now, his mind pleaded with his nasty conscience. I… I don’t even know what I’m feeling…

The Truth in his mind sighed disbelievingly. In case you’ve never labeled it, Kirk, it’s called love…"

Edit: From what I understand, Alexis Fegan Black is a pen name for Della Van Hise (a fairly famous TOS author) and there has been much discourse from her about fandom... I'm not sure I understand all of it so I am adding this little note (and link) in an effort to be as informative and respectful to the source material as I can.

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ghoulfuckersincorporated · 1 month ago

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Preview

Please enjoy this excerpt from my forthcoming Hancock one-shot! As I said previously, I'm going to be focusing solely on finishing this up for the next couple of days. Once it's wrapped up, I'm planning a major inbox cleanout (currently sitting at over 100 messages in there...I'm terribly sorry, but also, I love hearing from you guys so much!), with lots of blurbs and shorter posts to hopefully get the oldest/simplest requests fulfilled. I also have a few other things planned for funsies, because, y'know, Kinktober.

Brace yourselves to be absolutely sick of me in the back half of this month. Thanks for reading!

John Hancock (FO4) x Virgin!Reader One-Shot

Warnings: smut (18+), very sexual pining, loss of virginity, corruption kink, reader's first "real" orgasm, absolutely perverted thoughts, mutual and consensual drug use, discussion of addiction, mild exhibitionism, finger fucking, mutual masturbation, oral sex (male and female receiving), cock piercings, possessive sex, manhandling, hair pulling, breeding kink, slightly dishonest creampie, jealousy, self-hating John.

Preview Word Count: 2,200

Notes: Reader is a former vault dweller but is explicitly not Nora/the Sole Survivor. Post-Institute destruction. It was difficult to choose an excerpt that's representative of the whole piece; do not let this preview trick you if it seems overly romantic. It's nasty.

Your heart raced under your skin, your pulse flying under the press of his fingertips as he pushed you firmly against the decrepit wall. You exhaled harshly through your nostrils, hands coming to knot themselves into his work flannel as his mouth pressed forward with its assault on yours. He expected you to begin to push him away using the shirt for leverage, but couldn't force himself to pull back first through the blinding possessive rage he felt.

John had always been more of a “free love” sort of guy most of his life, jumping from partner to partner without much thought or care, and, because he'd never put much emotional investment or time into any particular partner, had never really cared enough about another person to feel possessive of them. Jealousy was such a negative, ugly emotion that he hated to waste any of his time on it, but the fire he'd felt in his gut from the moment he'd watched that asshole place his fingers under your chin to tilt your face up, obviously angling for a kiss, could not be ignored.

He heard the whispers of the people around Sanctuary, around every settlement and trade outpost; the speculations about why a woman like you would choose to travel with a ghoul as a companion, why you'd spend almost all your time with him, how you were so comfortable touching and being touched by him. Criticism from shitheads about his own actions and choices rolled off of him like water off a mirelurk shell, valid or not, but it stirred him up fiercely to hear these people you'd given so much of yourself to judge you, as if they had any room. Some of the more hateful ones called you a fetishist and a freak when they thought no one else could hear, and if it weren’t for you specifically asking him to not start trouble around the settlements unless you started it first, he would have made those people swallow their own teeth long ago.

That guy had added himself to that list the moment he made it clear that he pitied you for your choices.

John hadn’t previously had much problem with him, save for noticing the glint in his eye when he spoke with you. He couldn't necessarily begrudge him his attraction to you, though; you were, after all, the most beautiful woman in the Commonwealth, hands down. Beyond that, you were kind, generous, hardworking, and terrifyingly smart. You’d give the clothes off your back to anyone who needed them, and would offer a stranger your shoulder to cry on if they needed. It was nearly impossible to not fall in love with you, just a little. He knew; he had tried and failed as miserably as he'd ever failed at anything.

The guy’s feelings themselves weren't the problem, though. The problem was that he obviously thought himself some sort of contender for your affections. Or, he was trying to make himself one. It couldn't be tolerated. If this trespass was allowed, every man in the Commonwealth who fancied you or cut of your vault suit would feel comfortable trying to pick you up right in front of him, and it'd be nothing but trouble for everyone involved.

His mouth found the side of your throat, placing open-mouthed kisses and sharp nips the way he knew you liked in a beeline from your clavicle to your ear. When you squirmed, letting out an airy moan as you yanked him closer, he latched onto your pulse point and sucked, bathing the skin with his tongue hard enough to leave a spotted, wine-colored mark that you wouldn't be able to hide the next day. You liked that, too, but you’d never admit it out loud.

Well, unless he made you, maybe...

A low, drawn out moan escaped your mouth, your hands moving up to cup the back of his head, pulling him still closer. He obliged you, pressing the line of his entire body against you, making you feel his throbbing need against your belly, and you whimpered in response, your hands finding the top button of his flannel and beginning to work it open.

He paused his ministrations, reaching up to cup your cheek gently, your own fingers stalling for a single beat as he gazed into your eyes, trying to reassure you that he wasn’t upset with you. And he wasn’t. You hadn’t done anything wrong. But he was upset at that guy’s uncharacteristically bold actions, his disregard of his place in your life. The disregard of the others.

He needed to assert his place. He needed to show you how he felt.

Promptly, he resumed his ministrations. By the time you'd managed to undo the last cracked button, he’d left a huge, oblong purple bruise along the side of your elegant throat.

“John,” you whispered in between harsh breaths, your hands moving to yank the thin shirt over your head. “I want you.”

The tone of your voice was sure and clear despite how it trembled. When he fully looked up to your face, you were gazing at him dreamily, your brow furrowed with effort as your hips began to move, trying to find some friction against his. Just like the previous night, he could clearly see your desire, your trust, in the way you gazed at him. Still, though, a tug of guilt in his chest had him chastising himself as he hesitated; he should protect you and tell you to not do this. Not only because of the societal response you could expect for being with a ghoul, but because he was far from anyone’s ideal man. He didn’t deserve you. He wasn’t sure he could be everything you needed, and wasn’t sure a man even existed on Earth who could be all that a divine woman like you deserved.

Even knowing this, he couldn't pull himself away from you. The overwhelming desire he'd felt since the moment you'd met burned too hot in his gut, long transformed from a deep want to a need.

“John.” you repeated, slightly louder though just as winded.

His head dropped to your shoulder, kissing across it placidly for a moment. Your hands traveled up his back, eventually moving up to grab the tricorn from his head and toss it onto the counter beside you. He felt the warm bloom of self-consciousness as you pecked along his bald head gingerly, your lips feeling extra plush against his ruined skin.

“This really what you want, sunshine?” he asked, forehead coming to rest against your own as his hands rubbed your sides.

You didn’t respond vocally, but instead reached out to stroke his cheek like he had yours, thumb swiping back and forth for a few moments. There was a silence, but a warm, comfortable one that wrapped you together in your own little bubble. When your eyes met again, he had his answer.

He led you by your soft hand to the next room, the two of you dropping onto the mattress in the corner, chuckling at the plume of dust that rose from the thing as you cuddled close. Your hands absentmindedly petted at him, one twiddling at one of the frayed tails of his shirt, averting your eyes. Soon, the unoccupied hand began to move down his chest, stroking the wiry muscle of his exposed torso. Your palm was warm and soft against him as you explored his chest, eyes following your hand as it slowly moved lower. He tensed a bit as your hand swept along his abdominals ticklishly, fingertips dipping below the waistband of his jeans. You hesitated a moment, your fingers retreating slightly to sweep back and forth along the upper seam, toying with the loose threads there.

John was radiating tension at the way you were touching him; you had never been quite this bold before, and his head swam with the overwhelming amount of emotion that he felt as your fingers began to dip below again, shyly. He was proud of you, knowing how much work you’d put into getting over your nerves to get to this point; at the same time, he was beyond touched that he was the man you’d chosen to share these milestones with. Both of these tender feelings made the overwhelming arousal he felt at your soft hands on his body a little embarrassing.

His breath caught in his throat when the tips of your fingers lightly brushed his erection, the sound odd. You froze, eyes moving to his to assess; he gave you a small head shake to convey that you hadn’t hurt him or anything, his usually silver tongue caught in his throat.

Given the green light, you slid your hand just a little further down, warm against the side of his shaft as you gently explored; your ginger poking and prodding was unpracticed, almost clinical, your hand trembling a little as you made him squirm. He was already rock hard, electricity sparking from where you touched him, and his frazzled emotional state didn’t help in the slightest. He gave a little grunt, trying to remain quiet and calm but feeling a mounting need to touch you, to kiss you, to hold you down against the filthy mattress and make you come undone.

He wanted you naked.

Generally, when you two got to fooling around, you were more than okay with him touching you both over and under your clothes, and you responded to him beautifully, making it easy to figure out what you liked and what you didn’t. However, you were often very skittish to fully remove your clothes when he made it clear he actually wanted to touch you. In the past several weeks you’d been so bold as to let him push up the hem of your shirts or open the blouse of your dresses to softly fondle and kiss your breasts, which you held and shielded with your hands when he wasn’t directly touching them, your face dusted with a dusky, embarrassed blush.

It hurt him terribly to see that you doubted your own beauty; if he had his way, he would spend every day from here to the next end of the world showing you how gorgeous you really were. But at the same time, the lingering shyness you demonstrated drove him wild.

A sharp inhale left his mouth when you suddenly wound your index finger lightly around the head of his cock, the softly calloused pad collecting some of the precum that dribbled from the slit and dragging along his piercing. You jumped a little at the sound, but when he looked at you in the dim light, your eyes were wide and the corners of your mouth were turned up ever-so-slightly in an expression of gentle confidence. He didn’t dare interrupt you, not wanting to risk throwing you off whatever wave you were currently on, instead tucking what remained of his lower lip between his teeth as you shimmied a little closer to him, the new proximity granting you a little more length of your arm to slide into his pants.

When your soft fingers curled all the way around his shaft, he nearly lost himself.

He cried out, the sound embarrassing and dragging out as you moved your grip on him up and down, slowly, hesitantly, his face burning with the shameful realization that he’d nearly cum in his pants like a teenager from a single touch from you. He was grateful his blush couldn’t be read on his tarnished skin as he dropped his face to your shoulder once more, placing a series of little kisses across the tan softness there as your blush began to work it's way down to your chest. One of his hands swept down your spine, caressing you softly as it slipped low and came to rest in the small of your back.

“Fuck.” he grunted, his jaw clenched tight as you continued your gentle ministrations, “I wanna see you, baby. Please.”

Your hand paused for a moment, giving a couple more gentle strokes before pulling back. When he lifted his head again, you were looking at him straight-on.

“Only if I get to see you, too.” you replied simply, your voice just above a whisper.

He was surprised at that; John had no real issues being a ghoul, but generally made it a practice to stay mostly clothed during sex for the ease of things (and, you know, just in case someone decides they don’t like what they see). His shirt was already hanging open, exposing his chest, but he went shirtless or open shirted frequently, both at home and on the road. It wasn’t an unfamiliar sight to you. He pulled back from you a bit to straighten up, his hands coming to work the fly of his jeans down as he gazed back at you, lips swollen and throat heavily marked where you sat, leaning back against the moldering wall.

“Deal.”

#this has turned into almost as big a monster as the first part of duplicity #john hancock fo4 #hancock fo4 #john mcdonough #hancock x reader #john hancock smut #submission

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